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[ { "from": "system", "value": "Collaborating with the writer, advance the narrative.\nTags: fantasy, arthurian, historical fantasy\nAuthor: Marion Zimmer Bradley\nTitle: The Mists of Avalon\nChapter: 31" }, { "from": "human", "value": "He had to help her out of her gown." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The dresses worn at court were more elaborate than the simple robes she had worn as a priestess, and she felt clumsy, awkward. Would he like her? Her breasts seemed so soft and limp, they had been so since Gwydion's birth; she remembered how they had been when he first touched her, tiny and hard.\n\nBut he seemed to notice nothing, fondling her breasts, taking the nipples between his fingers and then, gently, between his lips and his teeth. Then she lost thought altogether, nothing existing in the world for her except his hands touching her, the pulse of awareness in her own fingers running down the smoothness of his shoulders, his back, the fine dark softness of the hair there... somehow she had thought the hair on a man's chest would be wiry and coarse, but it was not so with him, it was soft and silky as her own hair, curling so fine and close. Ina daze she remembered that the first time for her had been with a youth no more than seventeen who scarce knew what he was about, so that she had had to guide him, to show him what to do... and for her that had been the only time, so that she came almost virgin to Lancelet.... Ina rush of grief she wished that for her it was the first time, so that it might have been so blissful for her to remember; it should have been like this, this was how it should have been.... She moved her body against his, clinging in entreaty, moaning, she could not bear, now, to wait any longer....\n\nIt seemed he was not yet ready, though she was all alive to him, her body flowing with the pulse of life and desire in her. She moved against him, hungry, her mouth avid, entreating. She whispered his name, begging now, almost afraid. He went on kissing her gently, his hands moving to stroke and soothe her, but she did not want to be soothed now, her body was crying out for completion, it was starvation, agony. She tried to speak, to beg him, but it came out a sobbing whimper." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He held her gently against him, still stroking her. \"Hush, no, hush, Morgaine, wait, no more now-I do not want to hurt or dishonor you, never think that-here, lie hereby me, let me hold you, I will content you...\" and in despair and confusion she let him do what he would, but even while her body cried out for the pleasure he gave her, a curious anger was growing. What of the flow of life between their two bodies, male and female, the tides of the Goddess rising and compelling them? Somehow it seemed to her that he was stemming that tide, that he was making her love for him a mockery and a game, a pretense. And he did not seem to mind, it seemed to him that this was the way it should be, so that they were both pleasured... as if nothing mattered but their bodies, that there was no greater joining with all of life. To the priestess, reared in Avalon and attuned to the greater tides of life and eternity, this careful, sensuous, deliberate lovemaking seemed almost blasphemy, a refusal to give themselves up to the will of the Goddess.\n\nAnd then, in the depths of mingled pleasure and humiliation she began to excuse him. He had not been reared as she was in Avalon, but thrown about from fosterage to court to military camp; he had been a soldier almost as long as he had been old enough to lift a sword, his life had been spent in the field, perhaps he did not know, or perhaps he was accustomed only to such women as would give him no more than a moment's ease for his body, or such women as wanted to toy with lovemaking and give nothing... he had said, I do not want to hurt or dishonor you, as if he truly believed there could be something wrong or dishonorable in this coming together. Spent, now, he was turned a little away from her, but he was still touching her, toying with her, drawing his fingers through the fine hair at her thighs, kissing her neck and breasts. She closed her eyes, holding herself to him, angry and desolate-well, well, perhaps it was no more than she deserved, she had played the harlot incoming to him like this, perhaps it was no more than her due that he should treat her as one... and she was so besotted that she had let him take her like this, she would have let him do whatever he would, knowing that if she asked for more she would lose even this, and she longed for him, she still hungered for him with an intolerable ache that would never be wholly slaked. And he wanted her not at all... still in his heart he hungered for Gwenhwyfar, or for some woman he could have without giving more of himself than this empty touching of skins... a woman who could be content to give herself and ask nothing more of him than pleasure. Through the ache and hunger of her love, a faint strain of contempt was threading, and it was the greatest agony of all-that she loved him no less, that she knew she would love him always, no less than at this moment of hunger and despair." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She sat up, drawing her gown toward her, fastening it over her shoulders with shaking fingers. He sat silent, watching her, stretching out his hands to help her adjust it. After along time he said sorrowfully, \"We have done wrong, my Morgaine, you and I. Are you angry with me?\"\n\nShe could not speak; her throat was too tight with pain. At last she said, straining her voice to form the words, \"No, not angry,\" and she knew that she should raise her voice and scream at him, demand what he could not give her-nor any woman, perhaps.\n\n\"You are my cousin, my kinswoman-but there is no harm done-\" he said, and his voice was shaking. \"At least I have not that to blame myself-that I could bring you to dishonor before all the court-I would not do so for the world-believe me, cousin, I love you well-\"\n\nShe could not keep back her sobs now. \"Lancelet, I beg you, in the name of the Goddess, speak not so-what harm is done? It was in the way of the Goddess, what we both desired-\"\n\nHe made a gesture of distress. \"You speak so, of the Goddess and such heathen things.... Almost you frighten me, kinswoman, when I would keep myself from sin, and yet I have looked on you with lust and wickedness, knowing it was wrong.\" He drew on his clothes with trembling hands. At last he said, almost choking, \"The sin seems tome more deadly, I suppose, than it is-I would you were not so like to my mother, Morgaine-\"\n\nIt was like a blow in the face, like a cruel and treacherous blow. Fora moment she could not speak. Then, for an instant, it seemed that the full rage of the Goddess angered possessed her and she felt herself rising, towering, she knew it was the glamour of the Goddess coming upon her as it had done in the Avalon barge; she felt herself, small and insignificant as she was, looming over him, and saw the powerful knight, the captain of the King's horse, shrink away small and frightened, as all men are small in the sight of the Goddess." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"You are-you area contemptible fool, Lancelet,\" she said." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You are not even worth cursing!\" She turned and fled from him, leaving him sitting therewith his breeches half-fastened, staring after her in astonishment and shame. She felt her heart pounding. Half of her had wanted to scream at him, shrewish as a skua gull; the other half wanted to breakdown and weep in agony, in despair, begging for the deeper love he had denied her and rejected, refusing the Goddess in her.... Fragments of thought flickered in her mind, an old tale of the Goddess surprised and refused by a man and how the Goddess had had him torn to shreds by the hounds who ran hunting with her... and there was sorrow that she had what she had dreamed of all these long years and it was dust and ashes to her.\n\nA priest would say this was the wages of sin. I heard such, often enough, from Igraine's house priest before I went to be fostered in Avalon. At heart am I more of a Christian than I know? And again it seemed to her that her heart must break from the wreck and disaster of her love.\n\nIn Avalon this could never have come to pass-those who came to the Goddess in this way would never have so refused her power.... She paced up and down, a raging fire unslaked in her veins, knowing that no one could possibly understand how she felt except for another priestess of the Goddess. Viviane, she thought with longing, Viviane would understand, or Raven, or any of us reared in the House of Maidens... what have I been doing all these long years, away from my Goddess?\n\nMorgaine speaks...\n\nThree days later I got leave from Arthur to depart from his court and ride to Avalon; I said only that I was homesick for the Isle and for Viviane, my foster-mother. And in those days I had no speech with Lancelet save for the small courtesies of everyday when we could not avoid meeting. Even in those I marked that he would not meet my eyes, and I felt angry and shamed, and went out of my way that I might not come face to face with him at all." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "So I took horse, and rode eastward through the hills; nor did I return to Caerleon for many years, nor knew I anything of what befell in Arthur's court... but that is a tale for another time." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "In the summer of the next year, the Saxons were massing off the coast, and Arthur and his men spent all the year in gathering an army for the battle they knew must come. Arthur led his men into battle and drove the Saxons back, but it was not the decisive battle and victory for which he had hoped; they were damaged indeed, and it would take them more than a year to recover, but he had not enough horses and men to defeat them firmly and for all time, as he hoped to do. At this battle he took a wound, which seemed not serious; but it festered and inflamed and he had to spend much of the autumn bedfast-the first snow flurries were coming over the walls of Caerleon before he could walk a little about the courtyard, leaning on a stick, and he would bear the scars to his grave.\n\n\"It will be full spring before I can sit a horse again,\" he observed gloomily to Gwenhwyfar, who stood close to the courtyard wall, her blue cloak wrapped tight around her.\n\n\"It may well be,\" Lancelet said, \"and longer, my dear lord, if you take cold in your wound before it is full healed. Come within doors, I beg you-look, there is snow on Gwenhwyfar's cloak.\"\n\n\"And in your beard, Lance-or is that only the first grey?\" Arthur asked, teasing, and Lancelet laughed.\n\n\"Both, I suppose-there you have the advantage of me, my king, your beard is so fair the grey will not show when it comes. Here, lean on my arm.\"\n\nArthur would have waved him away, but Gwenhwyfar said, \"No, take his arm, Arthur, you will undo all our fine leechcraft if you fall-and the stones are slippery underfoot, with this snow melting as it comes down.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Arthur sighed and leaned on his friend's arm. \"Now have I had a taste of what it must be like to be old.\" Gwenhwyfar came and took his other arm, and he laughed. \"Will you love me and uphold me like this when indeed there is grey in my beard and hair and when I goon a stick like the Merlin?\"\n\n\"Even when you are ninety, my lord,\" said Lancelet, laughing with him. \"I can see it well, Gwenhwyfar holding you by one arm and I by the other as our ancient steps totter toward your throne-we will all be ninety or thereabout!\" Abruptly he sobered. \"I am troubled about Taliesin, my lord, he grows feeble and his eyes are failing. Should he not go back to Avalon and rest his last years in peace?\"\n\n\"No doubt he should,\" said Arthur. \"But he says he will not leave me alone, with only the priests for councillors-\"\n\n\"What better councillors than the priests could you have, my lord?\" Gwenhwyfar flared. She resented the unearthly word Avalon; it frightened her to think that Arthur was sworn to protect their heathenish ways.\n\nThey came into the hall where afire was burning, and Arthur made a gesture of annoyance as Lancelet eased him into his chair. \"Aye, set the old man by the fire and give him his posset-I marvel that you let me wear shoes and hose instead of a bedgown!\"\n\n\"My dear lord-\" Gwenhwyfar began, but Lancelet laid a hand on her shoulder.\n\n\"Don't fret yourself, kinswoman, all men are so, peevish when they are ill-he knows not when he is well off, being nursed by fair women and tended with dainty foods and clean linen and those possets he scorns.... I have lain with a wound in afield camp, nursed by a sour old man too lame to fight, and lying in my own shit because I could not shift myself and no one came near to help me, with nothing brought but some sour beer and hard bread to soak in it. Stop grumbling, Arthur, or I shall try to see to it that you nurse your wound in manly fashion as befits a true soldier!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Aye, and he would do it, too,\" said Arthur, with an affectionate smile at his friend. \"You go not in much fear of your king, Prince Galahad-\" He took the horn spoon from his wife's hand and began to eat the concoction of warmed wine with bread and honey soaked in it. \"Aye, this is good and warming-it has spices in it, has it not, those same spices you bade me send for from Londinium....\"\n\nCai came to them, when Arthur had finished, and said, \"So, how goes the wound after an hour of walking on it, my lord? Is there still much pain?\"\n\n\"Not as much as the last time, and that is all I can say,\" Arthur said. \"It is the first time I have known what real fear was, fear I might die with my work still undone.\"\n\n\"God would not have it so,\" Gwenhwyfar said.\n\nArthur patted her hand. \"I told myself that, but a voice within kept saying tome that this was the great sin of pride, fearing that I or any man could not be spared from what God wishes to be done-I have thought long about such things while I lay unable to set foot to the ground.\"\n\n\"I cannot see that you have so much undone, save for the final victory over the Saxons, my lord,\" said Cai, \"but now you must go to your bed, you are weary with the out of doors.\"\n\nWhen Arthur was stretched out on the bed, Cai took his clothes away and examined the great wound which still, faintly, oozed matter through the cloths. Cai said, \"I will send for the women, and you must have hot cloths on this again-you have strained it. It is well you did not break it open while you were walking.\" When the women had brought steaming kettles and mixed the compresses of herbs and hot water, laying folded cloths upon the wound so hot that Arthur winced and roared, Cai said, \"Aye, but you were lucky even so, Arthur. Had that sword struck you a hand span to one side, Gwenhwyfar would have even more cause to grieve, and you would be known far and wide as the gelded king... as in that old legend! Know you not the tale-the king wounded in the thigh and as his powers fade, so fades the land and withers, till some youth comes who can make it spring fertile anew....\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gwenhwyfar shuddered, and Arthur said testily, shifting in pain under the heat of the compress, \"This is no tale to tell a wounded man!\"\n\n\"I should think it would make you more aware of your good fortune, that your land will not wither and be sterile,\" Cai said. \"By Easter, I daresay, the Queen's womb could be quick again, if you are fortunate-\"\n\n\"God grant it,\" Arthur said, but the woman winced and turned away. Once again she had conceived, and once again all had gone awry, so quickly that she had scarce known she had been with child-would it be so always with her? Was she barren, was it the punishment of God on her that she did not strive early and late to bring her husband to be a better Christian?\n\nOne of the women took away the cloth and would have replaced it; Arthur reached for Gwenhwyfar. \"No, let my lady do it, her hands are gentler-\" he said, and Gwenhwyfar took the steaming hot cloth-so hot it was she burned her fingers, but she welcomed the pain as penance. It washer fault, all her fault; he should put her away as barren, and take a wife who could give him a child. It was wrong that he should ever have married her-she had been eighteen, and already past her most fruitful years. Perhaps...\n\nIf only Morgaine were here, I would indeed beseech her for that charm which could make me fruitful....\n\n\"It seems tome now that we have need of Morgaine's leechcraft,\" she said. \"Arthur's wound goes not as it should, and she is a notable mistress of healing arts, as is the Lady of Avalon herself. Why do we not send to Avalon and beseech one of them to come?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Cai frowned at her and said, \"I do not see that there is need of that. Arthur's wound goes on well enough-I have seen much worse come to full healing.\"\n\n\"Still, I would be glad to see my good sister,\" said Arthur, \"or my friend and benefactor, the Lady of the Lake. But from what Morgaine has told me, I do not think I will see them together....\"\n\nLancelet said, \"I will send a message to Avalon and beg my mother to come, if you will have it, Arthur,\" but it was at Gwenhwyfar he looked, and their eyes met fora moment. In these months of Arthur's illness, it seemed he had been ever at her side, and such a rock of strength to her that she knew not what she would have done without him; in those first days, when none believed that Arthur could live, he had watched with her, tireless, his love for Arthur making her ashamed of her thoughts. He is Arthur's cousin, even as Gawaine, he stands as near to the throne, the son of Igraine's own sister; if aught came to Arthur, then would he be as much a king as we have need of... in the old days the king was naught but the husband of the queen....\n\n\"Shall we send, then, for the Lady Viviane?\" Gwenhwyfar asked.\n\n\"Only if you have a wish to seethe Lady,\" said Arthur, with a sigh. \"I think now, all I need is a greater share of that patience to which the bishop counselled me when I spoke last with him. God was good tome indeed, that I lay not thus disabled when the Saxons first came, and if he goes on showing me his grace, I will be able to ride when they come again. Gawaine is off gathering the men to the north, is he not, for Lot and Pellinore?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Aye.\" Lancelet laughed. \"He has told Pellinore that his dragon must wait till we have dealt with the white horse... he must bring all his men and come when we summon him. And Lot will come too, though he grows old-he will not let pass any chance that the kingdom might still go to his sons.\"\n\nIt will go to his sons indeed, if I give Arthur no son, Gwenhwyfar thought; it seemed that every word anyone spoke, of whatever matter, was an arrow, a taunt aimed into her heart for failing the first duty of a queen. Arthur liked her well, they could have been happy, could she only have felt free for one moment of the guilt of her childlessness. Almost, fora time, she had welcomed this wound, for he could not think of lying with any woman, and there was no reproach to her; she could care for him and cosset him, have him to herself as a wife could so seldom do when her husband belonged not to her but to a kingdom. She could love him, and not think always of her guilt; when he touched her, think of their love, not only of her fear and her desperate hope, This time will heat last get me with child; and if he does, will it go well with me or will I cast forth the precious hope of the kingdom? She had cared for him, nursed him night and day as a mother nurses a sickly child, and when he began to grow strong she had sat beside him, talked to him, sung to him-though she had not Morgaine's sweet voice for singing-gone herself to the kitchens and cooked for him such things as a sick man might be tempted to eat, so that he would put on flesh after the ghastly sickness and wasting away of the early summer.\n\nYet what good is all my care if I do not ensure that there will bean heir to his kingdom?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I would that Kevin were here,\" Arthur said." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I would like to hear some music-or Morgaine; we have no fitting minstrels at court now!\"\n\n\"Kevin has gone back to Avalon,\" Lancelet said. \"The Merlin told me he had gone for some priestly doings there, so secret he could tell me no more-I wonder the priests allow these Druid mysteries to goon in a Christian land.\"\n\nArthur shrugged. \"I command no man's conscience, King or no.\"\n\nGwenhwyfar said sternly, \"God will be worshipped as he wills, Arthur, not as men choose, and therefore he sent the Christ to us.\"\n\n\"But he sent him not to this land,\" Arthur said, \"and when the holy Joseph came to Glastonbury, and thrust his staff therein the earth and it bloomed, then the Druids welcomed him and he did not scorn to share their worship.\"\n\n\"Bishop Patricius says that is an evil and heretical tale,\" Gwenhwyfar insisted, \"and the priests who worship in common with the Druids should be stripped of their priesthood and driven forth as he drove the Druids themselves!\"\n\n\"He will not do it during my time,\" said Arthur firmly. \"I have sworn my protection to Avalon.\" He smiled and stretched out his hand to where the great sword Excalibur hung in its crimson-velvet scabbard. \"And you have reason to be grateful for that magic, Gwenhwyfar-had I not had this scabbard about me, nothing could have saved me. Even as it was, I came near to bleeding to death, and only its magic stanched the bleeding. Would I not be worse than an ingrate if I betrayed their goodwill?\"\n\n\"You believe that?\" Gwenhwyfar asked. \"You would put magic and sorceries above God's will?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Why, sweetheart,\" Arthur said, and touched her fair hair, \"do you believe that anything man can do is in despite of God's will? If this scabbard kept me indeed from bleeding to death, then it could not have been God's will that I should die. It seems tome that my faith is closer to God than yours, if you fear that some wizard could undo what God wishes. We are all in God's hands.\"\n\nGwenhwyfar looked quickly at Lancelet; there was a smile on his face, and it seemed fora moment that he was mocking them, but it passed and the woman thought it must have been no more than a little shadow. \"Well, if you wish for music, Arthur, Taliesin will come and play for you, I suppose; though he grows old and his voice is nothing for singing, his hands still have great skill at harping.\"\n\n\"Call for him, then,\" said Arthur, and laughed. \"In Scripture we are told that the old King Saul called for his young harper to play and ease his mind, but here I am, a young king who has need of his old harper to play and cheer his soul!\"\n\nLancelet went in search of the Merlin, and when he came with his harp, they sat fora longtime in the hall listening to the music.\n\nGwenhwyfar thought of Morgaine, playing there. Would that she were here, to give me a charm-but not before my lord recovers... and then, looking across the fire at Lancelet, she felt sinking in her body. He sat on a bench, leaning back and listening to the music, his hands tucked behind his head, his long legs stretched out to the fire. The other men and women had gathered close to listen to the music; Elaine, Pellinore's daughter, had been bold enough to come and crowd onto the bench beside Lancelet, but he sat without paying any heed to her." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lancelet would be the better fora wife. I should bestir myself and write to King Pellinore, that he should give Elaine to Lancelet; she is my cousin and not unlike me, she is marriageable-but she knew she would not; she told herself it would be time enough for that on the day Lancelet told them that he was seeking to be wedded.\n\nIf Arthur should not recover...\n\nOh, no, no, never will I think of that.... She crossed herself in secret. But, she thought, it was long since she had been in Arthur's arms, and it was likely he could not give her a child anyway.... She found herself wondering what it would be like to lie with Lancelet-could he give her the child she wished for? Suppose she took Lancelet as lover? She knew there were women who did such things... Morgause now made no secret of it; now that she was past childbearing, her harlotries were as scandalous as Lot's wenching. She felt the color creeping up in her cheeks and hoped no one had seen as she looked at Lancelet's hands lying quiet in his lap and wondered what it would be like to feel them caressing her-no, she dared not think of that.\n\nWhen women took lovers they must take care not to be made pregnant, not to bear a child who could disgrace them or bring shame on their husbands, so if she was barren then it would not matter... it would be her good fortune.... In God's name, how could she, a chaste and Christian woman, have such evil thoughts? Once before she had thought this, and when she told it in confession, the priest had said only that it was no more than reason that with her husband so long sick, her thoughts should turn to such things; she must not feel guilty, but pray much and care for her husband and think only that it was harder still for him. And Gwenhwyfar had known that this was good and sensible and kindly counsel, but she felt he had not understood it in full, just how sinful a woman she was and how evil and foul her thoughts. Otherwise, surely, he would have berated her, and given her heavy penance, and then she would have felt better and more free...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lancelet would never reproach her that she was barren-\n\nShe became aware that someone had spoken her name, and raised her head in confusion as if her thoughts were open to all.\n\n\"No, no more music, my lord Merlin,\" Arthur said. \"Look, it grows dark, and my lady is asleep where she sits. She is worn outwith nursing me, most likely.... Cai, have the men set the dinner, but I will go to my bed and have some meat there.\"\n\nGwenhwyfar rose, went to Elaine, and asked her to take her place in the hall; she would stay with her lord. Cai went to see to the servants, and Lancelet stayed to give Arthur a hand as he limped, with the help of his stick, to his chamber. Lancelet helped to settle Arthur in bed as tenderly as any nurse.\n\n\"If he needs anything in the night, see that you have them call for me, you know where I sleep,\" he said low, to Gwenhwyfar. \"I can lift him more easily than any other-\"\n\n\"Oh, no, no, I think there will be no need now,\" she said, \"but I thank you.\"\n\nHe was so tall as he stood next her; he laid his hand gently on her cheek. \"If you want to go and sleep among your women, I will stay and watch with him-you look as if you were wanting along night of unbroken sleep. You are like a nursing mother who has no rest till her babe can sleep through the night without stirring. I can care for Arthur-there is no need for you to watch with him now! I can stay in the room within earshot.\"\n\n\"You are so good tome,\" she said, \"but I would rather be near him.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"But send for me if he needs me." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Do not try to lift him yourself,\" Lancelet said, \"promise me, Gwenhwyfar.\" How sweet her name sounded on his lips; sweeter than when he said'my queen\" or'my lady.\"\n\n\"I promise you, my friend.\"\n\nHe bent, gave her just the flicker of alight kiss on her forehead. \"You look so overwearied,\" he said. \"Go you to bed and sleep well.\" His hand lingered still a moment on her cheek and when he took it away she felt as if her cheek would be cold and ache as if she had a toothache there. She went and laid herself down beside Arthur.\n\nFora time she thought he slept. But at last he said into the darkness, \"He has been a good friend to us, has he not, my wife?\"\n\n\"No brother could have been kinder.\"\n\n\"Cai and I were reared as brothers, and I love him well, but it is true what they say, blood is thicker than water, and blood kin brings a closeness I had not imagined till I came to know some of my own blood....\" Arthur shifted in bed, uneasily, sighing. \"Gwenhwyfar, there is something I would say to you-\"\n\nShe was frightened, her heart pounding-had he seen Lancelet kiss her, would he charge her with unfaithfulness?\n\nHe said, \"Promise me that you will not weep again, I cannot bear it. I swear it to you, I have no thought of reproaching you-but we have been wedded now for many years, and only twice in that time have you had even the hope of a child-no, no, I beg you, do not cry, let me speak,\" he pleaded. \"It maybe that it is not your fault, but mine. I have had other women, as do all men. But though I never made any attempt to conceal who I was, not in all these years has any woman come tome, nor her kinfolk, and said, such and such a woman bore you a bastard child. It maybe that it is I whose seed has no life, so that when you conceive, the child comes not even to quickening....\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She lowered her head, letting the curtain of her hair hide her face. Did he reproach himself as well?\n\n\"My Gwenhwyfar, listen tome-a child there must be for this kingdom. If it should come about at anytime that you give a child to the throne, be assured that I will never question. So far as I am concerned, any child you bear, I will acknowledge it mine and bring it up as my heir.\"\n\nShe thought that the burning in her face would make her burst into flame. Could he think her capable of betraying him? \"Never, never could I do so, my lord and my king-\"\n\n\"You know the ways of Avalon-no, my wife, do not interrupt me, let me speak-where when a man and woman come together in this wise, the child is said even to be born of the God. Gwenhwyfar, I would like it well if God sent us a child, whoever should work God's will in fathering him-do you understand me? And if it should so happen that the one whoso did the will of heaven were my dearest of friends and the closest of kinsmen tome, then would I bless him, and the child you bore. No, no, do not weep, I will say no more,\" he said, sighing, reaching out his arms to her, letting her lie against his shoulder. \"I am not worthy that you should love me so well.\"\n\nAfter a time he slept, but Gwenhwyfar lay awake, tears rolling down her face. Oh, no, she thought, my dear love, my dearest lord, it is I who am not worthy of your love, and now you have all but given me leave that I should betray you. Suddenly and for the first time in her life she envied both Arthur and Lancelet. They were men, they lived lives of activity, they must go out into the world and risk death or worse in battle, but men were free of these terrifying decisions. Whatever thing she did, whenever she made any decision, however small, if it was of more weight than kid or dried beef for dinner, then was that weight on her soul, that from what she should decide the fate of kingdoms could rest. Now it washer own choice, and not simply the will of God, that she should give an heir to the kingdom or no; one who was of Uther Pendragon's blood or-or otherwise. How could she, a woman, make that decision? Gwenhwyfar pulled the fur coverlet over her head and curled herself into a ball and lay there." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Only this evening she had sat there and watched Lancelet listening to the harper, and the thought had come stealing into her mind. She had loved him long, but now she began to know it was that she desired him; in her heart she was no better than Morgause, who played the whore when she would, with her husband's knights and even, the story was whispered in scandal, with handsome pages or servant men. Arthur was so good, and she had come to love him well; she had found safety herein Caerleon. It was not to be borne that the folk about the castle and countryside might come to whisper scandal of her as they did of Morgause.\n\nGwenhwyfar wished to be good, to keep her soul clean and her virtue whole, but also it meant much to her that people should see her virtue and think of her as a good and spotless queen; she herself knew nothing evil of Morgaine, for instance, she had lived at her side for three years, and Morgaine was, so far as she knew, as virtuous as herself. Yet it was rumored that Morgaine was a witch because she had lived in Avalon, and had some wisdom and knowledge of healing herbs and of sendings, and so the people of the court and of the country roundabout had whispered that Morgaine was in league with the fairy folk or the Devil; and even she herself, knowing Morgaine as she did, sometimes wondered how what so many people said could be all untrue.\n\nAnd tomorrow she must face Lancelet and go about her work by Arthur's side, knowing that he had all but given her leave-how could she ever again look into Lancelet's eyes? He was of the blood of Avalon, he was son to the Lady of the Lake, it could be that he too could read thoughts a little, that he could see into her eyes and know what she was thinking." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And then anger, so violent that it frightened her, swept through her trembling body like a flood. Gwenhwyfar, lying there angry and afraid, thought that she would never dare to go out of doors again for fear of what she might choose to do. Every woman in the court wanted Lancelet-yes, even Morgaine herself; she had seen her sister-in-law looking at him, and for that reason, when once along time ago Arthur had said they should marry, she had been distressed-Lancelet would surely find Morgaine too bold. And perhaps they had quarrelled, for the last day or two before Morgaine had departed for Avalon, she noted that they spoke less to each other than usual, and did not turn their eyes to each other.\n\nShe missed Morgaine, yes... but all in all she was glad Morgaine was not at court, and she would not send to Tintagel to hear news of her if she was there. She fancied herself repeating to Morgaine what Arthur had just said; she would die of shame, and yet she suspected that Morgaine would laugh at her: Morgaine would surely say it was for her to choose whether or no she would take Lancelet as a lover; or perhaps, even, that it was for Lancelet to say.\n\nThen it was as if a burning flame passed through her, like the fires of hell, that she might offer herself to Lancelet and he might say to her no. Then, surely, she would die of shame. She did not know how she could ever bear to look at Lancelet again, or at Arthur, or at any of her ladies who had never been so tempted. Even to the priests she would think it shame to speak about this, for they would know Arthur was less a Christian than he ought to be. How could she ever bear to go out of doors again, or to leave the safe, protected space of this very room and this very bed? Here, nothing wrong could come to her or harm her." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She did feel somewhat ill. Tomorrow she would tell her ladies that, and they would think only, as Lancelet would think, that she was overwearied with nursing Arthur night and day. She would continue to be, as she was always, a good and virtuous queen and a Christian woman-she could never even think of being anything else. Arthur was distressed from his wound and his long inactivity, that was all; when he was well and sound he could never think such a thing, and no doubt he would be grateful to her that she had not listened to his folly and had saved them both from a fearful sin.\n\nBut just as she was about to drop into an exhausted sleep, she remembered something that one of her women had said, long ago-it was a few days before Morgaine left the court. She had said that Morgaine should give her a charm.... Well, and so she should; if Morgaine enchanted her so that she had no choice but to love Lancelet, then she would be freed of that fearful choice.... When Morgaine returns, she thought, I will speak of it to her. But Morgaine had not been at court now for almost two years, and it might be that she would never return." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I grow too old for these journeys, Viviane thought as she rode through the late-winter rain, head bowed, her cloak wrapped tight around her body. And then resentment surged through her: This should now be Morgaine's task, it is she who was to be Lady after me in Avalon.\n\nTaliesin had told her, four years ago now, that Morgaine had been in Caerleon for Arthur's wedding, and had been given to Gwenhwyfar for one of her ladies, and had tarried there. The Lady of the Lake, waiting-woman to a queen? How dared Morgaine forsake her true and appointed path in this way? And yet when she had sent a message to Caerleon with word that Morgaine should return to Avalon, the messenger had returned to say that Morgaine had left the court... they thought for Avalon.\n\nBut she is not in Avalon. Nor is she in Tintagel with Igraine, nor yet at the court of Lot in Orkney. Where then has she gone?\n\nSome harm could have come to heron one of her solitary journeys. She might have been captured by one of the marauders or masterless men who throng the country-she might have lost her memory or have been raped, murdered, flung into a ditch somewhere and her bones never been found.... Oh no, Viviane thought, if harm had come to her, I would surely have seen it in the mirror... or with the Sight....\n\nYet she could not be certain. The Sight was erratic in her now, and often when she sought to see beyond, nothing came but a maddening grey fog before her eyes, the veil of the unknown which she dared not try to pierce. And Morgaine's fate was concealed somewhere within that veil." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Goddess, she prayed as she had done so often before, Mother, I have given you my life, bring back my child tome while I yet live... but even as she spoke, she knew that there would be no answer, only grey rain like the veil of the unknown, the answer of the Goddess hidden in the unyielding sky.\n\nHad it wearied her so much as this when last she made this journey, half a year ago? It seemed now to her that she had always ridden, before this, as lightly as a girl, and now the jolting of her donkey seemed to rattle every bone in her thin body, while the cold crept into her and gnawed at her with little icy teeth.\n\nOne of her escort turned back and said, \"Lady, I can seethe farmstead below. We will be there before nightfall, it seems.\"\n\nViviane thanked the man, trying not to sound as grateful as she felt. She could not betray weakness before her escort.\n\nGawan met her in the narrow barnyard as she was dismounting from her donkey, steadying her so that she did not step into the midden. \"Welcome, Lady,\" he said, \"as always, it is my pleasure to see you. My son Balin and your son will be herewith the morrow-I sent to Caerleon that they might be here.\"\n\n\"Is it as grave as that, old friend?\" Viviane asked, and Gawan nodded. He said, \"You will scarcely know her, Lady. She is fallen away to nothing now, and if she eats or drinks ever so little, she says it is as if afire were lighted in her vitals. It cannot be much longer now, for all your medicines.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Viviane nodded and sighed. \"I feared as much,\" she said. \"When this illness once has hold on anyone, it never lets loose its claw. Perhaps I can give her some ease.\"\n\n\"God grant it,\" said Gawan, \"for the medicines you left us when you were last here do little now. She wakes and cries in the night like a little child, when she thinks the serving-women and I do not hear. I have not even the heart to pray that she shall be spared to us for anymore suffering, Lady.\"\n\nViviane sighed again. When last she had come this way, half a year ago, she had left her strongest drugs and medicines, and she had half wished that Priscilla might take a fever in the autumn and die quickly, before the medicines lost their effect. There was little more that she could do. She let Gawan lead her into the house, seat her before the fire, and the serving-woman dished her up a hot bowl of soup from a kettle near the fire.\n\n\"You have been riding long in the rain, Lady,\" he said. \"Sit and rest, and you shall see my wife after the evening meal-sometimes she sleeps a little at this time of day.\"\n\n\"If she can rest even a little, it is blessed, and I shall not disturb her,\" Viviane said, folding her chilled hands around the soup bowl, and letting herself slump down on the backless bench. One of the serving-women drew off her boots and cloak, another came with a warmed towel to dry her feet, and Viviane, turning her skirts back so that her bony knees felt the fire, rested fora moment in mindless comfort, forgetting her grim errand. Then a thin wailing cry was heard from an inner room, and the serving-woman started and trembled. She said to Viviane, \"It is the mistress, poor thing-she must be awake. I hoped she would sleep till we had set the night meal. I must go to her.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I will come too,\" said Viviane, and followed the woman to the inner chamber. Gawan was seated by the fire, and she saw the look of dread on his face as that thin cry died away.\n\nAlways before, since Priscilla had fallen ill, Viviane had found some trace in the woman of her old buxom prettiness, some resemblance to the jolly young woman who had fostered her son Balan. Now face and lips and faded hair were all the same yellowed grey, and even the blue eyes seemed faded, as if the sickness had leached all the color from the woman. When last she had come, too, Priscilla had been up and about apart of everyday; now she could see that this woman had been bedfast for months... half a year had made this much change. And always before, Viviane's medicines and herb potions had given ease and comfort and partial recovery. Now, she knew, it was too late for any further help.\n\nFora moment the faded eyes drifted unfocused around the room, the lips moving faintly over the fallen-in jaw. Then Priscilla saw Viviane, blinked a little, and said in a whisper, \"Is it you, Lady?\"\n\nViviane went to her side and carefully took her withered hand. She said, \"I am sorry to see you so ill. How is it with you, my dear friend?\"\n\nThe faded, cracked lips drew back in a grimace which Viviane, fora moment, thought to be a movement of pain; then she realized it was meant fora smile. \"I hardly know how it could be more ill,\" she whispered. \"I think God and his Mother have forgotten me. Yet I am glad to see you again, and I hope to livelong enough to look again on my dear sons and bless them....\" She sighed wearily, trying to shift her body a little. \"My backaches so with lying here, and yet whenever I am touched, it is like knives thrusting into me. And I am so thirsty, yet I dare not drink for fear of the pain....\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I will make you as comfortable as I can,\" Viviane said, and, telling the servants what she wanted, she dressed the sores that came from lying in the bed and washed out Priscilla's mouth with a cooling lotion, so that even though she did not drink, her mouth would not torment her so with dryness. Then she sat near her, holding her hand, not troubling the sick woman with words. Sometime after dark, there was a sound in the courtyard, and Priscilla, starting up again, her eyes feverish in the lamplight, cried out, \"It is my sons!\"\n\nAnd indeed, after a little time, Balan and his foster-brother, Balin, Gawan's son, came into the room, stooping under the low ceiling.\n\n\"Mother,\" Balan said, and stooped to kiss Priscilla's hand, only then turning to Viviane to bow before her. \"My lady.\"\n\nViviane reached out and touched her elder son's cheek. He was not as handsome as Lancelet, this one; he was a huge burly man, but his eyes were dark and fine like her own, or Lancelet's. Balin was smaller, a sturdy, grey-eyed man. He was, she knew, just ten days older than her own son. He looked as Priscilla had once looked, fair-haired and red-cheeked.\n\n\"My poor mother,\" he murmured, stroking Priscilla's hand, \"but now the Lady Viviane has come to help you, then you will be well again very soon, will you not? But you are so thin, Mother, you must try to eat more and be strong and well again....\"\n\n\"No,\" she whispered, \"I shall never be strong more until I sup with Jesus in Heaven, dear son.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Oh, no, Mother, you must not say so-\" Balin cried, and Balan, meeting Viviane's eyes, sighed.\n\nHe said in so low atone that neither Priscilla nor her son could hear, \"He cannot see that she is dying, my lady-my mother. Always he insists that she can recover. I had truly hoped that she would go in the autumn, when we all took the fever, but she has always been so strong-\" Balan shook his head, and his thick neck was flushed. Viviane saw that tears were standing in his eyes; he dashed them quickly away. And after a little, she said that they must all go out and let the sick woman rest again.\n\n\"Say farewell to your sons, Priscilla, and bless them,\" she said, and Priscilla's eyes brightened a little. \"I would it should truly be farewell, before it grows worse-I would not have them see meas I was this morning,\" she murmured, and Viviane saw the terror in her eyes. She bent over Priscilla and said gently, \"I think I can promise you no more pain, my dear, if that is how you wish it to end.\"\n\n\"Please,\" whispered the dying woman, and Viviane felt the clawlike hand tighten on hers in entreaty.\n\n\"I will leave you herewith your sons, then,\" Viviane said gently, \"for they are both your sons, my dear, even though you bore but one of them.\" She went out into the other room and found Gawan there.\n\n\"Bring me my saddlebags,\" she said; and when this had been done, she searched in a pocket fora moment. Then she turned to the man. \"She is at ease fora moment now, but I can do little more, save to put an end to her suffering. I think this is what she wishes.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"There is no hope then-none at all?\"\n\n\"No. There is nothing left for her but suffering, and I cannot think that your God wills it that she should suffer more.\"\n\nGawan said, shaken, \"She has said often-that she wished she had had courage to throw herself into the river while she could still walk thither-\"\n\n\"It is time, then, that she should go in peace,\" Viviane said quietly, \"but I wanted you to know that whatever I do, it is by her own will-\"\n\n\"Lady,\" Gawan replied, \"I have trusted you always, and my wife loves you well and trusts you. I ask no more. If her sufferings end here, I know she will bless you.\" But his face was drawn with grief. He followed Viviane into the inner room again. Priscilla had been speaking quietly to Balin; now she released his hand, and he went, weeping, to his father. She held out her thin hand to Balan and said in her shaking voice, \"You too have been a good son tome, my lad. Always look after your foster-brother, and I beg you to pray for my soul.\"\n\n\"I will, my mother,\" said Balan, and bent to embrace her, but she gave a little trembling cry of pain and fear as he moved toward her, and so he only picked up her withered hand and pressed his fingers to it.\n\n\"Now I have your medicine for you, Priscilla,\" said Viviane. \"Say goodnight, and sleep....\"\n\n\"I am so weary,\" the dying woman whispered, \"I shall be glad to sleep... bless you, Lady, and your Goddess too....\"\n\n\"In her name, who gives mercy,\" Viviane murmured, and held Priscilla's head up so that she could swallow." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I am afraid to drink-it is bitter, and whenever I swallow anything there is pain-\" Priscilla whispered.\n\n\"I swear to you, my sister, that when you have drunk this, there will be no more pain at all,\" Viviane said steadily, and tipped the cup. Priscilla swallowed and raised her weak hand to touch Viviane's face.\n\n\"Kiss me in farewell, too, Lady,\" she said, with that ghastly smile again, and Viviane pressed her lips to the skull-like brow.\n\nI have brought life and now I come as the Death-crone.... Mother, I do for her only what I would that one might do for me one day, Viviane thought, and shivered again, raising her eyes to meet Balin's frowning gaze.\n\n\"Come,\" she said quietly, \"let her rest.\"\n\nThey went out into the other room. Gawan remained behind, his hand in his wife's; it was only fitting, Viviane thought, that he should remain with her.\n\nThe serving-women had set the evening meal and Viviane went to her place and ate and drank, for she was weary after the long ride.\n\n\"Have you ridden from Arthur's court at Caerleon all in this day, my boys?\" she asked, then smiled-these'boys\" were men!\n\n\"Aye, from Caerleon-\" Balan said, \"and a wretched ride it was, in cold and rain!\" He helped himself to salt fish and spread butter on his bread, then handed the wooden dish to Balin. \"You are eating nothing, my brother.\"\n\nBalin shuddered. \"I have not the heart to eat when our mother lies like that. But God be thanked now you have come, Lady, she will soon be all well again, will she not? Your medicines did her so much good last time, it was like a miracle, and now again she will be better, will she not?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Viviane stared at him-was it possible that he did not understand? She said quietly, \"The best end of all is that she might go to join her God in the hereafter, Balin.\"\n\nHe looked up at her, his ruddy face stricken. \"No! She must not die,\" he cried. \"Lady, tell me that you will help her, that you will not let her die-\"\n\nViviane said severely, \"I am not your God, and life and death are not in my keeping, Balin. Would you have her linger in such misery for much longer?\"\n\n\"But you are skilled in all manner of magic lore,\" Balin protested angrily. \"Why came you here, if not to cure her again? I heard you say but now, that you could put an end to her pain-\"\n\n\"There is only one cure for such an illness as has taken your mother,\" Viviane said, laying a compassionate hand on Balin's shoulder, \"and that is merciful.\"\n\n\"Balin, have done,\" Balan said, going to put his big callused hand on his foster-brother's. \"Would you truly have her suffer more?\"\n\nBut Balin jerked up his head and glared at Viviane. \"So you used your sorcery tricks to cure her when it was honor to your evil fiend-Goddess,\" he shouted, \"and now when you can get no more good of it you will let her die-\"\n\n\"Be still, man,\" Balan said, and now his voice was rough and strained. \"Marked you not-our mother blessed and kissed her farewell, it was what she wished for-\"\n\nBut Balin was staring at Viviane, and then he raised his hand as if to strike her. \"Judas!\" he shouted. \"You too betrayed with a kiss-\" And he whirled and ran toward the inner room. \"What have you done? Murderess! Foul murderess! Father! Father, here's murder and evil sorcery-!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Gawan, white-faced, appeared in the chamber door, anxiously gesturing for silence, but Balin shoved him aside and burst into the room." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Viviane followed, and she saw that Gawan had closed the dead woman's eyes.\n\nBalin saw also, and he turned on her, shouting incoherently, \"Murder! Treachery, sorcery-! Foul, murdering witch-!\"\n\nGawan wrapped restraining arms around his son. \"You will not speak so over your mother's very body to one she trusted and loved!\"\n\nBut Balin raved and shouted, straining to come at Viviane. She tried to speak, to quiet him, but he would not hear. At last she went out into the kitchen and sat by the fire.\n\nBalan came and took her hand and said, \"I'm sorry he is receiving it in this way, my lady. He knows better, and when the shock is past he'll be grateful to you as I am-poor little mother, she suffered so, and now 'tis ended, and I bless you too.\" He lowered his head, trying not to sob aloud. \"She was-was like mother tome too-\"\n\n\"I know, my son, I know,\" Viviane murmured, patting his head as if he were the clumsy little boy he had been more than twenty years ago. \"It's only right you should weep for your foster-mother, you would be heartless if you did not-\" and he broke down and sobbed, kneeling at her side, his face buried in her lap.\n\nBalin came and stood over them, his face drawn with fury. \"You know she killed our mother, Balan, and yet you come to her for comfort?\"\n\nBalan raised his head, snuffling back sobs. \"She did our mother's will. Are you such a fool you could not see-even with God's help our mother could not have lived another fortnight, do you grudge her that last pain she was spared?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But Balin only cried desolately, \"My mother, my mother is dead!\"\n\n\"Be still, she was my foster-mother, my mother too,\" said Balan angrily, and then his face softened. \"Ah, brother, brother, I grieve too, why should we quarrel? Come now, drink some wine, her suffering is ended and she is with God-better we should pray for her than be all at odds this way. Come, brother, come and eat and rest, you are weary too.\"\n\n\"No,\" cried Balin, \"I will not rest under the roof that shelters the foul sorceress who slew my mother!\"\n\nGawan came, pale and angry, and struck Balin across the mouth. He said, \"Peace! The Lady of Avalon is our guest and our friend! You shall not sully the hospitality of this roof with such blasphemous words! Sit down, my son, and eat, or you will speak words we shall all regret!\"\n\nBut Balin stared about him like a wild animal. \"I will neither eat nor rest under this roof while it holds that-that woman.\"\n\nBalan demanded, \"Dare you offer insult to my mother?\"\n\nAnd Balin cried, \"You are all against me, then-I shall go forth from this roof which shelters my mother's slayer!\" He turned his back and ran from the house. Viviane sank down in a chair, and Balan came to offer his arm and Gawan to pour her a cup of wine.\n\n\"Drink, Lady-and accept my apologies for my son,\" he said. \"He is beside himself; he will come soon enough to sanity.\"\n\n\"Shall I go after him, Father, for fear he should do himself some hurt?\" Balan asked, but Gawan shook his head." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No-no, son, stay herewith your mother. Words will do him little good now.\"\n\nTrembling, Viviane sipped at her wine. She, too, was overcome with sorrow for Priscilla, and for the time when they had been young women together, each with her baby son in her arms.... Priscilla had been so pretty and merry, they had laughed together and played with their babies, and now Priscilla lay dead after a wasting illness, and Viviane's own hand had held the cup of her death. That she had done Priscilla's own will only eased her conscience, it did not blunt her sadness.\n\nWe were young together, and now she lies dead and I am old, old as the Death-crone's very self; and those pretty babies who played about our feet, one has grey in his own hair, and the other would kill me if he could, as afoul sorceress and murderer.... It seemed to Viviane that her very bones rattled with an icy grief. She stood near to the fire, but still she shivered and could not get warm. She clutched her shawl about her, and Balan came and led her to the best seat, tucked a cushion behind her back, set a cup of heated wine in her hands.\n\n\"Ah, you loved her too,\" he said. \"Don't trouble yourself about Balin, Lady, he will regain his reason in time. When he can think clear again, he'll know that what you did was great mercy to our mother-\" He broke off, slow red creeping up his heavy jowls. \"Are you angry with me, Lady, that still I think of my mother as she who died but now?\"\n\n\"It is no more than reason,\" said Viviane, sipping at the hot wine, and caressing her son's hardened hand. Once, she thought, it had been so little and tender that she could enfold it within her own, like a curled rosebud, and now her own hand was quite lost within his. \"The Goddess knows, she was more mother to you than ever I was.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Aye, I should have known that you would understand that,\" said Balan. \"Morgaine said as much tome when I saw her last at Arthur's court.\"\n\n\"Morgaine? Is she at Arthur's court now, my son? Was she there when you came away?\"\n\nBalan shook his head regretfully. \"No, I saw her last-it was years gone, Lady. She left Arthur's court, let me think... it was before Arthur had his great wound... why,\"tis three years come Midsummer. I thought she was with you in Avalon.\"\n\nViviane shook her head and steadied herself against the arm of the high seat. \"I have not seen Morgaine since Arthur's wedding.\" And then she thought, perhaps she is gone over the seas. She asked Balan, \"What of your brother Lancelet? Is heat court or has he gone back to Less Britain?\"\n\n\"He will not do that, I think, while Arthur lives,\" Balan said, \"though he is not often at court now...\" and Viviane, with a fragment of the Sight, heard the unspoken words Balan bit back, unwilling to speak gossip or scandal: When Lancelet is at court, men mark how he never takes his eyes from Queen Gwenhwyfar, and twice he has refused Arthur when Arthur would have had him wedded. Balan went on hastily, \"Lancelet has said he will set all things in order in Arthur's kingdom, and so he is always out and about the lands, he has killed more marauding brigands and raiding bands than any other of Arthur's Companions. They say of him that he is an entire legion in himself, Lady-\" and Balan raised his head and looked ruefully at Viviane. \"Your younger son, Mother, is a great knight, such a knight as that old Alexander of the legends. There are those who say, even, that he is a better knight than Arthur's self. I have brought no such glory on you, my lady.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"We all do such things as the Gods give us to do, my son,\" Viviane said gently." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I am only glad to see that you do not bear malice toward your brother for that he is a better knight than you.\"\n\nBalan shook his head. \"Why, that would be like bearing malice toward Arthur that I am not the King, Mother,\" he said. \"And Lancelet is modest and good to all men, and pious as a maiden too-knew you not that he had become a Christian, Lady?\"\n\nViviane shook her head. \"It surprises me not,\" she said, with a trace of scorn she did not know would be in her voice until she had spoken. \"Always your brother fears those things he cannot understand, and the faith of Christ is a fitting faith for slaves who think themselves sinners and humble-\" Then she stopped herself and said, \"I am sorry, my son. I meant not to belittle. I know it is your faith too.\"\n\nBalan blinked and smiled. \"Now has a miracle come to pass, madam, that you ask pardon of any for any word you ever spoke!\"\n\nViviane bit her lip. \"Is that truly how you see me, my son?\"\n\nHe nodded. \"Aye, ever you have seemed tome the proudest of women-and it seemed tome right that you should be exactly as you are,\" he said. And Viviane mocked herself that she had come to this, seeking a word of approval from her son! She cast about to find something new to speak of.\n\n\"You told me Lancelet has twice refused to marry? For what, do you think, is he waiting? Does he want more of a dowry than any maiden can bring him?\"\n\nAgain it seemed that she heard Balan's unspoken thoughts: He cannot have the one he would have, for she is wedded to his king... but her son said only, \"He says he has no mind to marry any woman, and jests that he is fonder of his horse than he could be of any woman who could not ride with him into battle-he says in jest that one day he will take one of the Saxon shield maidens to wife. None can match him at arms, either, nor in the games Arthur holds at Caerleon. Sometimes he will take some handicap, ride without a shield, or change horses with another, so he will not have too much of the advantage. Balin challenged him once and won a course against him, but he refused a prize for it, because he found out it was because Lancelet's saddle girths broke.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"So Balin too is a courteous and good knight?\" Viviane said.\n\n\"Oh, yes, Mother, you must not judge my brother by tonight,\" Balan said eagerly. \"When he rode against Lancelet, truly I knew not which of them to cheer on. Lancelet offered him the prize, saying he had won it fairly, since he should not have lost control of his horse-so he said! But Balin would not take it, and they stood disputing with one another in courtesy like two heroes from the ancient sagas Taliesin used to tell us when we were lads!\"\n\n\"So you can be proud of both your brothers,\" Viviane said, and the talk passed to other things, and after a little time she said she should go and help with the laying-out. But when she went into the chamber, she saw that the women were all in awe of her, and a priest had come, too, from the village. He welcomed her courteously indeed, but Viviane could tell by his words that he thought her one of the sisters from the nunnery nearby-indeed, her dark travel dress made her look so, and she had no wish to confront him this night. So, when they entreated her to go to the best guest bed, she went, and at last she slept. But all that she had spoken of with Balan seemed to come and go in her head, through her dreams, and atone moment it seemed that she saw Morgaine through grey and thinning mists, running away into a wood of strange trees and crowned with flowers such as never grew in Avalon, and she said in her dreams, and again to herself when she woke, I must delay no longer, I must seek for her with the Sight, or what remains tome of the Sight.\n\nThe next morning she stood by while Priscilla was laid in earth. Balin had returned and stood weeping by the graveside, and after the burial was done and the other folk had gone into the house to drink ale, she approached him and said gently, \"Will you not embrace me and exchange forgiveness with me, foster-son? Believe me, I share your grief. We have been friends all our lives, Dame Priscilla and I, or would I have given her my own son to nurse? And I am your foster-brother's mother.\" She held out her arms, but Balin's face drew hard and cold, and he turned his back on her and walked away." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gawan besought her to stay fora day or two and rest there, but Viviane asked for her donkey to be brought; she must return to Avalon, she said, and she saw that Gawan, though his hospitality had been sincere, was relieved-if someone had told the priest who she was, there might have been awkwardness he had no mind to, during his wife's funeral feast. Balan, too, asked, \"Will you have me to ride with you to Avalon, madam? There are sometimes brigands and evil folk on the road.\"\n\n\"No,\" she said, giving him her hand and smiling. \"I look not as if I had gold about me, and the men who ride with me are of the Tribesmen-we could hide in the hills, should we be attacked. Nor am I any temptation to any man who might seek to take a woman.\" She laughed and said, \"And with Lancelet questing to kill all the brigands in this country, it will soon be as it was said once it was, that a virgin of fifteen bearing a purse of gold might ride from one end of the land to the other with no man to offer her insult! Stay here, my son, and mourn your mother, and make peace with your foster-brother. You must not quarrel with him for my sake, Balan.\" And then she shuddered suddenly as if with cold, fora picture had come into her mind, and it seemed to her as if there was the clash of swords and her son bleeding from a great wound....\n\n\"What is it, Lady?\" he asked her softly.\n\n\"Nothing, my son-only promise tome that you will not break the peace with your brother Balin.\"\n\nHe bent his head. \"I will not, Mother. And I will tell him that you have said this, so he will not think you bear him any grudge, either.\"" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "As the writer's helper, keep the story going.\nTags: fantasy, arthurian, historical fantasy\nAuthor: Marion Zimmer Bradley\nTitle: The Mists of Avalon\nChapter: 33" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gawan besought her to stay fora day or two and rest there, but Viviane asked for her donkey to be brought; she must return to Avalon, she said, and she saw that Gawan, though his hospitality had been sincere, was relieved-if someone had told the priest who she was, there might have been awkwardness he had no mind to, during his wife's funeral feast. Balan, too, asked, \"Will you have me to ride with you to Avalon, madam? There are sometimes brigands and evil folk on the road.\"\n\n\"No,\" she said, giving him her hand and smiling. \"I look not as if I had gold about me, and the men who ride with me are of the Tribesmen-we could hide in the hills, should we be attacked. Nor am I any temptation to any man who might seek to take a woman.\" She laughed and said, \"And with Lancelet questing to kill all the brigands in this country, it will soon be as it was said once it was, that a virgin of fifteen bearing a purse of gold might ride from one end of the land to the other with no man to offer her insult! Stay here, my son, and mourn your mother, and make peace with your foster-brother. You must not quarrel with him for my sake, Balan.\" And then she shuddered suddenly as if with cold, fora picture had come into her mind, and it seemed to her as if there was the clash of swords and her son bleeding from a great wound....\n\n\"What is it, Lady?\" he asked her softly.\n\n\"Nothing, my son-only promise tome that you will not break the peace with your brother Balin.\"\n\nHe bent his head. \"I will not, Mother. And I will tell him that you have said this, so he will not think you bear him any grudge, either.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"By the Lady, I do not,\" said Viviane, but still she felt icy cold, though the winter sun was warm on her back. \"May she bless you, my son, and your brother too, though I doubt he wishes for the blessing of any God but his own. Will you take the Lady's blessing, Balan?\"\n\n\"I will,\" he said, bending to kiss Viviane's hand, and he stood looking after her as she rode away.\n\nShe told herself, as she rode toward Avalon, that surely what she had seen had come of her own weariness and fear; and in any case Balan was one of Arthur's Companions, and it could not be looked for, in this war with the Saxons, that he should escape a wound. But the picture persisted in her mind, that Balan and his foster-brother should somehow quarrel in her name, until at last she made astern banishing gesture and willed to see her son's face no more in her mind till she should look on it again in the flesh!\n\nShe was troubled too about Lancelet. He was long past the age when a man should marry. Yet there were men enough who had no mind to women, seeking only for the companionship of their brothers and comrades underarms, and she had wondered often enough if Ban's son were one of them. Well, Lancelet should take his own road; she had consented to that when he left Avalon. If he professed great devotion to the Queen, no doubt, it was only that his comrades should not mock at him as a lover of boys.\n\nBut she dismissed her sons from her mind. Neither of them was as near to her heart as Morgaine, and Morgaine... where was Morgaine? She had been disquieted before this, but now, hearing Balan's news, she feared for Morgaine's very life. Before this day was ended, she should send out messengers from Avalon to Tintagel, where Igraine dwelt, and northward to Lot's court where Morgaine might have gone to be with her child.... She had seen the young Gwydion, once or twice, in her mirror, but had paid him little heed, as long as he grew and thrived. Morgause was kindly to all little children, having a brood of her own, and there would be time enough to look to Gwydion when he came of an age for fostering. Then should he come to Avalon...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "With the iron discipline of years, she managed to put even Morgaine from her mind and to ride home to Avalon in a mood befitting a priestess who had just taken the part of the Death-crone for her oldest friend-sobered indeed, but without great grief, for death was only the beginning of new life.\n\nPriscilla was a Christian. She believed she would now be with her God in Heaven. Yet she too will be born again on this imperfect world, to seek the perfection of the Gods, again and yet again.... Balan and I parted as strangers, and so it must be. I am no more the Mother, and I should feel no more grief than when I ceased to be the Maiden for her... yet her heart was filled with rebellion.\n\nTruly, the time had come for her to give up her rulership of Avalon, that a younger woman might be Lady of the Lake and she herself no more than one of the wise-women, offering counsel and advice, but carrying no more that fearsome power. She had long known that the Sight was leaving her. Yet she would not lay down her power until she could place it in the hands of that one she had prepared to take it from her. She had felt that she could wait until Morgaine had outgrown her bitterness and returned to Avalon.\n\nYet if anything has befallen Morgaine... and even if it has not, have I the right to continue as Lady when the Sight has left me?\n\nFora moment, when she came to the Lake, she was so cold and wet that when the boat's crew turned to her to call down the mists, she could not force herself to remember the spell. Indeed it is time and more than time that I should lay down my powers.... Then the words of power came back into her mind and she spoke them, but much of that night she lay wakeful, in dread." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "When the morning had come, she studied the sky; the moon was darkening, and it would do no good to consult the mirror at this time. Will it ever profit me anything to look into that mirror again, now the Sight has departed from me? With iron discipline, she forced herself to say nothing of any of this to her attendant priestesses. But later that day she met with the otherwise-women and asked them, \"Is there anyone in the House of Maidens who is still virgin and has never yet gone to the grove or to the fires?\"\n\n\"There is Taliesin's little daughter,\" said one of the women.\n\nFora moment Viviane was confused-surely Igraine was grown and wedded and widowed, mother of the High King in Caerleon, and Morgause too was wedded and the mother of many sons. Then she recalled herself and said, \"I knew not that he had a daughter in the House of Maidens.\" A time had been, she thought, when no girl had been taken into the Maiden House without her own knowledge, and it had been her hand that had tested each one for the Sight and for her fitness for the Druid lore. But in the last years, she had let this slip from her.\n\n\"Tell me. How old is she? What is her name? When did she come to us?\"\n\n\"Her name is Niniane,\" said the old priestess. \"She is the daughter of Branwen-do you remember? Branwen said that Taliesin had fathered this child at Beltane fire. It seems it was only a little while ago, but she must be eleven or twelve, perhaps more. She was fostered away in the North somewhere, but she came to us five or six seasons ago. She is a good child and biddable enough, and there are not now so many maidens who come to us that we can afford to pick and choose among them, Lady! There are none now like Raven or your fosterling Morgaine. And where is Morgaine now, Lady? She should return to us!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Viviane said, \"She should return to us indeed,\" and felt ashamed to say that she did not even know where Morgaine was, or even whether she was alive or dead. How have I the insolence to be Lady of Avalon when I know not even the name of my successor, nor who dwells in the House of Maidens? But if this Niniane was daughter to Taliesin and to a priestess of Avalon, surely she must have the Sight. And even if she had it not herself, Viviane could compel her to see, if she was a maiden still.\n\nShe said, \"See that Niniane is sent tome before dawn, three days from now,\" and, although she saw a dozen questions in the eyes of the old priestess, she marked with a certain satisfaction that she was still unquestioned Lady of Avalon, for the woman asked her nothing.\n\nNiniane came to her an hour before dawn, at the end of the moon-dark seclusion; Viviane, sleepless, had spent much of the night in restless self-questioning. She knew herself reluctant to set aside her own position of authority, yet if she could lay it into Morgaine's hands, she would do so without regrets. She turned over in her hand the little sickle knife which Morgaine had abandoned when she fled from Avalon, then put it aside and raised her face to look at Taliesin's daughter.\n\nThe old priestess, even as I myself, loses track of time; surely she is more than eleven or twelve. The girl was trembling in awe, and Viviane recalled how Morgaine too had trembled when she first saw her as Lady of Avalon. She said gently, \"You are Niniane? Who are your parents?\"\n\n\"I am Branwen's daughter, Lady, but I do not know my father's name. She said only that I was Beltane-gotten.\" Well, that was reasonable enough." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"How old are you, Niniane?\"\n\n\"I shall have finished fourteen winters this year.\"\n\n\"And you, have you been to the fires, child?\"\n\nThe girl shook her head. She said, \"I have not been called thither.\"\n\n\"Have you the Sight?\"\n\n\"Only a little, I think, Lady,\" she said, and Viviane sighed and said, \"Well, we shall see, child; come with me,\" and she led the way out of her isolated house, upwards along the hidden path to the Sacred Well. The girl was taller than she herself, slender and fair-haired, with violet eyes-she was not unlike Igraine at that age, Viviane thought, though Igraine's hair had been nearer red than golden. Suddenly it seemed that she could see this Niniane crowned and robed as the Lady, and she shook her head impatiently, to clear it of unwanted vision. Surely this was only wandering daydream....\n\nShe brought Niniane to the pool, then stopped fora moment to look at the sky. She handed her the sickle knife which had been given to Morgaine when she had been made priestess, and said to her quietly, \"Look into the mirror, my child, and see where she who held this dwells now.\"\n\nNiniane looked at her hesitantly and said, \"Lady, I told you-I have little of the Sight-\"\n\nViviane suddenly understood-the girl was frightened of failure. \"It does not matter. You will see with the Sight that once was mine. Be not afraid, child, but look for me into the mirror.\"\n\nSilence, while Viviane watched the girl's bent head. In the surface of the pool it seemed only that wind came and ruffled the surface, as always. Then Niniane said in a quiet, wandering voice, \"Ah, see... she sleeps in the arms of the grey king...\" and was still." }, { "from": "human", "value": "What can she mean?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Viviane could make nothing of the words. She wanted to cry out to Niniane, to force the Sight upon her undesired, yet she compelled herself, by the greatest effort of her life, to keep still, knowing that even her restless thoughts could blur the Sight for the maiden. She said, hardly above a whisper, \"Tell me, Niniane, do you see that day when Morgaine shall return to Avalon?\"\n\nAgain the empty silence. A little breeze-the dawn wind-had sprung up, and again the riffle of wind came and went across the glassy surface of the water. At last Niniane said softly, \"She stands in the boat... her hair is all grey now...\" and again she was still, sighing as if with pain.\n\n\"Do you see more, Niniane? Speak, tell me-\"\n\nPain and terror crossed the girl's face and she whispered, \"Ah, the cross... the light burns me, the cauldron between her hands-Raven! Raven, will you leave us now?\" She gave a sharp indrawn breath of shock and dismay, and crumpled fainting to the ground.\n\nViviane stood motionless, her hands clenched, and then, with along sigh, she bent to raise the girl. She dipped her hand in the pool, sprinkled water on Niniane's slack face. After a moment the girl opened her eyes, stared at Viviane in fright, and began to cry.\n\n\"I am sorry, Lady-I could see nothing,\" she whimpered.\n\nSo. She spoke, but she remembers nothing of what she saw. I might well have spared her this, for all the good it has done. It was pointless to be angry with her-she had done no more than she was commanded. Viviane stroked the fair hair back from Niniane's forehead and said gently, \"Don't cry; I am not angry with you. Does your headache? So-go and rest, my child.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "The Goddess bestows her gifts as she will." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But why, Mother of all, do you send me to do your will with imperfect instruments? You have taken from me the power to do your will; why, then, have you taken from me the one who should serve you when I am no longer here? Niniane, her hands pressed to her forehead, went slowly down the path toward the House of Maidens, and after a time, Viviane followed.\n\nHad Niniane's words been nothing but raving? She did not think so-she was sure the girl had seen something. But Viviane could make nothing of what Niniane had seen, and the girl's few attempts to put it into words meant nothing to Viviane. And now Niniane had forgotten it all, so that she could not be questioned further.\n\nShe sleeps in the arms of the grey king. Did that mean Morgaine was lying in the arms of death?\n\nWould Morgaine return to them? Niniane had said only, She stands in the boat... so Morgaine would return to Avalon. Her hair is all grey now. So the return would not come soon, if at all. That, at least, was unequivocal.\n\nThe cross. The light burns me. Raven, Raven, the cauldron between her hands. That was certainly no more than delirium, an attempt to put some tenuous vision into words. Raven would bear the cauldron, the magical weapon of water and of the Goddess... yes, Raven was empowered to handle the Great Regalia. Viviane sat staring at the wall of her chamber, wondering if this meant that now Morgaine was gone from them, Raven should bear the power of the Lady of the Lake. It seemed to her that there was no other way to interpret the girl's words. And even so, they might mean nothing." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Whatever I do now, I am in the dark-I might better have gone to Raven, who would have answered me only with silence!\n\nBut if Morgaine had indeed gone into the arms of death, or was lost to Avalon forever, there was no other priestess fit to carry the weight. Raven had given her voice to the Goddess in prophecy... was the place of the Goddess to go unserved because Raven had chosen her silent path?\n\nViviane sat alone in her dwelling, staring at the wall, pondering Niniane's cryptic words again and again in her heart. Once she rose and went alone up the silent path to stare again into the unmoving waters, but they were grey, grey as the unyielding sky. Once indeed it seemed to her that something moved there, and Viviane whispered, \"Morgaine?\" and looked deep into the silence of the pool.\n\nBut the face that looked out at her was not Morgaine's face-it was still, dispassionate as the Goddess herself, crowned with bare wicker-withes....\n\n... Is it my own reflection I see, or the Death-crone?...\n\nAt last, weary, she turned away.\n\nThis I have known since first I trod the path-a time comes when there is only despair, when you seek to tear the veil from the shrine, and you cry out to her and know that she will not answer because she is not there, because she was never there, there is no Goddess but only yourself, and you are alone in the mockery of echoes from an empty shrine....\n\nThere is no one there, there was never anyone there, and all the Sight is but dreams and delusions....\n\nAs she trudged wearily down the hill, she saw that the new moon stood in the sky. But now it meant nothing to her save that this ritual silence and seclusion were done for the time." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "What have Ito do with this mockery of a Goddess? The fate of Avalon lies in my hands, and Morgaine is gone, and I am alone with old women and children and half-trained girls... alone, all alone! And I am old and weary and my death awaits me....\n\nWithin her dwelling the women had lighted afire, and a cup of warmed wine sat steaming beside her usual chair so that she might break the moon-dark fast. She sank down wearily, and one of her attendant priestesses came silently to draw off her shoes and put a warm shawl about her shoulders.\n\nThere is no one but I. But I have still my daughters, I am not wholly alone. \"Thank you, my children,\" she said, with unaccustomed warmth, and one of the attendants bowed her head shyly without speaking. Viviane did not know the girl's name-why am I thus neglectful?-but she thought she must be under avow of silence for the time. The second said softly, \"It is our privilege to serve you, Mother. Will you go to rest?\"\n\n\"Not yet awhile,\" Viviane said, and then on an impulse said, \"Go and ask the priestess Raven to attend me.\"\n\nIt seemed along time before, with silent step, Raven came into the room. Viviane greeted her with a bending of the head, and Raven came and bowed, then, following Viviane's gesture, went to the seat across from Viviane's own. Viviane handed her the cup, still half filled with the hot wine, and Raven sipped, smiling thanks, and put it from her.\n\nAt last Viviane said in entreaty, \"My daughter, you broke your silence once before Morgaine left us. Now I seek for her and she cannot be found. She is not in Caerleon, nor in Tintagel, nor with Lot and Morgause in Lothian... and I grow old. There is none to serve.... I ask of you as I would inquire of the oracle of the Goddess: will Morgaine return?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Raven was silent. At last she shook her head and Viviane demanded, \"Do you mean that Morgaine will not return? Or do you mean that you do not know?\" But the younger priestess made an odd gesture of helplessness and questioning.\n\n\"Raven,\" said Viviane, \"you know that I must lay down my place, and there is no other to bear it, none who has the old training of a priestess, none who has gone so far-only you. If Morgaine does not return to us, you must be Lady of the Lake. Your oath was given to silence, and you have borne it faithfully. Now it is time to lay it aside, and take from my hands the guardianship of this place-there is no other way.\"\n\nRaven shook her head. She was a tall woman, slightly built, and, Viviane thought, no longer young; she was certainly ten years older than Morgaine-she must be nearing her fortieth year. And she came here as a little maiden with her breasts not yet budded. Her hair was long and dark, and her face dark and sallow, her eyes large beneath dark, thick brows. She looked worn and austere.\n\nViviane covered her face with her hands and said in a hoarse voice, through tears she could not shed, \"I-cannot, Raven.\"\n\nAfter a moment, her face covered, she felt a gentle touch on her cheek. Raven had risen and was bending over her. She did not speak, only took Viviane into a close embrace and held her fora moment, and Viviane, feeling the warmth of the younger woman pressed against her, began to sob, and felt that she would weep and weep with no will ever to cease. And at last, when in sheer exhaustion Viviane was silent, Raven kissed heron the cheek and went silently away." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Once Igraine had said to Gwenhwyfar that Cornwall was at the world's end. So it seemed to Gwenhwyfar-there might never have been such things as marauding Saxons or a High King. Ora High Queen. Herein this distant Cornish convent, even though on a clear day she could lookout toward the sea and seethe stark line of Tintagel castle, she and Igraine were no more than two Christian ladies. Gwenhwyfar thought, surprising herself, I am glad I came.\n\nYet when Arthur had asked her to go, she had been afraid to leave the enclosing walls of Caerleon. The journey had seemed along nightmare to her, even the swift and comfortable ride along the Roman road south; when they left the Roman road and began to travel across the high, exposed moors, Gwenhwyfar had huddled in panic within her litter, hardly able to tell which was more of a terror to her, the high open sky or the long, long vistas of grass, treeless, where the rocks thrust up stark and cold like the very bones of the earth. Then fora time no living creature could be seen except the ravens that circled high, waiting for something to die, or, faraway, one of the wild moorland ponies, stopping to throw up a shaggy head before bolting away.\n\nYet herein this distant Cornish convent, all was still and peaceful; a soft-toned bell rang the hours, and roses grew in the enclosed cloister garden and twined into crannies of the crumbling brick wall. Once it had been a Roman villa. The sisters had taken up the floor of one big room, they said, because it had portrayed some scandalous pagan scene-Gwenhwyfar was curious as to what it was, but no one told her and she was ashamed to ask. All around the edges of the room were lovely little tiled dolphins and curious fish, and at the center, common bricks had been laid. She sat therewith the sisters sometimes in the afternoons and stitched at her sewing, while Igraine was resting." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Igraine was dying. Two months since, the message had come to Caerleon. Arthur had had to travel north to Eboracum to see to the fortification of the Roman wall there and could not go, nor was Morgaine there. And since Arthur could not go, and it could not be looked for that Viviane, at her age, could make the long journey, Arthur had begged Gwenhwyfar to go and stay with his mother; and after much persuasion she had agreed.\n\nGwenhwyfar knew little about tending the sick. Whatever illness had seized on Igraine, at least it was painless-but she was short of breath and could not walk far without coughing and gasping. The sister who cared for her said it was congestion in the lungs, yet there was no coughing of blood and she had no fever and flushing. Her lips were pale and her nails blue, and her ankles were swollen to where she could hardly walk on them; she seemed almost too weary to speak and kept her bed most of the time. She seemed not so very ill to Gwenhwyfar, but the sister said she was dying indeed, and now it could not be more than a week at most.\n\nIt was the fairest part of the summer, and this morning Gwenhwyfar brought a white rose from the convent garden and laid it on Igraine's pillow. Igraine had struggled to her feet last night to go to evensong, but this morning she had been so weary and without strength she could not rise. Yet she smiled up at Gwenhwyfar and said in her wheezing voice, \"Thank you, dear daughter.\" She put the flower to her face, sniffing delicately at the petals. \"Always I wanted roses at Tintagel, but the soil there was so poor, little would grow.... I dwelt there five years and never did I cease from trying to make some sort of garden.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"When you came to take me to be wedded, you saw the garden at my home,\" Gwenhwyfar said, with a sudden twinge of homesickness for that faraway walled garden.\n\n\"I remember how beautiful it was-it put me in mind of Avalon. The flowers are so beautiful there, in the courts of the House of Maidens.\" She was silent fora moment. \"A message was sent to Morgaine at Avalon?\"\n\n\"A message was sent, Mother. But Taliesin told us Morgaine had not been seen in Avalon,\" said Gwenhwyfar. \"No doubt she is with Queen Morgause in Lothian, and in these times it takes forever fora messenger to come and go.\"\n\nIgraine drew a heavy sigh and began to struggle with a cough again, and Gwenhwyfar helped her to sit upright. After a time Igraine murmured, \"Yet the Sight should have bidden Morgaine to come tome-you would come if you knew your mother was dying, would you not? Yes, for you came, and I am not even your own mother. Why has Morgaine not come?\"\n\nIt is nothing to her that I have come, Gwenhwyfar thought, it is not me she wants here. There is no one who cares whether I am here or elsewhere. And it seemed as if her very heart was bruised. But Igraine was looking at her expectantly, and she said, \"Perhaps Morgaine has received no message. Perhaps she has gone into a convent somewhere and become a Christian and renounced the Sight.\"\n\n\"It maybe so.... I did so when I married Uther,\" Igraine murmured. \"Yet now and again it thrust itself on me undesired, and I think if Morgaine was ill or dying I would know it.\" Her voice was fretful. \"The Sight came upon me before you were married... tell me, Gwenhwyfar, do you love my son?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gwenhwyfar shrank from the sick woman's clear grey eyes; could Igraine see into her very soul? \"I love him well and I am his faithful queen, lady.\"\n\n\"Aye, I believe you are... and you are happy together?\" Igraine held Gwenhwyfar's slender hands in her own fora moment and suddenly smiled. \"Why, so you must be. And will be happier yet, since you are bearing his son at last.\"\n\nGwenhwyfar's mouth dropped open and she stared at Igraine. \"I-I-I did not know.\"\n\nIgraine smiled again, a tender and radiant smile, so that Gwenhwyfar thought, Yes, I can believe it, that when she was young, she was beautiful enough for Uther to cast aside all caution and seek her with spells and charms.\n\nIgraine said, \"It is often so, though you are not really so young-I am surprised you have not already had a child.\"\n\n\"It was not for lack of wanting, no, nor praying for it either, lady,\" Gwenhwyfar said, so shaken that she hardly knew what she was saying. Was the old Queen falling into delirium? This was too cruel for jesting. \"How-what makes you think I am-am with child?\"\n\nIgraine said, \"I forgot, you have not the Sight-it has deserted me for long and long I renounced it, but as I say, it steals upon me unawares, and never has it played me false.\" Gwenhwyfar began to weep, and Igraine, troubled, reached out her thin hand and laid it over the younger woman's. \"Why, how is this, that I give you good news and you weep, child?\"\n\nNow she will think I do not want a child, and I cannot bear to have her think ill of me.... Gwenhwyfar said shakily, \"Only twice in all the years I have been married have I had any cause to think myself pregnant, and then I carried the child only a month or two. Tell me, lady, do you-\" Her throat closed and she dared not speak the words. Tell me, Igraine, shall I bear this child, have you seen me then with Arthur's child at my breast? What would her priest think of this compromise with sorcery?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Igraine patted her hand. \"I wish I might tell you more, but the Sight comes and goes as it will. God grant it come to a good end, my dear; it maybe that I can see no more because by the time your child is born, I shall not be hereto see-no, no, child, do not weep,\" she begged. \"I have been ready to leave this life ever since I saw Arthur wedded. I would like to see your son, I would like to hold a child of Morgaine's in my arms, should that day ever come, but Uther is gone and it is well with my children. It maybe that Uther waits for me beyond death, or the other children I lost at birth. And if they do not-\" She shrugged. \"I shall never know.\"\n\nIgraine's eyes closed, and Gwenhwyfar thought, I have wearied her. She sat silent until the older woman slept, then rose and went quietly into the garden.\n\nShe felt numbed; it had truly not seemed to her that she might be pregnant. If she had thought anything at all about it, it was that the stress of travel had delayed her courses... for the first three years of her marriage, every time it had been late, she had thought herself with child. Then, in the year in which Arthur had been, first, away for the battle of Celidon Wood and the long campaign before it, then wounded and too weak to touch her, the same pattern had persisted. And finally she had realized that her monthly rhythms were inconstant-there was noway to keep track of them by the moon, for sometimes two or three months might pass with no sign.\n\nBut now that Igraine had spoken, she wondered why she had not thought of this before; it never occurred to her to doubt the Queen. Something inside Gwenhwyfar said, Sorcery, and there was a small voice that persisted in reminding her, All these things are of the Devil, and have no place in this house of holy women. But something else said, How could it be wicked to tell me this? It was more, she thought, as when the angel was sent to Mary the Virgin to tell her of the birth of her son... and then fora moment Gwenhwyfar was struck with awe at her own presumption; and then she began softly to giggle, at the incongruity of Igraine, old and dying, as an angel of God." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "At that moment the bell rang in the cloister for prayers, and Gwenhwyfar, though here as a guest, and without obligation, turned and went into the sisters' chapel, kneeling in her accustomed place among the visitors. But she heard little of the service, for her whole heart and mind were caught up in the most fervent prayer of her entire life.\n\nIt has come, the answer to all my prayers. Oh, thank you, God and Christ and our Blessed Lady!\n\nArthur was wrong. It was not he who failed. There was no need... and once again she was filled with the paralyzing shame she had felt when he had said that thing to her, all but giving her leave to betray him... and what a wicked woman I was then, that I could even have considered it.... But now in the very midst of her wickedness God had rewarded her when she deserved it least. Gwenhwyfar raised her head and began to sing the Magnificat with the rest, so fervently that the abbess raised her head and looked sharply at her.\n\nThey do not know why I am thankful... they do not know how much I have to be thankful for....\n\nBut they do not know how wicked I was either, for I was thinking herein this holy place of the one I love....\n\nAnd then, even through her joy, suddenly it was like pain again: Now he will look upon me big with Arthur's child, and he will think me ugly and gross and never look on me again with love and longing. And even through the joy in her heart, she felt small and cramped and joyless.\n\nArthur gave me leave, and we could have had each other, at least once, and now never... never... never....\n\nShe put her face into her hands and wept behind them, silently, and no longer cared that the abbess was watching her." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "That night Igraine's breathing was so labored that she could not even lower her head to rest; she had to sit bolt upright, propped upon many cushions, to breathe at all, and she wheezed and coughed without end. The abbess gave her a draught of something which would clear the lungs, but it only made her queasy, she said, and she could take no more of it.\n\nGwenhwyfar sat beside her, drowsing a little now and then, but alert whenever the sick woman stirred, to give her a sip of water, to shift her pillows so that she could find a little ease. There was only a small lamp in the room, but there was brilliant moonlight, and the night was so warm that the door stood open into the garden. And through it all there was the ever-present muffled sound of the sea beyond the garden, beating at the rocks.\n\n\"Strange,\" Igraine murmured at last in a faraway voice, \"never would I have thought I would come hereto die.... I remember how dreary I felt, how alone, when first I came to Tintagel, as if I had come to the very end of the world. Avalon was so fair, so beautiful, so filled with flowers...\"\n\n\"There are flowers here,\" Gwenhwyfar said.\n\n\"But not like the flowers of my home. It is so barren here, so rocky,\" she said. \"Have you been in the Island, child?\"\n\n\"I was schooled in the convent on Ynis Witrin, madam.\"\n\n\"It is beautiful on the Island. And when I travelled here over the moors, it was so high and barren and deserted, I was afraid-\"\n\nIgraine made a weak movement toward her, and Gwenhwyfar took her hand and was alarmed by its coldness. \"You area good child,\" Igraine said, \"to come so far, when my own children could not. I remember how you dread travelling-and now to come so far, when you are pregnant.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gwenhwyfar rubbed the icy hands between her own. \"Do not tire yourself with talking, Mother.\"\n\nIgraine made a little sound like a laugh, but it got lost in a fit of wheezing. \"Do you think it makes any difference now, Gwenhwyfar? I wronged you-even on the very day you were wedded, I went to Taliesin and asked him, was there any honorable way for Arthur to get out of this marriage.\"\n\n\"I-did not know. Why?\"\n\nIt seemed to her that Igraine hesitated before answering, but she could not tell, perhaps it was only that the other woman struggled for speech. \"I know not... perhaps it was that I thought you would not be happy with my son.\" She struggled again with a fit of coughing so heavy that it seemed she would never get her breath.\n\nWhen she had quieted a little, Gwenhwyfar said, \"Now you must talk no more, Mother-will you have me bring you a priest?\"\n\n\"Damn all priests,\" said Igraine clearly. \"I will have none of them about me-oh, look not so shocked, child!\" She lay still fora moment. \"You thought me so pious, that I retired to a convent in my last years. But where else should I have gone? Viviane would have had meat Avalon, but I could not forget it was she who had married me to Gorlois.... Beyond that garden wall lies Tintagel, like a prison... a prison it was tome, indeed. Yet it was the only place I could call my own. And I felt I had won it by what I endured there....\"\n\nAnother long, silent struggle for breath. At last she said, \"I wish Morgaine had come tome... she has the Sight, she should have known I was dying....\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Gwenhwyfar saw that there were tears in her eyes." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She said gently, rubbing the icy hands which now felt as taut as cold claws, \"I am sure she would come if she knew, dear Mother.\"\n\n\"I am not so sure... I sent her from me into Viviane's hands. Even though I knew well how ruthless Viviane could be, that she would use Morgaine as ruthlessly as she used me, for the well-being of this land and for her own love of power,\" Igraine whispered. \"I sent her from me because I felt it better, if it came to be a choice of evils, that she should be in Avalon and in the hands of the Goddess, than in the hands of the black priests who would teach her to think that she was evil because she was a woman.\"\n\nGwenhwyfar was deeply dismayed. She chafed the icy hands between her own and renewed the hot bricks at Igraine's feet; but the feet too were cold as ice, and when she rubbed them Igraine said she could not feel them.\n\nShe felt she must try again. \"Now with your end near, do you not want to speak with one of Christ's priests, dear Mother?\"\n\n\"I told you, no,\" said Igraine, \"or after all these years when I kept silent to have peace in my home, I might tell them at last what I truly felt about them.... I loved Morgaine enough to send her to Viviane, that she at least might escape them....\" She began wheezing again. \"Arthur,\" she said at last. \"Never was he my son... he was Uther's-only a hope of the succession, no more. I loved Uther well and I bore him sons because it meant so much to him that he should have a son to follow him. Our second son-he that died soon after his navel string was cut-him, I think, I might have loved for my own, as I loved Morgaine.... Tell me, Gwenhwyfar, has my son reproached you that you have not yet borne him an heir?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gwenhwyfar bent her head, feeling her eyes stinging with tears. \"No, he has been so good... never once has he reproached me. He told me once that he had never fathered a son by any woman, though he had known many, so that perhaps the fault was not mine.\"\n\n\"If he loves you for yourself, then he is a priceless jewel among men,\" said Igraine, \"and it is all the better if you can make him happy.... Morgaine I loved because she was all I had to love. I was young and wretched; you can never know how unhappy I was that winter when I bore her, alone and far from home and not yet full-grown. I feared she would have become a monster because of all the hate I felt when I was bearing her, but she was the prettiest little thing, solemn, wise, like a fairy child. She and Uther only have I loved... where is she, Gwenhwyfar? Where is she that she would not come to her mother when she is dying?\"\n\nGwenhwyfar said compassionately, \"No doubt she knows not that you are ill-\"\n\n\"But the Sight!\" Igraine cried, moving restlessly on her pillow. \"Where can she be, that she does not see that I am dying? Ah, I saw she was in deep trouble, even at Arthur's crowning, and yet I said nothing, I did not want to know, I felt I had had enough grief and said nothing when she needed me.... Gwenhwyfar, tell me the truth! Did Morgaine have a child somewhere, alone and far from anyone who loved her? Has she spoken of this to you? Does she hate me then, that she will not come tome even when I am dying, only because I did not speak out all my fears for her at Arthur's crowning? Ah, Goddess... I put aside the Sight to have peace in my home, since Uther was a follower of the Christ.... Show me where dwells my child, my daughter....\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gwenhwyfar held her motionless and said, \"Now you must be still, Mother... it must be as God wills. You cannot call upon the Goddess of the fiends here-\"\n\nIgraine sat bolt upright; despite her sick swollen face, her blue lips, she looked on the younger woman in such away that Gwenhwyfar suddenly remembered, She too is High Queen of this land.\n\n\"You know not what you speak,\" Igraine said, with pride and pity and contempt. \"The Goddess is beyond all your other Gods. Religions may come and go, as the Romans found and no doubt the Christians will find after them, but she is beyond them all.\" She let Gwenhwyfar lower her to her pillows and groaned. \"I would my feet could be warmed... yes, I know you have hot bricks there, I cannot feel them. Once I read in an ancient book which Taliesin gave me of some scholar who was forced to drink hemlock. Taliesin says that the people have always killed the wise. Even as the people of the far southlands put Christ to the cross, so this wise and holy man was forced to drink hemlock because the rabble and the kings said he taught false doctrine. And when he was dying, he said that the cold crept upward from his feet, and so he died.... I have not drunk of hemlock, but it is as if I had... and now the cold is reaching my heart....\" She shivered and was still, and fora moment Gwenhwyfar thought she had ceased to breathe. No, the heart was still sluggishly beating. But Igraine did not speak again, lying wheezing on her pillows, and a little before dawn the rasping breaths finally ceased." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Igraine was buried at midday, after a solemn service of mourning; Gwenhwyfar stood beside the grave, tears sliding down her face as the shrouded body was lowered into the open earth. Yet she could not properly mourn her mother-in-law. Her living here was all a lie, she was no true Christian. If it was true what they believed, then Igraine was even now burning in hell. And she could not bear that, not when she thought of all Igraine's kindness to her.\n\nHer eyes burned with sleeplessness and tears. The lowering sky echoed her vague dread; heavy, as if at any moment rain would fall on them. Here within convent walls she was safe, but soon she must leave the safety of this place and ride for days over the high moors with the brooding menace of that open sky everywhere, hanging over her and over her child.... Gwenhwyfar, shivering, clasped her hands across her belly, as if in a futile wish to protect the dweller therefrom the menace of that sky.\n\nWhy am I always so frightened? Igraine was a pagan and lost to the tricks of the Devil, but I am safe, I call upon Christ to save me. What is thereunder God's Heaven to be afraid of? Yet she was afraid, with the same reasonless fear that seized on her so often. I must not fear. I am High Queen of all Britain; the only other to bear that title sleeps here beneath the earth... High Queen, and bearing the son of Arthur. Why should I be afraid of anything in God's world?\n\nThe nuns finished their hymn, turning from the grave. Gwenhwyfar shivered again, clutching her cloak. Now she must take very good care of herself, eat well, rest much, make certain that nothing went amiss as it had done before. Secretly she counted on her fingers. If it had been that last time before she left... but no, her courses had not come upon her for more than ten Sundays, she simply was not certain. Still, it was sure that her son would be born sometime about Eastertide. Yes, that was a good time; she remembered when her lady Meleas had born her son, it had been the darkest of winter, and the wind had howled outside like all the fiends waiting to snatch the soul of the newborn child, so nothing would suit Meleas but that the priest must comedown to the women's hall and baptize her babe almost before it cried. No, Gwenhwyfar was just as well pleased that she would not lie in at the darkest days of winter. Yet to have the longed-for child, she would be content to bear it even at Midwinter-night itself!" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A bell tolled, and then the abbess came to Gwenhwyfar. She did not bow-temporal power, she had once said, was nothing here-but Gwenhwyfar was, after all, the High Queen, so she inclined her head with great courtesy and said, \"Will you be staying on with us here, my lady? We would be deeply honored to keep you as long as you wish.\"\n\nOh, if only I could stay! It is so peaceful here.... Gwenhwyfar said, with visible regret, \"I cannot. I must return to Caerleon.\"\n\nShe could not delay telling Arthur her good news, the news of his son....\n\n\"The High King must hear of-of his mother's death,\" she said. Then, knowing what the woman wanted to hear, she added quickly, \"Be sure I will tell him how kindly you treated her. She had everything she could wish for in the last days of her life.\"\n\n\"It was our pleasure; we all loved the lady Igraine,\" said the old nun. \"Your escort shall be told, and be ready to ride with you early in the morning, God willing and send good weather.\"\n\n\"Tomorrow? Why not today?\" Gwenhwyfar asked, then stopped-no, that would be insulting haste indeed. She had not realized she was so eager to tell her news to Arthur, to end for all time the silent reproach that she was barren. She laid her hand on the abbess'arm. \"You must pray for me much now, and for the safe birth of the High King's son.\"\n\n\"Is it so, lady?\" The abbess' lined face wrinkled up in pleasure at being the confidante of the Queen. \"Indeed we shall pray for you. It will give all the sisters pleasure to think we are the first to say prayers for our new prince.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I shall make gifts to your convent-\"\n\n\"God's gifts and prayers may not be bought for gold,\" the abbess said primly, but she looked pleased nevertheless.\n\nIn the room near Igraine's chamber, where she had slept these last nights, her serving-woman was moving about, putting garments and gear into saddlebags. As Gwenhwyfar entered, she looked up and grumbled, \"It suits not well with the dignity of the High Queen, madam, to travel with only one servant! Why, any knight's wife would have as much! You should get you another from one of the houses here, and a lady to travel with you as well!\"\n\n\"Get one of the lay sisters to help you, then,\" said Gwenhwyfar. \"But we shall travel all the more quickly if we are but few.\"\n\n\"I heard in the courtyard that there were Saxons landing on the Southern Shores,\" the woman grumbled. \"It soon will not be safe to ride anywhere in this country!\"\n\n\"Don't be foolish,\" Gwenhwyfar said. \"The Saxons on the Southern Shores are bound fast by treaty to keep peace with the High King's lands. They know what Arthur's legion can do, they found it out at Celidon Wood. Do you think they want more work for ravens? In any case we will soon be back at Caerleon, and at the end of summer, we shall move the court to Camelot in the Summer Country-the Romans defended that fort against all the barbarians. It has never been taken. Even now Sir Cai is there, building a great hall fit for Arthur's Round Table, so that all the Companions and kings may sit at meat together.\"\n\nAs she had hoped, the woman was diverted. \"That is near your own old home, is it not, lady?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Yes." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "From the heights of Camelot, one may look a bowshot across the water and see my father's island kingdom. Indeed, I went therein childhood once,\" she said, remembering how, when she was a little girl, even before she went to school with the nuns on Ynis Witrin, she had been taken up to the ruins of the old Roman fort. There had been little there then, except for the old wall, and the priest had not stinted to make this a lesson on how human glories faded away....\n\nShe dreamed that night that she stood high on Camelot; but the mists drew in around the shore, so that the island seemed to swim in a sea of cloud. Across from them, she could seethe high Tor of Ynis Witrin, crowned with ring stones; although she knew well that the ring stones had been thrown down by the priests a hundred years ago. And by some trick of the Sight it seemed that Morgaine stood on the Tor and laughed at her and mocked her, and she was crowned with a wreath of bare wicker-withes. And then Morgaine was standing beside heron Camelot and they looked out overall the Summer Country as far as the Isle of the Priests, looking down over her own old home where her father Leodegranz was king, and over Dragon Island shrouded in mist. But Morgaine was wearing strange robes and a high double crown, and she stood so that Gwenhwyfar could not quite see her, but only knew she was there. She said, I am Morgaine of the Fairies, and all these kingdoms will I give to you as their High Queen if you will fall down and worship me.\n\nGwenhwyfar woke with a start, Morgaine's mocking laughter in her ears. The room was empty and silent except for the heavy snores of her serving-woman in a pallet on the floor. Gwenhwyfar made the sign of the cross and lay down to sleep again. But on the very edge of sleep it seemed to her that she looked into the clear and moonlit waters of a pool, and instead of her own face, Morgaine's paleface was reflected back at her, crowned with wicker-withes like the harvest dolls some of the peasant folk still made, and very faraway. And again Gwenhwyfar had to sit up and make the sign of the cross before she could compose herself to sleep." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It seemed all too soon that she was wakened, but then she had been so insistent they should set forth at the first light. She could hear the rain pounding on the roof as she put on her gown by lamplight, but if they stayed for rain in this climate they should be here a year. She felt dull and queasy, but now she knew there was a good reason for that, and secretly patted her still-flat stomach as if to reassure herself it was real. She had no desire to eat, but dutifully swallowed some bread and cold meats... she had along ride before her. And if she had no mind to riding in the rain, at least it was likely that any Saxons or marauders would stay within doors as well.\n\nShe was fastening the hood of her warmest cloak when the abbess entered. After a few formal words of thanks for the rich gifts made by Gwenhwyfar on her own behalf and on Igraine's, the abbess came to the real business of this farewell visit.\n\n\"Who now reigns in Cornwall, lady?\"\n\n\"Why-I am not sure,\" said Gwenhwyfar, trying to remember. \"I know the High King gave Tintagel to Igraine when he married, so that she might have a place of her own, and I suppose, after her, the lady Morgaine, daughter of Igraine by the old Duke Gorlois. I know not even who is there now as castellan.\"\n\n\"Nor I,\" said the abbess. \"Some serving-manor knight of the lady Igraine, I suppose. That is why I came to speak with you, madam... the castle Tintagel is a prize, and it should be tenanted, or there will be war in this countryside too. If the lady Morgaine is married and comes hereto live, all will be well, I suppose-I do not know the lady, but if she is Igraine's daughter, I suppose she is a good woman and a good Christian.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "You suppose wrong, Gwenhwyfar thought, and again it was as if she heard the mocking laughter from her dream. But she would not speak ill of Arthur's kinswoman to a stranger.\n\nThe abbess said, \"Bear my message to Arthur the King, lady-that someone should come to dwell in Tintagel. I have heard something of a rumor that ran about the countryside when Gorlois died-that he had a bastard son and some other kinfolk, and some of them might strive to conquer this country again. While Igraine dwelt here, all folk knew it was under Arthur's dominion, but now it would be well if the High King sent one of his best knights hither-perhaps married to the lady Morgaine.\"\n\n\"I will tell Arthur,\" Gwenhwyfar said, and as she set out, she pondered this. She knew little of statecraft, but she remembered that there had been chaos before Uther came to the crown and again when he died leaving no heir; she supposed something like that might befall if Cornwall was left with none to rule or keep good laws. Morgaine was Queen of Cornwall and should come hitherto reign. And then she remembered what Arthur had once said that his dearest friend should wed with his sister. Since Lancelet was not wealthy and had no lands of his own, it would be the right thing that they should come to reign together in Cornwall.\n\nAnd now I am to bear Arthur's son, it would be best to send Lancelet far from court, that I might never again look on his face and think of him such thoughts as no wedded woman and no good Christian should think. And yet she could not bear to think of Lancelet wedded to Morgaine. Had there ever been so wicked a woman as she on the face of this wicked world? She rode with her face hidden in her cloak, not listening to the gossip of the knights who were her escort, but after a time she realized that they were passing by a village which had been burned. One of the knights asked her leave to stop awhile, and went away to look for survivors; he came back looking grim." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Saxons,\" he said to the others, and bit the words off when he saw that the Queen was listening.\n\n\"Don't be frightened, madam, they are gone, but we must ride as fast as we may and tell Arthur of this. If we find you a faster horse, can you keep our pace?\"\n\nGwenhwyfar felt her breath catch in her throat. They had come up out of one of the deep valleys, and the sky arched high and open over them, filled with menace-she felt as some small thing must feel in the grass when the shadow of a hawk swoops over it. She said, and heard her voice thin and trembling like the voice of a very little girl, \"I cannot ride faster now. I bear the child of the High King and I dare not endanger him.\"\n\nAgain it seemed as if the knight-he was Griflet, husband of her own waiting-woman, Meleas-bit off his words, setting his jaw with a snap. He said at last, concealing his impatience, \"Then, madam, it were as well we should escort you to Tintagel, or to some other great house in this area, or back again to the convent, so that we may ride at speed and reach Caerleon before the dawn of tomorrow's day. If you are with child you certainly cannot ride through the night! Will you let one of us escort you and your woman back to Tintagel or to the convent again?\"\n\nI would like it well to be within walls again, if there are Saxons in this country... but I must not be such a coward. Arthur must have the news of his son. She said stubbornly, \"Cannot one of you ride on toward Caerleon, and the rest of you travel at my pace? Or cannot a messenger be hired to bear the word quickly?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Griflet looked as if he wanted to swear. \"I could not trust to any hired messenger in this country now, madam, and there are few of us even fora peaceful country, barely enough to protect you. Well, it must be as it will, no doubt Arthur's men have received the word already.\" He turned away, his jaw white and set, and looked so angry that Gwenhwyfar wanted to call him back and agree to all he said; but she told herself firmly not to be so cowardly. Now when she was to bear the royal son, she must behave herself like a queen and ride on with courage.\n\nAnd if I was at Tintagel and the countryside was filled with Saxons, there would I remain until the war had ended and all the country at peace again, and it might belong... and if Arthur did not even know I was with child, he might be content to let me dwell there forevermore. Why should he want to bring back a barren queen to his new palace at Camelot? Like enough he would listen to the counsel of that old Druid who hates me, Taliesin, who is his grandsire, and put me away for some woman who could bear him a bouncing brat every ten moons or so....\n\nBut all will be well, once Arthur knows....\n\nIt seemed as if the icy wind was sweeping across the high moors and into her very bones; after a time she begged them to stop again and get out the litter so that she might ride within it... the horse's motion jolted her so. Griflet looked angry, and fora moment she thought he would forget his courtesy and swear at her, but he gave the orders, and she huddled gratefully inside the litter, glad of the slow pace and the closed flaps which closed out the frightening sky." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Before dusk the rain stopped fora while, and the sun came out, low and slanting over the dismal moor. \"We will setup the tents here,\" Griflet said. \"Hereon the moor at least we can see along way. Tomorrow we should strike the old Roman road, and then we can travel faster-\" and then he dropped his voice and said something to the other knights which Gwenhwyfar could not hear, but she cringed, knowing he was angry at the slow pace at which they must travel. Yet everyone knew a breeding woman was more like to miscarry if she rode a fast horse, and already twice she had miscarried a child-did they want her to lose Arthur's son this time too?\n\nShe slept poorly within the tent, the ground hard beneath her thin body, her cloak and blankets all damp, her body aching from the unaccustomed riding.\n\nBut after a time she slept, despite the pouring rain that leaked through the tent, and was wakened by the sound of riders and a call: Griflet's voice, harsh and rough.\n\n\"Who rides there! Stand!\"\n\n\"Is it you, Griflet? I know your voice,\" came a cry out of the dark. \"It is Gawaine, and I seek for your party-is the Queen with you?\"\n\nGwenhwyfar threw her cloak over her nightdress and came out from the tent. \"Is it you, cousin? What do you here?\"\n\n\"I hoped to find you still at the convent,\" said Gawaine, sliding from his horse. Behind him in the darkness were other forms-four or five of Arthur's men, though Gwenhwyfar could not distinguish their faces. \"Since you are here, madam, I suppose Queen Igraine has departed this life-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"She died the night before last,\" Gwenhwyfar said, and Gawaine sighed.\n\n\"Well, it is God's will,\" he said. \"But the land is underarms, madam-since you are here and so far on your way, I suppose you must continue onto Caerleon. Had you still been at the convent I was under orders to escort you, and such of the sisters as wished to seek protection, to Tintagel castle, and bid you remain there until there was safety in the land.\"\n\n\"And now you may spare the journey,\" said Gwenhwyfar irritably, but Gawaine shook his head. He said, \"Since my message is useless, and I suppose the sisters will wish to take shelter within their convent walls, I must ride onto Tintagel with news for all men sworn to Arthur to come at once. The Saxons are massing near the coast with more than a hundred ships-beacon signals were sent from the lighthouses. The legion is at Caerleon, and all men are gathering. When the word came to Lothian, I rode at once to join Arthur; and Arthur sent me to Tintagel to bear word thither.\" He drew breath. \"Not the Merlin's self is more a messenger than I these ten days.\"\n\n\"And I told the Queen,\" said Griflet, \"that she should remain at Tintagel, but now it is too late to return there! And with armies gathering on the roads-Gawaine, perhaps you should escort the Queen back to Tintagel.\"\n\n\"No,\" said Gwenhwyfar clearly. \"I must return now, I am not afraid to travel where I must.\" Even more, if he was facing war again, Arthur would wish for the good news she bore. Gawaine had already shaken his head impatiently." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I cannot delay for any woman's riding, unless it were the Lady of the Lake herself, who can ride a day's journey with any man a-horse! And you are but a sorry rider, madam-nay, I spoke not to anger you, no one expects that you should ride like a knight, but I cannot delay-\"\n\n\"And the Queen is breeding and must travel at the slowest pace of all,\" Griflet told him with equal impatience. \"Can some of your slowest riders be told to escort the Queen, Gawaine, and I ride on with you to Tintagel?\"\n\nGawaine smiled. \"No doubt you wish to beat the heart of things, Griflet, but you have been given this task and no one envies you,\" he said. \"Can you find me a cup of wine and some bread? I will travel on through the night, to be in Tintagel at sunrise. I have a message for Marcus, who is war duke of Cornwall and is to bring his knights. This maybe the great battle Taliesin foretold, where we perish or we drive the Saxons once and for all from this land! But every man must come and fight at Arthur's side.\"\n\n\"Even some of the treaty troops will stand with Arthur now,\" said Griflet. \"Ride on if you must, Gawaine, and God ride with you.\" The two knights embraced. \"We will meet again when God wills, friend.\"\n\nGawaine bowed to Gwenhwyfar. She reached out a hand to him and said, \"A moment-is my kinswoman Morgause well?\"\n\n\"As ever, madam.\"\n\n\"And my sister-in-law Morgaine-she is safe in Morgause's court, then?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Gawaine looked startled." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Morgaine? No, madam, I have not seen my kinswoman Morgaine for many years. Certainly she has not visited Lothian, or so my mother said,\" he replied, courteous despite his impatience. \"Now I must be off.\"\n\n\"God ride with you,\" she said, and stood watching as the men's hoofbeats thundered away in the night.\n\n\"It is now so near dawn,\" she said, \"is there any reason to try to sleep more, or should we break camp and ride on for Caerleon?\"\n\nGriflet looked pleased. \"True, there will belittle sleep for any, in this rain,\" he said, \"and if you can travel, lady, it would please me well to be on the road. God knows what we shall have to pass through before we reach Caerleon.\"\n\nBut as the sun rose over the moors it was as if they rode through a land already struck silent by the war. It was the season when the farmers should be out in their fields, but although they passed several isolated hill farms, no sheep grazed, not a dog barked, nor any child came to watch them; and even along the Roman road there was not a single traveller. Gwenhwyfar, shivering, realized that the word had gone out to raise the countryside for war, and such as could do nothing had crept behind closed doors to hide from the armies of either side.\n\nWill it endanger my child, to travel at this pace? Yet now it seemed a choice of evils-endanger herself and her child and Arthur's by this forced travel, or delay on the road and perhaps fall into the hands of the Saxon armies. She resolved that Griflet should have no further cause to complain that she had delayed them. Yet as she rode, unwilling to take refuge within her litter lest he accuse her again of delaying him, it seemed that fear was hovering everywhere around her." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was near to sunset, and it had been along day, when they caught sight of the watchtower which Uther had built at Caerleon. The great crimson banner of the Pendragon floated from the heights, and Gwenhwyfar crossed herself as they passed beneath it.\n\nNow all Christian men are to make a stand against the barbarians, is it fitting that this sign of an ancient Devil-faith should serve to rally the armies of a Christian king? Once indeed she had spoken of it to Arthur and he had answered that he had sworn to his people that he would rule over them as the Great Dragon, Christian and non-Christian alike without favor, and had laughed, stretching out his arms with the barbarian serpents tattooed all along their length. She felt loathing for those serpents, symbols that no Christian man should bear, but he had been stubborn.\n\n\"I bear them in sign of the kingmaking when I was given Uther's place in this land. We will speak no more of this, lady.\" And nothing she had said could force him to discuss it with her or to listen to what a priest might say on the subject.\n\n\"Priestcraft is one thing and kingcraft is another, my Gwenhwyfar. I would that you should share all things with me, but you have no wish to share this, and so I may not speak of it to you. And as for the priests, it is none of their affair. Leave it, I say.\" His voice had been firm, not angry, but still she had bent her head and said no more. Yet now, as she rode beneath the Pendragon banner, she trembled. If our son is to rule in a Christian land, is it fitting that Druid banner should fly above his father's castle?\n\nThey rode slowly through the encamped armies in the plain before Caerleon. Some of the knights, who knew her well, came out and setup a cheer for their queen, and she smiled and waved to them. They rode beneath the banner of Lot and through the men of Lothian, Northmen with pikes and long axes, wrapped in the crudely dyed clothes they wore; over their camp flew the banner of the Morrigán, the Great Raven of war. Gawaine's brother Gaheris came out from that camp and bowed to her, and walked beside Griflet's horse as they rode up toward the castle." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Did my brother find you, Griflet? He had a message for the Queen-\"\n\n\"He met us when we were already a day on the road,\" Gwenhwyfar said, \"and it was easier to continue here.\"\n\n\"I will come with you to the castle-all of Arthur's chosen Companions are bidden to dine with the King,\" said Gaheris. \"Gawaine was angry at being sent with messages, yet no one can ride so swiftly as my brother when he must. Your lady is here, Griflet, but she is readying herself and the child to go to the new castle-Arthur says all the women must go, they can be more easily defended there, and he can spare but few to defend them.\"\n\nTo Camelot! Gwenhwyfar's heart sank-she had ridden all the way from Tintagel to give Arthur news of their child, and now would he pack her up and send her to Camelot?\n\n\"I do not know that banner,\" said Griflet, looking at a golden eagle sculptured lifelike on a pole. It seemed very ancient.\n\n\"It is the standard of North Wales,\" said Gaheris. \"Uriens is here, with Avalloch his son. Uriens claims his father took this standard from the Romans, more than a hundred years ago. It may even be the truth! The men from Uriens'hills are strong fighters, though I'd not say so in their hearing.\"\n\n\"And whose banner is that?\" asked Griflet, but this time, though Gaheris turned to speak, it was Gwenhwyfar herself who answered.\n\n\"That is the banner of my father, Leodegranz, the blue banner with the cross worked in gold.\" She herself, as a young maiden in the Summer Country, had helped her mother's women to embroider it for the king. It was said that her father had chosen this device after hearing a tale that one of the emperors of Rome had seen the sign of the cross in the sky before one of his battles. We should now be fighting beneath that sign, not the serpents of Avalon! She shivered, and Gaheris looked at her sharply." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Co-write with the author and continue the story.\nTags: fantasy, arthurian, historical fantasy\nAuthor: Marion Zimmer Bradley\nTitle: The Mists of Avalon\nChapter: 35" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Did my brother find you, Griflet? He had a message for the Queen-\"\n\n\"He met us when we were already a day on the road,\" Gwenhwyfar said, \"and it was easier to continue here.\"\n\n\"I will come with you to the castle-all of Arthur's chosen Companions are bidden to dine with the King,\" said Gaheris. \"Gawaine was angry at being sent with messages, yet no one can ride so swiftly as my brother when he must. Your lady is here, Griflet, but she is readying herself and the child to go to the new castle-Arthur says all the women must go, they can be more easily defended there, and he can spare but few to defend them.\"\n\nTo Camelot! Gwenhwyfar's heart sank-she had ridden all the way from Tintagel to give Arthur news of their child, and now would he pack her up and send her to Camelot?\n\n\"I do not know that banner,\" said Griflet, looking at a golden eagle sculptured lifelike on a pole. It seemed very ancient.\n\n\"It is the standard of North Wales,\" said Gaheris. \"Uriens is here, with Avalloch his son. Uriens claims his father took this standard from the Romans, more than a hundred years ago. It may even be the truth! The men from Uriens'hills are strong fighters, though I'd not say so in their hearing.\"\n\n\"And whose banner is that?\" asked Griflet, but this time, though Gaheris turned to speak, it was Gwenhwyfar herself who answered.\n\n\"That is the banner of my father, Leodegranz, the blue banner with the cross worked in gold.\" She herself, as a young maiden in the Summer Country, had helped her mother's women to embroider it for the king. It was said that her father had chosen this device after hearing a tale that one of the emperors of Rome had seen the sign of the cross in the sky before one of his battles. We should now be fighting beneath that sign, not the serpents of Avalon! She shivered, and Gaheris looked at her sharply." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Are you cold, lady?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "We must ride onto the castle, Griflet, no doubt Arthur will be awaiting his queen.\"\n\n\"You must be weary of riding, my queen,\" said Griflet, looking up kindly at her. \"Now will you soon be in the hands of your women.\"\n\nAnd as they came closer to the doors of the castle, there were many of Arthur's Companions whom she knew, who waved to her and called to her in friendly, informal fashion. Next year at this time, she thought, they will come out to cheer their prince.\n\nA big, lurching man, huge and clumsy-footed, in leather armor and a steel cap, came into the path of her horse-it was as if he stumbled, though he bowed to Gwenhwyfar and she could see that it was deliberate, that he had put himself in her way like this.\n\n\"Madam, my sister,\" he said, \"do you not know me?\"\n\nGwenhwyfar frowned and stared at him, then after a moment recognized him. \"Is it you-\"\n\n\"Meleagrant,\" he said. \"I have come hereto fight at our father's side and your husband's, my sister.\"\n\nGriflet said, with a friendly smile, \"I knew not that your father had a son, my queen. But all are welcome to fight under Arthur's standard-\"\n\n\"Perhaps you will speak for me to your husband the King, my sister,\" said Meleagrant. Gwenhwyfar, looking at him, felt a faint distaste run through her. He was an enormous man, almost a giant, and like so many huge men, he looked misshapen, as if one side of his body were somehow grown larger than the other. One eye was certainly larger than the other, and had a squint; yet, trying to be fair, Gwenhwyfar thought the man's deformity was no fault of his, and she really knew nothing against him. Yet it was arrogance, that he should call her sister before all these men, and now he had grasped her hand without leave and made as if to kiss it. She clenched it into a fist and pulled it away." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Trying to make her voice firm, she said, \"No doubt when you merit it, Meleagrant, my father will speak for you to Arthur and he will make you one of his knights. I am only a woman and I have no authority to promise you that. Is my father here?\"\n\n\"He is with Arthur within the castle,\" said Meleagrant sullenly, \"and I am like a dog out herewith the horses!\"\n\nGwenhwyfar said firmly, \"I cannot see that you have any claim to more than this, Meleagrant. He has given you a post at his side, for your mother was once a favorite of his-\"\n\nMeleagrant said harshly, \"All men in the country know as well as my mother that I am the king's son, his only living son! Sister, speak to our father for me!\"\n\nShe pulled away her hand from his repeated effort to seize it. \"Let me go, Meleagrant! My father claims you are not his son, and how can I say anything else? I never knew your mother-this is between you and my father!\"\n\n\"But you must listen,\" said Meleagrant urgently, tugging at her hand, and Griflet thrust himself between them and said, \"Here, here, fellow, you can't talk to the Queen like that, or Arthur will have your head on his platter at dinnertime! I'm sure our lord and king will grant you what's right, and if you fight well for him at this battle, no doubt he'll be glad to have you among his Companions. But you mustn't trouble the Queen this way!\"\n\nMeleagrant turned to face him, towering over Griflet until the latter, though he was a tall, athletic young man, looked like a child. The giant said, \"Are you going to tell me what I can say to my own sister, you little popinjay?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Griflet put his hand on his sword and said, \"I was given the task of escorting my queen, fellow, and I'll do the task Arthur's given me to do. Get out of my path or I'll force you to!\"\n\n\"You with who else?\" sneered Meleagrant, bracing himself with an ugly sneer.\n\n\"I, for one,\" said Gaheris, standing quickly at Griflet's side. Like Gawaine, he was a big, sturdy man who would have made two of the slender Griflet.\n\n\"And I,\" said Lancelet from the darkness beyond them, striding quickly toward Gwenhwyfar's horse, and she could have wept with relief. Never had he looked more handsome to her than now; and though he was slender and slightly built, something in his presence made Meleagrant drawback. \"Is this man annoying you, lady Gwenhwyfar?\"\n\nShe swallowed and nodded, and found to her dismay that she had no voice to speak. Meleagrant blustered, \"Who may you be, fellow?\"\n\n\"Take care,\" said Gaheris, \"don't you know the lord Lancelet?\"\n\n\"I am Arthur's captain of horse,\" said Lancelet, in his lazy amused voice, \"and the Queen's champion. Have you anything to say tome?\"\n\n\"My business is with my sister,\" said Meleagrant, but Gwenhwyfar said, high and shrill, \"I am no sister of his! This man claims to be my father's son because his mother was fora time one of the king's women! He is no son of my father's, but a baseborn clown who belongs in a farmyard, though my father has been kind enough to give him a place in his household!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You had best get out of our way,\" said Lancelet, surveying Meleagrant with contempt, and it was easy enough to see that Meleagrant knew who Lancelet was and had no desire to try conclusions with him.\n\nHe edged backward, saying in a surly voice, \"You will be sorry for this someday, Gwenhwyfar,\" but he gave ground, glowering, and let them pass.\n\nLancelet was dressed with his usual fastidious taste, in crimson tunic and cloak; his hair was carefully trimmed and combed, his face clean-shaven. His hands looked smooth and white as Gwenhwyfar's own, although she knew that they were hard and steel-strong. He was handsomer than ever. And he had come just in time to save her from an ugly encounter with Meleagrant. She smiled-she could not help herself; it was as if something turned over, deep inside her.\n\nNo, I must not look at him this way now, I am to be the mother of Arthur's son....\n\nLancelet said, \"You do not want to pass through the great hall, lady, in your draggled riding clothes.... Has it been raining most of your journey? Let me take you and your servant to the side door, and you can go directly to your chamber and refresh yourself, then greet my lord Arthur in the hall when you are freshly dressed and warm and dry-you are shivering! Is the wind cold on you, Gwenhwyfar?\"\n\nHe long had the privilege of calling her by her name, without the formal'my queen\" or'lady,\" but never had it sounded so sweet on his lips. \"You are, as ever, thoughtful of me,\" she said, and let him lead her horse." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lancelet said, \"Griflet, go now and tell our king that the lady is safe in her chambers. And you too, Gaheris, you are longing to be back among the Companions. I will see my lady safe.\"\n\nAt the door he helped her to dismount, and she was only aware of the touch of his hands. She lowered her eyes and would not look at him.\n\n\"The great hall is filled with Arthur's Companions,\" he said, \"and all is confusion-the Round Table has gone but three days ago, on three carts to Camelot, and Cai with it to set it in its place in the new hall. Now a rider has gone out in haste to summon Cai back, and such men as can ride from the Summer Country-\"\n\nShe looked up at him, frightened. \"Gawaine told us of the Saxon landing-is this truly the war Arthur feared?\"\n\n\"It is what we have all known for years must come, Gwen,\" he said quietly. \"For this Arthur has been training his legions, and I working with his horse troops. When this is over, perhaps, we shall have the peace we have longed for, all my life and all Uther's.\"\n\nSuddenly she flung her arms around him. \"You could be killed,\" she whispered. It was the first time she had had courage to do such a thing. She stood pressed against him, holding her face against his shoulder, and his arms went around her. Even through her fear she felt the sweetness that he would hold her so. He said, and his voice shook, \"We all knew that it must come someday soon, my dear. By our good fortune, we have had years to prepare for it, and Arthur to lead us-do even you know what a great leader of men he is, and how dear we all hold him? He is young, but he is the greatest of the High Kings we have had since long before the time of the Romans, and with Arthur to lead us, we will certainly drive the Saxons hence-and for the rest, it's as God wills, Gwenhwyfar.\" He patted her shoulder gently, saying, \"Poor girl, you are so wearied, let me take you to your women.\" But she could feel his hands trembling, and was suddenly shamed that she had thrown herself into his arms as if she were a camp follower!" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "In her own chambers all was confusion, Meleas putting garments into boxes, Elaine supervising the serving-women. Elaine came and took Gwenhwyfar in her arms, crying out, \"Kinswoman, we have been so worried about you, on the roads-we had hoped that you had the message before leaving the convent, and would stay safe in Tintagel-\"\n\n\"No,\" said Gwenhwyfar, \"Igraine died. Gawaine met with us when we had already been a whole day on the road, and besides, my place is at my husband's side.\"\n\nMeleas asked, \"Lady, did Griflet return with you?\"\n\nGwenhwyfar nodded. \"He escorted me here. You will see him at dinner, I suppose-I heard Gaheris say that all of Arthur's Companions had been bidden to dine with the King-\"\n\nMeleas said, \"If you can call it dining. It is more like gobbling soldier's rations-this place is like an armed camp, and it will be worse before it is better. But Elaine and I have done our best to keep all things in order.\" She was a usually smiling, plump young woman who now looked worried and tired. \"I have put all your gowns and such things as you shall need for this summer into boxes, so that you maybe ready to ride for Camelot in the morning. The King said we were all to goat once, and it is all but ready for occupancy, with the work that Cai has done. But we never thought we would go there like this, in haste and almost under siege.\"\n\nNo, thought Gwenhwyfar. I have been riding these days and now I will not ride forth again! My place is here and my son has aright to be born in his father's own castle. I will not again be sent hither and thither like any bit of luggage or saddlery! She said, \"Beat ease, Meleas, perhaps there is no such haste as all this. Send someone for washwater and fetch me some gown which is not soaked and bedraggled by mud and travel. And who are all these women?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "These women, it turned out, were wives of some of the Companions and of certain of Arthur's subject kings, who would be sent with them to Camelot; it was easier if they all travelled in convoy, and there they would be safe from the Saxons. \"It is near to your home,\" Elaine said, as if that should settle all Gwenhwyfar's unwillingness. \"You can visit your father's wife, and your little brothers and sisters. Or while Leodegranz is at war, your stepmother will dwell with us at Camelot.\"\n\nThat would be no pleasure to either of us, Gwenhwyfar thought, and then was ashamed of herself. She felt like ending all this with a few words, I am pregnant, I cannot travel, but she shrank from the excited flurry of questions she knew would follow. Arthur should know it first." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "When Gwenhwyfar came into the great hall, which looked barren and empty without the great Round Table and all the splendor of banners and tapestries and hangings gone, Arthur was sitting at a trestle table halfway down the hall near the fires, surrounded by half a dozen of his Companions, others clustered near. She had been so eager to tell her news, but now she could not blurt it out before the whole court! She must wait until tonight when they were alone in bed-that was the only time she ever had him to herself at all. But when he looked up from his Companions and saw her, he rose and came to embrace her.\n\n\"Gwen, my dearest!\" he said. \"I had hoped Gawaine's message would keep you safe in Tintagel-\"\n\n\"Are you angry that I have comeback?\"\n\nHe shook his head. \"No, of course not. So the roads are still safe, then, and you were lucky,\" he said. \"But I suppose this must mean that my mother...\"\n\n\"She died two days ago, and was buried within the convent walls,\" Gwenhwyfar said, \"and I set out at once to bring you the news. And now you have nothing but reproach for me that I did not stay safely at Tintagel because of this war!\"\n\n\"Not reproach, my dear wife,\" he said gently, \"concern for your safety. But sir Griflet cared well for you, I can see. Come and sit with us here.\" He led her to a bench and seated her at his side. The silver and pottery dishes had vanished-she supposed they too had been sent to Camelot, and she wondered what had happened to the fine reddish of Roman make which her stepmother had given her at her wedding. The walls were bare and the place stripped, and they ate their food out of plain wooden bowls, the crude carved stuff of the markets. She said, dipping apiece of bread into the dish, \"Already this place looks as if a battle had swept over it!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It seemed as well tome that everything should be sent ahead to Camelot,\" he said, \"and then we had the rumors of the Saxon landings and all's confusion. Your father is here, my love-no doubt you will want to greet him.\"\n\nLeodegranz was seated near, though not in the inner ring of those around Arthur. She came and kissed him, feeling his bony shoulders under her hands-always her father had been a big man to her, big and imposing, and now suddenly he seemed old and wasted.\n\n\"I told my lord Arthur he should not have sent you travelling about the countryside at this time,\" he said. \"Ah, yes, no doubt it was well done of Arthur that he wished to send you to his mother's deathbed, but he had a duty to his wife too, and Igraine has an unwedded daughter who should have been with her mother-where is the Duchess of Cornwall that she did not go?\"\n\n\"I do not know where Morgaine is,\" said Arthur. \"My sister is a woman grown, and her own mistress. She need not seek my leave to be here or there.\"\n\n\"Aye, it is ever so with a king,\" said Leodegranz querulously, \"he is lord of all save his womenfolk. Alienor is the same, and I have three daughters, not even old enough to marry, and they think they rule my household! You will see them at Camelot, Gwenhwyfar. I have sent them therefor safekeeping, and the oldest, Isotta, is old enough-you might wish to make her one of your ladies, your own half-sister? And since I have no sons living, I want you to ask Arthur to marry her to one of his best knights when she is old enough.\"\n\nGwenhwyfar shook her head in amazement at the thought of Isotta, her half-sister-old enough to come to court? Well, she had been almost seven years old when Gwenhwyfar was married-now she must be a great girl of twelve or thirteen. Elaine had been no older when she was brought to Caerleon. No doubt, if she asked, Arthur would give Isotta to one of his best knights, Gawaine perhaps, or possibly-since Gawaine would be king of Lothian someday-to Gaheris, who was the King's own cousin. She said, \"I am certain that Arthur and I together will find someone for my sister.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Lancelet is still unwed,\" suggested Leodegranz, \"and so is Duke Marcus of Cornwall. Though no doubt it would be more suitable if Marcus married the lady Morgaine and they combined their claims, then would the lady have someone to keep her castle and defend her lands. And, though I understand the lady is one of the damsels of the Lady of the Lake, no doubt Duke Marcus could tame her.\"\n\nGwenhwyfar smiled at the thought of Morgaine being tamely married to someone they thought suitable. And then she grew angry. Why should Morgaine please herself? No other woman was allowed to do her own will, even Igraine who was mother to the King had been married as her elders thought good. Arthur should exert his authority and get Morgaine properly married before she disgraced them all! Conveniently Gwenhwyfar stifled the memory that when Arthur had spoken of marrying Morgaine to his friend Lancelet, she had objected. Ah, I was selfish... I cannot have him myself, and I grudge him a wife. No, she told herself, she would be happy to see Lancelet married if the girl was suitable and virtuous!\n\nLeodegranz asked, \"I thought the Duchess of Cornwall was among your ladies-?\"\n\n\"She was,\" Gwenhwyfar said, \"but she left us some years ago to dwell with her kinswoman and has not returned.\" And it occurred to her once again: where was Morgaine? Not in Avalon, not in Lothian with Morgause, not in Tintagel with Igraine-she might be in Less Britain, or on a pilgrimage to Rome, or in the fairy country, or in Hell itself for all Gwenhwyfar knew to the contrary. This could not goon-Arthur had aright to know where dwelt his nearest kinswoman, now that his mother was dead! But surely Morgaine would have come to her mother's deathbed if she could?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She went back to her place beside Arthur. Lancelet and the King were drawing with the tips of their daggers on the wooden boards before them, while they ate absentmindedly out of the same dish. Biting her lip-indeed she might as well have stayed in Tintagel for all the difference it made to Arthur that she was there or not-she would have withdrawn to a bench with her ladies, but Arthur looked up at her and smiled, holding out his arm to her.\n\n\"Nay, my dear one, I meant not to drive you away-I must indeed talk with my captain of horse, but there is room for you here, too.\" He beckoned to one of the servers. \"Bring another plate of meat for my lady. Lancelet and I have made a wreck of this dish-there is fresh-baked bread too, somewhere, if any of it is left, though with Cai not here the kitchens are in chaos.\"\n\n\"I think I have eaten enough,\" Gwenhwyfar said, leaning a little against his shoulder, and he patted her absently. She could feel Lancelet, warm and solid, on the other side, and she felt secure and safe between them. Arthur leaned forward, one hand still stroking her hair, the other holding the dagger where he was sketching.\n\n\"Look, can we bring the horses up this way? We can travel fast, and leave the wagons with provisions and baggage to come around on the flat country, but men with horses can cut across country and march light and fast-Cai has had men baking hard journey-bread for the armies and stockpiling it these three years since Celidon Wood. It is likely they will land here-\" He pointed to a spot on the rough map he had made. \"Leodegranz, Uriens, come here and look at this-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Her father came, and with him another man, slight and dark and dapper, though his hair was greying and his face lined.\n\n\"King Uriens,\" Arthur said, \"I greet you as my father's friend and mine. Have you met my lady Gwenhwyfar?\"\n\nUriens bowed. His voice was pleasant and melodious. \"My pleasure to speak with you, madam. When the country is more settled, I will bring my wife, if I may, to present to you at Camelot.\"\n\n\"I shall be pleased,\" Gwenhwyfar said, feeling that her voice was insincere-never had she learned how to speak these polite platitudes so that they carried any conviction.\n\n\"It will not be this summer, we have other work to do,\" said Uriens. He bent over Arthur's rough map. \"In Ambrosius\" time we led an army upcountry this way-we had not so many horses, save with the baggage wagons, but one could bring them up and cut across ground here. You must keep out of swamps as you go to the south of the Summer Country-\"\n\n\"I had hoped not to climb the fells,\" said Lancelet.\n\nUriens shook his head. \"With that great body of horse, it is better.\"\n\n\"On those hills, horses slip on stone and break their legs,\" Lancelet argued.\n\n\"Better even that, sir Lancelet, than have men and horses and wagons all bemired-better fells than swamps,\" said Uriens. \"Look, here lies the old Roman wall...\"\n\n\"I cannot see where so many have scribbled,\" said Lancelet impatiently. He went to the fireplace and plucked out along stick, shook out the fire on the end, and began drawing on the floor with the charcoaled stick. \"Look, here lies the Summer Country and here the Lakes and the Roman wall.... We have, say, three hundred horse, and here two hundred-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"So many indeed?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Uriens demanded incredulously. \"The legions of Caesar had no more!\"\n\n\"Seven years we have been training them, and training mounted soldiers in their use,\" said Lancelet.\n\n\"Thanks to you, dear cousin,\" Arthur said.\n\nLancelet turned and smiled. \"Thanks to you, my king, who had vision to see what we could do with them.\"\n\n\"Some soldiers still know not how to fight on horseback,\" said Uriens. \"As for me, I fought well enough leading men on foot-\"\n\n\"And that is as well,\" said Arthur good-naturedly, \"for we have not horses for every man who wishes to fight mounted, nor saddles and stirrups and harness for all, though I have had every harnessmaker in my kingdom working as fast as he might, and hard enough work I've had to levy enough money to pay for all this, and men thinking me a greedy tyrant.\" He chuckled, patting Gwenhwyfar on the back and saying, \"All this time I have had hardly enough gold of my own to buy my queen silks for her embroidery! It has all gone to horseflesh and smiths and saddlers!\" Suddenly the gaiety was gone and he was serious, almost frowning. \"And now is the great test of all that we have done and all that we can do-the Saxons this time area flood, my friends. If we cannot stop them, with less than half their numbers, there will be none fed in this country but ravens and wolves!\"\n\n\"That is the advantage of horse troops,\" said Lancelet gravely. \"Armed and mounted men can fight five, ten-it maybe twenty times their number. We shall see, and if we have guessed right, we shall stop the Saxons once and for all time. If we have not-well, we shall die defending our own homes and the lands we love, and our women and little children.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Aye,\" said Arthur softly, \"that we would. For what else have we worked since we were tall enough to hold a sword, Galahad?\"\n\nHe smiled, his rare, sweet smile, and Gwenhwyfar thought, with a stab of pain, Never does he smile at me like that. Yet, when he hears what news I bear him, why then...\n\nFora moment Lancelet answered the smile, then he sighed. \"I had a dispatch from my half-brother Lionel-Ban's eldest son. He said he would set sail in three days-no\"-he stopped, counting on his fingers-\"he is already at sea-the messenger was delayed. He has forty ships and he hopes to drive the Saxon ships, or as many as he may, onto the rocks, or south to the Cornish coast, where they cannot land their troops aright. Then when he lands he will march his men to where we are gathering. I should send a messenger with a place for rendezvous.\" He pointed to the improvised map on the stones.\n\nThen there was a little stirring of voices at the door of the room, and a tall, thin, greying man strode in through the scattered benches and trestle tables. Gwenhwyfar had not seen Lot of Lothian since before the battle of Celidon Wood.\n\n\"Why, I see Arthur's hall as I never thought to see it, bare without his Round Table-what, Arthur, cousin, playing at knucklebones on the floor with all your schoolfellows?\"\n\n\"The Round Table is already gone to Camelot, kinsman,\" said Arthur, rising, \"with all my other furniture and women's gear-you see here an armed camp, waiting only for daybreak to send the last of the women to Camelot. Most of the women and all of the children are already gone.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lot bowed to Gwenhwyfar and said, in his smooth voice, \"Why, then, Arthur's hall will be barren indeed. But is it safe for women and children to travel with the land rising for war?\"\n\n\"The Saxons have not yet come so far inland,\" said Arthur, \"and there is no danger if they goat once. I must tell fifty of my men-and a thankless job it is-to stay out of the field, and guard Camelot. Queen Morgause is well where she is, in Lothian-I am glad my sister is with her!\"\n\n\"Morgaine?\" Lot shook his head. \"She has not been in Lothian these many years! Well, well, well. I wonder where she may have gone? And with whom? I thought always there was more to that young woman than I ever could see! But why to Camelot, my lord Arthur?\"\n\n\"It is easily defended,\" said Arthur. \"Fifty men can hold it till Christ should come again. If I left the women at Caerleon here, I would need to hold back two hundred men or more from the battle. I know not why my father made Caerleon his stronghold-I had hoped before the Saxons came again we would begone with all our court to Camelot, and then they would have to march across Britain's width to come at us, and we could give them battle on afield of our own choosing. If we led them into the swamps and lakes of the Summer Country, where the land is never the same two years in a row, why then mud and swamps could do some of the work of bow and arrow and axe for us, and the little folk of Avalon finish them off with their elf-arrows.\"\n\n\"They will come to do that anyway,\" said Lancelet, rising on his knees from studying the map on the stones. \"Avalon has already sent three hundred, and more will come, they say. And the Merlin said when last I spoke with him that they had sent riders into your country too, my lord Uriens, so that all the Old People who dwell in your hills may come to fight at our side. So we have the legion, horse soldiers fighting on the flat ground, every horseman armored and armed with spears, good fora dozen or more Saxons. Then we have multitudes of foot soldiers, bowmen and swordsmen, who can fight in the hills and valleys. And then we have many of the men of the Tribes, with pikes and axes, and the Old People, who can fight from ambush and drop men with their elf-arrows unseen. I think we could thus meet every Saxon from all of Gaul and the shores of the continent!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"And we will have to do just that,\" said Lot." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I have fought the Saxons since the days of Ambrosius-so has Uriens here-and never have we had to face anything like the army coming against us now.\"\n\n\"Since I was crowned, I have known this day was coming-the Lady of the Lake told me this when she gave me Excalibur. And now she is sending for all the folk of Avalon to rally beneath the banner of the Pendragon.\"\n\n\"We will all be there,\" said Lot, but Gwenhwyfar shuddered, and Arthur said solicitously, \"My dear one, you have been riding all the day, and the day before, and you must set forth again at daybreak. May I call your women to take you away to bed?\"\n\nShe shook her head, twisting her hands together in her lap. \"No, I am not weary, no-Arthur, it seems no proper thing for the pagans of Avalon, ruled by sorcery, to fight on the side of a Christian king! And when you rally them under that pagan banner-\"\n\nLancelet asked gently, \"My queen, would you have the folk of Avalon sit and watch their homes fall into the hands of the Saxon? Britain is their land too-they will fight even as we do, to hold our land against the barbarians. And the Pendragon is their sworn king.\"\n\n\"It is that I do not like,\" said Gwenhwyfar, trying to make her voice steady so that she did not sound like a little girl raising her voice in the men's council. After all, she told herself, Morgause is accepted as one of Lot's councillors, and Viviane never stinted to speak of matters of state! \"I like it not that we and the folk of Avalon should fight on the same side. This battle shall be the stand of civilized men, followers of Christ, descendants of Rome, against those who know not our God. The Old People are of the enemy, as much as the Saxons, and this will not be a proper Christian land until all those folk are dead or fled into their hills, and their demon gods with them! And I like it not, Arthur, that you should raise a pagan banner for your standard. You should fight, like Uriens, under the cross of Christ so that we may tell friend from foe!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lancelet looked shocked. \"Am I also your enemy, Gwenhwyfar?\"\n\nShe shook her head. \"You area Christian, Lancelet.\"\n\n\"My mother is that same wicked Lady of the Lake you condemn for her witchcraft,\" he said, \"and I myself was fostered in Avalon, and the Old People are my own people. My own father, who is a Christian king, made also the Great Marriage with the Goddess for his land!\" He looked hard and angry.\n\nArthur laid his hand on the hilt of Excalibur, in its scabbard of crimson velvet and gold. The sight of his hand laid on the magical symbols of that scabbard, and the serpents twined round his wrist, made Gwenhwyfar turn her eyes away. She said, \"How will God give us the victory, if we will not put away from us all the symbols of sorcery and fight beneath his cross?\"\n\n\"Why, there's something to what the Queen says,\" Uriens said, conciliating, \"but I bear my eagles in the name of my fathers and of Rome.\"\n\nLeodegranz said, \"I offer to you the banner of the cross, my lord Arthur, if you will. You bear it rightly for your queen's sake.\"\n\nArthur shook his head. Only the high flush in his cheekbones told Gwenhwyfar that he was angry. \"I swore to fight beneath the royal banner of the Pendragon, and so shall I door die. I am no tyrant. Whoever wishes to do so may bear the cross of Christ on his shield, but the Pendragon banner stands in token that all the folk of Britain-Christian, Druid, Old People too-shall fight together. Even as the dragon is overall the beasts, so the Pendragon is overall the people! All, I say!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And the eagles of Uriens and the Great Raven of Lothian shall fight beside the dragon,\" said Lot, rising. \"Is Gawaine not here, Arthur? I would have a word with my son, and I thought he was ever at your side!\"\n\n\"I miss him as much as you, Uncle,\" said Arthur. \"I know not whereto turn without Gawaine at my back, but I had to send him on a message to Tintagel, for none can ride so swiftly.\"\n\n\"Oh, you have plenty to guard you,\" said Lot sourly. \"I see Lancelet nevermore than a step or three from your side, ready to fill the empty place.\"\n\nLancelet flushed, but he said smoothly, \"It is always so, kinsman, all of Arthur's Companions strive with one another for the honor of being the closest to the King, and when Gawaine is here, even Cai who is Arthur's foster-brother and I who am Queen's champion must take a place further off.\"\n\nArthur turned back to Gwenhwyfar and said, \"Now indeed, my queen, you must go to rest. This council may goon far into the night, and you must be ready to ride at daybreak.\"\n\nGwenhwyfar clenched her hands. This onetime, this onetime let me have courage to speak.... She said clearly, \"No. No, my lord, I do not ride at daybreak, not to Camelot or to anywhere else on the face of this earth.\"\n\nArthur's cheeks flushed again with that high color which told her he was angry. \"Why, how's this, madam? You cannot delay when there is war in the land. I would willingly give you a day or two of rest before you ride, but we must make haste to get you all to safety before the Saxons come. I tell you, Gwenhwyfar, when the morning comes, your horse and gear will be ready. If you cannot ride you may travel in a litter or be carried in a chair, but ride you shall.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I shall not!\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "she said fiercely. \"And you cannot force me, not unless you set me on my horse and tie me there!\"\n\n\"God forbid I should have to do so,\" Arthur said. \"But what is this, lady?\" He was troubled, yet trying to keep his voice light and humorous. \"Why, all those legions of men out there obey my word, am Ito have mutiny at my own hearth fire and from my own wife?\"\n\n\"Your men may all obey your word,\" she said desperately. \"They have not my reason for staying here! I will stay with no more than one waiting-woman and a midwife, my lord, but I will ride nowhere-not so far as to the banks of the river-before our son is born!\"\n\nThere, I have said it... here before all these men....\n\nAnd Arthur, hearing, understood, and instead of looking overjoyed, seemed only dismayed. He shook his head, then said, \"Gwenhwyfar-\" and stopped.\n\nLot chuckled and said, \"Are you breeding, madam? Why, congratulations! But that need not stop you from travelling. Morgause was everyday in the saddle, till she was too big for her horse to carry her, while no one would know as yet that you were with child. Our midwives say that fresh air and exercise are healthy fora breeding woman, and when my own favorite mare is in foal, I ride her till six weeks before she drops the foal!\"\n\n\"I am not a mare,\" said Gwenhwyfar coldly, \"and twice I have miscarried. Would you expose me again to that, Arthur?\"\n\n\"Yet you cannot stay here. This place cannot be properly defended,\" said Arthur distractedly, \"and we may march outwith the army at anytime! Nor is it fair to ask your women to stay with you and risk being caught by the Saxons. I am certain it will not harm you, dear wife, there were pregnant women with those who left for Camelot last week-and you cannot stay herewith all your women gone, it will bean armed soldier's camp, no more, my Gwen!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Gwenhwyfar looked at her ladies." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Will not one of you stay with her queen?\"\n\n\"I will stay with you, cousin, if Arthur permits,\" said Elaine. And Meleas said, \"I will stay, if my lord does not mind, though our son is already at Camelot-\"\n\n\"No, Meleas, you must go to your child,\" Elaine said. \"I am her kinswoman and I can endure anything Gwenhwyfar can endure, even to live in an armed camp with the men.\" She came and stood beside Gwenhwyfar, holding her hand. \"But could you not travel in a litter? Camelot is so much safer.\"\n\nLancelet got up and came to Gwenhwyfar. He bent over her hand and said in a low voice, \"My lady, I beg you to go with the other women. This countryside may all be in ruin within a matter of days, when the Saxons come. In Camelot you are near to your father's country. My own mother dwells in Avalon, within a day's journey-she is a notable healer woman and midwife, and I am sure she would come to you and care for you, or even stay to be with you when the babe is born. If I send to my mother with a message to come to you, will you go?\"\n\nGwenhwyfar bent her head, fighting not to cry. Once again I must do as I am bid, like any woman, no matter what I want! Now even Lancelet had joined into get her to do what she was told. She remembered the journey here from the Summer Country-even with Igraine at hand she had been terrified, and all this day she had ridden across the dreadful moors from Tintagel-now she was safe within walls and it seemed to her that she would never again be willing to leave their shelter." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Perhaps, when she was stronger, when her son was safe in her arms... then, perhaps she could dare that journey, but not now... and Lancelet could offer her as a gift the company of that evil sorceress his mother! How could he think she would let such a sorceress near her son? Arthur might contaminate himself with vows and links to Avalon, but her son should never be touched by that pagan evil.\n\n\"It is kind of you, Lancelet,\" she said stubbornly, \"but I shall go nowhere until my son is born.\"\n\n\"Even if you were to betaken to Avalon itself?\" Arthur asked. \"You and our son would be safer there than anywhere in this world.\"\n\nShe shivered and crossed herself. \"God and Mary Virgin forbid!\" she whispered. \"I would as soon go into the fairy country itself!\"\n\n\"Gwenhwyfar, listen tome-\" he began urgently, then sighed in defeat, and she knew she had won. \"Have it as you will. If the danger of travel seems greater to you than the danger of remaining here, then God forbid I should force you to travel....\"\n\nGaheris said wrathfully, \"Arthur, will you let her do this? I say to you, you should bundle heron to her horse and send her forth whether she will, or not! My king, will you listen like this to a woman's raving?\"\n\nArthur shook his head wearily. \"Peace, cousin,\" he said, \"it is easy to see you are no married man. Gwenhwyfar, do as you will. Elaine may remain with you, and one serving-woman and a midwife and your priest, but no more. Everyone else must ride at daybreak. And now you must go to your chamber, Gwen, I have no more time for this!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And Gwenhwyfar, dutifully raising her cheek for his dutiful kiss, had no sense that she had won a victory.\n\nThe other women set forth at daybreak. Meleas begged to stay with the Queen, but Griflet would not have it. \"Elaine has neither husband nor child,\" he said. \"Let her stay. Yet if I were King Pellinore I would not let my daughter remain, queen or no. You shall go, my lady.\" And Gwenhwyfar fancied that the look he gave her was one of scorn.\n\nAnd Arthur made it clear to her that the main part of the castle was now the army camp, and she must keep to her chambers with Elaine and the serving-women. Most of her furniture had been sent to Camelot; abed was brought up from the guest chamber, and she slept in it with Elaine. Arthur spent his nights in the camp with the men, sending to inquire for her once a day, but she rarely saw him.\n\nAt first she thought everyday that she would see them march out to do battle with the Saxons, or that the battle would sweep over them here, but day followed day and then week came after week and she heard no news. Solitary riders and messengers came and went, and Gwenhwyfar could see more armies gathering, but immured in her chamber and the tiny garden behind it, she heard only such scattered bits of news as her servant and the midwife could bring, much garbled and mostly gossip. The time hung heavy over her; she was queasy in the morning and wished for nothing but to lie in bed, though later she felt well and would pace the garden restlessly, with nothing to do but make pictures in her mind of the marauding Saxons off the coast, and think of her child.... She would have liked to sew on baby clothes, but she had no wool to spin and the big loom had gone already." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "However, she had the small loom, and the silks and spun wool and embroidery gear which had gone with her to Tintagel, and she began to plan the weaving of a banner.... Once Arthur had promised her that when she gave him a son she might ask him for whatever gift was in his power to give, and she had it in mind that on that day she would ask him to put aside the pagan banner of the Pendragon and raise Christ's cross. That would make all this land under the High King a Christian land, and Arthur's legion a holy army under the protection of Mary the Virgin.\n\nIt was most beautiful as she planned it-blue, with gold thread, and her priceless crimson-dyed silks for the mantle of the Virgin. She had no other occupation, so she sewed at it from morning tonight, and with Elaine to help her, it grew swiftly under her fingers. And into every stitch of this banner shall I weave my prayers that Arthur shall be safe, and this a Christian land from Tintagel to Lothian....\n\nOne afternoon the Merlin came to visit her, Taliesin the venerable. She hesitated-was it right she should have that old pagan and demon worshipper near to her at such a time as this, when she bore Arthur's son, who would one day be the king of this Christian land? But looking at the old man's kindly eyes, she recalled that this was Igraine's father and would be great-grandfather to her babe.\n\n\"May the Eternal bless you, Gwenhwyfar,\" he said, spreading out his arms in blessing. She made the sign of the cross, then wondered if he would be offended, but he seemed to take it simply as an exchange of blessings.\n\n\"How do you, lady, in this close confinement?\" he said, looking around the room. \"Why, you might be dungeoned here! You would be better in Camelot, or in Avalon, or on the isle at Ynis Witrin-you went to school therewith the nuns, did you not? And there, at least, you would have had fresh air and exercise! This room is like to a byre!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I have air enough in the garden,\" said Gwenhwyfar, resolving that the bedding should be aired that very day and that the serving-woman should air and sweep the room which was littered with their possessions-it was too small for four women.\n\n\"Then make certain, my child, that you walk everyday in the fresh air, even if it is raining-air is medicine for all ills,\" he said. \"I can well believe that you are dull here. No, child, I did not come to reproach you,\" he added gently. \"Arthur told me your happy news, and I rejoice for you, as do we all. And I especially-not many men live so long as to look on the face of their great-grandchildren.\" His creased old face seemed to glow with benevolence. \"If there is anything I can do for you, you must command me, lady. Are they sending you suitable fresh food, or only soldiers' rations?\"\n\nGwenhwyfar assured him that she had everything she could wish for-everyday a basket of the finest provisions to be had reached her-though she did not tell him she had little wish for food.\n\nShe told him of Igraine's death and that she lay buried in Tintagel, and that Igraine's last act had been to tell her of her child. Of the Sight she said little, but she did ask, looking at the old man with troubled eyes, \"Sir, do you know where dwells Morgaine, that she did not come even to her mother's deathbed?\"\n\nHe shook his head slowly. \"I am sorry, I know not.\"\n\n\"But this is scandalous, that Morgaine should not let her kin know whither she has gone!\"\n\n\"It maybe that-as some of the priestesses of Avalon do-she has gone on some magical quest, or secluded herself to seek vision,\" Taliesin ventured, and he too looked troubled. \"In that case I would not have been told, but I think, if she were in Avalon, where my own daughter dwells with the priestesses, I would have known. I know not.\" He sighed. \"Morgaine is a woman grown, and she need not seek leave of any man to come and go.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It would serve Morgaine right, thought Gwenhwyfar, if she came to grief for her own stubbornness and the godless way in which she did her own will! She clenched her fists and did not answer the Druid, looking down so that he would not see her anger... he thought well of her, she would not have him think otherwise of her. Nor did he notice, for Elaine was showing him the banner.\n\n\"See, this is how we spend our prisoned days, good father.\"\n\n\"It grows swiftly,\" said the Merlin, smiling. \"I see well that there is no time-what is it your priests say, the Devil finds work for the idle-you have left no place for the Devil to do his work here, you areas busy as a hive of bees, you two. Already I can seethe beautiful design.\"\n\n\"And as I wove it, I prayed,\" said Gwenhwyfar defiantly. \"With every stitch I wove a prayer that Arthur and the cross of Christ may triumph over the Saxons and their pagan Gods! Will you not rebuke me then, Lord Merlin, that I do this when you bid Arthur fight under their pagan banner?\"\n\nThe Merlin said mildly, \"Prayer is never wasted, Gwenhwyfar. Do you think we know nothing of prayer? When Arthur was given his great sword Excalibur, it was sheathed in a scabbard into which a priestess worked prayers and spells for safety and protection, and she fasted and prayed for five days all the time she worked upon it. And no doubt you have taken note that even though he is wounded, he sheds but little blood.\"\n\n\"I would have him protected with Christ, not sorcery,\" said Gwenhwyfar hotly, and the old man smiled and said, \"God is one and there is but one God-all else is but the way the ignorant seek to put Gods into a form they can understand, like the image of your Virgin there, lady. Nothing befalls on this world without the blessing of the One, who will give us victory or defeat as God shall ordain. Dragon and Virgin alike are the signs of man's appeal to what is higher than we.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"But would you not be angry if the Pendragon banner was torn down and the standard of the Virgin raised over our legion?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "asked Gwenhwyfar scornfully.\n\nHe stood close to her, reaching out a wrinkled hand to caress the brilliant silks. \"Such a thing of beauty as this is,\" he said gently, \"and made with such love, how could I possibly condemn it? But there are those who love their Pendragon standard as you love the cross of Christ-would you deny them their holy things, madam? Those of Avalon-Druid, priest and priestess-would know that the banner is but a symbol, and the symbol is nothing, while the reality is all. But the little folk, no, they would not understand, and they must have their dragon as a symbol of the King's protection.\"\n\nGwenhwyfar thought of the little people of Avalon and the far hills of Wales who had come bearing bronze axes and even little arrows of flint, their bodies smeared crudely with paint. She shuddered in horror that a folk so wild and savage should fight at the side of a Christian king.\n\nThe Merlin saw her shivering and mistook its cause. \"It is dank and chill here,\" he said. \"You must go out more into the sunlight.\" But then understanding touched him and he put his arm around the woman at his side and said gently, \"Dear child, you must remember-this country is for all men, whatever their Gods, and we fight against the Saxons not because they will not worship our Gods but because they wish to burn and ravage our lands and take all that we have for themselves. We fight to defend the peace of these lands, lady, Christian and pagan alike, and that is why so many have flocked to Arthur's side. Would you have him a tyrant who put the souls of men in slavery to his own God, as not even the Caesars dared to do?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But she only shivered, and Taliesin said he must go, but that she should send him word if she had need of anything.\n\nElaine asked, \"Is Kevin the Bard in the castle, Lord Merlin?\"\n\n\"Yes, I think so-I should have thought of that. I shall send him to come and play his harp for you ladies while you are cloistered here.\"\n\n\"We would willingly have him,\" said Elaine, \"but what I was asking is, might we borrow his harp... or yours, Lord Druid?\"\n\nHe hesitated, and said, \"Kevin would not lend his harp-My lady is a jealous mistress.\" He smiled. \"And as for mine, it is consecrated to the Gods and I may let no other touch it. But the lady Morgaine did not take her harp with her when she went away; it is in her rooms. Shall I have it sent here, lady Elaine? Can you play it?\"\n\n\"Not well,\" said Elaine, \"but I know enough of harp music to do it no harm, and it would give our hands something to do when we are weary of stitching.\"\n\n\"Yours,\" said Gwenhwyfar. \"I have always thought it unseemly fora woman to play on the harp.\"\n\n\"So be it, unseemly then,\" said Elaine, \"but I think I shall go mad shut away here if I have nothing to do, and there is none to see me, even if I dance naked like Salome before Herod!\"\n\nGwenhwyfar giggled, then looked scandalized-what would the Merlin think? But the old man laughed heartily. \"I will send you Morgaine's harp, lady, and you may indulge in your unseemly pastime-though indeed I see nothing unseemly in the making of music!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "That night Gwenhwyfar dreamed that Arthur stood beside her, but that the serpents on his wrists came alive and crawled to her banner, leaving it all cold with their slime, and fouled...." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She woke gasping and retching, and that day she had no strength to leave her bed. Arthur came that afternoon to see her, and stood distraught beside her.\n\n\"I cannot see that this confinement does you any good, lady,\" he said. \"I wish you were safe in Camelot! I have had word from the kings of Less Britain-they have driven thirty Saxon ships onto the rocks, and we will be marching out in ten days more.\" He bit his lip. \"I would this were over, and we all safe at Camelot. Pray to God, Gwen, that we come safe there.\" He sat on the bed beside her, and she took his hand, but one of her fingers touched the serpents on his wrist and she drew it back with a gasp of dismay.\n\n\"What is it, Gwen?\" he whispered, drawing her into his arms. \"My poor girl, being shut up here has made you ill... I was afraid of this!\"\n\nShe fought to control her tears. \"I dreamed-I dreamed-oh, Arthur,\" she begged, sitting bolt upright in bed and throwing back the covers, \"I cannot bear to think of it, that you would let that foul dragon coverall, as it was in my dream.... Look what I have made for you!\" Barefoot, she drew him with both hands to the loom. \"See, it is near finished, in three days I could have it ready-\"\n\nHe put his arm round her and held her close. \"I wish it did not mean so much to you, Gwenhwyfar. I am sorry. I will carry it to battle beside the Pendragon banner, if you will, but I cannot abandon the vow I have sworn.\"\n\n\"God will punish you if you keep avow you have made to pagan folk and not to him,\" she cried. \"He will punish us both-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He put away her clinging hands. \"My poor girl, you are sick and wretched, and no wonder, in this place. And now, alas, it is too late to send you away even if you would go, there maybe Saxon bands between here and Camelot. Try to becalm, my love,\" he said, and went toward the door. She ran after him, holding to his arm.\n\n\"You are not so angry-?\"\n\n\"Angry? When you are ill and overwrought?\" He kissed her brow. \"But we will not speak of this again, Gwenhwyfar. And now I must go, I am expecting a messenger who may come at any instant. I will send Kevin to play for you. His music will cheer you.\" He kissed her again and went away, and Gwenhwyfar went back to the banner and began to work at it in a frenzy.\n\nKevin came late the next day, dragging his misshapen body on a stick; his harp was hitched over one shoulder, giving him more than ever the look of some monstrous hunchback in silhouette against the door. It seemed to Gwenhwyfar that his nose wrinkled in distaste, and suddenly she could seethe room through his eyes, cluttered with the daily things of four women, the air not overfresh. He raised his hand in the Druid blessing and Gwenhwyfar flinched-she could accept this from the venerable Taliesin, but from Kevin it filled her with dread, as if he would bewitch her and her babe with pagan sorcery; secretly she signed herself with the cross, and wondered if he saw.\n\nElaine went to him and said courteously, \"Let me help you with the harp, Master Harper.\"\n\nHe shrugged as if toward her away, though his smooth singer's voice was perfectly civil. \"I thank you, but no one may touch My Lady. If I carry her with my own hands when I can hardly drag myself along on a stick, do you not think there is a reason, madam?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Elaine bent her head like a scolded child and said, \"I meant no harm, sir.\"\n\n\"Of course not, how could you know?\" he said, and twisted painfully, or so it seemed to Gwenhwyfar, to unsling his harp and set it on the floor.\n\n\"Are you comfortable, Master Harper? Will you have a cup of wine to soothe your throat before you sing?\" Gwenhwyfar asked, and he accepted politely enough. Then, noting the banner of the cross on the loom, he said to Elaine, \"You are King Pellinore's daughter, are you not, madam? Are you weaving a banner for your father to carry into battle?\"\n\nGwenhwyfar said quickly, \"Elaine's hands worked as skillfully as mine, but the banner is for Arthur.\"\n\nHis rich voice was as detached as if he were admiring a child's first attempts to spin. \"It is beautiful, and will make a fair wall-hanging for Camelot when you go there, madam, but I am sure Arthur will carry the Pendragon banner as did his father before him. But ladies love not to speak of battles. Shall I play for you?\" He set his hands to the strings and began to play; Gwenhwyfar listened, spellbound, and her serving-woman crept to the door to listen too, aware of sharing a royal gift. He played fora longtime in the gathering dusk, and as she listened, Gwenhwyfar was borne away into a world where pagan or Christian made no difference, war or peace, but only the human spirit, flaming against the great darkness like an ever-burning torch. When the harp notes finally stilled, Gwenhwyfar could not speak, and she saw that Elaine was weeping softly in the silence." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "After a time she said, \"Words cannot say what you have given us, Master Harper. I can say only that I will remember it always.\"\n\nKevin's crooked smile seemed fora moment to mock her emotion and his own as he said, \"Madam, in music he who gives receives as much as he who hears.\" He turned to Elaine and added, \"I see you have the lady Morgaine's harp. You, then, know the truth of what I say.\"\n\nShe nodded, but said, \"I am only the worst of beginners at music. I love to play, but no one could find pleasure in hearing me-I am grateful to my companions for their forbearance while I struggle with the notes.\"\n\n\"That is not true, you know we enjoy hearing you,\" said Gwenhwyfar, and Kevin smiled and said, \"Perhaps the harp is the one instrument which cannot sound evil no matter how badly played-I wonder if that is why it is dedicated to the Gods?\"\n\nGwenhwyfar's lips tightened-must he spoil the delight of this hour by speaking of his infernal Gods? The man was, after all, a misshapen toad; without his music he would never be allowed to sit at any respectable board-somewhere she had heard that he was no more than a peasant's foundling brat. She would not offend him when he had come to give them pleasure, but she looked away; let Elaine chatter with him if she would. She stood up and went to the door. \"It is as hot inhere as the breath of Hell,\" she said irritably and flung it open.\n\nAcross the sky, darkening now, flamed spears of light, darting out of the north. Her cry brought Elaine and the serving-woman, and even Kevin, folding his harp tenderly into its covering, dragged himself heavily to the door." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Oh, what is it, what does it portend?\" she cried.\n\nKevin said quietly, \"The Northmen say it is the flashing of spears in the country of the giants; when it is seen on earth, it portends a great battle. And sure enough, that is what we face now-a battle where Arthur's legion, madam, may determine, with the help of all the Gods, whether we live as civilized men or go into the darkness forever. You should have gone to Camelot, lady Gwenhwyfar. It is not right that the High King should be concerned now with women and babes.\"\n\nShe turned on him and flared, \"What would you know of women or babes-or of battles, Druid?\"\n\n\"Why, this would not be my first battle, my queen,\" he said equably. \"My Lady was from a king who gifted me for playing his war harps to his victory. Would you think I should have gone to safety with the maidens and the skirted eunuchs of the Christian priests? Not I, madam. Not even Taliesin, old as he is, will run from battle.\" Silence, and above them the northern lights flamed and flared. \"By your leave, my queen, I must go to my lord Arthur and speak with him and the Lord Merlin of what these lights portend for the battle which comes upon us.\"\n\nGwenhwyfar felt it like a sharp knife run through her belly. Even this malformed heathen might be with Arthur now, yet she, his wife, must lurk here out of sight, although she bore the hope of his kingdom! She had thought, if ever she bore Arthur's son, then he must give her place and show her great respect, not treat her still as that useless woman he had been forced to take as part of a dowry of horses! Yet here she was, packed off into a corner again because he could not be rid of her, and even her gallant banner thrust back at her unwanted." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Kevin said with swift concern, \"Are you ill, my queen?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lady Elaine, assist her!\" He held out a hand to Gwenhwyfar, but it was misshapen, a twisted wrist, and she saw the serpent coiling around it, tattooed therein blue... she recoiled sharply and struck out at him, hardly knowing what she did, so that Kevin, who was none too steady on his feet, lost his balance and fell heavily to the stone floor.\n\n\"Keep away from me,\" she cried out, gasping. \"Don't touch me, with your evil serpents-pagan, hell-bound, lay not your foul serpents on my babe-\"\n\n\"Gwenhwyfar!\" Elaine hurried to her, but instead of supporting Gwenhwyfar she bent solicitously over Kevin and gave him her hand to rise. \"Lord Druid, do not curse her-she is ill and she does not know what she does-\"\n\n\"Oh, do I not?\" Gwenhwyfar shrieked. \"Do you think I do not know how you all look at me-like a fool, as if I were deaf and dumb and blind? And you would calm me with kind words while you go behind the back of the priests to claim Arthur for pagan wickedness and heathendom, you who would give us over to the hands of the evil sorcerers.... Go from here, lest my babe be born deformed because I have looked on your vile face....\"\n\nKevin shut his eyes and the twisted hands clamped, but he turned quietly away and began laboriously hoisting his harp over his shoulder. He fumbled for his stick; Elaine handed it to him, and Gwenhwyfar heard her whisper, \"Forgive her, Lord Druid, she is ill and knows not-\"\n\nKevin's musical voice was harsh. \"I know that well, lady. Think you I have never heard such sweet words from women before this? I am sorry, I wished only to give you pleasure,\" he said, and Gwenhwyfar, her head hidden in her hands, heard the dragging hitch of his stick and his stumbling feet as he hauled himself painfully from the room. But even when he had gone she went on huddling with her arms over her head-ah, he had cursed her with those vile serpents, she could feel them stabbing and biting into her body, the spears of the flaring lights overhead were impaling her, the lights flaring in her brain.... She screamed and hid her face with her hands and fell, writhing, as the spears went through her... she came to herself a little as she heard Elaine cry out." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Gwenhwyfar! Cousin, look at me, speak tome! Ah, may the holy Virgin help us.... Send for the midwife! Look, the blood-\"\n\n\"Kevin,\" Gwenhwyfar screamed, \"Kevin has cursed my child-\" and she drew herself up frantically, pain lashing through her, beating with her fists against the stonewall. \"Ah, God help me, send for the priest, the priest, perhaps he can takeaway this curse-\" and, ignoring the gushing of water and blood that now she could feel drenching her thighs, she dragged herself to the banner she had woven, signing herself with the cross again and again in a frenzy, before it all vanished in darkness and nightmare.\n\nIt was days later that she understood she had been dangerously ill, that she had come near to bleeding to death when she miscarried the four-months child which was too small and weak to breathe.\n\nArthur. Now for certain he must hate me, I could not even bring his son to birth.... Kevin, it was Kevin who cursed me with his serpents.... She wandered in evil dreams of serpents and spears, and once when Arthur came to her side and tried to hold her head, she started away in terror from the serpents which seemed to writhe on his wrists.\n\nEven when she was out of danger, she did not recover her strength, but lay in a dreary apathy, unmoving, tears sliding down her face. She had not even the strength to wipe them away. No, it was folly to think Kevin had cursed her, that must have been a madness of her delirium... this was not the first child she had miscarried, and if there was any fault it washer own, for staying here where she could not have fresh air and fresh food and exercise and the company of her ladies." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Her house priest came to her, and he too agreed that it was madness to think that Kevin had cursed her.... God would not use the hands of a pagan priest to chastise her. \"You must not be so quick to assign blame to others,\" he said severely. \"If there is fault, it must be your own. Is there any unconfessed sin on your conscience, lady Gwenhwyfar?\"\n\nUnconfessed? No. For long ago she had confessed her love for Lancelet and been absolved, and she had striven to keep her thoughts only on her lawful lord. No, it could not be that... and yet she had failed.\n\n\"I could not persuade-I was not strong enough to persuade Arthur to lay aside his pagan serpents and the Pendragon banner,\" she said weakly. \"Would God punish my child for that?\"\n\n\"Only you know what lies on your conscience, lady. And speak not of punishment for the child... he is in the bosom of Christ... but it is you and Arthur being punished, if there is punishment, which,\" he added primly, \"I must not presume to say.\"\n\n\"What can I do to atone? What can I do that God may send Arthur a son for Britain?\"\n\n\"Have you truly done all you may to assure that Britain shall have a Christian king? Or do you hold back the words you know you must speak, because you wish to please your husband?\" the priest asked austerely. And when he had gone away, she lay looking at the banner. Every night now, she knew, the northern lights burned in the sky, in portent of the great battle that was to come; yet once, a Roman emperor had seen the sign of the cross in the sky, and the fate of all Britain had been changed. Could she but bring such a sign to Arthur..." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Helping with the plot, keep the story going.\nTags: fantasy, arthurian, historical fantasy\nAuthor: Marion Zimmer Bradley\nTitle: The Mists of Avalon\nChapter: 36" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Her house priest came to her, and he too agreed that it was madness to think that Kevin had cursed her.... God would not use the hands of a pagan priest to chastise her. \"You must not be so quick to assign blame to others,\" he said severely. \"If there is fault, it must be your own. Is there any unconfessed sin on your conscience, lady Gwenhwyfar?\"\n\nUnconfessed? No. For long ago she had confessed her love for Lancelet and been absolved, and she had striven to keep her thoughts only on her lawful lord. No, it could not be that... and yet she had failed.\n\n\"I could not persuade-I was not strong enough to persuade Arthur to lay aside his pagan serpents and the Pendragon banner,\" she said weakly. \"Would God punish my child for that?\"\n\n\"Only you know what lies on your conscience, lady. And speak not of punishment for the child... he is in the bosom of Christ... but it is you and Arthur being punished, if there is punishment, which,\" he added primly, \"I must not presume to say.\"\n\n\"What can I do to atone? What can I do that God may send Arthur a son for Britain?\"\n\n\"Have you truly done all you may to assure that Britain shall have a Christian king? Or do you hold back the words you know you must speak, because you wish to please your husband?\" the priest asked austerely. And when he had gone away, she lay looking at the banner. Every night now, she knew, the northern lights burned in the sky, in portent of the great battle that was to come; yet once, a Roman emperor had seen the sign of the cross in the sky, and the fate of all Britain had been changed. Could she but bring such a sign to Arthur..." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Come, help me getup,\" she said to her woman." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I must finish the banner for Arthur to carry into battle.\"\n\nArthur came that night to her chambers, just as she set the last stitches to it, and the women were lighting the lamps.\n\n\"How is it with you now, my dear one? I am glad to see you up again, and well enough to work,\" he said, and kissed her. \"Dearest, you must not grieve so... no woman could bring a healthy child to birth under this strain, with the battle impending at any moment-I should have sent you to Camelot, indeed. We are young still, my Gwenhwyfar, God may yet send us many children.\" But she saw the vulnerable look on his face, and knew he shared her sorrow.\n\nShe clasped his hand and drew him down beside heron the bench where she sat before the banner. \"Is it not fair?\" she said, and thought she sounded like a child begging for praise.\n\n\"It is very beautiful. I thought I had never seen so fine work as this\"-and he laid his hand on the crimson-worked scabbard of Excalibur that never left his side-\"but this is finer still.\"\n\n\"And I have woven prayers for you and your Companions into every stitch,\" she said, in entreaty. \"Arthur, listen tome-do you think, could it not be, God has punished us because he feels we are not fit to give this kingdom another king, you and I, unless we will vow ourselves to serve him faithfully, not in pagan ways but in the new way under Christ? All the forces of pagan evil are allied against us, and we must fight it with the cross.\"\n\nHe laid his handover hers and said, \"Come, dear love, this is folly. You know I serve God as best I may....\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"But you still raise that pagan banner of serpents over your men,\" she cried, and he shook his head in distress.\n\n\"Dear love, I cannot break faith with the Lady of Avalon who set me on my throne-\"\n\n\"It was God, and no other, who set you on your throne,\" she said earnestly. \"Ah, Arthur, if you love me, do this, if you wish for God to send us another child! Do you not see how he has punished us by taking our son to himself?\"\n\n\"You must not speak so,\" he said firmly. \"To think God would do so is superstitious folly. I came to tell you at last the Saxons are massing, and we shall move to give them battle at Mount Badon! I would now that you were well enough to ride to Camelot, but it cannot be-not yet-\"\n\n\"Ah, I know it well, I am only an encumbrance to you,\" she cried out bitterly. \"I was nevermore to you-it is a pity I did not die with my babe.\"\n\n\"No, no, you must not speak so,\" he said tenderly. \"I have every confidence that with my good sword Excalibur and all my Companions, we shall triumph. And you must pray for us night and day, my Gwenhwyfar.\" He rose and added, \"We will not march till daybreak. I will try to come and take leave of you this night before we march, and your father too, and Gawaine and perhaps Lancelet-he sent you greetings, Gwenhwyfar, he was very troubled when he heard you were so ill. Can you speak to them if they come?\"\n\nShe bent her head and said bitterly, \"I will do my king and my lord's will. Yes, let them come, though I wonder you trouble to ask my prayers-I cannot even persuade you to put away that pagan banner and raise the cross of Christ.... And no doubt God knows your heart, since God will not let you ride forth into battle believing that any son of yours shall rule this land, because you have not yet resolved to make this a Christian land....\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He stopped and let her hand go, and she could feel him looking down at her. At last he bent and put his hand under his chin and raised her face to look at his. He said quietly, \"My dear lady, my own dear love, in God's name, believe you that?\"\n\nShe nodded, unable to speak, wiping her nose like a child on the sleeve of her gown.\n\n\"I tell you, dear lady, before God, I believe it not, that God works in such ways, nor that it matters so much what banner we carry. But if it matters thus to you-\" He paused and swallowed. \"Gwenhwyfar, I cannot bear to see you in such distress. If I bear this banner of Christ and the Virgin into battle over my troops, will you cease to mourn, and pray to God for me with your best heart?\"\n\nShe looked up at him, transformed, her heart lifting with a wild joy. Would he indeed do this for her? \"Oh, Arthur, I have prayed, I have prayed-\"\n\n\"Then,\" said Arthur, with a sigh, \"I swear it to you, Gwenhwyfar-I shall carry only your banner of Christ and the Virgin into battle, and no other sign shall be raised above my legion. So be it, amen.\" He kissed her, but Gwenhwyfar thought he looked very sad. She clasped his hands and kissed them, and for the first time, it seemed that the serpents on his wrists were nothing, mere faded pictures, and that she had indeed been mad to think they could have power to harm her or her child.\n\nHe called to his squire, who stood at the door of the room, to come and take the banner carefully and to raise it above their camp. \"For we march at dawn tomorrow,\" he said, \"and all must see my lady's banner with the Holy Virgin and the cross flying above the legion of Arthur.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The squire looked startled. \"Sir-my lord-what of the Pendragon banner?\"\n\nArthur said, \"Take it to the steward, and bid him lay it somewhere away. We march under the standard of God.\"\n\nThe squire did as Arthur said, and Arthur smiled at Gwenhwyfar, but there was little gladness in the smile. \"I will come to see you at sunset, with your father and some of our kin. We will dine here, and I will have my stewards bring food for us all. Elaine shall not be troubled with providing for so many. Until then, my dear wife,\" and he went away.\n\nIn the end the small dinner was held in one of the little halls, for Gwenhwyfar's chamber would not hold so many in comfort. Gwenhwyfar and Elaine put on the best gowns which had remained here at Caerleon and did their hair with ribbons; it was exciting to have some kind of festival after the grim confinement of the last weeks. The feast-though indeed it was not much better than army rations-was spread on trestle tables. Most of Arthur's older councillors had been sent to Camelot, including Bishop Patricius, but Taliesin the Merlin had been bidden to dine, and King Lot, and King Uriens of Wales, and Duke Marcus of Cornwall, and Lancelet's older half-brother, Lionel of Less Britain, Ban's oldest son and heir. Lancelet was there too, and he found a moment to come to Gwenhwyfar's side and kiss her hand, looking into her eyes with hopeless tenderness.\n\n\"Are you recovered, my lady? I was troubled for you.\" Undercover of the shadows, he kissed her, only a feather-brushing of soft lips against her temple." }, { "from": "human", "value": "King Leodegranz came too, scowling and fussing, to kiss her brow." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I am sorry for your illness, my dear, and sorry you lost your child, but Arthur should have bundled you off to Camelot in a litter-that is how I would have handled Alienor, if she had gainsaid me,\" he scolded. \"And now, see, you have gained nothing by staying!\"\n\n\"You must not rebuke her,\" said Taliesin gently, \"she has suffered enough, my lord. If Arthur does not reproach her, it is not for her father to do so.\"\n\nElaine tactfully changed the subject. \"Who is yonder Duke Marcus?\"\n\n\"He is a cousin of Gorlois of Cornwall, who died before Uther took the throne,\" said Lancelet, \"and he has asked Arthur that if we win the day at Mount Badon, he shall have Cornwall by marrying our kinswoman Morgaine.\"\n\n\"That old man?\" said Gwenhwyfar, shocked.\n\n\"I think it would be as well to give Morgaine to an older man-she has not the kind of beauty to attract a younger one,\" said Lancelet. \"But she is clever and learned, and as it happens, Duke Marcus wants her not for himself but for his son Drustan, who is one of Cornwall's best knights. Arthur has made him one of his Companions now, on the eve of this battle. Though it's likely, if Morgaine returns not to court, that Drustan will wed with the daughter of the old Breton king Hoell-\" He chuckled. \"Court gossip of the making of marriages-is there nothing else to speak of?\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Elaine boldly, \"when will you tell us of your marriage, sir Lancelet?\"\n\nHe inclined his head gallantly and said, \"On the day when your father offers you tome, lady Elaine, I will not refuse him. But it is likely your father will have you wed a wealthier man than I, and since my lady here is already wedded\"-he bowed to Gwenhwyfar but she saw the sadness in his eyes-\"I am in no haste to marry.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Elaine colored and cast down her eyes. Arthur said, \"I bade Pellinore to join us, but he would stay in the field with his men, seeing to the order of march. Some of the wagons are moving out already. Look-\" He pointed to the window. \"The northern spears blaze over us again!\"\n\nLancelet asked, \"Is Kevin the Harper not to be with us?\"\n\n\"I bade him come if he would,\" said Taliesin, \"but he said he would rather not offend the Queen with his presence. Have you quarrelled, Gwenhwyfar?\"\n\nShe cast down her eyes and said, \"I spoke harshly to him while I was ill and in great pain. If you see him, Lord Druid, will you say I would gladly beg his pardon?\" With Arthur at her side and her banner flying above Arthur's camp, she felt love and charity for everyone, even for the bard.\n\n\"I think he knows you spoke in the bitterness of your own ordeal,\" said Taliesin gently, and Gwenhwyfar wondered what the younger Druid had told him.\n\nAbruptly the door was thrust open and Lot and Gawaine strode into the room.\n\n\"Why, what's this, my lord Arthur?\" demanded Lot. \"The Pendragon banner we pledged ourselves to follow, it flies no moreover the camp, and there is great unrest among the Tribes-tell me, what have you done?\"\n\nArthur looked pale in the torchlight. \"No more than this, cousin-we area Christian folk, and we fight under the banner of Christ and the Virgin.\"\n\nLot scowled at him. \"The archers of Avalon are talking of leaving you, Arthur. Fly your banner of Christ, if your conscience so bids you, but raise the Pendragon banner at its side with the serpents of wisdom, or you will see your men scattered and not all of one heart as they have been through all this dreary waiting! Would you toss all that goodwill away? And the Pict folk with their elf-bolts have killed many a Saxon before this, and will again. I beg you, don't takeaway their banner and their allegiance like this!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Arthur smiled uneasily. \"Even as that emperor who saw the sign in the sky and said, \"In this sign shall we conquer,\" so shall we. You, Uriens, who raise the eagles of Rome, you know that tale.\"\n\n\"I do, my king,\" said Uriens, \"but is it wise to deny the folk of Avalon? Even as I, my lord Arthur, you wear the serpents at your wrists, in token of a land older than the cross.\"\n\n\"But it will be anew land if we win the victory,\" said Gwenhwyfar, \"and if we do not, it will not matter.\"\n\nLot turned as she spoke and looked on her with loathing. \"I might have known this was your doing, my queen.\"\n\nGawaine strode restlessly to the window and looked down at the camp. \"I see them moving about their fires, the little folk-from Avalon, and from your country, King Uriens. Arthur, cousin\"-and he went to the King-\"I beg of you, as the oldest of your Companions, put the Pendragon banner into the field for those who wish to follow it.\"\n\nArthur hesitated, but a glance at Gwenhwyfar's shining eyes and he smiled at her and said, \"I have sworn it. If we survive the battle, our son shall reign over a land united under the cross. I shall compel no man's conscience, but as it is written in Holy Writ-\"as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.\"\"\n\nLancelet drew a deep breath. He stepped away from Gwenhwyfar. \"My lord and king, I remind you, I am Lancelet of the Lake, and I honor the Lady of Avalon. In her name, my king, who was your friend and benefactor, I beg this favor of you-let me carry the Pendragon banner into battle myself. Then your vow will be kept, and yet you will not be forsworn to Avalon.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Arthur hesitated." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gwenhwyfar shook her head imperceptibly, and Lancelet glanced at Taliesin. Taking the silence for consent, Lancelet was about to stride out of the room when Lot said, \"Arthur, no! There is enough talk now about Lancelet being your heir and favorite! If he bears the Pendragon into battle, then will they think you have appointed him to bear your banner and there will be division in the kingdom, your party under the cross and Lancelet's under the Pendragon.\"\n\nLancelet turned on Lot violently. \"You carry your own banner-so does Leodegranz, so does Uriens, so does Duke Marcus of Cornwall-why should I not bear a banner of Avalon?\"\n\n\"But the Pendragon banner is the banner of all Britain united under one Great Dragon,\" said Lot, and Arthur sighed and nodded. \"We must fight under one standard, and that standard is the cross. I am sorry to refuse you anything, cousin,\" Arthur said, and reached for Lancelet's hand, \"but this I may not allow.\"\n\nLancelet stood with his mouth taut, visibly holding in his anger, then went to the window. Lot, behind him, said, \"I heard it among my Northmen-they say these are the spears of the Saxons which we will face, and the wild swans are crying, and the ravens await us all....\"\n\nGwenhwyfar stood with her hand tightly clasped in Arthur's. She said quietly, \"In this sign you shall conquer...\" and Arthur squeezed her hand.\n\n\"Though all the forces of Hell, and not the Saxons alone, were ranged against us, lady, with my Companions I cannot fail. And you at my side, Lancelet,\" Arthur said, and moved to draw him close to them both. A moment Lancelet stood unmoving, his face still set in angry lines, and then he said, with a deep sigh, \"So be it, King Arthur. But-\" He hesitated, and Gwenhwyfar, standing very close to him, could feel the shudder which ran through his limbs. \"I know not what they will say when they hear of it in Avalon, my lord and my king.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And fora moment there was total silence in the chamber, while the lights, the spears of the flames from the north, flared over them.\n\nAnd then Elaine jerked the curtains shut, closing out the portents, and cried merrily, \"Come and sit to your dinner, my lords! For if you ride forth to battle at daybreak, you shall not set forth unfeasted, and we have done our best for you!\"\n\nBut again and again, as they sat at meat, while Lot and Uriens and Duke Marcus spoke of strategy and troop placement with Arthur, Gwenhwyfar caught Lancelet's dark eyes, and they were filled with sorrow and dread." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "When Morgaine left Arthur's court at Caerleon, asking leave only to pay a visit to Avalon and her foster-mother, she kept her thoughts on Viviane-that way she need not think of what had befallen her and Lancelet. Whenever she let her mind wander to it, it was like being burnt with a hot iron of shame; she had offered herself to him in all honesty, in the old way, and he had wanted nothing of her but childish toyings that made a mockery of her womanhood. She did not know whether it was at him or herself that she was angered, that he could have so played with her, or that she could have hungered for him....\n\nNow and again she regretted her harsh words to him. Why had she flung insults at him? He was as the Goddess had made him, no worse and no better. But at other times, while she rode eastward, she felt herself to blame; the old taunt of Gwenhwyfar, little and ugly as one of the fairy folk, scalded her mind. Had she had more to give, had shebeen beautiful as Gwenhwyfar was beautiful... had shebeen content with what he had to give... and then her mind would swing the other way again, he had insulted her and the Goddess through her.... So tormented, she rode through the green country of the hills. And after a time her thoughts began to turn to what awaited her at Avalon.\n\nShe had left the Holy Isle unpermitted. She had renounced her state as priestess, leaving behind her even the little sickle knife of her initiation; and in the years since, always she had dressed her hair low on her brow, so that none might seethe blue crescent tattooed there. Now in one of the villages she bartered away a little gilt ring she had for some of the blue paint the Tribeswomen used, and painted the faded mark afresh." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "All that has befallen me has come because I forswore the vows I had given the Goddess... and then she recalled what Lancelet had said in his despair, that there were neither Gods nor Goddess, but these were the shapes mankind gives, in terror, to what they cannot make into reason.\n\nBut even if this were true, it would not lessen her guilt. For whether the Goddess took the form they thought, or whether the Goddess was only another name for the great unknowns of nature, still she had deserted the temple and the way of life and thought to which she was pledged, and she had forsaken the great tides and rhythms of the earth. She had eaten foods forbidden to a priestess, had taken the life of animal or bird or plant without giving thanks to that part of the Goddess being sacrificed for her good, she had lived unmindful, had given herself to a man without seeking to know the will of the Goddess in her sun tides, for mere pleasure and lechery-no, it was not to be looked for, that she could return and all should be as before. And as she rode through the hills, through ripening harvest and fertilizing rain, she was aware, with greater and greater pain, of how far she had come from the teachings of Viviane and of Avalon.\n\nThe difference is deeper than I thought. Even those who till the earth, when they are Christians, come to away of life which is far from the earth; they say that their God has given them dominion overall growing things and every beast of the field. Whereas we dwellers in hillside and swamp, forest and far field, we know that it is not we who have the dominion over nature, but she who has dominion over us, from the moment lust stirs in the loins of our fathers and desire in the womb of our mothers to bring us forth, under her dominion, to when we quicken in the womb and are brought forth in her time, to the lives of plant and animal which must be sacrificed to feed and swaddle and clothe us and give us strength to live... all, all of these things are under the domain of the Goddess and without her beneficent mercy none of us could draw a living breath, but all things would be barren and die. And even when the time comes for barrenness and death, so that others may come to take our place on this earth, that is her doing too, she who is not only the Green Lady of the fruitful earth, but also the Dark Lady of the seed lying hidden beneath the snows, of the raven and the hawk who bring death to the slow, and of the worms who work in secret to destroy that which has served its time, even Our Lady of rot and destruction and death at the end...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "In the memory of all these things, Morgaine came at last to see that what had happened with Lancelet, after all, was but a little thing; the greatest sin was not with Lancelet but in her own heart, that she had turned away from the Goddess. What did it matter what the priests thought was good, or virtuous, or sinful, or shameful? The wound to her pride was only a healthful cleansing.\n\nThe Goddess will deal with Lancelet in her own time and her way. It is not for me to say. At the moment Morgaine thought it the best thing that could happen, should she never set eyes again on her cousin.\n\nNo; it was not to be looked for that she could return to her place as chosen priestess... but Viviane might have pity on her and let her amend her sins against the Goddess. At the moment she felt she could be content to dwell in Avalon, even as servant or humble worker-woman in the fields. She felt like a sick child, hurrying to lay her head in her mother's lap and weep there... she would send for her son and have him fostered in Avalon, among the priests, and never depart again from the way she had been taught....\n\nAnd so when first she saw the sight of the Tor, thrusting itself up, green and unmistakable, over the hills lying in between, the tears streamed down her face. She was coming home, home to her own place and to Viviane, she would stand within the ring stones and pray to the Goddess that her faults might be healed, that she might return to that place from which her own pride and self-will had thrust her.\n\nIt seemed that the Tor was playing hide-and-seek with her, now visible, thrusting itself up between the hills like an erect phallus, now hiding between smaller hills, now disappearing in the damp fogs; but at last she came to the shores of the Lake where she had come with Viviane so many years ago." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The greying waters, in late-evening sunlight, lay empty before her. Against the red light in the sky, the reeds were dark and barren, and the shores of the Island of the Priests just visible, rising in the sunset mist. But nothing stirred, nothing moved on the water, even though she thrust forth her whole heart and mind in a passionate effort to reach the Holy Isle, to summon the barge.... An hour she stood there unmoving, and then the darkness closed down, and she knew she had failed.\n\nNo... the barge would not come for her, this night or ever again. It would come fora priestess, for Viviane's chosen, cherished fosterling; it would not come fora runaway who had lived in secular courts and done her own will for four years. Once before, at the time of her initiation, she had been cast forth from Avalon, and the test of whether or no she might be called priestess was only this-that she should return without aid.\n\nShe could not call the barge; she feared within her very soul to cry aloud the word of power that would summon it through the mists. She could not command it, who had forfeited the right to be called a child of Avalon. As the color left the water and the last remnants of the sunlight faded into twilight mist, Morgaine looked mournfully toward the distant shore. No, she dared not call the boat; but there was another way into Avalon, around at the other side of the Lake, where she could cross by the hidden path through the swamp and there find her way into the hidden world. Aching with loneliness, she began to skirt the shore, leading her horse. The looming presence of the big animal in the dusk, his snorting breaths behind her, were a vague comfort. If all failed she could spend the night on the shores of the Lake; it would not be the first night she had spent alone in the open. And in the morning she would find her way. She remembered that solitary journey, disguised, to Lot's court far in the north, years ago. She had grown soft with the good living and luxury of the court, but she could do it again if she must." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But it was so still: no sound of bells from the Isle of the Priests, no chantings from the convent, no bird cries; it was as if she moved through an enchanted country. Morgaine found the place she was looking for. It was growing dark, and each bush and tree seemed to take on a sinister shape, some strange thing, some monster, some dragon. But Morgaine was recovering the habits of mind she had possessed when she dwelt in Avalon; there was nothing here that would harm her, if she meant it no harm.\n\nShe began to take her way along the hidden path. Halfway she must move through the mists; otherwise the path would but bring her to the monks' kitchen garden behind their cloister. She admonished herself firmly to stop thinking of the growing darkness and set her mind into meditative silence, fixing it on where she longed to go. Thus, then, with each step as if she wound a spell, treading out the spiral dance as if the way wound up the Tor toward the ring stones... she moved silently, her eyes half-closed, placing each foot with care. She could feel the mists cold about her now.\n\nViviane had not thought it any such great ill, that she should lie with her half-brother and bear him a child... a child born of the old royal line of Avalon, more a king than Arthur's self. Had she borne such a child to Lancelet, then could that child have been fostered herein Avalon and reared to become one of the greatest of the Druids. Now what would become of her son? Why did she leave Gwydion in the hands of Morgause? Morgaine thought, I am an unnatural mother; I should have sent for my son. But she had not been willing to look Arthur in the face and tell him of his child's existence. She would not want the priests and ladies at court to look on her and say, This is the woman who bore a child to the Horned One in the old pagan way of the tribes who paint their faces and wear horns and run with the deer like animals... the boy was well enough where he was, Arthur's court was no place for him, and what would she do with a little boy of three running at her heels? Arthur's?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But there were times when she thought of him, remembered nights when he had been brought to her full-fed and sweet-smelling, when she had sat holding him and crooning to him, thinking of nothing, her whole body filled with mindless happiness... when else had shebeen so happy? Only once, she thought, when Lancelet and I lay in the sunshine on the Tor, when we hunted waterfowl by the shores of the Lake... and then, blinking, she realized that by this time she should have come further than this, she should be past the mists and on the solid ground of Avalon.\n\nAnd indeed the boggy places were gone-there were trees around her, and the path was firm underfoot, and she had not come to the priests'kitchen garden and outbuildings either. She should now be in the field behind the House of Maidens, leading into the orchard; now she must think of what she would say when she was found here, of the words she would speak to prove to the folk of Avalon that she had the right to be here. Or did she? Somehow it seemed that it was a little less dark; perhaps the moon was rising-it was three or four days after the full, soon there would be light enough to find her way. It was not to be looked for that every tree and bush should be the same as when she had dwelt here and known every step of every path. Morgaine clung to her horse's bridle, suddenly afraid of losing her way on the once-familiar paths.\n\nNo, it was actually growing brighter, she could seethe bushes and trees quite plainly now. If the moon was rising, why could she not see it above the trees? Had she somehow gotten turned round, while she was walking with her eyes half-closed, treading out the path that led through the mists and between the worlds? If only she might see some familiar landmark! There were no clouds now-she could seethe sky and even the mists had gone, but she could make out no star." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Perhaps she had been away too long from such things?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She could see no sign of rising moon, though it should have been long since in the sky....\n\nAnd then it was as if cold water flooded down her back and set her blood to moving like ice inside her. That day when she had gone to seek roots and herbs, when she would have cast forth the child within her... had she wandered again into that enchanted country which was neither the world of Britain nor the secret world where the magic of the Druids had taken Avalon, but that older, darker country where there was neither star nor sun...?\n\nShe bade her beating heart to still itself; she gripped the horse's bridle and leaned against the warm, sweaty flank, feeling the solidity of muscle and bone, hearing the soft snorting breaths real and definite under her cheek. Surely if she stood still fora little and took thought, she would find her way.... But fear was rising in her.\n\nI cannot go back. I cannot go back to Avalon, I am not worthy, I cannot make my way through the mists.... On the day of the ordeal of initiation she had felt this fora moment, but she had firmly put her fear aside.\n\nBut I was younger then and innocent. Never then had I betrayed the Goddess or the secret teachings, never had I betrayed life....\n\nMorgaine fought to control the rising tides of panic. Fear was the worst thing. Fear would put her at the mercy of whatever misfortune came. Even the wild beasts could smell fear on your body and would come and attack, while they would flee from the courageous. This was why the bravest man could run among the deer with safety, so long as fear was not smelled on his skin... was this, she wondered, why they smeared their bodies with the acrid blue dye of woad, because it covered the smell of fear? Perhaps the truly brave manor woman was the one whose mind made no pictures of what might happen if things went awry." }, { "from": "human", "value": "There was nothing hereto harm her, even if it might be that she had strayed into the fairy country." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Once before she had found herself there, but the woman who had mocked her had offered no harm or threat. They were older even than the Druids, but they too lived by the will and rule of the Goddess in their life and ways, and it might even be that one could guide her to her proper path. So, either way, there was nothing to fear: at worst she would meet no one and spend a lonely night among the trees.\n\nNow she saw light-was it one of the lights that burned in the court of the House of Maidens? If it was so, well, then she would soon be home, and if not, then she could ask her way of whatever folk she met. If she had strayed into the Isle of the Priests, then if she met with some strange priest he might fear that she was one of the fairy women. She wondered if, from time to time, these women did come to tempt the priests; it was only reasonable that here, in the very shrine of the Goddess, some priest with more imagination than others might feel the pulse of this place, come to know that his way of life was a denial of the forces of life which ran within the very pulse beat of the world. They denied life rather than affirming it, from the life of the heart and the life of nature to the life that ran at root between man and woman....\n\nIf I were Lady of Avalon, on the nights when the moon was new and springing, I would send the maidens into the cloister of the priests, to show them that the Goddess cannot be mocked or denied, that they are men and that women are not evil inventions of their pretended Devil, but that the Goddess will have her way with them... aye, at Beltane or Midsummer....\n\nOr would these mad priests bid the maidens begone and think them demons, come to tempt the faithful? And fora moment it seemed she could hear the voice of the Merlin: Let all men be free to serve what God they best like...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Even, she wondered, one which denied the very life of the earth?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But she knew Taliesin would have said, Even so.\n\nNow through the trees she made out clearly the shape of a torch, flaring up yellow and blue from along pole. The glare of it blinded her eyes fora moment, and then she saw the man who held the torch. He was small and dark, and neither priest nor Druid. He wore a loincloth of spotted deerskin and some sort of dark cloak over his bare shoulders; he was like to one of the little Tribesmen, only taller. His hair was dark and long, and he wore a garland of colored leaves in it; autumn leaves, though the leaves had not yet turned. And somehow that frightened Morgaine. But his voice was mellow and soft, as he spoke in an ancient dialect. \"Welcome, sister; are you benighted? Come this way. Let me lead your horse-I know the paths.\" It was for all the world, she thought, as if she were expected.\n\nAs if she had fallen into a dream, Morgaine followed. The path grew harder underfoot and easier to follow, and the light of the torch blurred away the misty dimness. He led the horse, but now and then he turned toward her and smiled. Then he reached out and took her by the hand, as if he were leading a young child. His teeth were very white, and his eyes, dark in the torch glow, were merry.\n\nThere were more lights now; at some point, she did not know when, he had given over her horse to another, and led her within a ring of lights-she did not remember coming within walls, but she was in a great hall where there were men and women feasting, with garlands on their heads. Some bore garlands of the autumn leaves, but at the same time there were women who bore garlands of early spring flowers, the little pale arbutus that hides under the leaves even before the snow is gone. Somewhere, a harp was playing." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Her guide was still at her side. He led her toward the high table and there, somehow without surprise, she recognized the woman she had seen before, wearing in her hair a garland of bare twined wicker-withes. The woman's grey eyes seemed ageless and knowing, as if she could read and see all things.\n\nThe man set Morgaine on a bench and put a tankard in her hand. It was of some metal she did not know... the liquor in it was sweet and smooth and tasted of peat and heather. She drank thirstily, and realized she had drunk too quickly after her long fast; she felt dizzied. Then she recalled the old tale-should you blunder into the fairy country, you must never drink nor eat of their food... but that was only an old tale, no more; they would not harm her.\n\nShe asked, \"What is this place?\"\n\nThe lady said, \"This is the Castle Chariot, and you are welcome here, Morgaine, Queen of Britain.\"\n\nShe shook her head. \"No, no, I am no queen. My mother was High Queen, and I am Duchess of Cornwall, but no more....\"\n\nThe lady smiled. \"It is all one. You are weary and have travelled long. Eat and drink, little sister, and tomorrow one shall guide you wherever you wish to go. Now is the time for feasting.\"\n\nThere were fruits on her plate, and bread, a dark soft bread of some unknown grain, but it seemed she had tasted it somewhere before this... she saw that the man who had led her hither had bracelets of gold about his wrists, twining like live snakes... she rubbed her eyes, wondering if she had fallen into a dream, and when she looked again it was only a bracelet, or perhaps a tattoo, like the one Arthur bore from his kingmaking. And at times when she looked at him, the torches flared so, it seemed there was the shadow of antlers above his brow; and the lady was crowned and hung about with gold, but now and again it seemed it was only a crown of wicker, and she had a necklace of shells about her throat, the little shells which were halved like a woman's private parts, and sacred to the Goddess. She sat between them and somewhere a harp was playing, a sweeter music than even the harps of Avalon...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "She was no longer wearied." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The sweet-tasting drink had cleared her mind of fatigue and sorrow. Later someone put a harp in her hand and she too played and sang; never had her voice sounded so soft and clear and sweet. She fell into a dream as she played, where it seemed all the faces around her wore the semblance of someone she had known elsewhere.... It seemed she walked on the shores of a sunny island and played a curious bowed harp; and then there was a time when she satin a great stone courtyard and a wise Druid in strange long robes taught them with compasses and a star finder, and there were songs and sounds that would open a locked door or raise a circle of ring stones and she learned them all, and was crowned with a golden serpent over her brow....\n\nThe lady said it was time to go to rest-on the morrow one would guide her and her horse. She slept that night in a cool room hung about with leaves-or were they tapestries that now seemed to twist and change, telling stories of all the things that had been? She saw herself too, woven into the tapestry, with her harp in her hand, with Gwydion on her lap, and she saw herself woven into the tapestry with Lancelet-he played with her hair and held her hand, and she thought there was something she should remember, some reason she should be angry with Lancelet; but she could not remember what it was.\n\nWhen the lady said that this night was festival and she should stay here a day or two more and dance with them, she let it be... it was so long, it seemed, since she had danced and been merry. But when she took thought to what festival it might be, she could not quite remember... surely the Equinox had not come yet, nor could she see moon or sun to reckon it for herself as she had been taught." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They put a garland of flowers in her hair, bright summer flowers, for, said the lady, you are no untried maiden. It was a starless night, and it troubled her that she could not seethe moon, as she had not seen the sun by day. Had it been one day, or two or three? Somehow time seemed not to matter; she ate when she was hungry, slept where she was when she felt weary, alone, or lying on abed, soft as grass, with one of the lady's maidens. Once, to her surprise, she found the maiden-yes, she looked somewhat like Raven-twining her arms round her neck and kissing her, and she returned the kisses without surprise or shame. It was as it is in a dream, where strange things seem wholly possible, and she was surprised at this, just a little, but somehow it did not seem to matter, she lived in an enchanted dream. Sometimes she wondered what had happened to her horse, but when she thought of riding forth, the lady said she must not think of it yet, they willed that she should stay with them... once years afterward when she was trying to recall all that had befallen her within the Castle Chariot, she remembered that she had lain in the lady's lap and suckled at her breast, and it did not seem strange to her at all that she, a grown woman, should lie in her mother's lap, and be kissed and dandled like an infant. But surely that had been no more than a dream, when she was dizzied with the sweet-tasting strong wine....\n\nAnd sometimes it seemed to her that the lady was Viviane, and she wondered: Have I fallen sick, am I lying in a fever and dreaming all these curious things? She went outwith the lady's maidens and searched with them for root and herb, and the season seemed not to matter. And at the festival-was it that same night or another?-she danced to the harps, and again she took a turn at the harps for the dancing, and the music she made sounded both melancholy and merry." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Once when she was searching for berries and flowers for garlands, her feet stumbled over something: the white bleached bones of some animal. And round its neck was a fragment of leather, and on that a scrap of red cloth-it was something like to the bag in which she had borne her gear when she rode from Caerleon. What, she wondered, had happened to her own horse, was it safe in the stables here? She had not seen stables at all in the fairy castle, but she supposed they were somewhere. For now it was enough to dance, to sing, to let time pass, enchanted....\n\nOnce the man who had brought her there led her aside from the dancing ring. She was never to know his name. How, when she could see neither sun nor moon, could the tides of moon and sun beat in her so fiercely?\n\n\"You have a dagger about you,\" he said, \"you must put it from you, I cannot bear it near.\"\n\nShe unfastened the leather thongs that bound it to her waist and cast it away, not knowing where it fell. Then he came to her, his dark hair falling about hers; his mouth tasted sweet, of berries and of the strong heather drink. He undid her clothing. She had grown used to the cold-it did not matter to her that it was cold on the grass here, that she was naked under his body. She touched him; he was warm, his body warm, his strong male member hot and strong, his hands opening her thighs were strong and eager. Her whole body welcomed him as hungrily as a virgin; she moved with him and she felt the rhythm of the pulsing tides of the earth around her.\n\nThen she was afraid... she did not want him to get her with child, it had gone so ill with her when Gwydion was born, another child would surely kill her. But when she would have spoken, he laid a hand gently over her lips and she knew he could read her thoughts." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No fear of that, sweet lady, the tides are not right for that... this is the time for pleasure and not for ripening,\" he said softly, and she gave herself up to it, and yes, there were antlers shadowing his brow, she lay again with the Horned One, and it was as if stars were falling in the wood all round them, or was it but fireflies and glowworms?\n\nOnce she was wandering in the woods with the maidens and she came to a pool and bent over it, and looking deep there, she saw Viviane's face looking out at her from the waters. Her hair was greying now, strands of white all through it, and there were lines she had never seen before. Her lips opened; it seemed she was calling, and Morgaine wondered, How long have I been here? Surely, I have been here four or five days, maybe even a week. I must surely go. The lady said one would guide me to the shores of Avalon....\n\nAnd she made her way to the lady and told her that she must surely go. But night was falling-surely tomorrow would be time enough....\n\nOnce again, in the water, it seemed she saw Arthur, his armies massing.... Gwenhwyfar looked weary and somehow older; she held Lancelet by the hand as he bade them farewell, and he kissed her lips. Yes, Morgaine thought in bitterness, such games as he likes well to play. Gwenhwyfar would wish it so, to have all his love and devotion and never endanger her honor.... But it was easy to put them away from her, too.\n\nAnd then one night she woke with a start, hearing from somewhere a great cry, and fora moment, it seemed to her as if she stood on the Tor at the center of the ring stones, hearing the terrifying cry ringing through the worlds-the voice she had heard but once since she grew to womanhood, that harsh rusty voice, grown dull with unuse, the voice of Raven, who broke her silence only when the Gods had a message they dared not leave to any other...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Ah, the Pendragon has betrayed Avalon, the dragon has flown... the banner of the dragonflies no more against the Saxon warriors... weep, weep, if the Lady should set foot from Avalon, for surely she will return no more... and a sound of weeping, of sobbing in the sudden darkness...\n\nAnd silence. Morgaine sat upright in the greyish light, her mind suddenly clear for the first time since she had come into this country.\n\nI have been here all too long, she thought, winter has come. Now I must depart, now, before this day is over... no, I cannot even say so, the sun does not rise or set here... I must go now, at once. She knew she should call for her horse, and then, remembering, she knew: her horse was long since dead in these woods. Ina sudden fright, she thought, How long have I been here?\n\nShe searched for her dagger, and remembered that she had cast it away. She bound her dress about her-it seemed faded. She could not remember washing it, nor her underlinen, yet they seemed not dirtied much. She wondered suddenly if she were mad.\n\nIf I speak to the lady, she will beseech me again not to go....\n\nMorgaine tied her hair up in plaits... why had she let it hang free, she, a grown woman? And she set off down the path which, she knew, would bring her to Avalon.\n\nMorgaine speaks...\n\nTo this very day I have never known how many nights and days I spent in the fairy country-even now my mind blurs when I try to reckon it up. Try as I may I can make it no fewer than five and no more than thirteen. Nor am I certain how much time passed in the world outside, nor in Avalon, while I was there, but because mankind keeps better records of time than the fairy folk, I know that some five years passed." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Perhaps, and I think this more as I grow older, what we speak of as time passing happens only because we have made it a habit, in our very blood and bones, to count things-the fingers of a newborn child, the rising and returning of the sun, we think so often of how many days must pass or how many seasons before our corn will ripen or our child grow in the womb and come to birth or some longed-for meeting take place; and we watch these by the turning of the year and the sun, as the first of the priestly secrets. Within the fairy country I knew nothing of the passing of time, and so for me it did not pass. For when I came out of the country I found that already there were more lines in Gwenhwyfar's face, and Elaine's exquisite youthfulness had begun to blur a little; but my own hands were no thinner, my face was untouched byline or wrinkle, and though in our family white comes early to the hair-in his nineteenth year Lancelet had had already a few grey strands-my hair was black and untouched by time as the wing of a crow.\n\nI have come to think that once the Druids had taken Avalon away from the world of constant counting and reckoning it began to happen there, too. Time does not flow in Avalon unreckoned like the passing of a dream, as it does in the fairy country. Yet truly time has begun to drift a little. We seethe moon and sun of the Goddess there, and reckon the rites within the ring stones, and so time never wholly leaves us. But it runs not even with time elsewhere, though one would think that if the motion of sun and moon were known at all, it would move like to that in the world outside... yet it is not so. Toward these last years I could bide a month in Avalon and discover when I came away that an entire season had sped by outside. And often, toward the end of those years, I did so, for I had no patience to see what happened in the world outside; and when folk marked that I stayed ever young, then more than ever did they call me fairy or witch." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But that was long, long afterward.\n\nFor when I heard Raven in that terrifying cry which moved into the spaces between the worlds, reaching my mind even where I stayed in the timeless dream of the fairy world, I set forth... but not to Avalon." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "In the world outside, the light of the sun shone bright through fickle cloud shadows over the Lake, and faraway the sound of church bells rang through the air. Against that sound, Morgaine dared not raise her voice to cry the word of power which would summon the barge, nor take upon her the form of the Goddess.\n\nShe looked at herself in the mirrored surface of the Lake. How long, she wondered, had she tarried in the fairy country? With her mind free of enchantments, she knew-even though she could reckon only two or three days-that she had dwelt there long enough for her fine dark gown to wear away ragged where it dragged on the ground; somewhere she had lost her dagger or cast it away-she was not sure which. Now she remembered some of the things which had befallen her there as dreams or madness, and her face was stung with shame. Yet mingled with all this were memories of music sweeter than she had heard in the world or in Avalon, or anywhere else, save when she had been at the borders of the country of Death when her child was born... almost, then, she had longed to crossover, if only to hear the music there. She remembered the sound of her own voice singing with the fairy harp-never had she sung or played so sweetly. I would like to go back there, and stay there forever. And she almost turned about to return, but the memory of Raven's fearful cry troubled her.\n\nArthur, betraying Avalon and the oath by which he had received the sword and been taken into the holiest place of the Druids. And danger to Viviane should she set forth from Avalon-slowly, trying to put things together in her mind, Morgaine remembered. She had set forth from Caerleon-it seemed only a few days ago, in the late summer. She had never come to Avalon, and now it looked as if she never would come there... she looked sadly at the church atop the Tor. If she could steal into Avalon behind the island-but the paths had carried her only into the fairy country." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Somewhere, then, she had lost both dagger and horse; and now she remembered seeing bleached bone, and shuddered." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And now she came to take note, the church on the Tor seemed different, the priests must have been building on it, and surely they could not have built it so big in a month or even two... Somehow, she thought, gripping her hands together in sudden fright, I must find out how many moons have sped by while I wandered with the maidens of the lady, or took my pleasure with the fairy man who led me there....\n\nBut no, it could not have been more than two or at most three nights... she thought wildly, not knowing it was the beginning of a confusion which would grow endlessly and never be wholly settled in her mind. And now when she thought of those nights she was frightened and ashamed, trembling with the memory of a pleasure she had never known, lying in the arms of the fairy man-and yet now she was away from the enchantment it seemed like something shameful, done in a dream. And the caresses she had given and received from the fairy maidens, something she could never have dreamed without such an enchantment-there had befallen something, too, with the lady... and now she thought of it, the lady was much like Viviane, and Morgaine was shamed too... in the fairy country it had been as if she had hungered all her life for such things, and yet in the outside world she would never have dared it, or even dreamed of it.\n\nDespite the warm sun, she had begun to shiver. She did not know what time of year it might be, but there were patches of unmelted snow on the edge of the Lake, hiding in the reeds. In the name of the Goddess, can the winter have passed and spring beat hand again? And if enough time had gone by in the outside world so that Arthur could have planned betrayal of Avalon, then it must have been longer than she dared to think." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She had lost horse and dagger and everything else she had had with her. Her shoes, too, were worn, she had no food with her, and she was alone on the shores of unfriendly country, far from anyplace where she was known as the King's sister. Well, she had gone hungry before this. A flicker of a smile passed over her face. There were great houses and nunneries where she would perhaps be given bread as a beggar. She would make her way to the court of Arthur-perhaps somewhere she would come on a village where someone would need the services of a midwife, so that she could barter her skill for bread.\n\nShe gave one last longing look at the shores across the Lake. Dared she make a final attempt to speak the word of power which would bring her into Avalon? If she could speak with Raven, perhaps she could know precisely what danger threatened... she opened her mouth to cry out the word and drew back. She could not face Raven, either; Raven who had kept the laws of Avalon so meticulously, who had done nothing to shame her priestess garb. How could she face Raven's clear eyes with the memories of what she had done in the outside world and in the fairy country? Raven would have them from her mind in a moment... at last, the shores of the Lake and the spire of the church blurring through tears, she turned her back on Avalon to find the Roman road that led away south, past the mines and at last to Caerleon.\n\nShe had been three days on the road before she met with another traveller. The first night she had slept in an abandoned herder's hut, supperless, sheltering from the wind, but no more. On the second day she had come to a farmstead where the folk were all from home except fora half-witted goose boy; but he had let her sit to warm herself by the banked fire inside, and she had taken a thorn from his foot, so that he gave her a hunk of his bread. She had walked farther with less to eat." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But then she came nearer to Caerleon and was shocked to find two burned-outhouses, and crops rotting in the field... it was as if Saxons had passed this way! She went into one of the houses, which looked as if it had been sacked, for there was little left; but lying in one of the rooms she found an old and faded cloak, too ragged, she supposed, even for the raiders to take, abandoned by someone when they fled the place. It was warm wool, though, and Morgaine wrapped it round herself, though it made her look more than ever like a beggar woman; she had suffered more from the cold than from hunger. Near dusk some fowls clucked in the abandoned court; hens were creatures of habit, they had not yet learned that they could not come hereto be fed. Morgaine caught one of them and wrung its neck, and in the ruined fireplace kindled a small fire; if she was lucky, no one would see smoke coming from the ruins, or if they did would think it was but ghosts. She spitted the chicken and roasted it on a green stick of wood over her fire. It was so old and tough that even her strong teeth had trouble chewing it, but she had been hungry so long that she did not care, and sucked the bones as if it were the daintiest of roast birds. She found some leather, too, in one of the outbuildings which had been some sort of forge or smithy; they had carried off every tool and every last scrap of metal, but there were some bits of leather lying about, and Morgaine wrapped what was left of the hen in it. She would have mended her shoes too, but she had no knife. Well, perhaps she would come to a village where she might get the loan of one fora few minutes. What madness had prompted her to cast her dagger away?\n\nIt was several days after full moon, and when she set forth from the ruined farm, there was frost on the stone doorstep, and a gibbous day moon lingered in the sky. As she crossed the door sill with her leather bag of cold meat and a thick stick clenched in her hand-some shepherd, no doubt, had cut it and left it here-she heard a hen clucking somewhere in wild announcement, and she sought out the nest and ate the egg raw and still warm from the hen's body, so she felt full fed and comfortable." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The wind was brisk and cold, and she walked at a good pace, glad of the cloak, threadbare and torn though it was. The morning was far advanced, and she was beginning to think of sitting herself down by the road and eating some of the cold fowl, when she heard hooves behind heron the road, overtaking her.\n\nHer first thought was to continue on her way-she was bent on her own affairs and had as good aright to the road as any other traveller. Then, remembering the ruin of the farm, she took thought and went to the side of the road, concealing herself behind a bush. There was noway to tell what manner of folk travelled the roads now, with Arthur too busy keeping the peace against the Saxons to have much time to create peace in the countryside and protection along the roads. If the traveller seemed harmless, she might ask him what news; if not, well, she would lie here hidden until he was out of sight.\n\nIt was a solitary horseman, wrapped in a grey cloak and riding on a tall, lean horse; riding alone, with no servant or pack horse. No, but he bore a great pack behind him-no, not that either; it was that his body was hunched over in the saddle-and then she knew who the man must be, and stepped out from her place of concealment.\n\n\"Kevin Harper!\" she said.\n\nHe drew up his horse; it was well trained and did not rear or sidle. He looked down at her, scowling, his mouth twisted in a sneer-or was it but the scars he bore?\n\n\"I have nothing for you, woman-\" and then he broke off. \"By the Goddess! It is the lady Morgaine-what do you here, madam? I had heard last year that you were in Tintagel with your mother before she died, but when the High Queen went south to her burying, she said no, you had not been there-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Morgaine reeled and putout a hand to steady herself on her stick." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"My mother-dead? I had not heard-\"\n\nKevin dismounted, steadying himself against the horse's flank until he got his stick under him. \"Sit you down here, madam-you had not heard? Where, in the name of the Goddess, have you been? The word came even to Viviane in Avalon, but she is now too old and too frail to go forth.\"\n\nBut where I was, Morgaine thought, I heard it not. It maybe that when I saw Igraine's face in the forest pool, then was she calling tome with the news, and I never knew. Pain wrenched at her heart; she and Igraine had grown so far from each other-they had parted soon after she was eleven years old and gone forth to Avalon-yet now it tore at her with anguish, as if she were that same little girl who had wept when she left Igraine's house. Oh, my mother, and I knew nothing of it.... She sat at the edge of the road, tears streaming down her face. \"How did she die? Have you heard?\"\n\n\"Her heart, I believe; it was a year ago in the spring. Believe me, Morgaine, I heard nothing but that it was natural and expected for her years.\"\n\nFora moment Morgaine could not control her voice enough to speak; and with the grief, there was terror, for clearly she had dwelt out of the world longer than she had thought possible.... Kevin said, a year ago in the spring. So more than one spring had gone by while she lingered in the fairy country! For in the summer when she left Arthur's court, Igraine had not even been ailing! It was not a question of how many months she had been gone, but how many years!\n\nAnd could she get Kevin to tell her, without revealing where she had been?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"There is wine in my saddlebag, Morgaine-I would offer it to you, but you must get it for yourself.... I walk not well at the best of times. You look thin and pale, are you hungry too? And how is it that I find you on this road, clothed\"-Kevin wrinkled his brow in fastidious distaste-\"worse than any beggar woman?\"\n\nMorgaine cast about in her mind for what she could say.\n\n\"I have dwelt... in solitude, and away from the world. I have not seen nor spoken with any man for I know not how long. I had lost count even of the seasons.\" And this much was true, for whatever the folk of the fairy country might be, they were not mankind.\n\n\"I can well believe it,\" said Kevin. \"I could believe even that you had not heard of the great battle-\"\n\n\"I see that this country has been all burned over.\"\n\n\"Oh, that was three years ago,\" said Kevin, and Morgaine started back. \"Some of the treaty troops broke their vows and came all through this country, looting and burning. Arthur took a great wound at that battle and lay abed for half a year.\" He saw Morgaine's troubled face and mistook her concern. \"Oh, he does well enough now, but all that time he did not set foot to the ground-I imagine he felt the want of your healing skills, Morgaine. Then Gawaine led down all of Lot's men from the North and we had peace for three years. And then this summer past there was the great battle at Mount Badon-Lot died in that battle-aye, there was a victory, such as bards will sing fora hundred years,\" Kevin said. \"I do not think there is a Saxon chief left unkilled in all this land from Cornwall to Lothian, save those who call Arthur their king. There has been nothing like it since the days of the Caesars. And now all this land lies under the peace of Arthur.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Morgaine had risen and gone to the saddlebags." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She found the flask of wine, and Kevin said, \"Bring the bread and cheese too. It is near noon and I will eat herewith you.\" When she had served him and opened her roll of leather with the remains of the chicken, offering it, he shook his head.\n\n\"Thank you, but I eat no flesh food now, I am under vows.... I marvel to see you eat meat, Morgaine, a priestess of your rank-\"\n\n\"That or go fasting,\" said Morgaine, and told him how the chicken had come to her. \"But I have not observed that prohibition since I left Avalon. I eat such things as are set before me.\"\n\n\"For myself, I think it makes little matter, flesh or fish or grain,\" Kevin said, \"though the Christians make much of their fasting-at least this Patricius who is Arthur's bishop now. Before that, the brethren who dwelt with us upon Avalon used to repeat a saying of their Christ, that it was not what went into a man's mouth that defiled him, but what came out of it, and therefore man should eat humbly of all the gifts of God. And so I have heard Taliesin say. But for myself-no doubt you know that at a certain level of the Mysteries, what is eaten has so much effect on the mind-I dare not eat meat now, it makes me drunker than too much wine!\"\n\nMorgaine nodded-she had had that experience too. When she had been drinking the sacred herbs, she could eat nothing but a little bread and fruit; even cheese or boiled lentils were too rich and made her ill.\n\n\"But where do you go now, Morgaine?\" And when she told him, he stared as if she were mad. \"To Caerleon? Why? There is nothing there-or perhaps you did not know, though I find that hard to believe.... Arthur gave it to one of his knights who served him well at that battle. But on the day of Pentecost he moved his whole court to Camelot-it will be a year this summer that he has dwelt there. Taliesin liked that not, that he opened his court upon the Christian holy day, but he did it to please his queen-he listens to her in all things.\" Morgaine surprised a faint grimace on his face. \"But then if you had not heard of the battle, it is likely you had not heard how Arthur betrayed the folk of Avalon and the Tribes.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Morgaine stopped the cup halfway to her lips. She said, \"It is for that I came, Kevin. I heard that Raven had broken her silence and prophesied some such thing as that....\"\n\n\"It was more than prophecy,\" said the bard. He stretched his leg uneasily, as if sitting for long in one position on the ground hurt him.\n\n\"Arthur betrayed-what did he do?\" Morgaine's breath caught. \"He did not give them into the hands of the Saxons...?\"\n\n\"You have not heard, then. The Tribes were sworn to follow the banner of the Pendragon, as they swore at his kingmaking, and Uther's before him... and the little folk of the days before the Tribes, they came too, with their bronze axes and flint hatchets and elf-arrows-no more than the fairy folk can they bear cold iron. All, all sworn to follow the Great Dragon. And Arthur betrayed them... he put away the dragon standard, even though we begged him that he should let Gawaine or Lancelet bear it into the field. But he swore that he would raise only his banner of the cross and the Holy Virgin into the field at Mount Badon. And so he did.\"\n\nMorgaine stared in horror, remembering Arthur's kingmaking. Even Uther had not so pledged himself to the folk of Avalon! And he had betrayed that pledge? She whispered, \"And the Tribes did not desert him?\"\n\nKevin said in great anger, \"Some of them came near to it; some of the Old People from the Welsh hills did indeed go home when the cross was raised-King Uriens could not stop them. As for the rest-well, we knew that day that the Saxons had us between the hammer and the anvil. We might follow Arthur and his knights into battle, or live thereafter under Saxon rule, for this was the great battle that had been prophesied. And he bore the sacred sword Excalibur from the Holy Regalia. Like enough the Goddess herself knew that she would be the worse if the land was ruled by the Saxons. So he fought, and the Goddess gave him victory.\" Kevin offered the wine flask to Morgaine, and when she shook her head, he drained it." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Move the story forward as the writer's assistant.\nTags: fantasy, arthurian, historical fantasy\nAuthor: Marion Zimmer Bradley\nTitle: The Mists of Avalon\nChapter: 38" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Morgaine stopped the cup halfway to her lips. She said, \"It is for that I came, Kevin. I heard that Raven had broken her silence and prophesied some such thing as that....\"\n\n\"It was more than prophecy,\" said the bard. He stretched his leg uneasily, as if sitting for long in one position on the ground hurt him.\n\n\"Arthur betrayed-what did he do?\" Morgaine's breath caught. \"He did not give them into the hands of the Saxons...?\"\n\n\"You have not heard, then. The Tribes were sworn to follow the banner of the Pendragon, as they swore at his kingmaking, and Uther's before him... and the little folk of the days before the Tribes, they came too, with their bronze axes and flint hatchets and elf-arrows-no more than the fairy folk can they bear cold iron. All, all sworn to follow the Great Dragon. And Arthur betrayed them... he put away the dragon standard, even though we begged him that he should let Gawaine or Lancelet bear it into the field. But he swore that he would raise only his banner of the cross and the Holy Virgin into the field at Mount Badon. And so he did.\"\n\nMorgaine stared in horror, remembering Arthur's kingmaking. Even Uther had not so pledged himself to the folk of Avalon! And he had betrayed that pledge? She whispered, \"And the Tribes did not desert him?\"\n\nKevin said in great anger, \"Some of them came near to it; some of the Old People from the Welsh hills did indeed go home when the cross was raised-King Uriens could not stop them. As for the rest-well, we knew that day that the Saxons had us between the hammer and the anvil. We might follow Arthur and his knights into battle, or live thereafter under Saxon rule, for this was the great battle that had been prophesied. And he bore the sacred sword Excalibur from the Holy Regalia. Like enough the Goddess herself knew that she would be the worse if the land was ruled by the Saxons. So he fought, and the Goddess gave him victory.\" Kevin offered the wine flask to Morgaine, and when she shook her head, he drained it." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Viviane would have come from Avalon to charge him with oath-breaking,\" he said, \"but she is reluctant to do so before all his people. And so I am for Camelot, to remind him of his vow. If he heeds not that, then Viviane has sworn she will come to Camelot herself, on the day when all people present their petitions, and Arthur has sworn he himself will hear and judge them, at Pentecost. And then, she said, she would stand before him as a common petitioner, and claim his oath, and remind him of what must befall him who forswears his word.\"\n\nMorgaine said, \"The Goddess grant that the Lady of the Lake need never humble herself so far.\"\n\n\"I too would speak to him with wrath, not soft words, but it is not mine to choose,\" said Kevin. He held out his hand. \"Will you help me to rise? I think my horse will bear two, and if not, when we come to a town we must get you a horse. I should be gallant even as the great Lancelet, and let you ride mine, but\"-he pointed to his crippled body.\n\nMorgaine pulled him to his feet. \"I am strong, I can walk. If we must barter anything in the town, we should find shoes for me and a knife. I have not a single coin with me, but I will repay you when I can.\"\n\nKevin shrugged. \"You are my vowed sister in Avalon-what I have is yours, so runs the law. There is no talk of payment between us.\"\n\nMorgaine felt herself coloring in shame, that Kevin should so remind her of what she had sworn. I have been out of the world, in truth. \"Let me help you to mount your horse. Will she stand, so?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He smiled. \"If she would not, she would belittle use tome in travelling such roads as I go alone! Let us go-I would like to reach Camelot tomorrow.\"\n\nIna town nestled in the hills, they found a cobbler to mend Morgaine's broken shoes, and an old bronze dagger; the man who had these things for sale said there was no dearth of them in this country since the great battle. Kevin bought her a decent cloak too, saying the ragged one she had found in the farmhouse would scarce make a saddle blanket. But the stop had delayed them, and once on the road again, it began to snow heavily, and the dark closed in early.\n\n\"We should have stayed in that town,\" said Kevin. \"I could have bartered harp music for supper and bed for us both. Alone, I could sleep under a hedge or in the shelter of a wall, wrapped in my cloak. But not a lady of Avalon.\"\n\n\"What makes you think I have never slept so?\" Morgaine asked.\n\nHe laughed. \"You look tome, Morgaine, as if you had slept so all too often of late! But no matter how swiftly we press the horse, we cannot come to Camelot this night-we must look somewhere for shelter.\"\n\nAfter a time, through the fast-falling snow, they could make out the dark shape of an abandoned building. Not even Morgaine could enter it walking upright; likely it had been a cattle byre, but the beasts had been gone so long that there was not even a smell, and the thatch-and-daub roof was mostly in place. They tethered the horse and crawled in, Kevin directing her with a gesture to lay the old ragged cloak on the filthy floor, and they each wrapped themselves in their cloaks and lay downside by side. But it was so cold that at last, hearing Morgaine's teeth chattering, Kevin said they must spread the two cloaks over them both and lie close together for warmth. \"If it will not sicken you to be so close to this misshapen body of mine,\" he said, and she could hear the pain and anger in his voice." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Of what is misshapen about you, Kevin Harper, I know only that with your broken hands you make more music than I, or even Taliesin, with hands that are whole,\" Morgaine said, and moved gratefully into his warmth. And at last she felt she could sleep, her head resting in the curve of his shoulder.\n\nShe had been walking all day and was weary; she slept heavily, but wakened when the light began to steal through the cracks in the broken wall. She felt cramped from the hard floor, and as she looked around the mud-daubed walls she felt a surge of horror. She, Morgaine, priestess of Avalon, Duchess of Cornwall, lying herein a beast shelter, cast out from Avalon... would she ever return? And she had come from worse places, from the Castle Chariot in the fairy country, out of all knowledge of Christendom and heathendom alike, out of the very doors of this world... she who had been so delicately reared by Igraine, she who was sister to the High King, schooled by the Lady of the Lake, accepted by the Goddess... now had she cast it all away. But, no, she had not cast it away, it had been taken from her when Viviane sent her to the kingmaking and she had come away with child by her own brother.\n\nIgraine is dead, my mother is dead, and I cannot come again to Avalon, never in this world... and then Morgaine was weeping hopelessly, muffling her sobs in the coarse stuff of the cloak.\n\nKevin's voice was soft and husky in the half-light.\n\n\"Do you weep for your mother, Morgaine?\"\n\n\"For my mother-and for Viviane-and perhaps most of all for myself.\" Morgaine was never certain whether she had spoken the words aloud. Kevin's arm circled her, and she let her head fall against his chest and wept and wept until she could weep no more." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He said, after along time, still stroking her hair, \"You spoke truth, Morgaine-you do not shrink from me.\"\n\n\"How could I,\" she said, nestling closer, \"when you have been so kind?\"\n\n\"All women think not so,\" he said. \"Even when I came to the Beltane fires, I heard-for some folk think that because my legs and hands are lame, I am also deaf and dumb-I heard more than one, even of the maidens of the Goddess, whisper to their priestess that she should place them afar from me, so that there would be no chance I would look upon them when the time came to go apart from the fires....\"\n\nMorgaine sat straight up in dismay. \"Were I that priestess, I would drive such a woman forth from the fires, because she dared to question the form in which the God might come to her... what did you do, Kevin?\"\n\nHe shrugged. \"Rather than interrupt the ritual or put any woman to such a choice, I went away so quietly that none knew. Even the God could never change what they see or think of me. Even before I was forbidden by the Druid vows to couple with women who barter their bodies for gold, I could pay no woman to accept me. Perhaps I should seek to be a priest among the Christians, who, I have heard, teach their priests the secret of living without women. Or perhaps I should wish that when the raiders broke my hands and body they had gelded me too, so that I should not care one way or the other. I am sorry-I should not speak of it. But I wonder if you consented to lie at my side because you thought this crooked body of mine was not a man's, and did not think of me so...\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Morgaine listened to him, appalled at the agony of bitterness in his words, the wounds dealt to his manhood. She knew the awareness that lived in his hands, the quick emotion of the musician. Even before the Goddess, could women look only at a broken body? She remembered how she had flung herself into Lancelet's arms, and the wound to her pride which, she knew, would never cease to bleed.\n\nQuite deliberately she bent down and kissed him on the lips, pulled his hand to her and kissed the scars there. \"Never doubt it, tome you area man, and the Goddess has prompted me to do this.\" She lay down again, turning toward him.\n\nHe looked sharply at her in the growing light. Fora moment she flinched at what she saw in his face-did he think she pitied him? No: she shared the awareness of his suffering, which was another thing. She looked him directly in the eyes... yes, if his face had not been so drawn with bitterness, so twisted with suffering, he might have been handsome; his features were good, his eyes very dark and gentle. Fate had broken his body, but not his spirit-no coward could have endured the ordeals of the Druids.\n\nUnder the mantle of the Goddess, as every woman is my sister and my daughter and my mother, so must every man be tome as father and lover and son.... My father was dead before I could remember him, and I have not seen my son since he was weaned... but to this man I will give what the Goddess prompts me.... Morgaine kissed one of the scarred hands again and laid it inside her gown, against her breast.\n\nHe was inexperienced-which seemed to her strange fora man of his age. But how, Morgaine wondered, could he possibly have been anything else? And then she thought, This is the first time, really, that I have done this of my freewill, and had the gift taken simply, as it was offered. It healed something in her. Strange, that it could have been so with a man she scarcely knew, and for whom she felt only kindness. Even in his inexperience he was generous and gentle with her, and she felt, welling up within her, a great and unspeakable tenderness." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It is strange,\" he said at last, in a quiet, musing voice. \"I had known you were wise and a priestess, but somehow I had never thought you were beautiful.\"\n\nShe laughed harshly. \"Beautiful? Me?\" But she was grateful that, to him, at that moment, she seemed so.\n\n\"Morgaine, tell me-where have you been? I would not ask, but that whatever it is, it lies heavy on your heart.\"\n\n\"I do not know,\" she blurted out. She had never thought she would tell him. \"Out of the world, perhaps-I was trying to reach Avalon-and I could not come there, the way is barred tome, I think. Twice now, I have been-elsewhere. Another country, a country of dreams and enchantments-a country where time stands still and is not, and there is nothing but music-\" And she fell silent; would the harper think her a madwoman?\n\nHe traced a finger along the corner of her eye. It was cold, and they had thrown the covers off them; he tucked the cloaks gently round her again. \"Once I too was there, and heard their music...\" he said, in a distant brooding voice, \"and in that place I was not near so crippled, and their women did not mock me.... Someday, perhaps, when I have lost my fear of madness, I shall go to them once again... they showed me the hidden ways and said I might come because of my music...\" and again, his soft voice dropped into along silence.\n\nShe shivered and looked away from him. \"We had better getup. If our poor horse has not quite frozen in the night, we will arrive at Camelot this day.\"\n\n\"And if we arrive together,\" Kevin said quietly, \"they may believe that you have come with me from Avalon. It is none of their affair where you have dwelt-you area priestess, and your conscience is not in the keeping of any man alive, not even of their bishops, or of Taliesin himself.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Morgaine wished she had a decent dress to put on; she would arrive at Arthur's court in the garb of a beggar woman. Well, it could not be helped. Kevin watched as she arranged her hair, then held out his hand, and she helped him to his feet, matter-of-factly; but she saw that the bitter look was in his eyes again. He was guarded behind a hundred fences of reserve and anger. Yet just as they were crawling out the door he touched her hand.\n\n\"I have not thanked you, Morgaine-\"\n\nShe smiled. \"Oh-if there are thanks, they are to bespoken both ways, my friend-or could you not tell that?\"\n\nFora moment the scarred fingers tightened on hers... and then it was like ablaze of fire, she saw his ravaged face circled with a ring of fire, contorted with shrieking, and all about and all around him fire... fire... she stiffened and snatched her hand away, staring at him in horror.\n\n\"Morgaine!\" he cried. \"What is it?\"\n\n\"Nothing, nothing-a cramp in my foot-\" she lied, and avoided his hand when he would have put it out to steady her. Death! Death by burning! What did it mean? Not even the worst of traitors died that death... or had she seen only what had befallen him when he was lamed as a boy? Brief as the moment of Sight had been, it left her shaken, as if she herself had spoken the word that would deliver him to his death.\n\n\"Come,\" she said, almost brusquely. \"Let us ride.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gwenhwyfar had never wished to meddle with the Sight; did it not say in Holy Writ that no man knew what a day might bring forth? Yet she had hardly thought of Morgaine in the last year, not since they had moved the court to Camelot, but this very morning she had wakened remembering a dream she had had of Morgaine-a dream in which Morgaine had taken her hand, leading her to the Beltane fires and bidding her lie with Lancelet there. When she was well awake she could laugh at the madness of that dream. Surely dreams were sent from the Devil, for in all of hers that gave her such evil counsel that no Christian wife could heed, oftenest it was Morgaine who spoke it.\n\nWell, she is gone from this court, I need never think of her again... no, I do not wish her ill, I wish she might repent of her sins, and find peace in a nunnery... but one very far from here. Now that Arthur had given over his pagan ways, Gwenhwyfar felt that she would even be happy if it were not for these dreams in which Morgaine led her into shameful things. And now the dream haunted her while she sat working at the altar cloth she was making for the church, haunted her so deeply that it seemed wicked to sit working across in gold thread while she thought of Lancelet. She put down her thread and whispered a prayer, but her thoughts went on, relentless. Arthur, when she begged him at Christmas, had promised her that he would put down the Beltane fires in the countryside; she thought he would have done it before this, except that the Merlin had forbidden him. It would be hard for any, Gwenhwyfar thought, not to love the old man-he was so gentle and good; if only he were Christian, he would be better than any priest. But Taliesin had said it was not fair to the countryfolk, either, to take from them a simple awareness of a Goddess who cared for their fields and their crops and the fertility of their beasts and their own wombs. Surely there was little that such folk could do in the way of sin, they had all they could do to toil in the fields and till their crops for enough bread to keep them out of death's reach; it was not to be looked for that the Devil should trouble himself with such people, if there was a Devil at all. But Gwenhwyfar said, \"I suppose you think they do no sin, when they go to the Beltane fires and there do lewd and heathen rites and lie with other than their husbands-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"God knows they have little enough joy in their lives,\" Taliesin responded tranquilly. \"I cannot think it very wrong that four times in a whole year, when the seasons turn, they should make merry and do what pleasures them. I could not find much reason to love a God who took thought about such things and would call them wicked. Do you call them wicked, my queen?\"\n\nAnd she did; any Christian woman must think so, to go into the fields and dance naked and lie therewith the first man sent to her... immodest and shameful and wicked. Taliesin shook his head, sighing.\n\n\"Still, my queen, none can be the master of another's conscience. Even if you think it wicked and shameful, would you pretend to know what is right for another? Even the wise cannot know everything, and perhaps the Gods have more purposes than we, in our little knowledge, can see.\"\n\n\"If I knew right from wrong-as I do and as the priests have taught us, and as God has taught us in Holy Writ-then should I fear God's punishment if I did not make such laws as would keep my people from sin?\" Gwenhwyfar demanded. \"God would require it at my hands, I think, if I allowed evil to take place in my realm, and if I were king I should already have put it down.\"\n\n\"Then, lady, I can say only that it is the good fortune of this land that you are not king. A king must protect his people from outsiders, from invaders, and lead his people to defend themselves-a king must be the first to thrust himself between the land and all danger, just as a farmer stands to defend his fields from any robber. But it is not his duty to dictate to them what their innermost hearts may do.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But she had debated with him hotly. \"A king is the protector of his people, and what good is it to protect their bodies if he lets their souls fall into evil ways? Look you, Lord Merlin, I am a queen, and mothers in this land send their daughters to wait upon me and be schooled in courtly ways-understand you? Well, what manner of queen should I be, if I let another woman's daughter behave immodestly and get herself with child, or-as did Queen Morgause, I have heard-let her maidens go to the king's bed, if he wished to have his way with them? Mothers entrust me with their daughters because they know I will protect them-\"\n\n\"It is different, that you should be entrusted with maidens too young to know their own will, and be even as a mother to bring them uprightly,\" Taliesin said. \"But a king rules overgrown men.\"\n\n\"God has not said there is one law for the court and one other for the country folk! He wishes all men to keep his commandments-and suppose the laws were not there? What do you think would happen to this land if I and my ladies went out into the fields and behaved so immodestly? How can such things be allowed to goon within the very sound of the church bells?\"\n\nTaliesin smiled. He said, \"I do not think, even if there was no law against it, that you would be very likely to go into the fields at Beltane, my lady. I have marked it-that you like not to go out of doors much at all.\"\n\n\"I have had the good of Christian teaching and priestly counsel and I choose not to go,\" she said sharply.\n\n\"But Gwenhwyfar,\" he said very gently, his faded blue eyes looking at her out of the network of lines and patches on his face, \"think of this. Suppose a law was made against it, and your conscience told you that it was the right thing to do, to give yourself to the Goddess, in acknowledgment that she is over us all, body and soul? If your Goddess wished for you to do so-then, dear lady, would you let the passing of a law forbidding the Beltane fires stop you from it? Think, dear lady: not more than two hundred years ago-has Bishop Patricius not told you of this?-it was strictly against the laws herein the Summer Country that any should worship the Christ, for so they should defraud the Gods of Rome of their just and righteous due. And there were Christians who died rather than do such a little thing, cast a pinch of incense before one of their idols-aye, I see you have heard the story. Would you have your God be as great a tyrant as any Roman emperor?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"But God is real, and they are but idols fashioned by men,\" Gwenhwyfar said.\n\n\"Not so, no more than the picture of Mary Virgin which Arthur bore into battle...\" said Taliesin, \"a picture to give comfort to the minds of the faithful. It is strictly forbidden tome, a Druid, that I may have any representation of any God, for I have been so taught, in many lives, that I need none-I can think upon my God and he is with me. But the once-born cannot do that, and so they need their Goddess in round stones and pools, as your simple people need the picture of Mary Virgin and the cross which some of your knights bear on their shields, so that men may know they are Christian knights.\"\n\nGwenhwyfar knew there was a flaw in this argument, but she could not debate with the Merlin; and in any case, he was only an old man, and a heathen.\n\nWhen I have borne Arthur a son-once he said tome that then I might ask of him anything he could give, and at that time I will ask him to forbid the Beltane fires and the harvest fires.\n\nGwenhwyfar remembered this conversation, months after, on the morning of her dream. No doubt Morgaine would have counselled her so, that she should go with Lancelet to the fires... Arthur had said he would ask her no question if she should bear a child, he had all but given her leave to have Lancelet as a lover... she felt her face flaming as she bent over the cross; she was not fit to touch such stuff. She put the altar cloth from her and wrapped it in apiece of coarser cloth. She would work on it when she was more tranquil.\n\nCai's uneven step sounded at the door of the room. \"My lady,\" he said, \"the King has sent to ask if you would comedown to the arms field to watch. There is something he would show you.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gwenhwyfar nodded to her ladies. \"Elaine, Meleas, come with me,\" she said. \"You others, you may come or stay here and work, as you like.\"\n\nOne of the women, who was elderly and somewhat shortsighted, chose to stay and goon with her spinning; the others, eager fora chance to get out into the sunlight, flocked after Gwenhwyfar.\n\nIn the night there had been snow, but the strength of the winter was past, and now the snow lay melting quickly in the sun. Little bulbs were poking leaves through the grass; in another month, this would be a wilderness of flowers. When she had come hereto Camelot, her father Leodegranz had sent her his favorite gardener, so that he could decide what vegetables and potherbs would grow best in this site. But this hilltop had been fortified long before Roman times and there were some herbs growing; Gwenhwyfar had had him transplant them all into her kitchen garden, and when they found a patch where flowers were growing wild, Gwenhwyfar begged Arthur that she should be left it for her own lawns, and he had built the arms field further along the hilltop.\n\nShe looked up timidly, as they moved across the lawns. It was so open here, so near to the sky; Caerleon had nestled close to the earth. Here at Camelot, on rainy days, it was like being on an island of fog and mist-like Avalon-but on clear days of sunlight, such as this one, it lay high and exposed, so that it could command all the country round, and standing at the edge of the hilltop she could see miles and miles of hill and forest....\n\nIt was like being too near to Heaven; surely it was not right that human beings, mere mortals, should see so far-but Arthur said, even though there was peace in the land, the King's castle should be difficult to come at." }, { "from": "human", "value": "It was not Arthur who came to meet her, but Lancelet." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He had grown even handsomer, she thought. Now that he need not keep his hair always hacked short for the war helmet, he had let it grow long, and it curled around his shoulders. He wore a short beard-she liked the fashion on him, though Arthur teased him about it and said he was vain; Arthur himself kept his hair clipped short like a soldier, and had himself shaved everyday by his chamberlains, as carefully and as closely as he combed his hair.\n\n\"Lady, the King is waiting for you,\" said Lancelet, and took her arm to escort her to the set of seats Arthur had had built close to the wooden railings of the exercise field.\n\nArthur bowed to her, thanking Lancelet with a smile as he took Gwenhwyfar's hand. \"Here, Gwen, sit beside me-I brought you here because I want to show you something special. Look there-\"\n\nShe could see that a group of the younger knights and some of the youngsters who served in the King's house were working at a mock battle in the yard: divided into two groups, they were fighting with wooden battens and big shields. \"Look,\" said Arthur, \"the big one in the ragged saffron shirt. Does he not put you in mind of someone?\"\n\nGwenhwyfar looked at the boy, following his skillful work with sword and shield-he broke away from the others, attacked like a fury, toppling them over, caught one lad so hard a blow on his head that he left him stretched senseless, sent another reeling with a fierce blow on the shield. He was only a youngster-his rosy face was fuzzed with the first beginnings of beard, so that he still looked like a cherub-but he was near to six feet tall, and big and broad-shouldered as an ox." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"He fights like the fiend,\" Gwenhwyfar said, \"but who is he? I seem to have seen him about the court-\"\n\n\"He is that young lad who came to court and would not give his name,\" Lancelet said at their elbow, \"so you gave him to Cai to help in the kitchens. He's the one they called'Handsome' because his hands were so fine and white. Cai made all sorts of rude jokes about spoiling them by turning the spit and scrubbing vegetables. Our Cai has a rough tongue.\"\n\n\"But the boy never answered him back,\" said Gawaine gruffly at Arthur's other side. \"He could break Cai with his two hands, but when the other lads urged him onto strike Cai-once Cai made some kind of wicked joke about his parentage, saying he must be base-born and the son of scullions, since he came so naturally to such things-Handsome only looked right over the top of his head and said it would not be well done to strike a man who had lamed himself in the service of his king.\"\n\nLancelet said wryly, \"That would be worse to Cai than being beaten senseless, I think. Cai feels he is fit for nothing but to turn the spit and serve the plates. One day, Arthur, you must find a quest for Cai, even if it is no more than to go and find traces of old Pellinore's dragon.\"\n\nElaine and Meleas giggled behind their hands. Arthur said, \"Well, well, I will. Cai is too good and too loyal to be soured this way. You know I would have given him Caerleon, but he would not take it. He said his father had bidden him to serve me with his own hands so long as he lived, and he would come hereto Camelot to keep my house. But this boy-Handsome, you called him, Lance? Does he not put you in mind of someone, my lady?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She studied the boy, charging now against the last of the opposing group, his long, fair hair flying in the wind. He had a high, broad forehead and a big nose, and his hands, gripped on the weapon, were smooth and white-then she looked past Arthur at just another such nose and blue eyes, though these were hidden in a shock of red hair, and said, \"Why, he is like Gawaine,\" as if it were something shocking.\n\n\"God help us, why, so he is,\" said Lancelet, laughing, \"and I never saw it-and I have seen much of him. I gave him that saffron shirt, he had not a whole shirt to his name-\"\n\n\"And other things, too,\" Gawaine said. \"When I asked him if he had all that was fitting to his station, he told me of your gifts. It was nobly done of you to help the boy, Lance.\"\n\nArthur turned to him and said in surprise, \"Is he, then, one of your brood, Gawaine? I knew not you had a son-\"\n\n\"Nay, my king. It is my-my youngest brother, Gareth. But he would not let me tell.\"\n\n\"And you never told me, cousin?\" Arthur said reproachfully. \"Would you keep secrets from your king?\"\n\n\"Not that,\" protested Gawaine uncomfortably, and his big, slab-sided face flushed red, so that he and his hair and his brick-red cheeks seemed all one color; it seemed strange to Gwenhwyfar that so big and rough a man could blush like a child. \"Never that, my king, but the boy begged me to say nothing-he said you have favored me because I was your cousin and your kinsman, but if he won favor at Arthur's court and from the great Lancelet-he said that, Lance, the great Lancelet-he wished it to be for what he had done, not for his name and his birth.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"That was foolish,\" said Gwenhwyfar, but Lancelet smiled.\n\n\"Nay-it was honorably done. Often I have wished I had had wit and courage to do the same, rather than being tolerated because, after all, I was Ban's own bastard and needed not to win anything by merit-it was for that I strove so fiercely always to be valorous in battle, so that none might say I had not earned my favors-\"\n\nArthur laid his hand gently on Lancelet's wrist. \"You need never fear that, my friend,\" he said, \"all men know you are the best of my knights, and closest to my throne. But Gawaine\"-he turned to the red-haired man-\"I favored not you, either, because you were my kinsman and heir, but only because you were loyal and staunch, and have saved my life a dozen times over. There were those who told me my heir should never be my bodyguard, for if he did his duty too well, then would he never come to the throne, but many and many a day I have had occasion to be glad of so loyal a kinsman at my back.\" He put his arm across Gawaine's shoulders. \"So this is your brother, and I knew it not.\"\n\n\"I knew it not either when he came to court,\" Gawaine said. \"When last I had seen him, at your crowning, he was a little lad no taller than my sword hilt, and now-well, you see.\" He gestured. \"But once I saw him in the kitchens and thought, perhaps, he was some bastard of our kin. God knows, Lot has enough of them-I recognized him, and then it was that Gareth begged me not to reveal who he was, that he might win fame on his own.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Well, a year under Cai's harsh teachings would make a man of any mother's poppet,\" Lancelet said, \"and he has borne himself manly enough, God knows.\"\n\n\"I wonder that you knew him not, Lancelet-he came near to getting you killed at Arthur's wedding,\" Gawaine said amiably. \"Or do you not remember that you handed him over to our mother, and bade her beat him soundly to keep him from under the horses\" feet-\"\n\n\"And I came near to knocking out my brains soon after-aye, I remember now,\" Lancelet said, laughing. \"So that is the same young rascal! But he has far outstripped the other boys, he should practice at arms with the men and knights. It looks now as if he would be among the best of them. Give me leave, my lord?\"\n\n\"Do what you like, my friend.\"\n\nLancelet unbuckled his sword. He said, \"Keep this for me, lady,\" and handed it to Gwenhwyfar. He leaped the fence, caught up one of the wooden battens kept for the boys to practice with, and ran toward the big, fair-haired boy.\n\n\"You are too big for those fellows, sirrah-come here now, and try conclusions with someone nearer your own size!\"\n\nGwenhwyfar thought, in sudden dread, Nearer to your own size? But Lancelet was not so big a man, not much taller than herself, and young Handsome towered almost a full head over him! Fora moment, facing the King's captain of horse, the boy hesitated, but Arthur gestured encouragement, and the boy's face lit up with a fierce joy. He charged at Lancelet, raising his mock weapon fora blow, and was startled when the blow descended and Lancelet was not under it; Lancelet had evaded him, spun round and caught him a blow on the shoulder. He had pulled back on the weapon as it came down so that it only touched the boy, but it tore his shirt. Gareth recovered himself quickly, caught Lancelet's next blow before it landed, and fora moment Lancelet's foot slipped on the wet grass and it looked as if he would go down, skidding to his knees before the boy." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Handsome stepped back." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lancelet got to his feet, yelling, \"Idiot! Suppose I had been a great Saxon warrior!\" and caught the boy a great blow on the back with the flat of his sword, which hurled him, his sword flailing wildly, halfway across the yeard; he went down and lay half-stunned.\n\nLancelet hurried to him and bent over him, smiling. \"I did not want to hurt you, lad, but you must learn to guard yourself better than that.\" He held out his arm. \"Here, lean on me.\"\n\n\"You have honored me, sir,\" said the boy, his fresh face coloring, \"and indeed it did me good to feel your strength.\"\n\nLancelet clapped him on the shoulder. \"May we always fight side by side and not as foemen, Handsome,\" he said, and returned to the King. The youngster picked up his sword and went back to his playmates, while they clustered around and teased him. \"So, Handsome, you came close to knocking down the King's captain of horse in a fight-\"\n\nArthur smiled as Lancelet climbed back over the fence. \"That was courteously done, Lance. He will make a bonny knight-like to his brother,\" he added, nodding at Gawaine. \"Kinsman, do not tell him that I know who he is-his reasons for concealing his name were honorable. But tell him I have seen him, and I will make him a knight at Pentecost, when any petitioner may come before me, if he will come before me and ask me fora sword befitting his station.\"\n\nGawaine's face lighted. Now, Gwenhwyfar thought, anyone who had seen them both should have known the relationship, for their smiles were the same. \"I thank you, my lord and king. May he serve you as well as have I.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"He could hardly do that,\" Arthur said affectionately. \"I am fortunate in my friends and Companions.\"\n\nGwenhwyfar thought that, indeed, Arthur inspired love and devotion in everyone-it was the secret of his kingship, for though he was skilled enough in battle, he was no great fighter himself; more than once, in the mock battles with which they amused themselves and kept themselves fit for fighting, she had seen Lancelet, and even old Pellinore, unseat him or knock him from his feet. Arthur was never angry or wounded by pride, but always said good-naturedly that he was glad he had such fine fighters to guard him, and better friends than foemen.\n\nSoon after, the boys picked up their practice weapons and departed. Gawaine went off to have a word with his brother, but Arthur drew Gwenhwyfar out toward the fortified wall. Camelot sat on abroad, high hill, flat at the top as a large town, and allover the hill, inside the wall, they had built their castle and city. Now Arthur led Gwenhwyfar up to his favorite vantage point, where he could stand atop the wall and lookout overall the broad valley. She felt dizzy, and clung to the wall. From where they stood she could seethe island home of her childhood, the country of King Leodegranz, and a little to the north of it, the island that coiled, from where they stood, like a sleeping dragon.\n\n\"Your father grows old, and he has no son,\" said Arthur. \"Who will rule after him?\"\n\n\"I know not-like enough he will have it that you should appoint someone to reign as regent for me,\" Gwenhwyfar said; one of her sisters had died in childbirth, faraway in Wales, and another had died in a siege of their castle. And her father's second wife had borne him no living son, either, so that Gwenhwyfar was heir to that kingdom. But how could she, a woman, keep it from those who were greedy for land? She looked beyond her father's lands and asked, \"Your father-the Pendragon-was he too made king on Dragon Island, I wonder?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"So the Lady of the Lake told me, and so he pledged his faith always to shelter the old religion, and Avalon-as did I,\" said Arthur moodily, and stood staring at Dragon Island. She wondered what pagan nonsense was filling his head.\n\n\"But when you turned to the one true God, then did he give you that greatest of victories, so that you drove the Saxons forth from this island for all of time.\"\n\n\"It is foolish to say so,\" said Arthur. \"Never, I think, can any land be secure for all time, but only as God wills-\"\n\n\"And God has given you all this land, Arthur, so that you may rule as a Christian king. It is like to the prophet Elijah-the bishop told me the tale-when he went outwith the priests of God, and met the priests of Baal, so that they each called on their God, and the One God was the greatest and Baal but an idol, so that he answered them not. If there was anything of power in the ways of Avalon, would God and the Virgin have given you such a victory?\"\n\n\"My armies drove off the Saxons, but I maybe punished hereafter for oathbreaking,\" Arthur said. She hated it when the lines of sorrow and dread came into his face.\n\nShe went a little toward the south, straining her eyes-from here, if you looked hard, you could seethe very tip of the church of Saint Michael which rose on the Tor-the church which had been built because Michael was lord of the underworld, fighting to keep down the gods of the heathen in Hell. Only there were times when it blurred before her eyes, so that she saw the Tor crowned with ring stones. The nuns on Glastonbury had told her that it had been so, in the bad old heathen days, and the priests had labored to take down the ring stones and haul them away. She supposed it was because she was a sinful woman that she had this glance into heathendom. Once she had dreamed that she and Lancelet were lying together beneath the ring stones, and he had had of her what she had never given him...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lancelet. He was so good, never did he press her for more than a Christian woman and a wedded wife could give him without dishonor... yet it was written that the Christ had said himself, whoever looks upon a woman with lust has committed adultery already with her in his heart... so she had sinned with Lancelet, and there was no mitigation, they were both damned. She shivered and turned her eyes away from the Tor, for it seemed that Arthur could read her thoughts. He had spoken Lancelet's name-\n\n\"Don't you think so, Gwen? It's more than time Lancelet should marry.\"\n\nShe forced her voice to stay calm. \"On the day when he asks you fora wife, my lord and my king, you should give him one.\"\n\n\"But he will not ask,\" Arthur said. \"He has no will to leave me. Pellinore's daughter would make him a good wife, and she is your own cousin-don't you think it would suit? Lancelet is not rich, Ban had too many bastards to give much to any of them. It would be a good match for both.\"\n\n\"Aye, no doubt you are right,\" Gwenhwyfar said. \"Elaine follows him about with her eyes as the lads in the play yard do, eager fora kind word or even a look.\" Though it hurt her heart, perhaps it would be best if Lancelet should marry, he was too good to be tied to a woman who could give him so little; and then she could amend her sin with a firm promise to sin no more, as she could not do when Lancelet was near.\n\n\"Well, I will speak of it again with Lancelet. He says he has no mind to marry, but I will make him understand it means not exile from my court. Would it not be good for me and mine, if our children, someday, might have Lancelet's sons to follow them?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"God grant that day may come,\" said Gwenhwyfar, and crossed herself. They stood together at the height, looking out over the Summer Country, which lay spread before them.\n\n\"There is a rider on the road,\" said Arthur, looking down the road which led toward the castle; then, as the rider drew nearer, \"It is Kevin the Harper, come here from Avalon. And at least this time he has had sense enough to travel with a serving-man.\"\n\n\"That is no serving-man,\" said Gwenhwyfar, her sharp eyes resting on the slender form riding behind Kevin on his horse. \"That is a woman. I am shocked-I had thought the Druids were like to priests, and stayed far from women.\"\n\n\"Why, some of them do, sweetheart, but I have heard from Taliesin that all those who are not in the highest rank may marry, and frequently they do,\" he said. \"Perhaps Kevin has taken him a wife, or perhaps he has only travelled with someone coming this way. Send one of your women to tell Taliesin that he is here, and another to the kitchens-if we shall have music this night, it is only fitting we have something like a feast to celebrate it! Let us walk this way and welcome him-a harper of Kevin's skill is worthy of welcome from the King himself.\"\n\nBy the time they reached the great gates, they had been opened, and Cai himself had stepped forward to welcome the great harper to Camelot. Kevin bowed to the King, but Gwenhwyfar's eyes were on the slender, ill-clad form behind.\n\nMorgaine bowed and said, \"So I have returned to your court, my brother.\"\n\nArthur went and embraced her. \"Welcome back, my sister-it has been so long,\" he said, his cheek lingering against hers. \"And now that our mother has gone from us, we who are kinfolk should be together. Do not go from me again, sister.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She said, \"I had no thought of it.\"\n\nGwenhwyfar came and embraced her too, feeling the other woman's body sharp-boned and thin against her arms. She said, \"You look as if you had been long on the road, my sister.\"\n\n\"True-I have come very far,\" Morgaine said, and Gwenhwyfar kept her hand as they walked within.\n\n\"Where have you been? You were so long away-almost I thought you would never return,\" Gwenhwyfar said.\n\n\"Almost I thought so myself,\" said Morgaine. But, Gwenhwyfar noticed, she did not say, either, where she had been.\n\n\"Such gear as you left with us-your harp, your gowns, all these things-they were left at Caerleon. Tomorrow I will send for them as swiftly as a messenger can ride,\" Gwenhwyfar said, as she took her to the room where her women slept. \"Till then, if you will, I will lend you a gown-you have been travelling long, sister, and you look as if you had been sleeping within a cow byre. Were you attacked by robbers and your gear stolen?\"\n\n\"I had ill fortune indeed on the road,\" Morgaine said, \"and if you will send someone tome that I may bathe, and dress myself clean, I will bless you. I would ask the loan of a comb too, and pins for my hair, and a shift.\"\n\n\"My gown will be too long for you,\" said Gwenhwyfar, \"but no doubt you can pin it up somehow until your own clothes have come. Combs and veils and shifts I will give you gladly, and shoes as well-those look as if you had walked in them from hereto Lothian and back!\" She beckoned to one of her waiting-women and said, \"Bring the red gown, and the veil that goes with it, and a shift and my other indoor shoes and hose-choose everything so that my lord's sister is dressed as is fitting to her station. And send fora bath and a bath-woman too.\" She looked disdainfully at the gown Morgaine was taking off, and said, \"If that one cannot be fitly aired and cleaned, give it to one of the dairy-women!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "When Morgaine appeared at the King's table she wore the red gown, which lent color to her dark skin and became her well; they besought her to sing, but she would not, saying that as Kevin was at hand, no one would listen to a robin's chirping when a nightingale was near.\n\nThe next day Kevin sought private audience with Arthur, and he and the King and Taliesin, too, were closeted for many hours, and even had supper brought to them there; but Gwenhwyfar never knew what they spoke of-Arthur told her little of affairs of state. No doubt, they were angered with him that he had chosen to renounce his vows to Avalon, but soon or late they must accept it-that he was a Christian king. As for Gwenhwyfar, she had other things to think of.\n\nThat spring there was fever at the court, and some of her women fell sick of it, so that until Easter was past she had no leisure to think of anything else. She had never thought she would be glad of Morgaine's presence, but Morgaine knew much of herb lore and of healing, and she thought it was due to Morgaine's wisdom that there were no deaths in the court-in the country round, she heard, many died, though mostly little children and old folk. Her little half-sister Isotta took the fever, but her mother heard and would not have her stay at court, so that she was sent back to the island, and later in that month Gwenhwyfar heard that she had died. She mourned for the girl-she had come to be fond of her, and had hoped to marry her to one of Arthur's Companions when she was older.\n\nLancelet fell sick of the fever too, and Arthur gave orders that he should be quartered in the castle and nursed by Gwenhwyfar's own women. While there was still danger that she might take the fever she did not go near him-she had hoped herself pregnant again, but it turned out not to be so; only her own hopes and illusions. When he began to recover she went often and sat by his side." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Morgaine came too, to play the harp, while he was unable to leave his bed. One day, watching them when they spoke of Avalon, Gwenhwyfar caught the look in Morgaine's eyes, and thought, Why, she still loves him! She knew Arthur still hoped for this-a match between Morgaine and Lancelet and she watched, sick with jealousy, as Lancelet listened to Morgaine's harp.\n\nHer voice is so sweet; she is not beautiful, but she is so wise and learned-beautiful women are so many, Elaine is beautiful, and Meleas, and the daughter of King Royns, and even Morgause is beautiful, but why should Lancelet care for that? And she marked the gentleness of Morgaine's hands as she lifted him and gave him her herb medicines and cooling drinks. She, Gwenhwyfar, was not good at all with the sick, she had no skills, she sat dumb while Morgaine talked and laughed and amused him.\n\nIt was growing dark, and at last Morgaine said, \"I can no longer seethe harp strings, and I am hoarse as a crow-I can sing no more. You must drink your medicine, Lancelet, and then I will send your man to you, to get you settled for the night-\"\n\nWith awry smile Lancelet took the cup she put in his hand. \"Your drinks are cooling, kinswoman, but ugh! The taste of them-\"\n\n\"Drink it,\" Morgaine said, laughing. \"Arthur has put you under my command when you are sick-\"\n\n\"Aye, and I do not doubt, if I refused you should beat me and put me supperless to bed, while if I drink my medicine like a good lad I shall have a kiss and a honey cake,\" Lancelet said." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Morgaine chuckled. \"You cannot have a honey cake yet, you can have your nice gruel. But if you drink up your potion, you shall have a goodnight kiss and I will bake you a honey cake when you are well enough to eat it.\"\n\n\"Yes, Mother,\" Lancelet said, wrinkling up his nose. Gwenhwyfar could see that Morgaine did not like the jest, but when he had emptied the cup she bent over him and kissed him lightly on the brow, and drew up the covers under his chin as a mother smooths a child's cradle. \"There, now, good child, go to sleep,\" she said, laughing, but the laughter sounded bitter to Gwenhwyfar, and Morgaine went away.\n\nGwenhwyfar stood by Lancelet's bed, and said, \"She is right, my dear, you should sleep.\"\n\n\"I am weary of Morgaine being always right,\" said Lancelet. \"Sit you hereby me fora little, dear love-\"\n\nIt was seldom he dared speak so to her, but she sat herself on his bed and let him hold her hand. After a little he pulled her down beside him and kissed her; she lay along the edge of his bed and let him kiss her again and again, but after along time he sighed, weary, and did not protest when she rose from his side. \"My dearest love, this cannot goon like this. You must give me leave to depart from the court.\"\n\n\"What? To chase Pellinore's favorite dragon? Why, what will Pellinore do in holidaytime, then? It is his favorite hunting,\" Gwenhwyfar said, jesting, but it was like a pain in her heart.\n\nHe seized both her arms, pulling her down. \"No, make this not a jest, Gwen-you know it and I know it, and God help us both, I think even Arthur knows it, that I have loved none but you, or ever will, since first I set eyes on you in your father's house. And if I am to remain a true man to my king and my friend, then I must depart from this court and never set eyes on you again-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gwenhwyfar said, \"I would not hold you, if you feel that you must go-\"\n\n\"As I have gone before,\" he said violently. \"Every time I rode forth to war, half of me longed that I should fall at Saxon hands and return no more to hopeless love-God forgive me, there were times when I hated my king, whom I have sworn to love and serve, and then I thought, no woman should part the friendship that was between us two, and I have sworn I would think of you no more, save as the wife of my king. But now there are no more wars, and I must sit here day by day and look upon you at his side in his high seat, and think of you in his bed, his happy and contented wife-\"\n\n\"Why do you think I am anymore happy or contented than you?\" she demanded, her voice shaking. \"At least you can choose whether to stay or to go, but I was given into Arthur's hands without even so much as'will you or no? ' Nor can I rise and ride forth from court when things go not to my will, but must stay here within walls and do what is expected of me... if you must go, I cannot say, Stay; and if you stay, I cannot say to you, Go! At least you are free to go or to stay as makes you happiest!\"\n\n\"Do you think there is happiness for me, either in staying or going?\" Lancelet demanded, and fora moment she thought that he would weep. Then he mastered himself and said, \"Love, what do you want me to do? God forbid I should give you more unhappiness. If I am gone from here, then is your duty plain, to be a good wife to Arthur, no more and no less. If I stay here-\" He broke off." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"If you feel it is your duty to go,\" she said, \"then you must go.\" And tears flooded down her face, blurring her sight.\n\nHe said, and his voice was strained as if he had had a mortal wound, \"Gwenhwyfar-\" He so seldom spoke her formal name, it was always my lady or my queen, or when he spoke to her in play it was always Gwen. When he spoke it now, it seemed to her she had never heard a sweeter sound. \"Gwenhwyfar. Why do you weep?\"\n\nNow she must lie, and lie well, because she could not in honor tell him the truth. She said, \"Because-\" and stopped, and then, in a choking voice, she said, \"because I do not know how I shall live if you go away.\"\n\nHe swallowed hard and took her hands between his own and said, \"Why, then-why, love-I am not a king, but my father has given me a small estate in Brittany. Would you come with me away from this court? I-I know not, perhaps it would be the more honorable way, than stay here at Arthur's court and make love to his wife-\"\n\nHe loves me, then, Gwenhwyfar thought, he wants me, this is the honorable way... but panic flooded through her. Togo forth alone, so far, even with Lancelet... and then the thought of what everyone would say of her, should she be so dishonored....\n\nHe lay clasping her hand in his. He said, \"We could never return, you know-never. And it's likely we should be excommunicated, both of us-that would mean little tome, I am not so much a Christian as all that. But you, my Gwenhwyfar-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She put up her veil over her face and wept, knowing what a coward she was.\n\n\"Gwenhwyfar,\" he said, \"I would not lead you into sin-\"\n\nShe said bitterly, \"We have sinned already, you and I-\"\n\n\"And if the priests are right we will be damned for it,\" Lancelet said bitterly, \"and yet have I never had more of you than these kisses-we have had all the evil and the guilt, and none of the pleasure which is said to come from sin. And I am not so sure I believe the priests-what sort of God goes about every night like a nightwatchman, peeping here and prying there like an old village gossip to see if any man beds with his neighbor's wife-\"\n\n\"The Merlin said something like that,\" Gwenhwyfar said, low. \"And sometimes it seems tome sensible, and then again I wonder if it is the Devil's work to lead me into evil....\"\n\n\"Oh, talk not tome of the Devil,\" he said, and pulled her down beside him again. \"Sweetheart, my own, I will go away if you want me to, or I will stay, but I cannot bear to see you so unhappy....\"\n\n\"I do not know what I want,\" she wept, and let him hold her, sobbing. At last he murmured, \"We have paid for the sin already...\" and his mouth covered hers. Trembling, Gwenhwyfar let herself surrender to the kiss, his eager hands searching at her breast. She almost hoped that this time he would not be content with that, but there was a sound in the hallway and Gwenhwyfar drew herself upright, in sudden panic. She sat on the edge of the bed as Lancelet's esquire came into the room. He coughed and said, \"My lord? The lady Morgaine told me you were ready to go to your rest. By your leave, my lady-?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Morgaine again, damn her! Lancelet laughed and let goof Gwenhwyfar's hand. \"Yes, and I doubt it not, my lady is weary. Will you promise to come and see me tomorrow, my queen?\"\n\nShe was both grateful and angry that his voice sounded so calm. She turned away from the light the serving-man carried; she knew her veil was crushed and her dress rumpled, her face smeared with crying and her hair coming down. How she must look-what would the man think they had been doing? She put her veil over her face and rose. \"Goodnight, sir Lancelet. Kerval, care you well for my king's dear friend,\" and went out, hoping forlornly that she could get down the hall to her own room before she burst into weeping again. Ah God, how-how dare I pray to God that I may sin further? I should pray to be free of temptation, and I cannot!" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A day or two before Beltane-eve, Kevin the Harper came again to Arthur's court. Morgaine was glad to see him; it had been along and weary springtime. Lancelet had recovered from the fever and gone north to Lothian, and Morgaine had thought she should ride to Lothian too, to see how it was with her son; but she did not want to go in Lancelet's company, nor would he have wished for her as a travelling companion; she thought, My son is well where he is, another time I will go and see him.\n\nGwenhwyfar was sorrowful and silent; in the years Morgaine had been absent, the Queen had altered from a lighthearted, childish woman to a silent, thoughtful one, more pious than was reasonable. Morgaine suspected that she pined after Lancelet, and knowing Lancelet, Morgaine thought with a touch of contempt that he would neither leave the woman in peace nor lead her wholeheartedly into sin. And Gwenhwyfar was a good match for him-she would neither give into him nor give him up. She wondered what Arthur thought, but it would have taken a braver woman than she to ask him.\n\nMorgaine welcomed Kevin to court, and to herself she thought it not unlikely that they would keep Beltane together-the sun tides ran hot in her blood, and if she could not have the man she wanted (and she knew it was still Lancelet to whom she was drawn), it might be as well to take a lover who found delight in her; it was good to be cherished and sought after. And, as neither Arthur nor Lancelet would do, Kevin spoke with her freely of affairs of state. She thought, with a moment of bitter regret, had she stayed in Avalon, by now, she would be consulted in all the great affairs of her time." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Well, it was too late for that; done was done. So she greeted Kevin in the great hall and had him served food and wine, a task Gwenhwyfar gladly gave over to her-Gwenhwyfar liked well enough to hear Kevin play on the harp, but she could not bear the sight of him. So Morgaine served him, and spoke to him of Avalon.\n\n\"Is Viviane well?\"\n\n\"Well, and still resolved to come to Camelot at Pentecost,\" said Kevin, \"and it is well, for Arthur would scarce listen tome. Though he has promised not to forbid the Beltane fires this year, at least.\"\n\n\"It would do him little good to forbid them,\" said Morgaine. \"But Arthur has trouble nearer home, too.\" She gestured. \"Beyond that window, almost within sight from the heights of the castle, lies the island kingdom of Leodegranz-had you heard?\"\n\n\"A chance-come traveller told me he was dead,\" Kevin said, \"and he left no son. His lady Alienor died with her last child, a few days after his death. The fever was cruel in that country.\"\n\n\"Gwenhwyfar would not travel thither for the burying,\" Morgaine said. \"She had little to weep for-hers was not a loving father. Arthur will have consulted her about setting a regent there-he says that now the kingdom is hers, and if they should have a second son, that son shall have it. But it seems not likely now that Gwenhwyfar will have even one.\"\n\nKevin nodded slowly. \"Aye, she miscarried of a child before Mount Badon, and was very ill. Since then I have not heard even a rumor that she was pregnant,\" said Kevin. \"How old is the High Queen?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I think she is at least five-and-twenty now,\" said Morgaine, but she was not certain, she had dwelt so long in the fairy country.\n\n\"That is old fora first child,\" said Kevin, \"though, I doubt not, like all barren women, she prays fora miracle. What ails the Queen that she does not conceive?\"\n\n\"I am no midwife,\" said Morgaine. \"She seems healthy enough, but she has worn out her knees in prayer, and there is no sign.\"\n\n\"Well, the Gods will have it as they will,\" Kevin said, \"but we will need their mercy on this land if the High King dies with no son! And now there are no threats from the Saxons outside to keep the rival kings of Britain from falling one upon the other and tearing this land to shreds. I never trusted Lot, but he is dead, and Gawaine is Arthur's staunchest man, so there is little to fear from Lothian, unless Morgause finds herself a lover with ambition to be High King on his own.\"\n\n\"Lancelet has gone there, but he should return quickly,\" said Morgaine, and Kevin added, \"Viviane, too, would ride to Lothian for some reason, though we thought, all of us, that she was too old for such a journey.\"\n\nWhy, then, she will see my son.... Morgaine's heart leapt, and there was a tightness like pain, or weeping, in her throat. Kevin seemed not to see.\n\n\"I met not with Lancelet on the road,\" he said. \"No doubt he took another road, or stayed to greet his mother, or perhaps\"-he grinned slyly-\"to keep the Beltane feast. That would give joy to every woman in Lothian, if he tarried there. Morgause would not let such a tender morsel escape her clutches.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"She is his mother's sister,\" Morgaine said, \"and I think Lance is too good a Christian for that." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He has courage enough to face the Saxons in battle, but small courage for that battle.\"\n\nKevin raised his eyebrows. \"Oh ho, is it so? I doubt not you speak from knowledge,\" he said, \"but for politeness'sake we will say it is from the Sight! But Morgause would like well to see Arthur's best knight brought low by scandal-then would Gawaine stand nearer to the throne. And the lady is liked well by all men-she is not so old, either, but still beautiful, her hair still red as ever without a line of grey-\"\n\n\"Oh,\" said Morgaine caustically, \"they sell henna from Egypt in the markets of Lothian.\"\n\n\"And her waist is slim, and they say she practices magic arts to spellbind men to her,\" Kevin said, \"but this is gossip and no more. I have heard she has ruled well enough in Lothian. Do you dislike her so much, Morgaine?\"\n\n\"No. She is my kinswoman and has been good tome,\" Morgaine said, and started to say, She fostered my child, and that would open the way to ask if he had heard news of Gwydion... then she stopped herself. Even to Kevin she could not confess that. She said, instead, \"But I like it not that my kinswoman Morgause should be the common talk of Britain as a bawd.\"\n\n\"It is not so bad as that,\" Kevin said, laughing, and put away his wine cup. \"If the lady has an eye to handsome men, she would not be the first or last. And now Morgause is widowed, no man can call her to account for who lies in her bed. But I must not keep the High King waiting. Wish me fortune, Morgaine, for I must bring ill news to my king, and you know the doom meted of old to him who brought the king news he had no mind to hear!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Arthur is not that sort,\" said Morgaine. \"But if it is not secret, what ill news do you bring?\"\n\n\"Not news at all,\" said Kevin, \"for it has been said more than once that Avalon will not have it that he rule as a Christian king, whatever his private faith maybe. He shall not allow the priests to put down the worship of the Goddess, nor touch the oak groves. And if he does so, then am Ito say to him from the Lady: the hand which gave him the sacred sword of the Druids can turn it in his hand to smite him.\"\n\n\"That will not be pleasant hearing,\" said Morgaine, \"but perhaps it will call his oath to mind.\"\n\n\"Aye, and Viviane has still one other weapon she can use,\" said Kevin, but when Morgaine asked what, he would tell her no more.\n\nWhen he had gone from her, Morgaine sat thinking of the night to come. There would be music at dinner, and later-well, Kevin was a pleasant lover, gentle and eager to please her, and she was wearied of sleeping alone.\n\nShe was still sitting in the hall when Cai came to announce that another rider had come-\"A kinsman of yours, lady Morgaine. Would you greet him and serve him wine?\"\n\nMorgaine agreed-had Lancelet returned so soon already?-but the rider was Balan.\n\nShe hardly knew him at first-he was heavier, so big now that she supposed it must take an oversized horse to carry his weight. But he recognized her at once.\n\n\"Morgaine! Greetings, kinswoman,\" he said, and sat beside her, taking the cup she offered. She told him that Arthur was speaking with Kevin and the Merlin, but would see him at dinner, and asked him for the news." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Help continue the narrative for the writer.\nTags: fantasy, arthurian, historical fantasy\nAuthor: Marion Zimmer Bradley\nTitle: The Mists of Avalon\nChapter: 40" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Arthur is not that sort,\" said Morgaine. \"But if it is not secret, what ill news do you bring?\"\n\n\"Not news at all,\" said Kevin, \"for it has been said more than once that Avalon will not have it that he rule as a Christian king, whatever his private faith maybe. He shall not allow the priests to put down the worship of the Goddess, nor touch the oak groves. And if he does so, then am Ito say to him from the Lady: the hand which gave him the sacred sword of the Druids can turn it in his hand to smite him.\"\n\n\"That will not be pleasant hearing,\" said Morgaine, \"but perhaps it will call his oath to mind.\"\n\n\"Aye, and Viviane has still one other weapon she can use,\" said Kevin, but when Morgaine asked what, he would tell her no more.\n\nWhen he had gone from her, Morgaine sat thinking of the night to come. There would be music at dinner, and later-well, Kevin was a pleasant lover, gentle and eager to please her, and she was wearied of sleeping alone.\n\nShe was still sitting in the hall when Cai came to announce that another rider had come-\"A kinsman of yours, lady Morgaine. Would you greet him and serve him wine?\"\n\nMorgaine agreed-had Lancelet returned so soon already?-but the rider was Balan.\n\nShe hardly knew him at first-he was heavier, so big now that she supposed it must take an oversized horse to carry his weight. But he recognized her at once.\n\n\"Morgaine! Greetings, kinswoman,\" he said, and sat beside her, taking the cup she offered. She told him that Arthur was speaking with Kevin and the Merlin, but would see him at dinner, and asked him for the news." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Only that a dragon has been sighted again in the North,\" Balan said, \"and no, this is no fantasy like old Pellinore's-I saw the track where it had been, and talked with two of the people who had seen it. They were not lying, nor telling a tale to amuse or give themselves importance; they were in terror of their lives. They said it had come out of the lake and taken their serving-man-they showed me his shoe.\"\n\n\"His-shoe, kinsman?\"\n\n\"He lost it when he was taken, and I did not like touching the-slime-that besmeared it,\" Balan said. \"I am going to ask Arthur for half a dozen knights to ride with me and put an end to it.\"\n\n\"You must ask Lancelet, if he returns,\" Morgaine said, as lightly as she could. \"He will need some practice with dragons. I think Arthur is trying to make a match between Lancelet and Pellinore's daughter.\"\n\nBalan looked at her sharply. \"I do not envy the girl who has my little brother for husband,\" he said. \"I have heard his heart is given-or should I not say-\"\n\n\"You should not say it,\" said Morgaine.\n\nBalan shrugged. \"So be it. Arthur then has no special reason for wishing to find Lancelet a bride well away from court,\" he said. \"I had not heard that you had comeback to court, kinswoman. You look well.\"\n\n\"And how is it with your foster-brother?\"\n\n\"Balin is well enough, when last I saw him,\" said Balan, \"though he still has no love for Viviane. Still, there is no reason to believe he bears grudge for our mother's death. He raved and swore revenge then, but he would have to be a madman indeed to think still of such things. In any case, if such was his thought, he spoke not of it when he was here at Pentecost a year ago. That is Arthur's newest custom, you may not know-that wherever we may travel in all of Britain, everyone of his old Companions should gather at Pentecost and dine at his table. At that time, too, he makes new Companions in the order of knighthood, and he will accept any petitioner, however humble-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Yes, I had heard of that,\" said Morgaine, and a flicker of unease passed over her." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Kevin had spoken of Viviane-she told herself it was only disquiet at the idea that a woman of the Lady's years might come here as a common petitioner. As Balan said, it would take a madman to harbor thoughts of revenge after all this time.\n\nThat night there was music, Kevin's fine playing and singing; and later still that night, Morgaine slipped from the chamber where she slept with Gwenhwyfar's unwedded ladies, as noiselessly as a ghost-or as a priestess trained in Avalon-and made her way to the chamber where Kevin slept. She left there before daylight, well contented, but one thing Kevin had said-though they had had other things to speak of than Arthur-troubled her mind.\n\n\"Arthur would not listen tome,\" he said. \"He told me that the folk of England were a Christian people, and while he would not persecute any man for following what Gods he liked, still he would stand with the priests and the church, as they had stood by his throne. And he sent word to the Lady of Avalon that if she would have back the sword, she could come and take it.\"\n\nEven after she had crept back into her own bed, Morgaine lay wakeful. It was the legendary sword which had bound so many of the Tribesmen and Northmen to Arthur; and it was his allegiance to Avalon which had bound the dark pre-Roman people. Now, it seemed, Arthur was further from that allegiance than he had ever been.\n\nShe could speak with him-but no, he would not listen to her; she was a woman and his sister-and always, between them, lay the memory of that morning after the kingmaking, so that never could they speak freely as they might have done before. And she did not carry the authority of Avalon; with her own hands had she cast that away." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It might be that Viviane could make him seethe importance of keeping to his oath. But tell herself this as she would, it was long before Morgaine could close her eyes and sleep." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Even before she rose from her bed, Gwenhwyfar could feel the bright sunlight through the bed-curtains-Summer is here. And then, Beltane. The very fullness of pagandom-she was sure that many of her serving-men and women would be slipping away from the court tonight, when the Beltane fires were lighted on Dragon Island in honor of their Goddess, thereto lie in the fields... some of them, no doubt, to come home again with their wombs quickened with the child of the God... and I, a Christian wife, cannot bear a son to my own dear lord....\n\nShe turned over in bed and lay watching Arthur's sleep. Oh, yes, he washer dear lord, and she loved him well. He had taken her as part of a dowry and sight unseen; yet he had loved her, cherished her, honored her-it was not her fault that she could not do the first duty of a queen and bear him a son for his kingdom.\n\nLancelet-no, she had sworn to herself, when last he went from court, she would think no more of him. She still hungered for him, heart and soul and body, but she had vowed that she would be a loyal and a faithful wife to Arthur; never again should Lancelet have from her even these games and toyings which made them both ache for more... it was playing at sin, even if there was nothing worse.\n\nBeltane. Well, perhaps, as a Christian woman and queen of a Christian court, it washer duty to make such feastings and play this day as all the people of the court should enjoy without harm to their souls. She knew that Arthur had sent out word of games and arms practice to beheld for prizes, at Pentecost-as he had done each year since the court came hereto Camelot; but there were enough of his people here that some sport could be had this day too-she would offer a silver cup. And there should be harping and dancing, too, and she would do for the women what sometimes they did in play, offer a ribbon for the woman who could spin the most yarn in an hour, or work the largest piece of tapestry-yes, there should be innocent sport so that none of her people should regret the forbidden play on Dragon Island. She sat up and began to dress herself; she must go and talk to Cai." }, { "from": "human", "value": "But, although she busied herself all the morning, and Arthur when she spoke of it was pleased, thinking it the best of devices, so that he and Cai spent the morning in talking of the prizes they would offer for the best swordplay and horsemanship, yes, and there should be a prize, perhaps a cloak, for the best among the boys-still, inside her heart, the thought gnawed." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It is the day on which the ancient Gods demand that we honor fertility, and I, I am still barren. And so, an hour before high noon, at which hour the trumpets would be blown to gather men before the arms field to begin their sport, Gwenhwyfar sought out Morgaine, yet not quite certain what she would say to her.\n\nMorgaine had taken charge of the dyeing room for the wool they spun, and was also in charge of the Queen's brew-women-she knew how to keep ale from spoiling when it was brewed, and how to distill strong spirit for medicines, and make perfumes of flower petals which were finer than those brought from over the seas and more costly than gold. There were some women in the castle who believed this was magic art, but Morgaine said no, it was only that she had been taught about the properties of plants and grains and flowers. Any woman, Morgaine said, could do what she did, if she was neat-handed and willing to take the time and trouble to see to it.\n\nGwenhwyfar found her with her holiday gown tied up and her hair covered with a cloth, sniffing at a batch of beer which had spoilt in the vats. \"Throw it away,\" she said. \"The barm must have got cold, and it has soured. We can start with another batch tomorrow-there is plenty for this day, even with the Queen's feasting, whatever put it into her head.\"\n\nGwenhwyfar asked, \"Have you no mind to feasting, sister?\"\n\nMorgaine turned. \"Not truly,\" she said, \"but I marvel that you have, Gwen-I thought on Beltane you would be all for pious fasting and prayer, if only to show you were not one of those who made merry in honor of the Goddess of the crops and fields.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gwenhwyfar colored-she never knew if Morgaine was making fun of her. \"Perhaps God has ordained it, that people shall make merry in honor of the coming of the summer, and there is no need to speak of the Goddess... oh, I know not what I think-believe you that the Goddess gives life to crops and fields and the wombs of ewes and heifers and women?\"\n\n\"I was so taught in Avalon, Gwen. Why do you ask this now?\" Morgaine took off the headcloth with which she had covered her hair, and Gwenhwyfar thought suddenly that Morgaine was beautiful. Morgaine was older than Gwenhwyfar-she must be past thirty; but she looked no older than when Gwenhwyfar had first seen her... it was no wonder all men thought her a sorceress! She wore a fine-spun gown of dark blue wool, very plain, but colored ribbons were braided into her dark hair, which was looped about her ears and fastened with a gold pin. Next to her, Gwenhwyfar felt dull as a hen, a simple homekeeping woman, even though she was High Queen of Britain and Morgaine only a heathen duchess.\n\nMorgaine knew so much, and she herself was so unlearned-she could do no more than write her name and read a little in her Gospel book. While Morgaine was skilled in all the clerkly arts, she could read and write, and yes, she knew the housewifely arts too-she could spin and weave and do fine embroideries, and dyeing and brewing, yes, and herb lore and magic as well. At last Gwenhwyfar faltered, \"My sister-they have said it as a jest, but is it-is it true, that you know-all manner of charms and spells for fertility? I-I cannot live with it any longer, that every lady at court watches every morsel I eat to see if I am breeding, or takes note of how tight I tie my girdle! Morgaine, if indeed you know these charms they say you know-my sister, I beg you-will you use those arts for me?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Moved and troubled, Morgaine laid a hand on Gwenhwyfar's arm. \"In Avalon, it is true, it is said that such and such things can help if a woman does not bear when she should-but Gwenhwyfar-\" She hesitated, and Gwenhwyfar felt her face flooding with shame. At last Morgaine went on. \"I am not the Goddess. It maybe that it is her will that you and Arthur should have no children. Would you really try to turn the will of God with spells and charms?\"\n\nGwenhwyfar said violently, \"Even Christ in the garden prayed, \"If it be thy will, let this cup pass from me-\"\"\n\n\"But he said also, Gwen-\"Not my will, Lord, be done, but thine,\"\" Morgaine reminded her.\n\n\"I wonder that you know such things-\"\n\n\"I dwelt in Igraine's household for eleven years, Gwenhwyfar, and I heard the gospel preached as often as you.\"\n\n\"Yet I cannot see how it should be God's will that the kingdom be torn again by chaos if Arthur should die,\" Gwenhwyfar said and heard her own voice rise, sharp and angry. \"All these years I have been faithful-yes, I know you do not believe it, I suppose you think what all the women in the court think, that I have betrayed my lord for the love of Lancelet-but it is not so, Morgaine, I swear it is not so-\"\n\n\"Gwenhwyfar, Gwenhwyfar! I am not your confessor! I have not accused you!\"\n\n\"But you would if you could, and I think you are jealous,\" Gwenhwyfar retorted at white heat, and then cried out in contrition, \"Oh, no! No, I do not want to quarrel with you, Morgaine, my sister-oh, no, I came to beg you for your help-\" She felt the tears break from her eyes. \"I have done no wrong, I have been a good and loyal wife, I have kept my lord's house and strove to bring honor to his court, I have prayed for him and tried to do the will of God, I have failed no whit of my duty, and yet-and yet-for all of my loyalty and duty-I have not even had my part of the bargain. Every whore in the streets, every soldier's camp follower, they go about flaunting their big bellies and their fruitfulness, and I-I have had nothing, nothing-\" She was sobbing wildly, her hands over her face." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Morgaine's voice sounded puzzled but tender, and she putout her arms and drew Gwenhwyfar to her. \"Don't cry, don't cry-Gwenhwyfar, look at me, is it so much a sorrow to you that you have no child?\"\n\nGwenhwyfar struggled to control her weeping. She said, \"I can think of nothing else, day and night-\"\n\nAfter along time, Morgaine said, \"Aye, I can see it is hard for you.\" It seemed she could actually hear Gwenhwyfar's thoughts:\n\nIf I had a child, I would not think night and day of this love which tempts my honor, for all my thoughts would be given to Arthur's son.\n\n\"I would that I could help you, sister-but I am unwilling to have doings with charms and magic. We are taught in Avalon that simple folk may need such things, but the wise meddle not with them, but bear the lot the Gods have sent them.\" And as she spoke she felt herself a hypocrite; she was remembering the morning when she had gone out to find roots and herbs fora potion which would keep her from bearing Arthur's child. That had not been surrendering herself to the will of the Goddess!\n\nBut in the end she had not done it, either-\n\nAnd then Morgaine wondered, in sudden weariness: I who did not want a child, and who came near to death in bearing it, I bore my child; Gwenhwyfar, who longs night and day for one, goes with empty womb and empty arms. Is this the goodness of the will of the Gods?\n\nYet she felt compelled to say, \"Gwenhwyfar, I would have you bear this in mind-charms often work as you would not that they would do. What makes you believe the Goddess I serve can send you a son when your God, who is supposed to be greater than all the other Gods, cannot?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It sounded like blasphemy, and Gwenhwyfar was ashamed of herself. Yet she found herself thinking, and saying aloud in a voice that choked as she spoke, \"I think perhaps God cares nothing for women-all his priests are men, and again and again the Scriptures tell us that women are the temptress and evil-it maybe that is why he does not hear me. And for this I would go to the Goddess-God does not care-\" And then she was weeping stormily again. \"Morgaine,\" she cried, \"if you cannot help me, I swear I will go tonight to Dragon Island in the boat, I shall bribe my serving-man to take me there, and when the fires are lighted I too shall entreat the Goddess to give me the gift of a child... I swear it, Morgaine, that I will do this....\" And she saw herself in the light of the fires, circling the flames, going apart in the grip of a strange and faceless man, lying in his arms-the thought made her whole body cramp tight with pain and a half-shamed pleasure.\n\nMorgaine listened ingrowing horror. She would never do it, she would lose her courage at the last moment... I was frightened, even I, and I had always known my maidenhead was for the God. But then, hearing the utter despair in her sister-in-law's voice, she thought, Aye, but she might; and if she did, she would hate herself all her lifelong.\n\nThere was no sound in the room but Gwenhwyfar's sobbing. Morgaine waited until it quieted a little, then said, \"Sister, I will do for you what I can. Arthur can give you a child, you need not go to the Beltane fire, or seek one elsewhere. You must never say aloud that I have told you this, promise me that, and ask me no questions. But Arthur has indeed sired a child.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gwenhwyfar stared at her. \"He told me he had no children-\"\n\n\"It maybe that he does not know. But I have seen the child myself. He is being fostered at Morgause's court.\"\n\n\"Why, then, he has already a son and if I do not bear him one-\"\n\n\"No!\" said Morgaine quickly, and her voice was harsh. \"I have told you-you must never speak of this, the child is not such a one as he could acknowledge. If you give him no child, then must the kingdom go to Gawaine. Gwenhwyfar, ask me no more, for I will not tell you more than this-if you do not bear, it is not Arthur's fault.\"\n\n\"I have not even conceived since last harvesttime-and only three times in all these years-\" Gwenhwyfar swallowed, wiping her face on her veil. \"If I offer myself to the Goddess-she will be merciful tome-\"\n\nMorgaine sighed. \"It might be so. You must not go to Dragon Island. You can conceive, I know-perhaps a charm could help you to carry a child to birth. But I warn you again, Gwenhwyfar: charms do not their magic as men and women would have it, but by their own laws, and those laws areas strange as the running of time in the fairy country. Do not seek to blame me, Gwenhwyfar, if the charm acts other than you think it should.\"\n\n\"If it gives me even a slight chance of a child by my lord-\"\n\n\"That it should do,\" Morgaine said, and turned, Gwenhwyfar following after her like a child being led by her mother. What would the charm be, Gwenhwyfar wondered and what would it do, and why did Morgaine look so strange and solemn-as if she were that Great Goddess herself? But, she told herself, taking a deep breath, she would accept whatever came, if it might give her what she desired most." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "An hour later, when the trumpets were blown and Morgaine and Gwenhwyfar were sitting side by side at the edge of the field, Elaine leaned over to them and said, \"Look! Who is that riding into the field at Gawaine's side?\"\n\n\"It is Lancelet,\" said Gwenhwyfar breathlessly. \"He has come home.\"\n\nHe was handsomer than ever. Somewhere he had gotten a red slash on his cheek, which should have been ugly, but it gave him the fierce beauty of a wildcat. He rode as if he were part of the horse's self, and Gwenhwyfar listened to Elaine's chatter, not really hearing, her eyes fixed on the man.\n\nBitter, bitter, the irony of this. Why now, when I am resolved and pledged to think no more of him but to do my sworn duty by my lord and king... Round her neck, beneath the golden torque Arthur had given her when they had been wedded a full five years, she could feel the weight of Morgaine's charm, sewn into a little bag between her breasts. She did not know, had not wanted to know, what Morgaine had put into it.\n\nWhy now? I had hoped that when he came home for Pentecost, I should be already bearing my lord's child, and he would look no more on me, since it was so clear I was resolved to honor my marriage.\n\nYet against her will, she remembered Arthur's words: Should you bear me a child, I would not question... do you know what I am saying to you? Gwenhwyfar had known what he meant all too well. Lancelet's son could be heir to the kingdom. Was this new temptation offered her, now, because she had already fallen into grievous sin by meddling with Morgaine's sorcery, and making wild and unchaste threats, hoping to force Morgaine into helping her...?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I do not care, if so be it I can bear my king a son... if a God would damn me for that, what have Ito do with him? She was frightened at her own blasphemy, yet it had been blasphemy, too, to think of going to the lighted Beltane fires....\n\n\"Look, Gawaine is down, even he could not stand against Lancelet's riding,\" Elaine said eagerly. \"And Cai, too! How could Lancelet strike down a lame man?\"\n\n\"Don't be more of a fool than you must, Elaine,\" said Morgaine. \"Do you think Cai would thank Lancelet for sparing him? If Cai went into these games, surely he is able to risk whatever hurt he could take! No one bade him compete.\"\n\nIt had been foreordained from the moment Lancelet took the field who would win the prize. There was some good-natured grumbling among the Companions when they saw it. \"There is no use in any of us entering the lists at all, while Lancelet is here,\" Gawaine said, laughing, his arm around his cousin. \"Couldn't you have stayed away another day or so, Lance?\"\n\nLancelet was laughing too, a high color in his face. He took the golden cup and tossed it in the air. \"Your mother, too, besought me to stay in her court for Beltane. I came not hereto defraud you of the prize-I have no need of prizes. Gwenhwyfar, my lady,\" he cried, \"take this, and give me instead the ribbon you wear about your neck. The cup may go to the altar or to the Queen's high table!\"\n\nEmbarrassed, Gwenhwyfar's hand flew to her throat and the ribbon on which she had tied Morgaine's charm. \"This I may not give you, my friend-\" But she fumbled at the sleeve which she had embroidered with small pearls. \"Take this fora kindness to my champion. As for the prize-well, I will give prizes to all of you-\" She gestured to Gawaine and Gareth, who had come in after Lancelet in the riding." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Graciously done,\" Arthur said, rising in his place, while Lancelet took the embroidered silk and kissed it, then fastened it around his helm. \"But my most valiant fighter must still be honored. You will sit with us at the high table, Lancelet, and tell us all that has befallen you since you left my court.\"\n\nGwenhwyfar excused herself with her ladies, the better to prepare for the feast. Elaine and Meleas were chattering about Lancelet's valor, his riding, his generosity in giving up all claim to the prize. Gwenhwyfar could think only of the look he had given her when he begged her for the ribbon about her throat. She looked up and met Morgaine's dark, enigmatic smile. I cannot even pray for peace of mind. I have forfeited the right to pray.\n\nFor the first hour of the feast she was moving about, making sure that all of the guests were properly seated and served. By the time she took her seat at the high table they were drunk, most of them, and it was very dark outside. The servants brought lamps and torches, fastening them into the wall, and Arthur said jovially, \"See, my lady, we are lighting our own Beltane fire within walls.\"\n\nMorgaine had come to sit close to Lancelet. Gwenhwyfar's face throbbed with heat and with the wine she had drunk; she turned away so that she might not see them. Lancelet said, with a great yawn, \"Why, it is Beltane indeed-I had forgotten.\"\n\n\"And Gwenhwyfar had it that we must have a feast so that none of our folk would be tempted to slip away into the old rites,\" Arthur said. \"There are more ways to skin a wolf than chasing him out of his fur-if I forbade the fires, then would I be a tyrant-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And,\" Morgaine said, in her low voice, \"faithless to Avalon, my brother.\"\n\n\"But if my lady makes it more pleasant for my people hereto sit at our feast instead of going out into the fields to dance by the fires, then is our purpose achieved more simply!\"\n\nMorgaine shrugged. To Gwenhwyfar it seemed that she was secretly amused. She had drunk but little-perhaps she was the only wholly sober person at the King's table. \"You have been travelling in Lothian, Lancelet-do they keep the Beltane rites there?\"\n\n\"So says the Queen,\" Lancelet said, \"but for all I know, she may have been jesting with me-I saw nothing to suggest that Queen Morgause is not the most Christian of ladies.\" But it seemed to Gwenhwyfar that he glanced uneasily at Gawaine as he spoke. \"Mark what I say, Gawaine, I said nothing against the lady of Lothian, I have no quarrel with you or yours....\"\n\nBut only a soft snore answered him, and Morgaine's laughter was brittle. \"Look, yonder lies Gawaine asleep with his head on the table! I too would ask news of Lothian, Lancelet... I do not think anyone reared there could so quickly forget the Beltane fires. The sun tides run in the blood of anyone reared on Avalon, like me, like Queen Morgause-is it not so, Lancelet? Arthur, do you remember the kingmaking on Dragon Island? How many years ago-nine, ten-\"\n\nArthur looked displeased, though he spoke gently enough. \"That is many years past and gone, as you say, sister, and the world changes with every season. I think the time for such things is past, save, perhaps, for those who live with fields and crops and must call on the Goddess for their blessing-Taliesin would say so, and I will not gainsay it. But I think those old rites have little to do with such as we who dwell in castles and cities and have heard the word of Christ.\" He raised his wine cup, emptied it, and spoke with drunken emphasis. \"God will give us all we desire-all that is right for us to have-without need to call upon the old Gods, is it not so, Lance?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gwenhwyfar felt Lancelet's eyes on her fora moment before he said, \"Which of us has all things he may desire, my king? No king, and no God, can grant that.\"\n\n\"But I want my-my subjects to have all they need,\" repeated Arthur thickly. \"And so does my queen, giving us our own Bel-Beltane fires here-\"\n\n\"Arthur,\" said Morgaine gently, \"you are drunk.\"\n\n\"Well, and why not?\" he asked her belligerently. \"At my own feast and my own-own fire, and what else did I fight the Saxons for, all those years? Sit here at my own Round Table and enjoy the-the peace-good ale and wine, and good music-where is Kevin the Harper? Am Ito have no music at my feast?\"\n\nLancelet said, laughing, \"I have no doubt he has gone to worship the Goddess at her fires, and to play his harp there, on Dragon Island.\"\n\n\"Why, this is treason,\" said Arthur thickly. \"And another reason to forbid the Beltane fires, so I may have music-\"\n\nMorgaine laughed and said lightheartedly, \"You cannot command the conscience of another, my brother. Kevin is a Druid and has the right to offer his music to his own Gods if he will.\" She leaned her chin on her hands, and Gwenhwyfar thought she looked like a cat licking cream from her whiskers. \"But I think he has already kept Beltane in his own way-no doubt he has gone to his bed, for all the company here is too drunken to tell the difference between his harping and mine and Gawaine's howling pipes! Even as he sleeps he plays the music of Lothian,\" she added, as a particularly raucous snore from the sleeping Gawaine cut the silence, and she gestured to one of the chamberlains, who went and persuaded Gawaine to his feet. He bowed groggily to Arthur and staggered from the hall." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Lancelet raised the cup in his hand and drained it." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I too have had enough of music and feasting, I think-I have ridden since before daylight, since I would come to your games this day, and soon, I think, I will beg leave to be away to my bed, Arthur.\" Gwenhwyfar gauged his drunkenness by that offhanded Arthur; in public he was always very careful to speak formally to Arthur as'my lord,\" or'my king,\" and only when they were alone did he say'cousin\" or'Arthur.\"\n\nBut indeed, so late in the feast, there were few sober enough to notice-they might as well have been alone together. Arthur did not even answer Lancelet; he had slipped down a little in his high seat, and his eyes were half closed. Well, Gwenhwyfar thought, he had said it himself-it was his own feast and his own fireside, and if a man could not be drunken in his own house, why had he fought so many years to make their feasts safe and secure?\n\nAnd if Arthur should be too drunk tonight to welcome her to his bed, after all... she could feel the ribbon about her neck, where the charm hung, and its weight heavy and hot between her breasts. 'Tis Beltane; could he not keep sober for that? Had he been bidden to one of those old pagan feasts, he would have remembered, she thought, and her cheeks burned with the immodesty of the thought. I must be drunk too! She looked angrily at Morgaine, cool and sober, toying with the ribbons of her harp. Why should Morgaine smile like that?\n\nLancelet leaned toward her and said, \"I think our lord and king has had enough of feasting and wine, my queen. Will you dismiss the servants and Companions, madam, and I'll find Arthur's chamberlain to help him to his bed.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lancelet rose. Gwenhwyfar could tell he was drunk, too, but he carried it well, moving with only a little more carefulness than usual. As she began to pass among the guests to bid them goodnight, she felt her own head swim and her steps unsteady. Seeing Morgaine's enigmatic smile, she could still hear the words of the damnable sorceress: Do not seek to blame me, Gwenhwyfar, if the charm acts other than you think it should....\n\nLancelet came back through the guests streaming out of the hall. \"I can't find my lord's body servant-someone in the kitchens said they were all away to Dragon Island for the fires... is Gawaine still here, or Balan? They are the only ones big and strong enough to carry our lord and king to his bed....\"\n\n\"Gawaine was too drunk to carry himself,\" Gwenhwyfar said, \"and I saw not Balan at all. And for sure you cannot carry him, for he is taller and heavier than you-\"\n\n\"Still, I'll have at it,\" said Lancelet, laughing, and bent beside Arthur.\n\n\"Come, cousin-Gwydion! There's none to carry you to bed-I'll give you my arm. Here, come up, there's my brave fellow,\" he said, as if he spoke to a child, and Arthur opened his eyes and staggered to his feet. Lancelet's steps were none too steady, either, thought Gwenhwyfar as she followed the men, nor for that matter were her own... a fine sight they must look, if any servants were sober enough to notice, High King and High Queen and the King's captain of horse all staggering to bed on Beltane-eve too drunk for their feet to carry them...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But Arthur sobered a little when Lancelet hauled him over the threshold of their room; he went to a ewer of water in the corner, splashed some on his face, and drank more.\n\n\"Thank you, cousin,\" he said, his voice still slow and drunken. \"My lady and I have much for which to thank you, that is certain, and I know you love us both well-\"\n\n\"God is my witness to that,\" said Lancelet, but he looked at Gwenhwyfar with something like despair. \"Shall I go and find one of your servants, cousin?\"\n\n\"No, stay a moment,\" Arthur said. \"There is something I would say to you, and if I find not the courage for it now in drink, I shall never say it sober. Gwen, can you manage without your women? I have no mind that this should be carried beyond this chamber by idle tongues. Lancelet, come here and sit by me,\" and sitting on the edge of the bed, he stretched out his hand to his friend. \"You too, sweeting-now listen tome, both. Gwenhwyfar has no child-and do you think I have not seen how you two look at each other? I spoke of this once to Gwen, but she is so modest and pious, she would not hear me. Yet now at Beltane, when all life on this earth seems to cry outwith breeding and fertility... how can I say this? There is an old saying among the Saxons, a friend is one to whom you will lend your favorite wife and your favorite sword....\"\n\nGwenhwyfar's face was burning; she could not look at either of the men. Arthur went on, slowly, \"A son of yours, Lance, would be heir to my kingdom, and better that than it should go to Lot's sons.... Oh, yes, Bishop Patricius would call it grievous sin, no doubt, as if his God were some elderly chaperone who went about at night looking to see who slept in whose bed... I think it greater sin to make no provision fora son to inherit my kingdom. Then should we fall into such chaos as threatened before Uther came to the throne-my friend, my cousin-what do you say?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gwenhwyfar saw Lancelet moisten his lips with his tongue, and she felt the dryness of her own mouth. At last he said, \"I know not what to say, my king-my friend-my cousin. God knows-there is no other woman on this earth-\" and his voice broke; he looked at Gwenhwyfar and it seemed she could not endure the naked longing in his eyes. Fora moment she thought she would swoon away, and putout a hand to steady herself on the bed frame.\n\nI am still drunk, she thought, I am dreaming this, I cannot have heard him say what I thought I heard.... and she felt an agonizing burst of shame. It seemed she could not live and let them speak of her like this.\n\nLancelet's eyes had not moved from hers.\n\n\"It is for my-for my lady to say.\"\n\nArthur held out his arms to her. He had drawn off his boots and the rich robe he had worn at the feast; in his undertunic he looked very like the boy she had wedded years ago. He said, \"Come here, Gwen,\" and drew her down on his knee. \"You know I love you well-you and Lance, I think, are the two I love best in the world, save for-\" He swallowed and stopped, and Gwenhwyfar thought suddenly, I have thought only of my own love, I have had no thought for Arthur. He took me unseen, unwanted, and he has shown me love and honored meas his queen. But I never thought that as I love Lancelet, there may well be one whom Arthur loves and cannot have... not without sin and betrayal. I wonder if that is why Morgaine mocks me, she knows Arthur's secret loves... or his sins...\n\nBut Arthur went on deliberately, \"I think I would never have had the courage to say this, were it not Beltane.... For many hundreds of years, our forefathers have done these things without shame, in the very faces of our Gods and by their will. And-listen to this, my dearest-if I am herewith you, my Gwenhwyfar, then should a child come of this, then you may swear without any untruth that this child was conceived in your marriage bed, and none of us need ever know for certain-dear love, will you not consent to this?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gwenhwyfar could not breathe. Slowly, slowly, she reached out her hand and laid it in Lancelet's. She felt Arthur's touch on her hair as Lancelet leaned forward and kissed heron the mouth.\n\nI have been married many years and I am as frightened now as any virgin, she thought, and then she remembered Morgaine's words when she laid the charm about her neck. Beware what you ask for, Gwenhwyfar, for the Goddess may grant it to you....\n\nAt the time, she had thought Morgaine meant only that if she prayed fora child, then she might well die in childbirth. Now she knew it was more subtle than that, for it had come about that she should have Lancelet, and without guilt, with her husband's own will and permission... and in a flash of awareness, she thought, It was this I wanted, after all; after all these years it is certain that I am barren, I will bear no child, but I will have had this at least....\n\nWith shaking hands she undid her gown. It seemed that the whole world had dwindled down to this, this perfect awareness of herself, of her own body aching with desire, a hunger she had never believed she could feel. Lancelet's skin was so soft-she had thought all men were like Arthur, sunburnt and hairy, but his body was smooth as a child's. Ah, but she loved them both, loved Arthur all the more that he could be generous enough to give her this... they were both holding her now, and she closed her eyes and put up her face to be kissed, not knowing for certain which man's lips closed over hers. But it was Lancelet's hand that stroked her cheek, moved down to her naked throat where the ribbon clung." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Why, what's this, Gwen?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "he asked, his mouth against hers.\n\n\"Nothing,\" she said, \"nothing. Some rubbish Morgaine gave me.\" She pulled it free and flung it into a corner, sinking back into her husband's arms and her lover's." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The King Stag\n\nAt this season in Lothian, it seemed the sun hardly went to rest; Queen Morgause wakened as the light began to steal through the hangings, yet it was so early the gulls were hardly astir. But there was already light enough to make out the hairy, well-muscled body of the young man who slept at her side... a privilege he had enjoyed most of the winter. He had been one of Lot's esquires, and had cast longing eyes on the queen even before Lot's death. And in the deathly darkness of this winter past, it was too much to ask that she should sleep alone in the king's cold chamber.\n\nIt was not that Lot had been so good a king, she thought, slotting her eyes against the growing light. But his reign had been long-he had reigned since before Uther Pendragon took the throne, and his people were used to him; there were people well into their middle years who had known no other king. He had been on the throne, she thought, when young Lochlann was born... for that matter, so had she. But that thought was less comfortable, and she flinched away from it.\n\nGawaine would have succeeded his father, but Gawaine had hardly visited his native land since Arthur's crowning, and the people did not know him. Herein Lothian, the Tribes were quite content, since there was peace in the land, to be ruled by their queen, with her son Agravaine at hand should they need a leader in war. From timeout of mind, a queen had ruled over the people, as a Goddess had ruled over the Gods, and they were content to have it so.\n\nBut Gawaine had not left Arthur's side... not even when Lancelet had come north before Beltane-he said, to see that the lighthouses had been put in order on the coast so that ships would not be driven onto the rocks. But Morgause supposed, rather, that he came so that Arthur's eyes could see what went on in Lothian, whether there was anyone thereat odds with the rule of the High King." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She had heard, then, of Igraine's death-before that, word had not come north to Lothian. She and Igraine had not been friends when she was younger; she had always envied her older sister her beauty, and had never forgiven her that Viviane had chosen her for Uther Pendragon; she would have made a better High Queen than that ninny, so pliant and pious and loving. And when all was said and done, when the lamp was out, one man was not so different from any other, and all of them were ridiculously easy to manage, foolishly dependent on that thing a woman could offer to them. She had ruled well behind Lot's throne; she would have done better yet with Uther, for she would not have become so stupidly entangled with the priests.\n\nYet when she heard of Igraine's death she had mourned her sincerely and wished she had made the time to ride to Tintagel before she died. She had so few woman friends now....\n\nHer waiting-women had mostly been chosen by Lot for their beauty or their availability to the king, and he cared most for such women as did not think very much or talk very intelligently; she was, he said once, quite enough in that line. He took her counsel in all things and respected her wit, but when she had borne him four royal sons, he went back to what he naturally preferred for his bed-pretty women with little of sense. Morgause had never begrudged him his pleasures and was just as well pleased to be spared further childbearing. And if she craved babes to play with, there washer fosterling Gwydion, and Lot's women had always been breeding-Gwydion had playmates enough of royal blood!\n\nLochlann stirred at her side, muttered, and sleepily drew her into his arms, and she gave overthinking for the moment. She had missed him-while Lancelet was at court she had sent Lochlann to sleep among the young men. Though for all the difference it had made to Lancelet, she might have kept Lochlann in her bed, or slept with the house dog! Well, he was here again; Lot had never begrudged her amusement, anymore than she had begrudged him his women." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But when the excitement had subsided, and Lochlann had trundled down the stairs to the privy outside, Morgause thought suddenly that she missed Lot. Not that he had ever been particularly good at this kind of sport... he had been old when she married him. But when that was done, he could talk with her intelligently, and she found that she missed the years when they would wake together, and lie in bed and talk of all that was to be done or what befell in the kingdom, or all of Britain.\n\nBy the time Lochlann came back, the sun was already strengthening and the air was alive with the crying of gulls. She could hear small sounds down the stairs, and somewhere there was a smell of bannock baking. She pulled him to her fora quick kiss and said, \"You must be off, my dear. I want you out of here before Gwydion comes-he is a big boy now, he is beginning to notice things.\"\n\nLochlann chuckled. \"That one, he has been noticing everything since he was out of his nurse's arms. While Lancelet was here he noticed every move he made-even at Beltane. But I do not think you have to worry-he's not old enough to think of that.\"\n\n\"I'm not so certain,\" Morgause said, and patted his cheek. Gwydion's way was to do nothing until he was sure he would not be laughed at as too young. Self-possessed as he was, he could never bear to be told he was too young for anything-even when he was four years old he had flown into a rage at being told he could not go birds-nesting on the cliffs, and had nearly fallen to his death trying to keep up with the older boys. She remembered that occasion, and other similar ones, when she had told him never to do so or so again, and he had set his small dark face and told her, \"Aye, but I shall, and you cannot stop me.\" Her only reply to that had had to be, \"You shall not, or I will myself beat you.\" Not that it mattered whether she beat him or not-it only made him more defiant, unless she was prepared to beat him insensible; and once, losing her temper, she had frightened herself with how hard she had struck the harmless child. None of her own sons, even the strong-willed Gareth, had ever been so defiant. Gwydion took his own way and did what he would, and so as he got older she had taken to subtler methods: \"You shall not, or I shall have your nurse takeoff your breeks and beat you with a heather switch before all the house folk as if you were a babe of four or five.\" That had been effective, fora time-very conscious of his dignity was young Gwydion. But now he did as he would and there was no stopping him; it would have taken a harsh man to thrash him as hard as was needful, and he had away of making anyone who offended him sorry for it, soon or late." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She supposed that he would be more vulnerable when he began to care what the maidens thought of him. Fairy-born he was and dark, like Morgaine, but handsome enough, even as Lancelet was handsome. And it might be that his outward indifference to the maidens would be the same as Lancelet's. She thought about that fora moment, knowing the sting of humiliation. Lancelet... there was the handsomest man she had seen in many along year, and she had made it clear to him that even the queen was not beyond his reach... but Lancelet had professed not to understand, had meticulously called her'Aunt\" early and late-one would have thought from Lancelet's manner that she was elderly indeed, Viviane's twin, not young enough to be Viviane's daughter!\n\nShe had begun taking her breakfast in bed while she talked with her women about what must be done that day. While she lingered, propped upon the cushions-they had brought her some of the fresh hot bannock, and there was, at this time of year, plenty of butter from the dairy-Gwydion came into the room.\n\n\"Good morning, foster-mother,\" he said. \"I have been out and brought you some berries. And there is cream in the pantry. If you want it, I will rundown and fetch it for you.\"\n\nShe looked at the berries, dew-fresh in a wooden bowl. \"That was thoughtful of you, foster-son,\" she said, and sat up in bed to take him close in a great hug. When he was only a little younger he had crawled in beside her into the blankets at such occasions, while she fed him hot bannock and honey, and in winter snuggled him into her furs, like any pampered youngest; she missed the feel of the small warm body burrowing against her, but she supposed he was really too old now." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He straightened himself, smoothing his hair into place-he hated to be mussed. Like Morgaine, who had always been a tidy little thing.\n\n\"You are out early, my love,\" she said, \"and you did all this just for your old foster-mother? No, I do not want any cream. You do not want me fat as the old sow, do you?\"\n\nHe tilted his head to one side like a small precise bird and looked, considering, at Morgause. \"It wouldn't matter,\" he said. \"You would still be beautiful even if you were fat. There are women at this court-Mara, for instance-she is no bigger than you, but all the other women, and the men, call her Fat Mara. But somehow you do not look as big as you are, because when anyone looks at you, all they see is that you are beautiful. So have the cream if you want it, foster-mother.\"\n\nSo precise an answer fora child! But after all he was beginning to grow into a man. Though he would be like Agravaine, never very tall-one of the Old People, a throwback. And of course, next to the giant Gareth he would always look like a child, even when he was twenty! He had washed his face and brushed his hair very carefully; yes, and it had been trimmed freshly too.\n\n\"How nice you look, my love,\" she said, as his small fingers swooped precisely to appropriate a berry from the dish. \"Did you cut your hair yourself?\"\n\n\"No,\" he said, \"I made the steward do it; I said I was tired of looking like the house dog. Lot was always clean-trimmed and clean-shaven, and so was Lancelet all the time he stayed here. I like to look like a gentleman.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And so you always do, my dear,\" she said, looking at the small dark hand holding the berry. It was bramble-scratched and the knuckles grimed and grubby like any active boy's hand, but she noted, too, that he had scrubbed it long and hard and that the nails were not dirty and broken but carefully pared short. \"But why have you put on your holiday tunic this morning?\"\n\n\"Did I put on my holiday tunic?\" he asked, his small dark face innocent. \"Yes, I suppose I did. Well-\" He paused, and she knew that whatever his reason, and of course he would have a good one, she would never know it. At last he said calmly, \"I soaked my other one in the dew picking your berries, madam.\" Then, suddenly, he said, \"I thought I should hate sir Lancelet, Mother. Gareth talked of him early and late as if he were a God,\" and Morgause remembered that, though he would not weep before her, Gwydion had been heartbroken when Gareth had gone south to King Arthur's court. Morgause had missed him too-Gareth had been the only person alive who had real influence with Gwydion and could make him do as he would with only alight word. Since Gareth had gone there was no one alive to whose counsel Gwydion would listen.\n\n\"I thought he would be a fool full of his own importance,\" Gwydion said, \"but he is nothing of the sort. He told me more about lighthouses than even Lot knew, I think. And he said when I was older I should come to Arthur's court and be made a knight, if I was good and honorable.\" His deep-set dark eyes considered that. \"All the women said I look like him-and they asked, and I was angry that I did not know how to answer them. Foster-mother\"-he leaned forward, his dark, soft hair falling loose over his forehead, lending the composed small face an unusual vulnerability-\"tell me true-is Lancelet my father? I thought that might be why Gareth was so fond of him....\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And you are not the first to ask that question, my love, she thought, stroking the boy's soft hair. The unusual childishness in his face as he asked made her voice gentler than usual.\n\n\"No, my little one. Of all the men in the kingdom, Lancelet could not be your father-I made it my business to ask. All that year you were begotten, Lancelet was in Less Britain, fighting at the side of his father, King Ban. I thought so too, but you look like him because Lancelet is your mother's nephew, as he is mine.\"\n\nGwydion surveyed her skeptically, and Morgause could almost read his thoughts; that she had told him exactly what she would have told him if she had known Lancelet was his father. He said at last, \"Perhaps one day I shall go to Avalon, rather than to Arthur's court. Does my mother dwell now in Avalon, foster-mother?\"\n\n\"I know not.\" Morgause frowned... once again, this oddly adult foster-son of hers had led heron to speak to him as if he were a grown man; he did that so often. It came to her that now Lot was gone, Gwydion was the only person in this household with whom she spoke from time to time as one adult to another! Oh, yes, Lochlann was man enough in bed at night, but he never had much more to say than one of the shepherds or even the housemaids!\n\n\"Go out now, Gwydion my love, I am going to be dressed-\"\n\n\"Why should I go?\" he asked. \"I have known well enough what you look like, ever since I was five years old.\"\n\n\"But you are older now,\" she said, with that old sense of helplessness. \"It is not fitting you should be here while I dress.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Do you care that much what is fitting, foster-mother?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "he said ingenuously, his eyes resting on the depression in the cushion where Lochlann had lain, and Morgause felt the sudden upward rush of frustration and wrath-he could entangle her in these arguments as if he were a grown man and a Druid! She said sharply, \"I need not account to you for my doings, Gwydion!\"\n\n\"Did I say you must?\" His eyes were all injured innocence. \"But if I am older, then I will need to know more about women than I did when I was a baby, will I not? I want to stay and talk.\"\n\n\"Oh, stay, stay if you want to,\" she said, \"but turn your back, I'll not have you staring at me, sir Impudence!\" Obediently he turned away, but as she rose and signalled her woman to bring her gown, he said, \"No, put on your blue gown, foster-mother, the new one from the looms, and your saffron cloak.\"\n\n\"And now you will be giving me advice on what I should wear? What's this, what's this?\"\n\n\"I like to see you dressed like a fine lady and a queen,\" he said, persuasively. \"And tell them to dress your hair high with your gold coil, will you not, foster-mother? To please me?\"\n\n\"Why, you would have me fine as a Midsummer feast, so that I should sit and card wool in all my best gear-my women would laugh, child!\"\n\n\"Let them laugh,\" Gwydion coaxed. \"Will you not dress in your finest to please me? And who knows what may happen before the day is done? You might be glad of it.\"\n\nMorgause, laughing, gave way. \"Oh, as you wish-if you will have it that I dress myself fora festival, let it be so... we will have our own festival here, then! And now I suppose the kitchen must bake honey cakes for this imaginary festival-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A child, after all, she thought, he thinks in this way to tease for sweets. But then, he brought me berries, why not? \"Well, Gwydion, shall I have them bake a honey cake for supper?\"\n\nHe turned around. Her gown was still unlaced, and she saw his eyes linger fora moment on her white breasts. Not such a child, then. But he said, \"I am always happy to have a honey cake, but perhaps there will be some fish to bake, too, for dinner.\"\n\n\"If we are to have fish,\" she said, \"you will have to change your tunic again and go fishing for it yourself. The men are busy with the sowing.\"\n\nHe answered quickly, \"I will ask Lochlann to go-it will be like a holiday for him. He deserves one, doesn't he, foster-mother, you are pleased with him, aren't you?\"\n\nIdiotic! Morgause thought. I will not blush before a boy his age! \"If you would like to send Lochlann fishing, love, do so. He can be spared today, I suppose.\"\n\nAnd she thought, she would like well to know what was really in Gwydion's mind, with his holiday tunic and his insistence that she should wear her finest gown and provide a good dinner. She called her housekeeper and said, \"Master Gwydion would like a honey cake. See to it.\"\n\n\"He shall have his cake,\" said the housekeeper, with an indulgent look at the boy. \"Look at his sweet face, like one of those angels, he is.\"\n\nAngel. That is the last thing I would call him, thought Morgause; but she directed her woman to do her hair up with the gold coil. She would probably never learn what was on Gwydion's mind." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The day wore slowly along in its accustomed way. Morgause had wondered at times whether Gwydion had the Sight, but he had never shown any of the signs, and when once she asked him point-blank he had acted as if he did not know what she was talking about. And if he had, she thought, at least once she would have caught him bragging of it.\n\nAh, well. For some obscure child's reason, Gwydion had wanted a festival and had coaxed her into it. No doubt, with Gareth gone, he was lonely all the time-he had little in common with Lot's other sons. Nor did he have Gareth's passion for arms and knightly things, nor so far as she could tell, Morgaine's gift for music, though his voice was clear, and sometimes he would bring out a little set of pipes like those the shepherd lads played and make strange, mournful-sounding music. But it was not a passion as it had been with Morgaine, who would have sat happy all day at her harp if she could.\n\nStill, he had a quick and retentive mind. For three years, Lot had sent fora learned priest from Iona to dwell in their house and teach the boy to read; he had said the priest was to teach Gareth too while he was about it, but Gareth had no mind to his book. He struggled obediently with letters and Latin, but no more than Gawaine-nor Morgause herself, for that matter-could he keep his mind fixed on written symbols or the mysterious tongue of those old Romans. Agravaine was quick enough-he kept all the tallies and accounts of the estate, he had a gift for numbering things; but Gwydion soaked up every bit of learning, it seemed, as quickly as it was put before him. Within a year he could read as well as the priest himself and speak in Latin as if he were one of those old Caesars reborn, so that for the first time Morgause wondered might there not be something, after all, in what the Druids said-that we were reborn again and again, learning more and more in each life." }, { "from": "human", "value": "He is such a son as should make his father proud, Morgause thought." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And Arthur has no son at all by his queen. One day-yes, one day, I shall have a secret to tell Arthur, and then I can hold the King's conscience in my hand. The thought amused her vastly. She was surprised Morgaine had never used that hold she had on Arthur-she could have forced him to negotiate a marriage for her with the richest of his subject kings, could have had jewels, or power... but Morgaine cared nothing for such things, only for her harp and for the nonsense the Druids talked. At least she, Morgause, would make better use of this unexpected power thrust into her hand.\n\nShe satin her hall, dressed in her unaccustomed finery, carding the wool from the spring shearing, and making decisions: Gwydion must have anew cloak-he grew so fast, his old one was about his knees already and no good to him in the winter cold, and no doubt he would grow faster yet this year. Should she, perhaps, give him Agravaine's cloak, cut down a little, and make anew one for Agravaine? Gwydion, in his saffron holiday tunic, came and sniffed appreciatively as the scent of the honey cake, rich with spices, began to drift through the room, but he did not hang about to tease that it should be cut and that he should have a slice early, as he would have done only a few months ago. At midday he said, \"Mother, I will have apiece of bread and cheese in my hand and I will be off to walk the boundaries-Agravaine said I should go and see if all the fences are in good order.\"\n\n\"Not in your holiday shoes,\" said Morgause.\n\n\"Certainly not. I will go barefoot,\" Gwydion said, unfastening his sandals and leaving them beside her near the hearth; he tucked up his tunic through his belt so that it was well above his knees, took up a stout stick, and was off, while Morgause frowned after him-this was not a task Gwydion ever took upon himself, no matter what Agravaine wanted! What was with the lad this day?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lochlann came back after midday with a fine large fish, so heavy Morgause could not lift it; she surveyed it with pleasure-it would feed everyone who ate at the high table and there would be cold baked fish for three days. Cleaned, scented with herbs, it lay ready for the baking oven when Gwydion came in, his feet and hands scrubbed clean, his hair combed, and slipped his feet into his sandals again. He looked at the fish and smiled.\n\n\"Yes, indeed, it will be like a festival,\" he said with satisfaction.\n\n\"Have you done walking all the fences, foster-brother?\" Agravaine asked, coming in from one of the barns where he had been doctoring a sick pony.\n\n\"I have, and they are mostly in good order,\" said Gwydion, \"but at the very top of the north fells where we had the ewes last fall, there is a great hole in the fences where all the stones have fallen down. You must send men to fix it before you put any sheep to pasture there, and as for goats, they'd be away before you could speak to them!\"\n\n\"You went all the way up there alone?\" Morgause frowned at him in dismay. \"You are not a goat-you could have fallen and broken a leg in the ravine and no one would have known for days! I have told you and told you, if you go upon the fells, take one of the shepherd lads with you!\"\n\n\"I had my reasons forgoing alone,\" retorted Gwydion, with that stubborn set of his mouth, \"and I saw what I wanted to see.\"\n\n\"What could you possibly see that would be worth risking some injury and lying there all alone for days?\" demanded Agravaine crossly." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I have never fallen yet,\" Gwydion said, \"and if I did, it is I who would suffer for it. What is it to you, if I take my own risks?\"\n\n\"I am your elder brother and ruler in this house,\" said Agravaine, \"and you will show me some respect or I will knock it into you!\"\n\n\"Perhaps if you knocked your head open, you could shove some sense inside it,\" Gwydion said pertly, \"for sure, it will never grow thereon its own-\"\n\n\"You wretched little-\"\n\n\"Aye, say it,\" Gwydion shouted, \"mock me with my birth, you-I do not know my father's name, but I know who fathered you, and between the two I would rather be in my situation!\"\n\nAgravaine took a heavy step toward him, but Morgause quickly rose and thrust Gwydion behind her. \"Don't tease the boy, Agravaine.\"\n\n\"If he always runs to hide behind your skirts, Mother, is it any wonder I cannot teach him to obey?\" demanded Agravaine.\n\n\"It would take a better man than you to teach me that,\" Gwydion said, and Morgause drew back at the bitterness in his voice.\n\n\"Hush, hush, child-don't speak so to your brother,\" she admonished, and Gwydion said, \"I am sorry, Agravaine-I should not have been rude to you.\"\n\nHe smiled up, his eyes big and lovely under dark lashes, the picture of a contrite child. Agravaine grumbled, \"I am only thinking of your welfare, you young rascal-do you think I want you to break every bone in your body? And why would you take it into your head to climb the fells alone?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Well,\" said Gwydion, \"otherwise you would not have known of the hole in the fences, and you might have pastured sheep there or even goats, and lost all of them. And I never tear my clothes-do I, Mother?\"\n\nMorgause chuckled, for it was true-Gwydion was easy on his clothes. There were some boys like that. Gareth had only to put on a tunic and it was crumpled, stained, and dirty before he had worn it an hour, while Gwydion had climbed the high fells in his saffron holiday tunic and it looked as if he had that moment taken it from the washing-woman. Gwydion looked at Agravaine in his working smock and said, \"But you are not fit to sit at table with Mother in her fine clothes. Go and put on your fine tunic, brother. Would you sit down to dinner in your old smock like a farmer?\"\n\n\"I won't be ruled by a young knave like you,\" Agravaine growled, but he did go off toward his chamber, and Gwydion smiled with secret satisfaction. He said, \"Agravaine should have a wife, Mother. He is bad-tempered as a bull in spring, and besides, you should not have to weave his clothes and mend them.\"\n\nMorgause was amused. \"No doubt you are right. But I want no other queen beneath this roof. No house is big enough for the rule of two women.\"\n\n\"Then you should find him a wife who is not too well-born and very stupid,\" said Gwydion, \"so that she will be glad you can tell her what to do, because she will be afraid of making a mistake among gentlefolk. The daughter of Niall would be about right-she is very pretty, and Niall's folk are rich but not too rich, because so many of their cattle and sheep died in the bad winter six years ago. She would have a good dowry, because Niall is afraid she will not marry. The girl had the measles when she was six years old, and her eyesight is not good, and she is not too broad in the wit, either. She can spin and weave well enough, but she has neither the eyesight nor the cleverness for much more, so she will not mind much if Agravaine keeps her always breeding.\"" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Move the narrative forward in collaboration with the writer.\nTags: fantasy, arthurian, historical fantasy\nAuthor: Marion Zimmer Bradley\nTitle: The Mists of Avalon\nChapter: 42" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Well,\" said Gwydion, \"otherwise you would not have known of the hole in the fences, and you might have pastured sheep there or even goats, and lost all of them. And I never tear my clothes-do I, Mother?\"\n\nMorgause chuckled, for it was true-Gwydion was easy on his clothes. There were some boys like that. Gareth had only to put on a tunic and it was crumpled, stained, and dirty before he had worn it an hour, while Gwydion had climbed the high fells in his saffron holiday tunic and it looked as if he had that moment taken it from the washing-woman. Gwydion looked at Agravaine in his working smock and said, \"But you are not fit to sit at table with Mother in her fine clothes. Go and put on your fine tunic, brother. Would you sit down to dinner in your old smock like a farmer?\"\n\n\"I won't be ruled by a young knave like you,\" Agravaine growled, but he did go off toward his chamber, and Gwydion smiled with secret satisfaction. He said, \"Agravaine should have a wife, Mother. He is bad-tempered as a bull in spring, and besides, you should not have to weave his clothes and mend them.\"\n\nMorgause was amused. \"No doubt you are right. But I want no other queen beneath this roof. No house is big enough for the rule of two women.\"\n\n\"Then you should find him a wife who is not too well-born and very stupid,\" said Gwydion, \"so that she will be glad you can tell her what to do, because she will be afraid of making a mistake among gentlefolk. The daughter of Niall would be about right-she is very pretty, and Niall's folk are rich but not too rich, because so many of their cattle and sheep died in the bad winter six years ago. She would have a good dowry, because Niall is afraid she will not marry. The girl had the measles when she was six years old, and her eyesight is not good, and she is not too broad in the wit, either. She can spin and weave well enough, but she has neither the eyesight nor the cleverness for much more, so she will not mind much if Agravaine keeps her always breeding.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Well, well, well, what a statesman you are already,\" said Morgause caustically. \"Agravaine should appoint you one of his councillors, you are so wise.\" But she thought, aye, he is right, I will speak to Niall tomorrow.\n\n\"He could do worse,\" said Gwydion seriously, \"but I shall not be here for that, Mother. I meant to tell you, when I went upon the fells, I saw-no, but here is Donil the hunter, he can tell you.\" And indeed, the big hunter was already coming into the hall, bending low before Morgause.\n\n\"My lady,\" he said, \"there are riders on the road, nearing the great house-a sedan chair draped like the Avalon barge, and with them a hunchbacked man with a harp, and servants in the garb of Avalon. They will be herein half an hour.\"\n\nAvalon! Then Morgause saw Gwydion's secret smile and knew that he had been ready for this. But he has never spoken of having the Sight! What child would not brag of it, if he did? And suddenly, the thought that he could conceal it, enjoy it yet more that his knowledge was secret, seemed uncanny to her, so that fora moment she shrank away, almost afraid of her foster-son. And she knew he saw it, and was not displeased.\n\nAll he said was, \"Now isn't it lucky that we have a honey cake, and baked fish, and that we have all dressed in our best clothing, so we may do honor to Avalon, Mother?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Morgause said, staring at her foster-son. \"Very lucky indeed, Gwydion.\"\n\nAs she stood in the front yard to welcome the riders, she found herself remembering a day when Viviane and Taliesin had come to the faraway castle of Tintagel. Taliesin, she supposed, was long past such journeys, even if he was still alive. She would have heard if he had died. And Viviane rode no longer in boots and breeches like a man, travelling at speed, a law unto herself." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gwydion stood quietly at her side. In his saffron tunic, his dark hair neatly combed from his face, he looked very like Lancelet.\n\n\"Who are these visitors, Mother?\"\n\n\"I suppose it is the Lady of the Lake,\" Morgause said, \"and the Merlin of Britain, the Messenger of the Gods.\"\n\n\"You told me my own mother was a priestess of Avalon,\" said Gwydion. \"Does their coming have anything to do with me?\"\n\n\"Well, well, do not tell me there is anything you do not know!\" said Morgause sharply, then relented. \"I do not know why they have come, my dear; I have not the Sight. But it may well be. I want you to hand the wine about, and to listen and to learn, but not to speak unless you are spoken to.\"\n\nThat, she thought, would have been hard for her own sons-Gawaine, Gaheris, and Gareth were noisy and inquisitive, and it had been difficult to school them to courtly manners. They were, she thought, great friendly dogs, while Gwydion was like a cat, silent, sleek, fastidious, and watchful. Morgaine as a child had been like that... Viviane did not well when she cast Morgaine aside, even if she was angry with her forbearing a child... and why should it matter to her? She herself bore children, including that damnable Lancelet, who has set Arthur's kingdom so much at havoc that even here we have heard how the Queen favors him.\n\nAnd then she wondered, why did she assume that Viviane had not wanted Morgaine to bear this child? Morgaine had quarrelled with Avalon, but perhaps that had been Morgaine's doing and not the Lady's." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She was deep in thought; and Gwydion touched her arm and murmured in an undertone, \"Your guests, Mother.\"\n\nMorgause sank in a deep curtsey before Viviane, who seemed to have shrunk. Always before this, she had been ageless, but now she looked withered, her face lined, her eyes sunk into her face. But she had the same lovely smile, and her voice was low and sweet as ever.\n\n\"Ah, it is good to see you, little sister,\" she said, drawing Morgause into an embrace. \"How long has it been? I like not to think of the years! How young you look, Morgause! Such pretty teeth, and your hair as bright as ever. You met Kevin Harper at Arthur's wedding, before he was the Merlin of Britain.\"\n\nIt seemed that Kevin too had grown older, stooped and gnarled, like an ancient oak tree; well, that was fitting, she thought, for one of those who consorted with oaks, and felt her mouth move in a little ripple of secret mirth. \"You are welcome, Master Harper-Lord Merlin, I should say. How is it with the noble Taliesin? Is he yet in the land of the living?\"\n\n\"He lives,\" said Viviane as another woman stepped from the sedan chair. \"But he is old and fragile now, he will not make such a journey as this again.\" And then she said, \"This is a daughter of Taliesin, a child of the oak groves-Niniane. So she is your half-sister, Morgause.\"\n\nMorgause was a little dismayed as the younger woman stepped forward and embraced her, saying in a sweet voice, \"I am glad to know my sister.\" Niniane seemed so young! She had fair reddish-gold hair and blue eyes beneath silky long lashes. Viviane said, \"Niniane travels with me, now I am old. She is the only one except myself dwelling upon Avalon who is of the old royal blood.\" Niniane was dressed as a priestess; her fair hair was braided low across her forehead, but the blue crescent mark of a priestess, freshly painted with blue dye, could be clearly seen. She spoke with the trained voice of a priestess, filled with power; but she herself seemed young and powerless as she stood next to Viviane." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Morgause sought to recapture her sense that she was hostess and these were her guests; she felt like a kitchen girl before the two priestesses and the Druid." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Then she reminded herself angrily that both these women were her own half-sisters, and as for the Merlin, he was only an old hunchback! \"Be welcome to Lothian and to my hall. This is my son Agravaine, who reigns here while Gawaine is away at Arthur's court. And this is my foster-son, Gwydion.\"\n\nThe boy bowed gracefully to the distinguished guests, but made only a polite murmur of acknowledgment.\n\n\"He is a handsome lad and well grown,\" said Kevin. \"This, then, is Morgaine's son?\"\n\nMorgause lifted her eyebrows. \"Would it avail anything to deny it to one who has the Sight, sir?\"\n\n\"Morgaine herself told me, when she heard that I rode north to Lothian,\" Kevin said, and a shadow crossed his face.\n\n\"Then Morgaine dwells again in Avalon?\" asked Morgause, and Kevin shook his head. Morgause saw that Viviane too looked distressed.\n\n\"Morgaine is at Arthur's court,\" said Kevin. Viviane said, pressing her lips together, \"She has work to do in the world outside. But she will return to Avalon at the appointed time. There is a place awaiting her which she must take.\"\n\nGwydion asked softly, \"Is it of my mother that you speak, Lady?\"\n\nViviane looked straight at Gwydion and suddenly she seemed tall and imposing-the old priestess-trick, thought Morgause, but Gwydion had never seen it before. And the Lady said, her voice suddenly filling the courtyard, \"Why do you ask me, child, when you already know the answer perfectly well? Would you mock at the Sight, Gwydion? Take care. I know you better than you think, and there are still a few things in this world that you do not know!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Gwydion backed away, his mouth open, suddenly only a precocious child again." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Morgause raised her eyebrows; so there was still someone and something which could frighten him! For once he did not try to excuse or explain himself in his usual glib manner.\n\nShe took the initiative again, saying, \"Come in. All things are prepared to welcome you, my sisters, Lord Merlin.\" And as she looked at the red cloth she had set upon the high table, the goblets and fine ware standing there, she thought, Even here at the end of the world, our court is no pigsty! She conducted Viviane to her own high seat and set Kevin Harper next to her. As Niniane was stepping upon the dais she stumbled, and Gwydion was swiftly there, with a ready hand and a polite word.\n\nWell, well, at last our Gwydion is beginning to take notice of a pretty woman. Or is it just good manners or a wish to ingratiate himself because Viviane chided him? She was perfectly well aware that she would never know the answer.\n\nThe fish was baked to perfection, the red fish flaking lightly away from the bones, and there was enough of the honey cake for most of the house people to have some; and she had sent for extra barley beer so that each of the people in the lower hall might have something extra to their meal as well. There was plenty of fresh-baked bread and an abundance of milk and butter, as well as cheese made with ewe's milk. Viviane ate as sparingly as ever, but she was ready in praise of the food.\n\n\"You set a queenly table indeed. I would not be better guested in Camelot. I had not looked for such welcome, coming without warning as I did,\" she said.\n\n\"Have you been to Camelot? Have you seen my sons?\" Morgause asked, but Viviane shook her head and her forehead ridged in a scowl." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"No, not yet." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Though I shall go thither at what Arthur now calls Pentecost, like to the church fathers themselves,\" she said, and for some reason Morgause felt a slight icing of her back; but with her guests she had no leisure to think of it.\n\nKevin said, \"I saw your sons at court, lady. Gawaine had a small wound at Mount Badon, but it healed clean and is hidden by his beard... he has begun wearing a small beard like to the Saxons, not because he wishes to be like them, but he cannot shave daily without slicing the top from the scar. He may start anew fashion at court! I saw not Gaheris-he is away to the south, fortifying the coast. Gareth is to be made a Companion at Arthur's high feast at Pentecost. He is one of the biggest, and one of the trustiest men at court, though sir Cai still bullies him and calls him'Handsome' for his pretty face.\"\n\n\"He should have been made one of Arthur's Companions already!\" said Gwydion jealously, and Kevin looked more kindly on the boy. \"So, you are jealous for your kinsman's honor, my lad? Indeed he well deserves to be a Companion, and he is treated as one now his rank is known. But Arthur wished to show him honor at his first high feast in Camelot, so he will be made Companion with all the ceremony the King can manage. Rest you content, Gwydion, Arthur well knows his worth, even as he knows Gawaine's. And he is one of Arthur's youngest Companions.\"\n\nThen, even more shyly, Gwydion asked, \"Know you my mother, Master Harper? The lady M-Morgaine?\"\n\n\"Aye, lad, I know her well,\" said Kevin gently, and Morgause thought that the ugly little man had at least a speaking voice that was rich and beautiful. \"She is one of the fairest ladies at Arthur's court, and one of the most gracious, and she plays the harp as well as a bard.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Come, come,\" said Morgause, her lips crinkling up in a smile, and amused at the obvious devotion in the harper's voice. \"It is well to tell a tale to amuse a child, but truth must be served too. Morgaine, fair? She is plain as a raven! Igraine was beautiful when she was young, all men knew that, but Morgaine resembles her not at all.\"\n\nKevin's voice was respectful but also amused. \"There is an old saying in the wisdom of the Druids... beauty is not all in a fair face, but lies within. Morgaine is indeed very beautiful, Queen Morgause, though her beauty resembles yours no more than a willow tree resembles a daffodil. And she is the only person at court to whose hands I will ever trust My Lady.\" He gestured to his harp which had been unwrapped and set at his side, and picking up her cue, Morgause asked Kevin if he would favor them with a song.\n\nHe took up the harp and sang, and fora time the hall was perfectly still except for the harp notes and the bard's voice, and as he sang, the people in the lower hall crept as close as they could to listen to the music. But when he had done, and Morgause had dismissed the house-folk-although she allowed Lochlann to stay, sitting quietly near the fire-she said, \"I too love music well, Master Harper, and you have given us a pleasure I shall long remember. But you did not travel all this long journey from Avalon to the Northlands so that I might have feasting with a harper. I beg of you, tell me why you come here so unexpectedly.\"\n\n\"Not so unexpected,\" said Viviane, with a little smile, \"for I found you all dressed in your best and ready to greet us with wine and baked fish and honey cakes. You had warning of my coming, and since you had nevermore than a glimmering of the Sight, I can only imagine it was another not far from here who warned you.\" She cast an ironic glance at Gwydion, and Morgause nodded." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"But he told me not why, only bade me prepare all things fora festival, and I thought it was a child's whim, no more.\"\n\nGwydion was hanging over Kevin's seat as he began to wrap his harp, and he asked, putting his handout hesitantly, \"May I touch the strings?\"\n\n\"You may,\" said Kevin mildly, and Gwydion plucked a string or two, saying, \"I have never seen so fine a harp.\"\n\n\"Nor will you ever. I think there is no finer one here, nor even in Wales, where there is a whole college of bards,\" said Kevin. \"My Lady was a king's gift tome, and she never leaves my side. And like many women,\" he added, with a courtly bow to Viviane, \"she grows but more beautiful with the years.\"\n\n\"Would that my voice had grown sweeter as I grew old,\" said Viviane good-humoredly, \"but the Dark Mother has not willed it so. Only her immortal children sing more sweetly as the years grow longer. May My Lady never sing less beautifully than now.\"\n\n\"Are you fond of music, master Gwydion? Have you learned anything of the harp?\"\n\n\"I have not a harp to play,\" said Gwydion. \"Coll, who is the only harper at court, has now such stiff fingers that he seldom touches the strings. We have had no music for two years now. I play a little upon the small pipe, though, and Aran-he that was Lot's piper at war-taught me to play a little upon the pipe of elk-horn... it hangs yonder. He went with King Lotto Mount Badon, and like Lot, he came not back.\"\n\n\"Bring me the pipe,\" said Kevin, and when Gwydion brought it from where it hung on the wall, he rubbed it clean with a cloth, blew the dust from inside it, then put it to his lips and set his twisted fingers to the neat row of holes bored in the horn. He played a little dancing tune, then set it aside, saying, \"I have small skill for this-my fingers are not quick enough. Well, Gwydion, if you love music, they will teach you at Avalon-let me hear you play a little upon this horn.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gwydion's mouth was dry-Morgause saw him wet his lips with his tongue-but he took the wood-and-horn thing in his hands and blew carefully into it. Then he began to play a slow melody, and Kevin, after a moment, nodded.\n\n\"That will do,\" he said. \"You are Morgaine's son, after all-it would be strange if you had no gift at all. We maybe able to teach you much. You may have the makings of a bard, but more likely of a priest and Druid.\"\n\nGwydion blinked and almost let the pipe fall from his hand; he caught it in the skirt of his tunic.\n\n\"Of a bard-what do you mean? Tell me clear!\"\n\nViviane looked straight at him, \"It is the appointed time, Gwydion. You are Druid-born, and of two royal lines. You are to be given the ancient teachings and the secret wisdom in Avalon, that one day you may bear the dragon.\"\n\nHe swallowed-Morgause could see him absorbing this. She could well imagine that the thought of secret wisdom would attract Gwydion more than anything else they might have offered. He stammered, \"You said-two royal lines-\"\n\nViviane shook her head faintly when Niniane would have answered, so Niniane said only, \"All things will be made clear to you when the proper time comes, Gwydion. If you are to be a Druid, the first thing you must learn is when to be silent and ask no questions.\"\n\nHe looked up at her mutely, and Morgause thought, It was worth all the trouble of this day to see Gwydion for once impressed even to speechlessness! Well, she was not surprised; Niniane was beautiful-she looked very much as Igraine had looked as a young girl, or she herself, only with fair hair rather than red." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Viviane said quietly, \"This much I can tell you at once-the mother of your mother's mother was the Lady of the Lake, and from along line of priestesses. Igraine and Morgause also bear the blood of the noble Taliesin, and so do you. Many of the royal lines of these islands, among the Druids, have been preserved in you, and if you are worthy, a great destiny awaits you. But you must be worthy-royal blood alone makes not a king, but courage, and wisdom, and farsightedness. I tell you, Gwydion, that he who wears the dragon maybe more of a king than he who sits on a throne, for the throne maybe won by force of arms, or by craft, or as Lot won it, by being born in the right bed and begot by the right king. But the Great Dragon can be won only by one's own efforts, not in this life alone, but those which have gone before. I tell you a mystery.\"\n\nGwydion said, \"I-I do not understand!\"\n\n\"Of course you do not!\" Viviane's voice was sharp. \"Even as I said-it is a mystery, and wise Druids have sometimes studied for many lifetimes to understand less than that. I did not mean that you should understand, but that you should listen and hear, and learn to obey.\"\n\nGwydion swallowed and lowered his head. Morgause saw Niniane smile at him, and he drew along breath, as if reprieved, and sat down at her feet, listening quietly, for once without trying to make any pert answer or explanation. Morgause thought, Perhaps the training of the Druids is what he needs!\n\n\"So you have come to tell me I have fostered Morgaine's son long enough, and the time is come when he shall betaken to Avalon and schooled in the learning of the Druids. But you would not have travelled yourself by this long road to tell me that-you could have sent any lesser Druid to take the boy into his custody. I have known for years that it would not befit Morgaine's son to end his days among shepherds and fisherfolk. And where else than Avalon would his destiny be laid? I beg you, tell me the rest-oh, yes, there is more, I see in your faces that there is more.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Kevin opened his mouth to speak, but Viviane said sharply, \"Why should I tell you all my thoughts, Morgause, when you seek to turn all things to your advantage and that of your own sons? Even now, Gawaine is nearest the High King's throne not only because of blood, but also in Arthur's love. And I foresaw when Arthur was wedded to Gwenhwyfar that she would bear no child. I thought it only likely that she might die inbreeding, so I wished not to meddle with what happiness Arthur might have-then could we have found him, afterward, a more suitable wife. But I let it goon too long, and now he will not put her away, even though she is barren-and you see in that no more than an opportunity for your own son's advancement.\"\n\n\"You should not assume she is barren, Viviane.\" Kevin's face was set in bitter lines. \"She was pregnant before Mount Badon, and she carried this child a full five months-she might well have brought it to birth. I think she miscarried because of the heat, and the close confinement in the castle, and her own fear of the Saxons... and it was pity for her, I think, which caused Arthur to betray Avalon and put aside the dragon banner.\"\n\nNiniane said, \"So it was not only her childlessness, Queen Morgause, by which Gwenhwyfar did Arthur such great harm. She is a creature of the priests, and already she has influenced him too well. If someday it should happen that she bear a child that might live to grow up... that would be the worst of all.\"\n\nMorgause felt as if she would stifle. \"Gawaine-\"\n\nViviane said harshly, \"Gawaine is Christian as Arthur. He longs only to please Arthur in all things!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Kevin said, \"I know not whether Arthur has any great commitment to the Christian God or whether it is all Gwenhwyfar's doing, to please her and pity her-\"\n\nMorgause said scornfully, \"Is that man fit to rule who would forswear his oath fora woman's sake? Is Arthur forsworn, then?\"\n\nKevin said, \"I heard him say that since Christ and Mary the Virgin gave him the victory at Mount Badon, he will not put them aside now. And I heard him say more, when he spoke with Taliesin-that Mary the Virgin was even as the Great Goddess, and it was she had given him the victory to save this land... and that the banner of the Pendragon was that of his father Uther, and not his own....\"\n\n\"Still,\" said Niniane, \"he had no right to cast it all aside. We in Avalon set Arthur on his throne, and he owes it to us-\"\n\nMorgause said impatiently, \"What matters it what banner flies over a king's troops? The soldiers need something to inspire their imagination-\"\n\n\"As usual, you ignore the point,\" said Viviane. \"It is what lives in their dreams and imagination that we must control from Avalon, or this struggle with Christ will be lost and their souls lie in slavery to a false faith! The symbol of the dragon should be always before them, that mankind seek to accomplish, not to think of sin and do penance!\"\n\nKevin said slowly, \"I know not-perhaps it would be as well that there should be these lesser mysteries for the fools, and then could the wise be shown the inner teaching. Perhaps it has been made all too easy for mankind to come to Avalon, and so they value it not.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Viviane said, \"Would you have it that I should sit by and see Avalon go further into the mists, even as the fairy country?\"\n\n\"I am saying, Lady,\" said Kevin, deferentially, but firmly, \"that it may even now be too late to prevent it-Avalon will always be therefor all men to find if they can seek the way thither, throughout all the ages past the ages. If they cannot find the way to Avalon, it is a sign, perhaps, that they are not ready.\"\n\n\"Still,\" said Viviane, in that hard voice, \"I shall keep Avalon within the world, or die in attempting it!\"\n\nThere was a silence in the hall, and Morgause realized that she was icy cold. She said, \"Buildup the fire, Gwydion-\" and passed the wine. \"Drink, will you not, sister? And you, Master Harper?\"\n\nNiniane poured the wine, but Gwydion sat still, as if dreaming or entranced. Morgause said, \"Gwydion, do as I bade you-\" but Kevin putout a hand and bade her be still. He said, in a whisper, \"The boy's in trance. Gwydion, speak-\"\n\n\"It is all blood-\" he whispered, \"blood, poured out like the blood of sacrifice on the ancient altars, blood spilt on the throne-\"\n\nNiniane stumbled and tripped, and the rest of the wine, blood red, went cascading over Gwydion where he sat, and across Viviane's lap. She rose, startled, and Gwydion blinked and shook himself like a puppy. He said, confused, \"What-I am sorry-let me help you,\" and took the wineskin from Niniane's hand. \"Ugh, it looks like spilt blood, let me fetch a cloth from the kitchens,\" and streaked away like any active lad." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Well, there's your blood,\" said Morgause with disgust. \"Is my Gwydion, too, to be lost in dreams and sickly visions?\"\n\nMopping the sticky wine from her gown, Viviane said, \"Disparage not another's gift because you have not the Sight, Morgause!\"\n\nGwydion came back with the cloth, but as he bent to mop it away, he faltered, and Morgause took the cloth from his hand and beckoned one of the serving-women to come and dry the table and the hearth. He looked ill, but where normally he would have tried to make more of it for her attention, she saw that he turned quickly away as if ashamed. She ached to take him in her arms and rock him, this child who had been her last baby when the others were grown and gone, but she knew he would not thank her for it and held her peace, staring down at her linked hands. Niniane putout a hand to him, too, but it was Viviane who beckoned him, her eyes stern and unflinching.\n\n\"Speak the truth tome: how long have you had the Sight?\"\n\nHe lowered his eyes and said, \"I know not-I did not know what to call it.\" He fidgeted, refusing to look at her.\n\nShe said quietly, \"And you concealed it for pride and love of power, did you not? Now it has mastered you, and you must master it in turn. We came none too soon here-I hope we have not come too late. Are you unsteady on your feet? Sit here, then, and be still.\"\n\nTo Morgause's astonishment, Gwydion sank down quietly at the feet of the two priestesses. After a moment Niniane put her hand on his head and he leaned against her." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Viviane turned again to Morgause and said, \"As I told you before, Gwenhwyfar will bear Arthur no son, but he will not put her aside. All the more because she is a Christian, and their religion forbids a man to put his wife away-\"\n\nMorgause shrugged and said, \"What of that? She has miscarried once, or it maybe, more than once. And she is not so young a woman, not now. Life is uncertain for women.\"\n\n\"Aye, Morgause,\" said Viviane, \"once before you sought to trade on that uncertainty of life, so that your son might stand near to the throne-did you not? I warn you, my sister-meddle not in what the Gods have decreed!\"\n\nMorgause smiled. \"I thought, Viviane, that you lectured me long-or was it Taliesin?-that nothing comes about save by the will of the Gods. If Arthur had died ere he came to Uther's throne, why then, I doubt not the Gods would have found another to serve their turn.\"\n\n\"I came not hereto argue theology, you miserable girl,\" said Viviane angrily. \"Do you think, if I had my will, that I would have entrusted you with life or death for the royal line of Avalon?\"\n\nMorgause said with silky wrath, \"But the Goddess willed it not that you should do your own will, so it seems tome, Viviane. I am weary of this talk of old prophecy... if there be any Gods at all, of which I am not even certain, I cannot believe they would stoop to meddle in the affairs of men. Nor will I wait upon the Gods to do what I see clearly must be done-who's to say that the Goddess cannot work through my hand as well as another.\" She saw that Niniane was shocked-aye, she was another such ninny as Igraine, believing all this talk of Gods. \"As for the royal line of Avalon, you see I have fostered it well.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"He seems strong and well, a healthy boy,\" said Viviane, \"but can you swear you have not flawed him within, Morgause?\"\n\nGwydion raised his head and said sharply, \"My foster-mother has been good tome. The lady Morgaine cared not much for the fostering of her son-not once has she come hitherto ask whether I lived or died!\"\n\nKevin said severely, \"You were bade speak only when spoken to, Gwydion. And you know nothing of Morgaine's reasons or purposes.\"\n\nMorgause looked sharply at the crippled little bard. Has Morgaine confided in this wretched abortion, when I had to force her secret from her by spells and the Sight? She felt a surge of wrath, but Viviane said, \"Enough. You fostered him well while it suited you, Morgause, but I mark you have not forgotten he stands one step nearer the throne than did Arthur at his age, and two steps nearer than your own son Gawaine! As for Gwenhwyfar, I have seen that she is to play some part in the fate of Avalon-she cannot be wholly without the Sight or the vision, for once she broke through the mists and stood upon the shores of Avalon. Perhaps if she were given a son, and it was made clear that it was by Avalon's arts and will-\" She glanced at Niniane. \"She is capable of conception-with a strong sorceress at her side to keep her from casting forth the child.\"\n\n\"It is too late for that,\" Kevin said. \"It was all her doing that Arthur betrayed Avalon and set aside the dragon banner. The truth is, I suppose, that her wits are not in the right place.\"\n\n\"The truth is,\" said Niniane, \"that you bear her a grudge, Kevin. Why?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The harper cast his eyes down and stared at his scarred and twisted hands. He said at last, \"True. I cannot even in my thoughts deal fair with Gwenhwyfar-I am no more than human. But even if I loved her well, I would say she is no queen fora king who must rule from Avalon. I would not grieve, should she suffer some accident or mischance. For if she gave Arthur a son, she would think it only the goodness of Christ, though the Lady of the Lake herself stood by her bed. I cannot help but pray she has no such good fortune.\"\n\nMorgause smiled her cat smile. \"Gwenhwyfar may seek to be more Christian than Christ's self,\" she said, \"but I know something of their Scriptures, for Lot had a priest here from Iona to teach the lads. The Holy Writ runs thus, that he is damned who shall put his wife away save for adultery. And even herein Lothian we have heard-the Queen is hardly so chaste as all that. Arthur is away often at the wars, and all men know how she looks with favor upon your son, Viviane.\"\n\n\"You do not know Gwenhwyfar,\" Kevin said. \"She is pious more than reason, and Lancelet is so much Arthur's friend that I think Arthur would not move against them unless he took the two of them together in his bed before all of the court.\"\n\n\"Even that might be arranged,\" said Morgause. \"Gwenhwyfar is too beautiful to think that other women would love her much. Surely someone around her could make an open scandal, to force Arthur's hand-\"\n\nViviane made a grimace of distaste. \"What woman would betray a fellow womanlike that?\"\n\nMorgause said, \"I would, if I were convinced it was for the good of the kingdom.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I would not so,\" said Niniane, \"and Lancelet is honorable, and Arthur's closest friend. I doubt he would betray Arthur for Gwenhwyfar. If we wish Gwenhwyfar set aside, we must look elsewhere.\"\n\n\"And there is this,\" said Viviane, and she sounded tired. \"Gwenhwyfar has done nothing wrong that we know-we cannot set her down from Arthur's side while she keeps the bargain she has made, to be a dutiful wife to Arthur. If a scandal is made, there must be truth in it. Avalon is sworn to uphold the truth.\"\n\n\"But if there were a true scandal?\" Kevin said.\n\n\"Then she must take her chances,\" Viviane said, \"but I will not be party to any false accusations.\"\n\n\"Yet she has at least one other enemy,\" said Kevin thoughtfully. \"Leodegranz of the Summer Country has just died, and his young wife and her last child with her, Gwenhwyfar is queen there now; but Leodegranz had a kinsman-he claims to be a son, but I believe it not-and I think he would like it well if he could claim to be king in the old manner of the Tribes, by bedding with the queen.\"\n\nGwydion said, \"It is well they have no such custom at Lot's most Christian court, is it not?\" But he spoke softly, so that they could affect not to hear him. And Morgause thought: He is angry because he is being ignored, that is all. Am Ito be angry because a puppy bites me with his little teeth?\n\n\"By the old custom,\" said Niniane, her pretty brow ridging into little lines, \"Gwenhwyfar is not wedded to any unless she has borne him a son, and if another man can take her from Arthur-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Aye, there's the question,\" said Viviane, laughing. \"Arthur can keep his wife by force of arms. And he would do it, too, I doubt not.\" Then she sobered. \"The one thing we can be certain of is that Gwenhwyfar shall remain barren. Should she conceive again, there are spells to make certain she carries not the child to birth, or past the first few weeks. As for Arthur's heir...\" She paused, and looked at Gwydion, still sitting like a sleepy child, his head resting on Niniane's lap. \"There sits a son of the royal line of Avalon-and son to the Great Dragon.\"\n\nMorgause caught her breath. Never once, in all these years, had it occurred to her that it was anything other than the gravest mischance that Morgaine had gotten herself with child by her half-brother. Now she saw the complexity of Viviane's plan and was awe-stricken by the audacity of it-to set a child of Avalon and of Arthur on the throne after his father.\n\nWhat of the King Stag when the young stag is grown...? Fora moment Morgause did not know whether the thought had been her own or had come into her head as an echo from one of the two Avalon priestesses before her; always she had had these disturbing, incomplete moments of the Sight, though she could never control when they would come or go, and, truth to tell, had not cared to do so.\n\nGwydion's eyes were wide; he leaned forward, his mouth open. \"Lady-\" he said breathlessly, \"is it true-that I, I am the son of the-of the High King?\"\n\n\"Aye,\" said Viviane, her mouth tight, \"though the priests will never acknowledge it. To them it would be sin of all sins, that a son should get a son on his mother's daughter. They have set themselves up holier than the Goddess herself, who is mother to us all. But it is so.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Kevin turned; slowly, painfully, with his crippled body, he knelt down before Gwydion.\n\n\"My prince and my lord,\" he said, \"child of the royal line of Avalon, and son to the Great Dragon, we have come to take you to Avalon, where you maybe prepared for your destiny. On the morrow you must be ready to depart.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "On the morrow you must be ready to depart....\"\n\nIt was like to the terror of a dream that they should speak thus openly of what I had kept secret all these years, even during that time when none thought I could live after his birth.... I could have gone to my death with none knowing I had borne a child to my own brother. But Morgause had got the secret from me, and Viviane knew... it was an old saying, three could keep a secret if but two of them lay in their graves.... Viviane had planned this, she had used meas she had used Igraine!\n\nBut the dream was beginning to breakup now and shift and ripple as if it were all underwater. I fought to keep it, to hear, but it seemed that Arthur was there and he drew a sword and advanced on Gwydion, and the child caught Excalibur from its scabbard....\n\nMorgaine sat bolt upright in her room at Camelot, catching at the blanket. No, she told herself, no, it was a dream, only a dream. I do not even know who sits next to Viviane in Avalon, no doubt it is Raven, not this fair-haired woman so like to my mother that I have seen again and again in my dreams. And who knows if such a woman walks the face of this earth or Avalon, or whether she is a confused dream of my mother? I do not remember anyone even a little like her in the House of Maidens....\n\nI should be there. It is I should beat Viviane's side, and I cast it away of my freewill....\n\n\"Look,\" Elaine called from the window. \"Already there are riders coming in, and it is three full days till Arthur's great feast!\"\n\nThe other women in the chamber crowded around Elaine, looking down at the field before Camelot; already there were tents and pavilions pitched there. Elaine said, \"I see my father's banner. There he rides, with my brother, Lamorak, at his side-he is old enough to be one of Arthur's Companions now. I wonder if Arthur will choose him as one.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"He was not old enough to fight at Mount Badon, was he?\" Morgaine asked.\n\n\"He was not old enough, but he fought nevertheless, as did every man old enough to hold a sword, and every young boy too,\" said Elaine proudly.\n\n\"Then I doubt not that Arthur will make him one of his Companions, if only to please Pellinore,\" said Morgaine. The great battle of Mount Badon had been fought a year ago on the day of Pentecost, and Arthur had vowed always to keep this day as a time of high feasting and to greet all his old Companions; on Pentecost, too, he would welcome all petitioners and give out justice. And all the subject kings from the outlying kingdoms would come before the High King to renew their allegiance.\n\n\"You must go to the Queen and help her dress,\" Morgaine said to Elaine, \"and I must be off as well. I have much to do if there is to be a great feast in only three days!\"\n\n\"Sir Cai will see to all that,\" Elaine remonstrated.\n\n\"Aye, he will see to the feeding and housing of the multitudes,\" said Morgaine cheerfully, \"but it is I must provide flowers for the hall, and see to the polishing of the silver cups, and it is likely I must make the almond cakes and sweets too-Gwenhwyfar will have other things on her mind.\"\n\nAnd indeed, Morgaine was glad to have so much to do for the three days of feasting; it took her mind away from the dread and terror of her dream. In these days, whenever Avalon came into her mind in a dream, she shut it outwith desperation... she had not known that Kevin rode north to Lothian. No, she told herself, and I do not know it now, it was only a dream. But once during that day, when she encountered the elderly Taliesin in the courtyard, she bowed to him, and when he putout a hand to bless her, she said shyly, \"Father-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Yes, dear child?\"\n\nTen years ago, Morgaine thought, I would have been angry that Taliesin speaks tome always as if I were still a child of seven who might crawl into his lap and tug at his beard. Now, obscurely, it comforted her. \"Is Kevin the Merlin bound here for Pentecost?\"\n\n\"Why, I know not, child,\" said Taliesin, with a kindly smile. \"He has ridden north to Lothian. But I know that he loves you well and that he will return to you when he can. I think nothing would keep him from this court while you were here, little Morgaine.\"\n\nDoes everyone at this court know that we have been lovers? Surely I have been more discreet than that. Morgaine said waspishly, \"Is it common gossip at this court that Kevin the Harper comes and goes at my bidding-when it is not even true?\"\n\nTaliesin smiled again and said, \"Dear child, never be ashamed to love. And it has meant everything to Kevin, that one so kindly and gracious and beautiful as you-\"\n\n\"Do you mock me, Grandsire?\"\n\n\"Why should I so, little one? You are the daughter of my dear daughter, and I love you well, and you know I think you the most beautiful and gifted of women. And Kevin, I have no doubt, thinks you so even more, and you are the only one at this court save myself, and the only woman ever, who can speak to him of music in his own language. If you know not that for Kevin the sunrises and sets where you come and go, then you are the only one at this court who knows it not. You deserve it well that he should turn to you as the starshine of his days and nights. It is not even forbidden to the Merlin of Britain that he should marry, if he chooses. Royal he is not, but he is noble in heart, and will one day be High Druid if his courage fails him not. And on the day when he seeks your hand, I do not think either Arthur or myself would say him no.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Morgaine lowered her face and stared at the ground. Ah, she thought, how fitting it would be if I could care so for Kevin as he for me. I value him, I love him well, I take pleasure even in sharing his bed, but marriage? No, she thought, no, no, not for all his devotion. \"I have no mind to be married, Grandsire.\"\n\n\"Well, you must do your own will, child,\" Taliesin said gently. \"You are lady and priestess. But you are not so young, either, and since you have forsaken Avalon-no, I do not reproach you, but I thought it might well be that you wished to marry and have a home of your own. I would not see you spend all your days as Gwenhwyfar's waiting-woman. As for Kevin the Harper, no doubt he will be here if he can, but he cannot ride as swiftly as other men. It is good that you do not despise him for his body's infirmity, dear child.\"\n\nWhen Taliesin had gone, Morgaine went on toward the brew house, thinking deeply. She wished she could indeed love Kevin as Taliesin thought she did.\n\nWhy am I cursed with this feeling for Lancelet? All the time she prepared scented rosewater for washing guests' hands and flavoring confections, she thought about that. Well, when Kevin was here, at least she had no reason to desire Lancelet-not that it would do her any good, she thought wryly, to desire him. Desire must go two ways or it is worthless. She resolved that when Kevin came back again to court, she would give him such a welcome as he could wish.\n\nNo doubt, I could do worse than wed with him... Avalon is lost tome... I will think of it. And indeed my dream saw true so far, that he was in Lothian... and I thought the Sight had forsaken me...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Kevin returned to Camelot on the eve of Pentecost; all that day folk had been streaming into Camelot and the surrounding country, as if it were twice over harvest fair and spring-trading fair. It was the greatest festival ever to beheld in this countryside. Morgaine welcomed Kevin with a kiss and embrace which made the harper's eyes glow, and led him to a guest chamber, where she took his cloak and travelling shoes and sent them with one of the boys to be cleaned, and brought him ribbons to make his harp fine.\n\n\"Why, My Lady will be brave as the Queen,\" said Kevin, laughing at her. \"Do you not bear grudge to your only rival, Morgaine, love?\"\n\nHe had never called her so before, and she came and stood close to him, her arm around his waist. He said softly, \"I have missed you,\" and laid his face fora moment against her breast.\n\n\"And I you, my dear,\" she said, \"and when all have gone to rest this night, I shall prove it to you... why, do you think, have I arranged that you shall have a guest chamber to yourself, when even Arthur's dearest Companions have had to be housed four to a room and sometimes two to abed?\"\n\nHe said, \"I thought it was so that none other need share quarters with me.\"\n\n\"And so it shall be for the dignity of Avalon,\" said Morgaine, \"though even Taliesin shares his chamber with the bishop-\"\n\n\"I do not admire his taste,\" said Kevin. \"I would sooner be housed in the stable with the other donkeys!\"\n\n\"I would have it that the Merlin of Britain should be lodged in a chamber to himself, even if it is no bigger than a stall for one of those donkeys,\" said Morgaine. \"But it is large enough for you and for My Lady, and\"-she smiled and looked pointedly at the bed-\"and for me, I daresay.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You will always be welcome, and if My Lady is jealous I will turn her face to the wall.\" He kissed her, holding her tight fora moment with all the strength in his wiry arms. Then, letting her go, he said, \"I thought you would like to hear-I rode with your son to Avalon. He is a well-grown lad, and a clever one, and has some of your gift for music.\"\n\n\"I dreamed of him the other night,\" she said. \"In my dream, I think he played on a pipe-like Gawaine's.\"\n\n\"Then you dreamed truly,\" said Kevin. \"I like him well, and he has the Sight. He will be schooled in Avalon fora Druid.\"\n\n\"And then?\"\n\n\"Then? Ah, my dear,\" said Kevin, \"things must go as they will. But I doubt not he will make a bard and a notable wise man-you need have no fear for him upon Avalon.\" He touched her shoulder gently. \"He has your eyes.\"\n\nShe would have liked to ask more, but turned to something else. \"The feast will not be till tomorrow,\" she said, \"but tonight the closest of Arthur's friends and Companions have been bidden to dine. Gareth is to be made a knight upon the morrow, and Arthur, who loves Gawaine like a brother, has chosen to honor him at a family party.\"\n\n\"Gareth is a good man and a good knight,\" said Kevin, \"and I will gladly do him honor. I like not Queen Morgause greatly, but her sons are fine men and good friends to Arthur.\"\n\nEven though it was a family party, there were many close kinsmen to sit at Arthur's table hereon the eve of Pentecost: Gwenhwyfar and her kinswoman Elaine, and Elaine's father, King Pellinore, and her brother, Lamorak; Taliesin and Lancelet, and three of Lancelet's half-brothers-Balan, son of the Lady of the Lake, and Bors and Lionel, both of whom were sons of Ban of Less Britain. Gareth was there, and as always, Gawaine stood behind Arthur at table. Arthur had protested, as they came into the hall. \"Sit here beside us tonight, Gawaine-you are my kinsman, and king in your own right in Orkney, and I like it not that you should stand like a serving-man behind my place!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gawaine said roughly, \"I am proud to stand and serve my lord and king, sir,\" and Arthur bent his head.\n\n\"You make me feel like those old Caesars,\" he complained. \"Need I be guarded night and day even in my own hall?\"\n\n\"For the dignity of your throne, sir, you are even as those Caesars, and more,\" insisted Gawaine, and Arthur laughed helplessly.\n\n\"I can deny nothing to those of you who were my Companions.\"\n\n\"So,\" Kevin said in an undertone to Morgaine, where they sat side by side, \"it is not hubris then or arrogance, but he wishes only to please his Companions-\"\n\n\"I think, truly, it is so,\" Morgaine said in an undertone. \"This he loves best, I think, to sit in his own hall and look upon the peace he has wrought; whatever his faults, Arthur truly loves the rule of order and the kingdom of law.\"\n\nLater, Arthur gestured them all to silence, calling young Gareth to him. \"Tonight you will watch in the church by your arms,\" he said, \"and in the morning before mass, whichever knight you choose shall make you one of my Companions. You have served me well and honorably, young as you are. If you wish for it, I will myself make you knight, but I will understand if you wish that your brother should give you this honor.\"\n\nGareth wore a white tunic; his hair was like a golden halo curling around his face. He looked almost like a child, a tall child towering to a good six feet high, with shoulders like a young bull. His face was fuzzy with soft golden down too fine to be shaven. He said, stammering a little in his eagerness, \"Sir, I beg you-I mean no offense to you nor to my brother, but I-if he will-could I be made knight by Lancelet, my lord and my king?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Arthur smiled. \"Why, if Lancelet will have it so, I have no objection.\"\n\nMorgaine remembered a little child prattling of Lancelet to a painted wooden knight she had carved for him. How many people, she wondered, saw such a childhood dream come true? Lancelet said gravely, \"I should be honored, cousin,\" and Gareth's face lighted as if a torch had been set to it. Then Lancelet turned to Gawaine and said, with punctilious courtesy, \"But it is for you to give me leave, cousin-you stand in a father's place to this lad, and I would not usurp your right-\"\n\nGawaine looked awkwardly from one to the other of them, and Morgaine saw Gareth bite his lip-only now, perhaps, did he understand that this might be seen as an offense to his brother, and that the King had done him the honor of offering to make him a knight-an honor he had refused. What a child he was, despite his great strength and height and precocious skill at arms!\n\nGawaine said gruffly, \"Who would be made knight by me when Lancelet would consent to do it?\"\n\nLancelet flung an exuberant arm around each of them. \"You dome too much honor, both of you. Well, go, lad,\" he said, releasing Gareth, \"go to your arms, I will come and watch with you after midnight.\"\n\nGawaine watched as the boy loped away, with his long awkward stride, and then said, \"You should be one of those old Greeks, as it was told in that saga we read when we were boys. How was he called-Achilles-whose truelove was the young knight Patroclus, and neither cared anything for all the fine dames of the court of Troy-God knows every lad in this court worships you as their hero. Pity you have no mind to the Greek fashion in love!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lancelet's face turned dusky red. \"You are my cousin, Gawaine, and can say such things tome-I would not hear such things from any other, even in jest.\"\n\nGawaine laughed loudly again. \"Aye, a jest-for one who professes devotion only to our most chaste Queen-\"\n\n\"You dare!\" Lancelet began, turning on him, and gripped his arm with strength enough to break his wrist. Gawaine struggled, but Lancelet, though he was the smaller man, bent his arm backward, growling with rage like an angry wolf.\n\n\"Here! No brawling in the King's hall!\" Cai thrust himself awkwardly between them, and Morgaine said quickly, \"Why, Gawaine, what then will you say to all those priests who profess devotion to Mary the Virgin beyond all things on earth? Would you have it they all have a scandalous carnal devotion to their Christ? And indeed, we hear of the Lord Jesus that he never married, and that even among his chosen twelve there was one who leaned on his bosom at supper-\"\n\nGwenhwyfar gave a shocked cry. \"Morgaine, hush! Such a blasphemous jest!\" Lancelet let goof Gawaine's arm; Gawaine stood rubbing the bruise, and Arthur turned and frowned at them.\n\n\"You are like children, cousins, squabbling and bickering-shall I send you to be beaten by Cai in the kitchens? Come now, befriends again! I heard not the jest, but whatever it was, Lance, it cannot have been so serious as all that!\"\n\nGawaine laughed roughly and said, \"I jested, Lance-all too many women pursue you, I know, for what I said to have anything at all of truth,\" and Lancelet shrugged and smiled, like a bird with ruffled feathers." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Cai chuckled. \"Every man at court envies you your handsome face, Lance.\" He rubbed the scar that pulled his mouth uptight into a sneer, and said, \"But it may not be all that much of a blessing, eh, cousin?\"\n\nIt dissolved into good-natured laughter, but later Morgaine, crossing the court, saw Lancelet still pacing, troubled, feathers still ruffled.\n\n\"What is it, kinsman, what ails you?\"\n\nHe sighed. \"I would that I might leave this court.\"\n\n\"But my lady will not let you go.\"\n\n\"Even to you, Morgaine, I will not talk of the Queen,\" he said stiffly, and it was Morgaine's turn to sigh.\n\n\"I am not the keeper of your conscience, Lancelet. If Arthur does not chide you, who am Ito speak a word of reproach?\"\n\n\"You don't understand!\" he said fiercely. \"She was given to Arthur like something bought at market, part of a purchase in horses because her father would have kinship with the High King as part of the price! Yet she is too loyal to murmur-\"\n\n\"I spoke no word against her, Lancelet,\" Morgaine reminded him. \"You hear accusations from yourself, not from my lips.\"\n\nShe thought, I could make him desire me, but the knowledge was like a mouthful of dust. Once she had played that game, and beneath the desire he had feared her, as he feared Viviane herself; feared her to the edge of hatred because of that desire. If his king commanded he would have her, but would soon come to hate.\n\nHe managed to look directly at her. \"You cursed me, and-and believe me, I am cursed.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And suddenly the old anger and contempt melted. He was as he was. She clasped his hand between her own. \"Cousin, don't trouble yourself about that. It was many, many years ago, and I don't think there is any God or Goddess who would listen to the words of an angry young girl who thought herself scorned. And I was no more than that.\"\n\nHe drew along breath and began to pace again. At last he said, \"I could have killed Gawaine tonight. I am glad you stopped us, even with that blasphemous jesting. I-I have had to deal with that, all my life. When I was a boy at Ban's court, I was prettier than Gareth is now, and in the court of Less Britain, and like enough in other places, such a boy must guard himself more carefully than any maiden. But no man sees or believes any such thing unless it touches him, and thinks it only a slightly vulgar joke made about other people. There was a time when I thought it so too, and then a time when I thought I could never be otherwise....\"\n\nThere was along silence, while he stared grimly at the flagstones of the courtyard.\n\n\"And so I flung myself into experiment with women, any woman-God help me, even with you who were my own mother's fosterling and pledged maiden to the Goddess-but there were few women who could rouse me even a little, till I saw-her.\" Morgaine was glad he did not speak Gwenhwyfar's name. \"And since that moment there has been no other. With her, I know myself all man.\"\n\nMorgaine said, \"But she is Arthur's wife-\"\n\n\"God! God!\" Lancelet turned and struck his hand against the wall. \"Do you think that does not torment me? He is my friend; if Gwenhwyfar were wedded to any other man who dwells this earth, I would have had her away with me and to my own place-\" Morgaine saw the muscles of his throat move as he tried to swallow. \"I do not know what will become of us. And Arthur must have an heir to his kingdom. The fate of all Britain is more important than our love. I love them both-and I am tormented, Morgaine, tormented!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "His eyes were wild; fora moment it seemed to Morgaine that she saw some hint of madness. Ever after, she wondered, Was there anything, anything I could have said or done that night?\n\n\"Tomorrow,\" Lancelet said, \"I shall beg Arthur to send me out on some difficult quest-to go and make an end forever of Pellinore's dragon, to conquer the wild Northmen beyond the Roman wall-I care not what, Morgaine, anything, anything to take me away from here-\" and fora moment, hearing in his voice a sadness beyond tears, Morgaine wanted to hold him in her arms and rock him at her breast like a babe.\n\n\"I think I came near to killing Gawaine tonight, had you not stopped us,\" Lancelet said. \"Yet he was only jesting, he would have died with horror if he knew-\" Lancelet turned his eyes away and at last said in a whisper, \"I know not if what he said is true. I should take Gwenhwyfar and begone from here, before it becomes a scandal to all the courts of the world, that I love the wife of my king, and yet... yet it is Arthur I cannot leave... I know not but what I love her only because I come close, thus, to him.\"\n\nMorgaine putout her hand to stop him. There were things she could not bear to know. But Lancelet did not even see.\n\n\"No, no, I must tell someone or I shall die of it-Morgaine, know you how first I came to lie with the Queen? I had loved her long, since first I saw heron Avalon, but I thought I would live and die with that passion unspent-Arthur was my friend and I would not betray him,\" he said. \"And she, she-you must never think that she tempted me! But-but it was Arthur's will,\" he said. \"It came about at Beltane-\" and then he told her, while Morgaine stood frozen, thinking only, So this is how the charm worked... I would that the Goddess had stricken me with leprosy before ever I gave it to Gwenhwyfar!" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"But you do not know all,\" he whispered." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"As we lay together-never, never had anything so-so-\" He swallowed and fumbled to put into words what Morgaine could not bear to hear. \"I-I touched Arthur-I touched him. I love her, oh, God, I love her, mistake me not, but had she not been Arthur's wife, had it not been for-I doubt even she-\" He choked and could not finish his sentence, while Morgaine stood utterly still, appalled beyond speech. Was this then the revenge of the Goddess-that she who loved this man without hope, should become the confidante of both him and the woman he loved, that she should be the repository of all the secret fears he could speak to no one else, the incomprehensible passions within his soul?\n\n\"Lancelet, you should not say these things tome, not tome. Some man-Taliesin-a priest-\"\n\n\"What can a priest know of this?\" he demanded in despair. \"No man, I think, has ever felt such-God knows I hear enough of what men desire, they talk of nothing else, and now and then some man reveals something strange he may desire, but never, never, nothing so strange and evil as this! I am damned,\" he cried out. \"This is my punishment for desiring the wife of my king, that I should beheld in this terrible bondage-even Arthur, if he knew, would hate and despise me. He knows I love Gwenhwyfar, but this not even he could forgive, and Gwenhwyfar-who knows if she, even she, would not hate and despise me-\" His voice choked into silence.\n\nMorgaine could only say the words she had been taught in Avalon. \"The Goddess knows what is in the hearts of men, Lancelet. She will comfort you.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"But this is to spurn the Goddess,\" Lancelet whispered, in frozen horror." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And what of the man who sees that same Goddess in the face of the mother who bore him... I cannot turn to her.... Almost I am tempted to go and throw myself at the feet of the Christ. His priests say he can forgive any sin, however damnable, as he spoke words of forgiveness to those who crucified him....\"\n\nMorgaine said sharply that she had never seen any sign that his priests were so tender and forgiving with sinners.\n\n\"Aye, no doubt you are right,\" said Lancelet, staring bleakly at the flagstones. \"There is no help anywhere, till I am slain in battle or ride forth from hereto throw myself in the path of a dragon....\" He poked with his shoe at a little clump of grass that was growing up through the stones in the courtyard. \"And no doubt sin and good and evil are all lies told by priests and men, and the truth is only that we grow and die and wither even as this grass here.\" He turned on his heel. \"Well, I will go and share Gareth's vigil, as I promised him... heat least loves me in all innocence, like a younger brother or my son. I should fear to kneel before that altar, if I believed one word of what their priests say, damned as I am. And yet-how I wish there were such a God as could forgive me and let me know myself forgiven....\"\n\nHe turned to go, but Morgaine caught at the embroidered sleeve of the festival gown he had put on. \"Wait. What is this of a vigil in the church? I knew not that Arthur's Companions had grown so pious.\"\n\n\"Arthur thinks often of his kingmaking on Dragon Island,\" said Lancelet, \"and he said once that the Romans with their many Gods, and the old pagan folk, had something which was needed in life, that when men took on some great obligation, they should do it prayerfully, and be in mind of its great meaning and dedication. And so he spoke with the priests, and they have made it so in ritual, that when any new Companion, not seasoned by battle-where he is tried by the very confrontation with death-when an unblooded man joins with the Companions, there is this special testing, that he shall watch and pray all night by his arms, and in the morning confess all his sins and be shriven, and then be made knight.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Why, then, it is a kind of initiation into the Mysteries that he would give them. But he is no maker of Mysteries, he has no right to confer the Mysteries on another or give initiation, and all garbled in the name of their Christ God. In the name of the Mother, will they even takeover the Mysteries?\"\n\nLancelet answered defensively, \"He consulted with Taliesin, who gave countenance to it,\" and Morgaine was startled that one of the highest Druids would so compromise the Mysteries. Yet there had been a time, so Taliesin said, when Christian and Druid worshipped in common.\n\n\"It is what happens in the soul of the man,\" said Lancelet, \"not whether it is Christian or pagan or Druid. If Gareth faces the mystery in his heart, and it makes him a better man in his soul, does it matter whence it comes, from the Goddess or from Christ or from that Name the Druids may not speak-or from the very goodness within himself?\"\n\n\"Why, you argue like Taliesin's very self!\" said Morgaine sourly.\n\n\"Aye, I know the words.\" His mouth twisted with terrible bitterness. \"Would to God-any God-I could find something in my heart which believed them, or some such comfort as that!\"\n\nMorgaine could only say, \"I would that you might, cousin. I will pray for you.\"\n\n\"But to whom?\" Lancelet asked and went away, leaving Morgaine sorely troubled.\n\nIt was not yet midnight. In the church she could seethe lights where Gareth and now Lancelet kept vigil. She bent her head, remembering the night when she herself had kept watch, her hand automatically going to her side for the touch of a little crescent knife that had not hung therefor many years." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Carry on with the plot as the author's writing partner.\nTags: fantasy, arthurian, historical fantasy\nAuthor: Marion Zimmer Bradley\nTitle: The Mists of Avalon\nChapter: 43" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Why, then, it is a kind of initiation into the Mysteries that he would give them. But he is no maker of Mysteries, he has no right to confer the Mysteries on another or give initiation, and all garbled in the name of their Christ God. In the name of the Mother, will they even takeover the Mysteries?\"\n\nLancelet answered defensively, \"He consulted with Taliesin, who gave countenance to it,\" and Morgaine was startled that one of the highest Druids would so compromise the Mysteries. Yet there had been a time, so Taliesin said, when Christian and Druid worshipped in common.\n\n\"It is what happens in the soul of the man,\" said Lancelet, \"not whether it is Christian or pagan or Druid. If Gareth faces the mystery in his heart, and it makes him a better man in his soul, does it matter whence it comes, from the Goddess or from Christ or from that Name the Druids may not speak-or from the very goodness within himself?\"\n\n\"Why, you argue like Taliesin's very self!\" said Morgaine sourly.\n\n\"Aye, I know the words.\" His mouth twisted with terrible bitterness. \"Would to God-any God-I could find something in my heart which believed them, or some such comfort as that!\"\n\nMorgaine could only say, \"I would that you might, cousin. I will pray for you.\"\n\n\"But to whom?\" Lancelet asked and went away, leaving Morgaine sorely troubled.\n\nIt was not yet midnight. In the church she could seethe lights where Gareth and now Lancelet kept vigil. She bent her head, remembering the night when she herself had kept watch, her hand automatically going to her side for the touch of a little crescent knife that had not hung therefor many years." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And I cast it away. Who am Ito speak of profaning the Mysteries?\n\nThen the air suddenly stirred and swirled like a whirlpool before her, and she felt she would sink down where she stood, for Viviane stood before her in the moonlight.\n\nShe was older and thinner. Her eyes were like great burning coals set beneath her level brows, her hair almost all white now. She looked on Morgaine, it seemed, with sorrow and tenderness.\n\n\"Mother-\" she stammered, not knowing whether she spoke to Viviane or to the Goddess. And then the image wavered and Morgaine knew that Viviane was not there; a Sending, no more.\n\n\"Why have you come? What do you want of me?\" Morgaine whispered, kneeling, feeling the stir of Viviane's robes in the night wind. About her brow was a crown of wicker-withes like to the crown of the queen of the fairy country. The apparition stretched forth her hand, and Morgaine could feel the faded crescent burning on her brow.\n\nThe nightwatchman strode through the court, the light of his lantern flaring; Morgaine knelt alone, staring at nothing. Hastily she scrambled to her feet before the man could see.\n\nShe had lost, suddenly, all desire to go to Kevin's bed. He would be waiting for her, but if she did not come, he would never think of reproaching her. She stole quietly through the hallways to the room she shared with Gwenhwyfar's unmarried maidens, and into the bed she shared with young Elaine.\n\nI thought the Sight forever gone from me. Yet Viviane came tome and stretched out her hand. Is it that Avalon has need of me? Or does it mean that I, like Lancelet, am going mad?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "When Morgaine woke, all around her the castle was already waking to the noise and confusion of a holiday. Pentecost. In the courtyard there were banners flying, and people were streaming in and out of the gates, servants were setting up lists for the games, pavilions were sprouting allover Camelot and on the slopes of the hill like strange and beautiful flowers.\n\nThere was no time for dreams and visions. Gwenhwyfar sent for her to dress her hair-no woman in all Camelot was so deft with her hands as Morgaine, and Morgaine had promised her that this morning she would braid the Queen's hair in the special plaits with four strands which she herself used on high festivals. While she was combing out and separating Gwenhwyfar's fine silky hair for braiding, Morgaine glanced sidewise at the bed from which her sister-in-law had risen. Arthur had already been dressed by his servants and gone out. The pages and chamberlains were spreading the covers, taking away soiled clothes to be cleaned and washed, laying out fresh gowns for Gwenhwyfar's approval.\n\nMorgaine thought: They shared that bed, all three of them, Lancelet, Gwenhwyfar, Arthur-no, such a thing was not wholly unknown; she remembered something in the fairy country that would not come clear in her mind. Lancelet was tormented, and she could have no idea how Arthur regarded all this. As her small quick hands moved on Gwenhwyfar's hair, she wondered what her sister-in-law felt. Suddenly her own mind was flooded with erotic images, memory of that day on Dragon Island when Arthur, waking, had drawn her into his arms, of the night she had lain in Lancelet's arms in the field. She lowered her eyes and went on twisting the fine hair." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You are pulling it too tight,\" Gwenhwyfar complained, and Morgaine said stiffly, \"I am sorry,\" and forced her hands to relax. Arthur had been only a boy then, and she a maiden. Lancelet-did he give to Gwenhwyfar what he had withheld from her, or was the Queen content with those childish caresses? Try as Morgaine would, she could not turn her mind from the hateful pictures that haunted it, but she went on calmly braiding, her face a mask.\n\n\"There, that will hold-hand me the silver pin,\" she said, fastening up the braids. Gwenhwyfar surveyed herself, delighted, in the copper mirror which was one of her treasures. \"It is beautiful, dear sister-thank you so much,\" she said, turning and impulsively embracing Morgaine, who stiffened in her arms.\n\n\"You owe me no thanks-it is easier to do on another's head than my own,\" Morgaine said. \"Wait, that pin is slipping-\" and she refastened it. Gwenhwyfar was glowing, beautiful-and Morgaine put her arms around her, laying her cheek fora moment against Gwenhwyfar's. It seemed enough, fora moment, to touch that beauty, as if something of it could penetrate her and give her some of that glow and loveliness. Then she remembered again what Lancelet had told her, and thought, I am no better than he. I too nurse all manner of strange and perverse desires, and who am Ito mock at any?\n\nShe envied the Queen, laughing happily as she directed Elaine to go to her chests and seek out cups for prizes for the winners of the games. Gwenhwyfar was simple and open, she was never tortured by these dark thoughts; Gwenhwyfar's griefs were simple, the griefs and troubles of any woman, fear for her husband's safety, grief over her childlessness-for all the charm's working, there had been no sign of pregnancy. If one man could not get her with child, it is likely that two could not, Morgaine thought wickedly." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gwenhwyfar was smiling. \"Shall we go down? I have not greeted the guests-King Uriens is here from North Wales, with his grown son. How would you like to be Queen of Wales, Morgaine? I have heard that Uriens will ask the King fora wife among his wards-\"\n\nMorgaine laughed. \"You think I would make him a good queen because I am not likely to give him a son to challenge Avalloch's claim to the throne?\"\n\n\"It is true you would be old to bear a first child,\" Gwenhwyfar said, \"yet I still have hope that I may give my lord and king an heir.\" Gwenhwyfar did not know that Morgaine had a child, and she should never know.\n\nYet it nagged at her.\n\nArthur should know that he has a son. He blames himself that he can give Gwenhwyfar no child-for his own peace of mind he should know. And if it should come to pass that Gwenhwyfar never bears a child, then at least the King has a son. None need know that it is his own sister's. And Gwydion bears the royal line of Avalon. And now he is old enough to be sent to Avalon and be made a Druid. Truly I should have gone to look upon his face, long before this day....\n\n\"Listen,\" said Elaine, \"the trumpets are blowing in the courtyard-someone important is here, and we must make haste-they will serve mass in the church this morning.\"\n\n\"And Gareth is to be knighted,\" said Gwenhwyfar. \"It is a pity Lot did not live to see his youngest son made knight-\"\n\nMorgaine shrugged. \"He took no great joy in Arthur's company, nor Arthur in his.\" So, she thought, Lancelet's protégé would be made one of the Companions; and then she remembered what Lancelet had told her about the ritual watch and vigil of knighthood-the mockery of the Mysteries. Is it my task to speak to Arthur about his duty to Avalon? He bore the image of the Virgin into battle at Mount Badon; he laid aside the dragon banner; and now he has turned one of the greater Mysteries over to the Christian priests. I will seek counsel of Taliesin...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"We must go down,\" said Gwenhwyfar, and tied on her pockets at her waist, fastening her keys to her girdle. She looked fine and stately with the braided headdress, in her gown of saffron color; Elaine wore a dress dyed green, and Morgaine her red gown. They went down the stair, gathering before the church. Gawaine saluted Morgaine, saying, \"Kinswoman,\" and bowed to the Queen. Beyond him she saw a familiar face, and frowned a little, trying to remember where she had seen that knight before: tall, burly, bearded, almost as blond as a Saxon or a Northman, then she remembered, Balan's foster-brother Balin. She bowed to him coldly. He was a stupid, narrow-minded fool, yet even so he was bound by the sacred ties of foster-kin to Viviane, who washer nearest and dearest kinswoman.\n\n\"I greet you, sir Balin.\"\n\nHe scowled a little but remembered his manners. He was wearing a frayed and ragged surcoat; clearly he had been travelling long and had not yet had time to dress and refresh himself. \"Are you going to mass, lady Morgaine? Have you renounced the fiends of Avalon and left that evil place, and accepted our Lord and Saviour Christ, lady?\"\n\nMorgaine found the question an offense, but did not say so. With a careful smile, she said, \"I am going to mass to see our kinsman Gareth knighted.\" As she hoped, it changed Balin's direction.\n\n\"Gawaine's little brother. Balan and I knew him less well than the others,\" he said. \"It is hard to think of him as a man-in my mind he is always the little lad who frightened the horses at Arthur's wedding, and came near to having Galahad killed.\" Morgaine recalled that was Lancelet's real name-no doubt the pious Balin was too proud to use any other. Balin bowed to her and went on into the church; Morgaine, following with Gwenhwyfar, watched him, frowning. There was the light of fanaticism about his face, and she was just as well pleased that Viviane was not here, although both the Lady's sons were here-Lancelet and Balan-and they could certainly prevent any real trouble." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The church had been decorated with flowers, and the people too, in their brilliant holiday dress, looked like massed flowers. Gareth had been dressed in a white linen robe, and Lancelet, in crimson, knelt beside him, beautiful and grave, Morgaine thought, the fair and the dark, the white and the crimson-and then another comparison occurred to her: Gareth happy and innocent, joyous at this initiation, and Lancelet sorrowful and tormented. Yet as he knelt, listening to the priest reading the Pentecost story, he looked calm and altogether unlike the tortured man who had poured out his soul to her.\n\n\"... and when the day of Pentecost was done, they were all gathered together in one place; and suddenly out of the sky came the sound of a violent wind, which filled the whole house where they were staying. And there appeared tongues as of fire, which divided and sat on them, one to each. And they all were filled with the Holy Breath, and they began to speak in other languages, as the Spirit gave them to utter. Now there were living in Jerusalem Jews of the strict observance, from every race under the sky; and when this sound happened, the whole multitude came together and were confused, because everyone of them heard these men speaking in his own language. And they were as men driven out of their minds, saying to one another, \"Look! Are all these preachers not Galileans? And how are we hearing them, each one of us, in our own native languages? Parthians and Medes and Elamites and men out of Mesopotamia, both Judea and Cappadocia, Asia, both Phrygia and Pamphylia, and visitors from Rome, Jews and Cretans and Arabs; but we all hear them talking in our own languages.\" And they were all astounded, asking one another, \"What does this mean?\" But others said, mockingly, \"These men have drunk too much of sweet new wine, so early in the day.\" Then Peter the Apostle raised his voice and said to them, \"Men of Judea, and all of you, listen to my words; these men are not drunk as you imagine, since it is only the third hour; but it is as the prophet Joel has written; God says, in the last days of the world, I will send out my Spirit into all flesh, and your daughters shall prophesy, and your young men shall see visions and your old men shall dream dreams.\"\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Morgaine, kneeling quietly in her place, thought, Why, it was the Sight that came upon them and they did not understand it. Nor had they cared to understand; to them it only proved that their God was greater than other Gods. Now the priest was talking of the last days of the world, how God would pour out his gifts of vision and prophecy, but she wondered if any of these Christians knew how commonplace all these gifts were, after all? Anyone could master these powers when he had demonstrated that he could use them suitably. But that did not include trying to astonish the common people with silly miracles! The Druids used their powers to do good privately, not to collect crowds!\n\nWhen the faithful approached the rail for their shared bread and wine in commemoration, Morgaine shook her head and stepped back, though Gwenhwyfar tried to draw her forward; she was not a Christian and she would not pretend.\n\nAfterward, outside the church, she watched the ceremony where Lancelet drew his sword and touched Gareth with it, his strong and musical voice clear and solemn. \"Arise now, Gareth, Companion of Arthur, and brother now to all of us here, and to every knight of this company. Forget not to defend your king, and to live at peace with all knights of Arthur and all peaceful people everywhere, but remember always to make war against evil and to defend those who are in need of protection.\"\n\nMorgaine recalled Arthur receiving Excalibur at the hands of the Lady. She glanced at him and wondered if he remembered too, and if this was why he had instituted this solemn pledge and ceremonial, so that the young men made knights in his company might have some such rite to remember. Perhaps this was not, after all, a mockery of the holy Mysteries, but an attempt to preserve them as best he could... but why must it take place in the church? Would a day come when he would refuse it to any who were not pledged Christian? During the service, Gareth and his cousin and sponsor Lancelet had been first to receive holy communion, even before the King. Was this not putting this order of knighthood into the church as a Christian rite, one of their sacraments? Lancelet had no right to do this; he was not himself qualified to confer the Mysteries on any other. Was this a profanation or an honest attempt to bring the Mysteries into the hearts and souls of all the court? Morgaine did not know." }, { "from": "human", "value": "After the service, there was an interval before the games." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Morgaine greeted Gareth and gave him her gift, a fine dyed-leather belt on which he could carry sword and dagger. He bent down to kiss her.\n\n\"Ah, you have grown, little one-I doubt if your mother would know you!\"\n\n\"It happens to all of us, dear cousin,\" Gareth said, smiling. \"I doubt you would know your own son!\" Then he was surrounded by the other knights, jostling and crowding to welcome and congratulate him; Arthur clasped his hands and spoke to him in away that made Gareth's fair skin glow.\n\nMorgaine saw that Gwenhwyfar was watching her sharply. \"Morgaine-what was it Gareth said-your son?\"\n\nMorgaine said sharply, \"If I have never told you, sister-in-law, it is because I respected your religion. I bore a son to the Goddess, from the Beltane rites. He is being fostered at Lot's court; I have not seen him since he was weaned. Are you content, or will you spread my secret everywhere?\"\n\n\"No,\" said Gwenhwyfar, turning pale. \"What sorrow for you, to be parted from your babe! I am sorry, Morgaine; and I will not tell even Arthur-he is Christian too and he would be shocked.\"\n\nYou do not know how shocked he would be, Morgaine thought grimly. Her heart was pounding. Could Gwenhwyfar be trusted with her secret? There were too many now who knew it!\n\nThe trumpet had been blown for the beginning of the games; Arthur had agreed not to take the lists, for no one wanted to attack his king, but one side of the mock battle was to be led by Lancelet as the King's champion and the other fell by lotto Uriens of North Wales, a hearty man well past middle age, but still strong and muscular. At his side was his second son, Accolon. Morgaine noted that as Accolon drew on his gloves his wrists were revealed; around them coiled blue tattooed serpents. He was an initiate of Dragon Island!" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gwenhwyfar had been jesting, no doubt, about marrying her to old Uriens. But Accolon-there was a proper man; perhaps, except for Lancelet, the handsomest young man on the field. Morgaine found herself admiring his skill at arms. Agile and well built, he moved with the natural ease of a man to whom such exercises come readily and who has been handling weapons since boyhood. Sooner or later, Arthur would wish to give her in marriage; if he should offer her to Accolon, would she say no?\n\nAfter a time her attention began to wander. Most of the other women had long since lost interest and were gossiping about feats of prowess they had heard of; some were playing at dice in their sheltered seats; a few were watching with animation, having wagered ribbons or pins or small coins on their husbands or brothers or sweethearts.\n\n\"It is hardly worth wagering,\" said one discontentedly, \"for we all know that Lancelet will win the day-he always does.\"\n\n\"Are you saying he does so unfairly?\" Elaine asked with a flare of resentment, and the strange woman said, \"By no means. But he should, at these games, stay on the sidelines, since no one can stand against him.\"\n\nMorgaine laughed. \"I have seen young Gareth there, Gawaine's brother, throw him ass-over-head in the dirt,\" she said, \"and he took that in good part, too. But if you want sport, I will wager you a crimson silk ribbon that Accolon wins a prize, even over Lancelet.\"\n\n\"Done,\" said the woman, and Morgaine rose in her seat. She said, \"I have no taste for watching men batter each other for sport-there has been enough of fighting that I am weary even of the sound of it.\" She nodded to Gwenhwyfar. \"Sister, may I go back to the hall and see that all is in order for the feasting?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Gwenhwyfar nodded permission, and Morgaine slid down at the back of the seats and made her way toward the main courtyard." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The great gates were open and guarded only by a few who had no wish to attend the mock battles. Morgaine started toward the castle and never knew what intuition it was that sent her back toward the gates, or why she stood watching a pair of approaching riders who were arriving late for the first festivities. But as they came nearer, her skin began to prickle with foreboding, and then she began to run, as they rode through the gates, and now she was weeping. \"Viviane,\" she cried out, and then stopped, afraid to throw herself into her kinswoman's arms; instead she knelt on the dusty ground and bent her head.\n\nThe soft, familiar voice, unchanged, just as she had heard it in dreams, said gently, \"Morgaine, my darling child, it is you! How I have longed to meet with you all these years. Come, come, darling, you need not ever kneel tome.\"\n\nMorgaine raised her face, but she was trembling too hard to rise. Viviane, her face shrouded in grey veils, was bending over her; she putout a hand, and Morgaine kissed it, and then Viviane pulled her close into an embrace. \"Darling, it has been so long-\" she said, and Morgaine struggled helplessly not to cry.\n\n\"I have been so troubled about you,\" Viviane said, holding tight to Morgaine's hand as they walked toward the entrance. \"From time to time I would see you, a little, in the pool-but I am old, I can use the Sight but seldom. Yet I knew you lived, you were not dead in childbirth, nor far over the seas... I longed to look on your face, little one.\" Her voice was as tender as if there had never been any quarrel between them, and Morgaine was flooded by the old affection." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"All the people of the court are at the games." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Morgause's youngest son was made knight and Companion this morning,\" she said. \"I think I must have known that you were coming-\" and then she recalled the moment of the Sight, last night; indeed, she had known. \"Why have you come here, Mother?\"\n\n\"I thought you had heard how Arthur betrayed Avalon,\" Viviane said. \"Kevin has spoken to him in my name, but without avail. So I have come to stand here before his throne and demand justice. In Arthur's name the lesser kings are forbidding the old worship, sacred groves have been despoiled, even on the land where Arthur's queen rules by inheritance, and Arthur has done nothing-\"\n\n\"Gwenhwyfar is overpious,\" Morgaine murmured, and felt her lip cruel in disdain; so pious, yet taking her husband's cousin and champion to her bed, with the sanction of that too-pious King! But a priestess of Avalon did not babble the secrets of the bedchamber if they came into her keeping.\n\nIt seemed that Viviane read her thoughts, for she said, \"Nay, Morgaine, but a time might come when some secret knowledge might give me a weapon to force Arthur to his sworn duty. One hold, indeed, I have over him, though for your sake, child, I would not use it before his court. Tell me-\" She glanced around. \"No, not here. Take me where we may talk together in secret, and let me refresh myself and make myself seemly to stand before Arthur at his great feast.\"\n\nMorgaine took her to the room she shared with Gwenhwyfar's ladies, who were all at the games; the servants were gone too, so she herself fetched Viviane water for washing, and wine to drink, and helped her to change her dusty, travel-worn clothing." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I met with your son in Lothian,\" Viviane said.\n\n\"Kevin told me.\" The old pain clutched at her heart-so Viviane had gotten what she wanted of her, after all: a son of the doubled royal lines, for Avalon. \"Will you make him a Druid, then, for Avalon?\"\n\n\"It is too soon to know what stuff he has in him,\" said Viviane. \"Too long, I fear, was he left in Morgause's keeping. But whether or no, he must be reared in Avalon, and loyal to the old Gods, so that if Arthur is false to his oath, we may remind him that there is a son of the Pendragon's blood to take his place-we will have no king turned apostate and tyrant, forcing that god of slaves and sin and shame down the throats of our people! We set him on Uther's throne, we can bring him down if we must, and all the more readily if there is one of the old royal line of Avalon, a son of the Goddess, to take his place. Arthur is a good king, I would be reluctant to make such threats; but if I must, I will-the Goddess orders my actions.\"\n\nMorgaine shuddered; would her child be the instrument of his father's death? She turned her face resolutely from the Sight. \"I do not think Arthur will be this false to Avalon.\"\n\n\"The Goddess grant he may not,\" Viviane said, \"but even so, the Christians would not accept a son gotten in that rite. We must keep a place near the throne for Gwydion, so that he maybe his father's heir, and one day we will have a king born of Avalon again. The Christians, mark you, Morgaine, would think your son born out of sin; but before the Goddess he is of the purest royalty of all, mother and father born of her lineage-sacred, not evil. And he must come to think himself so, not be contaminated by priests who would tell him his begetting and birth were shameful.\" She looked Morgaine straight in the eye. \"You still think it shameful?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Morgaine lowered her head. \"Always you could read my heart, kinswoman.\"\n\n\"Igraine's is the fault,\" said Viviane, \"and mine, that I left you at Uther's court seven years. The day I knew you priestess-born, I should have had you from there. You are priestess of Avalon, darling child, why came you never back?\" She turned, the comb in her hand, her long faded hair falling along her face.\n\nMorgaine whispered, tears forcing themselves through the barrier of her tight eyes, \"I cannot. I cannot, Viviane. I tried-I could not find the way.\" And all the humiliation and shame of that washed over her, and she wept.\n\nViviane put down the comb and caught Morgaine to her breast, holding her, rocking and soothing her like a child. \"Darling, my own darling girl, do not cry, do not cry... if I had known, child, I would have come to you. Don't cry now-I shall myself take you back, we will go together when I have given Arthur my message. I will take you with me and go, before he gets it into his head to marry you off to some braying Christian ass... yes, yes, child, you shall comeback to Avalon... we will go together....\" She wiped Morgaine's wet face on her own veil. \"Come, now, help me to dress myself to stand before my kinsman the High King-\"\n\nMorgaine drew a deep breath. \"Yes, let me braid your hair, Mother.\" She tried to laugh. \"This morning I did the Queen's hair.\"\n\nViviane held her away and said, in great anger, \"Has Arthur put you, priestess of Avalon and princess in your own right, to waiting hand and foot on his queen?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No, no,\" said Morgaine quickly, \"I am honored as high as the Queen herself-I dressed Gwenhwyfar's hair this day out of friendship; she is as likely to do mine, or to lace my gown, as sisters do.\"\n\nViviane sighed with relief. \"I would not have you dishonored. You are the mother of Arthur's son. He must learn to honor you as such, and so must the daughter of Leodegranz-\"\n\n\"No!\" Morgaine cried. \"No, I beg of you-Arthur must not know, not before the whole court-listen tome, Mother,\" she pleaded, \"all these folk are Christian. Would you have me shamed before them all?\"\n\nViviane said implacably, \"They must learn not to think shame of holy things!\"\n\n\"But the Christians have power overall this land,\" Morgaine said, \"and you cannot change their thinking with a few words-\" And in her heart she wondered, had advancing age driven Viviane out of her wits? There was noway simply to proclaim that the old laws of Avalon should beset up again and two hundred years of Christianity be overthrown. The priests would drive her out of the court as a madwoman and goon as before. Viviane must know enough of practical ruling to know this! And indeed, Viviane nodded and said, \"You are right, we must work slowly. But Arthur at least must be reminded of his promise to protect Avalon, and I will speak to him in secret, one day, about the child. We cannot proclaim it aloud among the ignorant.\"\n\nThen Morgaine helped Viviane to arrange her hair and to dress herself in the stately robes of a priestess of Avalon, dressed for high ceremonial. And it was not long before they heard sounds telling them that the mock games were over. No doubt the prizes would be given indoors this time, at the feast; she wondered if Lancelet had won them all again in honor of his king. Or, she thought sourly, his queen? And could one call that honor?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "They turned to leave the chamber, and as they left the room, Viviane touched her hand gently." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You will return to Avalon with me, will you not, dear child?\"\n\n\"If Arthur will let me go...\"\n\n\"Morgaine, you area priestess of Avalon, and you need not ask leave, even of the High King, to come and go as it pleases you. A High King is a leader in battle-he does not own the lives of his subjects, or even of his subject kings, as if he were one of those Eastern tyrants who thinks the world is his and the life of every man and woman in it. I will tell him I have need of you in Avalon and we will see what he answers to that.\"\n\nMorgaine felt herself choking with unshed tears. Oh, to return to Avalon, to go home... but even as she held Viviane's hand she could not believe she was truly to go thereafter this day. Later she was to say, I knew, I knew, and recognize the despair and foreboding that struck her at the words, but at the moment she was certain it was only her own fear, the sense that she was not worthy of what she had castaway.\n\nThen they went down into Arthur's great hall for the Pentecost feasting.\n\nIt was Camelot, Morgaine thought, as she had never seen it before, and perhaps would never see it again. The great Round Table, Leodegranz's wedding gift, was now set in a hall worthy of its majesty; the halls had been hung with silks and banners, and a trick of the arrangement made it so that all eyes were drawn to where Arthur sat, at the high seat at the far end of the hall. For this day he had brought Gareth to sit beside him and his queen, and all the knights and Companions were ringed together, the Companions in fine clothing, their weapons gleaming, the ladies garbed brightly as flowers. One after another, the petty kings came, knelt before Arthur and brought him gifts; Morgaine watched Arthur's face, grave, solemn, gentle. She looked sidewise at Viviane-surely she must see that Arthur had grown into a good king, not one to be lightly judged, even by Avalon or the Druids. But who was she to weigh causes between Arthur and Avalon? She felt the old tremor of disquiet, as in the old days at Avalon when she was being taught to open her mind to the Sight that would use her as its instrument, and found herself wishing, without understanding why, Would that Viviane were a hundred leagues from here!" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She looked around the Companions-Gawaine, sandy and bulldog-strong, smiling at his newly knighted brother; Gareth, shining somehow like new-minted gold. Lancelet looked dark and beautiful, and as if his thoughts were somewhere at the other end of the world. Pellinore, greying and gentle, his daughter, Elaine, waiting on him.\n\nAnd now one came to Arthur's throne who was not one of the Companions. Morgaine had not seen him before, but she saw that Gwenhwyfar recognized him and shrank away.\n\n\"I am the only living son of King Leodegranz,\" he said, \"and brother to your queen, Arthur. I demand that you recognize my claim to the Summer Country.\"\n\nArthur said mildly, \"You do not make demands in this court, Meleagrant. I will consider your request and take counsel of my queen, and it maybe that I will consent to name you her regent. But I cannot deliver you judgment now.\"\n\n\"Then it maybe I shall not wait for your judgment!\" shouted Meleagrant. He was a big man, who had come to the feast wearing not only sword and dagger, but a great bronze battle-axe; he was dressed in ill-tanned furs and skins, and looked savage and grim as any Saxon bandit. His two men-at-arms looked even more ruffianly than he did himself. \"I am the only surviving son of Leodegranz.\"\n\nGwenhwyfar leaned forward and whispered to Arthur. The King said, \"My lady tells me that her father always denied he had begotten you. Rest assured, we shall have this matter looked into, and if your claim is good we will allow it. For the moment, sir Meleagrant, I ask you to trust to my justice, and join me in feasting. We will take this up with our councillors and do you such justice as we can.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Feasting be damned!\" said Meleagrant angrily. \"I came not hereto eat comfits and look at ladies and watch grown men making sport like boys! I tell you, Arthur, I am king of that country, and if you dare dispute my claim it will be the worse for you-and for your lady!\"\n\nHe laid his hand on the hilt of his great battle-axe, but Cai and Gareth were immediately there, pinioning his arms behind him.\n\n\"No steel's to be drawn in the King's hall,\" said Cai roughly, while Gareth twisted the axe out of his hand and set it at the foot of Arthur's chair. \"Go to your seat, man, and eat your meat. We'll have order at the Round Table, and when our king has said he'll do you justice, you'll wait on his good pleasure!\"\n\nThey spun him roughly round, but Meleagrant struggled free of their hands and said, \"To hell with your feast and to hell with your justice, then! And to hell with your Round Table and all your Companions!\" He left the axe and turned his back, stamping down all the length of the hall. Cai took a step after him, and Gawaine half rose, but Arthur motioned him to sit down again.\n\n\"Let him go,\" he said. \"We will deal with him at the proper time. Lancelet, as my lady's champion, it may well fall to you to deal with that usurping churl.\"\n\n\"It will be my pleasure, my king,\" said Lancelet, starting up as if he had been half asleep, but Morgaine suspected he had not the slightest idea what he had agreed to. The heralds at the door were still proclaiming that all men should draw near for the King's justice; there was a brief, comical interlude, when a farmer came in and told how he and his neighbor had quarreled over a small windmill on the borders of their property." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And we couldn't agree, sir,\" he said, twisting his rough woolen hat between his hands, \"so him and me, we made it out that the King had made all this country safe to have a windmill in, and so I said I'd come here, sir, and see what you say and we'd listen to it.\"\n\nAmid good-natured laughter, the matter was settled; but Morgaine noticed that Arthur alone did not laugh, but listened seriously, gave judgment, and when the man had thanked him and gone away, with many bows and thanks, only then did he let his face break into a smile. \"Cai, see that they give the fellow something to eat in the kitchens before he goes home, he had along walk here.\" He sighed. \"Who is next to ask justice? God grant it be something fitter my solving-will they come next to ask my advice in horse breeding, or something of that sort?\"\n\n\"It shows what they think of their king, Arthur,\" said Taliesin. \"But you should make it known that they should go to their local lord, and see that your subjects are also responsible for justice in your name.\" He raised his head to seethe next petitioner. \"But this maybe more worthy of the King's attention after all, for it is a woman, and, I doubt not, in some trouble.\"\n\nArthur motioned her forward: a young woman, self-assured, haughty, reared to courtly ways. She had no attendant except fora small and ugly dwarf, no taller than three feet, but with broad shoulders and well muscled, carrying a short and powerful axe.\n\nShe bowed to the King and told her story. She served a lady who had been left, as had so many others after the years of war, alone in the world; her estate was northward, near to the old Roman wall which stretched mile after mile, with ruined forts and mile-castles, mostly now decrepit and falling down. But a gang of five brothers, ruffians all, had refortified five of the castles and were laying the whole countryside to waste. And now one of them, who had a fancy to call himself the Red Knight of Red Lands, was laying siege to her lady; and his brothers were worse than he was." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Red Knight, hah!\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "said Gawaine. \"I know that gentleman. I fought with him when I came southward from my last visit to Lot's country, and I barely got away with my life. Arthur, it might be well to send an army to clean out those fellows-there's no law in that part of the world.\"\n\nArthur frowned and nodded, but young Gareth rose from his seat.\n\n\"My lord Arthur, that is on the fringes of my father's country. You promised me a quest-keep the promise, my king, and send me to help this lady defend her countryside against these evil fellows!\"\n\nThe young woman looked at Gareth, his shining beardless face and the white silk robe he had put on for his knighting, and she broke into laughter. \"You? Why, you're a child. I didn't know the great High King was taking overgrown children to serve at his table!\" Gareth blushed like a child. He had indeed handed Arthur's cup to the King-it was a service young well-born boys, fostered at court, all performed at high feasts. Gareth had not yet remembered it was no longer his duty, and Arthur, who liked the boy, had not reproved him.\n\nThe woman drew herself up. \"My lord and king, I came to ask for one or more of your great knights with a reputation in battle which would daunt this Red Knight-Gawaine, or Lancelet, or Balin, one of those who is known as a great fighter against the Saxons. Are you going to let your very kitchen boys mock me, sire?\"\n\nArthur said, \"My Companion Gareth is no kitchen boy, madam. He is brother to sir Gawaine, and he promises to be as good a knight as his brother, or better. I did indeed promise him the first quest that I could honorably give him, and I will send him with you. Gareth,\" he said gently, \"I charge you to ride with this lady, to guard her against the dangers of the road, and when you come to her country, to help her lady to organize her country in defense against these villains. If you need help, you may send me a messenger, but no doubt she has fighting men enough-they need only someone with knowledge and skill at strategy, and this you have learned from Cai and Gawaine. Madam, I give you a good man to help you.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She did not quite dare to answer the King, but she scowled at Gareth fiercely. He said formally, \"Thank you, my lord Arthur. I will put the fear of God into these rascals who are troubling the countryside there.\" He bowed to Arthur and turned to the lady, but she had turned her back and stormed out of the hall.\n\nLancelet said in a low voice, \"He is young for all that, sir. Shouldn't you send Balan, or Balin, or someone more experienced?\"\n\nArthur shook his head. \"I truly think Gareth can do it, and I prefer that no one of my Companions is favored over another-it should be enough for the lady to know that one of them is coming to help her people.\"\n\nArthur leaned back and signalled to Cai to serve his plate. \"Giving justice is hungry work. Are there no more petitioners?\"\n\n\"There is one, my lord Arthur,\" said Viviane quietly, and rose from her place among the Queen's ladies. Morgaine began to rise and attend her, but Viviane gestured her back. She looked taller than she was, because she held herself so straight. And part of it was glamour, the glamour of Avalon... her hair, all white, was braided high on her head; at her side hung the little sickle-shaped knife, the knife of a priestess, and on her brow blazed the mark of the Goddess, the shining crescent moon.\n\nArthur looked at her fora moment, in surprise, then recognized her and gestured her to come forward.\n\n\"Lady of Avalon, it is long since you honored this court with your presence. Come sit beside me, kinswoman, and tell me how I may best serve you.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"By showing honor to Avalon, as you are sworn to do,\" said Viviane." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Her voice was very clear and low, but, the trained voice of a priestess, it could be heard to the farthest corners of the hall. \"My king, Ibid you look now on that sword you bear, and think on those who laid it in your hand, and what you swore-\"\n\nIn later years when all that had befallen that day was talked of far and wide, no two of the hundreds in that hall could agree on what had happened first. Morgaine saw Balin rise in his place and rush forward, she saw a hand snatch up the great axe Meleagrant had left leaning against the throne, then there was a scuffle and a cry, and she heard her own scream as the great axe came whirling down. But she did not seethe blow, only Viviane's white hair suddenly red with blood as she crumpled and fell without even a cry.\n\nThen the hall was full of shouts and screams; Lancelet and Gawaine had Balin, struggling in their grasp; Morgaine had her own dagger in her hand and rushed forward, but Kevin gripped at her hard, his twisted fingers clutching at her wrist.\n\n\"Morgaine. Morgaine, no, it is too late-\" he said, and his voice was roughened with sobs. \"Ceridwen! Mother Goddess-! No, no, look not on her now, Morgaine-\"\n\nHe tried to turn her away, but Morgaine stood frozen, as if turned to stone, listening to Balin howling obscenities at the top of his voice.\n\nCai said abruptly, \"Look to the lord Taliesin!\" The old man had slithered down fainting in his seat. Cai bent and steadied him, then, murmuring a word of apology to Arthur, seized the King's own cup and poured the wine down the old man's throat. Kevin let Morgaine go and stumbled awkwardly to the side of the ancient Druid, bending over him. Morgaine thought, I should go to him, but it was as if her feet were frozen to the floor, she could not take a single step. She stared at the fainting old man so that she need not look back at that horrible red-stained pool on the floor, soaking through robes and hair and long cloak. In that last instant Viviane had seized her own small sickle knife. Her hand lay on it now, stained with her own blood-there was so much blood, so much. Her skull-her skull had been cloven in half, and there was blood, blood on the throne poured out like an animal for sacrifice, here at the foot of Arthur's throne...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Arthur finally found his voice." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You wretched man,\" he said hoarsely, \"what have you done? This is murder, cold murder before the very throne of your king....\"\n\n\"Murder, you say?\" Balin said in his thick, harsh voice. \"Yes, she was the most foul murderess in this kingdom, she deserved death twice over-I have rid your kingdom of a wicked and evil sorceress, my king!\"\n\nArthur looked more angry than grieved. \"The Lady of the Lake was my friend and my benefactor! How dare you speak so of my kinswoman, she who helped to set me on my throne?\"\n\n\"I call the lord Lancelet himself to witness if she did not compass the death of my mother,\" Balin said, \"a good and pious Christian woman, Priscilla by name, and foster-mother to your own brother Balan! And she murdered my mother, I tell you she murdered her by her evil sorceries-\" His face worked; the big man was weeping like a child. \"She murdered my mother, I tell you, and I have avenged her as a knight should do!\"\n\nLancelet closed his eyes in horror, his face contorted, but he did not weep. \"My lord Arthur, this man's life belongs tome! Let me here take vengeance for my mother-\"\n\n\"And my mother's sister,\" said Gawaine.\n\n\"And mine-\" Gaheris added.\n\nMorgaine's frozen trance broke. She cried, \"No, Arthur! Let me have him! He has murdered the Lady before your throne, let a woman of Avalon avenge the blood of Avalon-look yonder how the lord Taliesin lies stricken, it is like that he has murdered our grandsire too-\"\n\n\"Sister, sister-\" Arthur held out his hand to Morgaine. \"No, no, sister-no, give me your dagger-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Morgaine stood shaking her head, her dagger still in her hand. Taliesin suddenly rose to take it from her with his own trembling old fingers. \"No, Morgaine. No more bloodshed here-the Goddess knows, it is enough-her blood has been spilled as sacrifice to Avalon in this hall-\"\n\n\"Sacrificed! Yes, sacrificed to God, as God shall strike down all these evil sorceresses and their Gods!\" cried Balin in a frenzy. \"Let me have that one too, my lord Arthur, purge this court of all their evil wizard line-\" He struggled so violently that Lancelet and Gawaine could hardly hold him and signalled to Cai, who came and helped them cast Balin down, struggling still, before the throne.\n\n\"Quiet!\" Lancelet said, jerking his head around. \"I warn you, one hand laid on the Merlin or Morgaine, and I'll have your head whatever Arthur may say-yes, my lord Arthur, and die at your hands for it afterward if you will have it so!\" His face was drawn with anguish and despair.\n\n\"My lord King,\" Balin howled, \"I beg you, let me strike down all these wizards and sorcerers in the name of the Christ who hates them all-\"\n\nLancelet struck Balin heavily across the mouth; the man gasped and was silent, blood streaming from a broken lip.\n\n\"By your leave, my lord.\" Lancelet unfastened his rich cloak and gently covered the ghastly, drained corpse of his mother.\n\nArthur seemed to breathe easier now that the corpse was out of sight. Only Morgaine went on staring wide-eyed at the lifeless huddle now covered with the crimson cloak Lancelet had worn for the holiday." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Blood. Blood on the foot of the King's throne. Blood, poured out on the hearth... Somewhere it seemed to Morgaine that she could hear Raven shrieking.\n\nArthur said quietly, \"Look to the lady Morgaine, she will faint,\" and Morgaine felt hands gently helping her into a seat and someone holding a cup to her lips. She started to push it away, and then it seemed she heard Viviane's voice saying, Drink it. A priestess must keep her strength and will. Obediently she drank, hearing Arthur's voice, stern and solemn.\n\n\"Balin, whatever your reasons-no, no more, I heard what you said-not a word-you are either a madman, or a cold-blooded murderer. Whatever you may say, you have slain my kinswoman and drawn steel before your High King at Pentecost. Still, I will not have you murdered where you stand-Lancelet, put up your sword.\"\n\nLancelet slid his sword back into its scabbard. \"I will do your will, my lord. But if you do not punish this murder, then I beg leave to depart from your court.\"\n\n\"Oh, I will punish it.\" Arthur's face was grim. \"Balin, are you sane enough to listen tome? Then this is your doom: I banish you forever from this court. Let this lady's body be made ready and put on a horse bier, and I charge you to take it to Glastonbury, and tell all your tale to the Archbishop and do such penance as he shall lay on you. You spoke but now of God and Christ, but no Christian king allows private vengeance to betaken by the sword before his throne of justice. Do you hear what I say, Balin, once my knight and Companion?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Balin bent his head. His nose had been broken by Lancelet's blow; his mouth was streaming blood, and he spoke thickly through a broken tooth. \"I hear you, my lord King. I will go.\" He sat with his head bowed.\n\nArthur gestured to the servants. \"I beg you, bring someone to remove her poor body-\"\n\nMorgaine broke away from the hands that held her and knelt beside Viviane. \"My lord, I beg you, allow me to ready her for burial-\" and struggled to hold back the tears she dared not shed. This was not Viviane, this broken dead thing, the hand like a shrunken claw still clutching the sickle dagger of Avalon. She took up the dagger, kissed it, and slid it into her own belt. This, and only this, would she keep.\n\nGreat merciful Mother, I knew we could never go together to Avalon....\n\nShe would not weep. She felt Lancelet close beside her. He muttered, \"God's mercy Balan is not here-to lose mother and foster-brother in one moment of madness-but if Balan had been here it might not have happened! Is there any God or any mercy?\"\n\nHer heart ached for Lancelet's anguish. He had feared and hated his mother, but he had worshipped her, too, as the very face of the Goddess. Apart of her wanted to pull Lancelet into her arms, comfort him, let him weep; yet there was rage too. He had defied his mother, how dared he grieve for her now?\n\nTaliesin was kneeling beside them, and he said, in his broken old voice, \"Let me help you, children. It is my right-\" and they moved aside as he bowed his head to murmur an ancient prayer of passage." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Arthur rose in his place. \"There will be no more feasting this day. We have had too much tragedy fora feast. Those of you who are hungry, finish your meal and go quietly.\" He came slowly down to where the body lay. His hand rested gently on Morgaine's shoulder; she felt it there, through her numb misery. She could hear the other guests quietly leaving the hall, one after another, and through the rustle she heard, softly, the sound of a harp; only one pair of hands in Britain played such a harp. And at last she melted and tears streamed from her eyes as Kevin's harp played the dirge for the Lady, and to that sound, Viviane, priestess of Avalon, was slowly borne from the great hall of Camelot. Morgaine, walking beside the bier, looked back only once at the great hall and the Round Table, and the solitary, bowed figure of Arthur, standing alone beside the harper. And through all her grief and despair, she thought, Viviane never gave to Arthur the message of Avalon. This is the hall of a Christian king, and now there is no one who will say otherwise. How Gwenhwyfar would rejoice if she knew.\n\nHis hands were outstretched; she did not know, perhaps he was praying. She saw the serpents tattooed about his wrists and thought of the young stag and the new-made king who had come to her with the blood of the King Stag on his hands and face, and fora moment it seemed to her that she could hear the mocking voice of the fairy queen. And then there was no sound but the anguished lamenting of Kevin's harp and Lancelet weeping at her side as they bore Viviane forth to rest.\n\nMorgaine speaks...\n\nI followed the body of Viviane from the great hall of the Round Table, weeping for only the second time that I could remember." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And yet later that night I quarrelled with Kevin.\n\nWorking with the Queen's women, I prepared Viviane's body for burial. Gwenhwyfar sent her women, and she sent linen and spices and a velvet pall, but she did not come herself. That was just as well. A priestess of Avalon should be laid to rest by attendant priestesses. I longed for my sisters from the House of Maidens; but at least no Christian hands should touch her. When I was done, Kevin came to watch by the body.\n\n\"I have sent Taliesin to rest. I have that authority now, as the Merlin of Britain; he is very old and very feeble-it is a miracle that his heart did not fail this day. I fear he will not long outlive her. Balin is quiet now,\" he added. \"I think perhaps he knows what he did-but it is sure that it was done in a fit of madness. He is ready to ride with her body to Glastonbury, and serve such penance as the Archbishop shall decree.\"\n\nI stared at him in outrage. \"And you will have it so? That she shall fall into the hands of the church? I care not what happens to that murderer,\" I said, \"but Viviane must betaken to Avalon.\" I swallowed hard so that I would not weep again. We should have ridden together to Avalon....\n\n\"Arthur has decreed,\" said Kevin quietly, \"that she shall be buried before the church at Glastonbury, where all can see.\"\n\nI shook my head, unbelieving. Were all men mad this day? \"Viviane must lie in Avalon,\" I said, \"where all the priestesses of the Mother have been buried since time began. And she was Lady of the Lake!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"She was also Arthur's friend and benefactor,\" said Kevin, \"and he will have it that her tomb shall be made a place of pilgrimage.\" He putout his hand that I should not speak. \"No, hear me, Morgaine-there is reason in what he says. Never has there been so grave a crime in Arthur's reign. He cannot hideaway her burial place out of sight and out of mind. She must be buried where all men may know of the King's justice, and the justice of the church.\"\n\n\"And you will allow this!\"\n\n\"Morgaine, my dearest,\" he said gently, \"it is not for me to allow or to refuse. Arthur is the High King, and it is his will that is done in this realm.\"\n\n\"And Taliesin holds his peace? Or is this why you have sent him to his rest, so that he might be out of the way while you do this blasphemy with the King's connivance? Will you have Viviane buried with Christian burial and Christian rites, she who was Lady of the Lake-buried by these folk who imprison their God within stonewalls? Viviane chose me after her to be Lady of the Lake, and I forbid it, I forbid it, do you hear me?\"\n\nKevin said quietly, \"Morgaine. No, listen tome, my dear. Viviane died without naming her successor-\"\n\n\"You were there that day she said she had chosen me-\"\n\n\"But you were not in Avalon when she died, and you have renounced that place,\" Kevin said, and his words fell on my head like cold rain, so that I shivered. He stared at the bier and Viviane's body which lay covered there; nothing I could do could make that face fit to be seen in death. \"Viviane died with no successor named to her place, and so it falls tome, as the Merlin of Britain, to declare what will be done. And if this is Arthur's will, only the Lady of the Lake-and, forgive me, my dear, that I say it, but there is now no Lady in Avalon-could speak out against what I say. I can see that the King has reason for what he wishes. Viviane spent all her life to bring about a peaceful rule of law in this land....\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"She came to reprove Arthur that he had forsaken Avalon!\" I cried in despair. \"She died with her mission unfinished, and now you would have it that she should lie in Christian ground within the sound of church bells, so that they should triumph over her in death as in life?\"\n\n\"Morgaine, Morgaine, my poor girl!\" Kevin held out his hands tome, the misshapen hands which had so often caressed me. \"I loved her too, believe me! But she is dead. She was a great woman, she spent her life for this land-do you think it matters to her where her empty shell shall lie? She has gone to whatever awaits her beyond death, and, knowing her, I know that it can only be good that awaits her. Do you think she would grudge it, that her body should lie where it can best serve those purposes she spent her life to accomplish-that the King's justice should triumph overall the evil in this land?\"\n\nHis rich, caressing, musical voice was so eloquent that I hesitated fora moment. Viviane was gone; it was only those same Christians who made much of consecrated or unconsecrated ground, as if all the earth which is the breast of the Mother was not holy. I wanted to fall into his arms and weep therefor the only mother I had ever known, for the wreck of my own hopes that I might return to Avalon at her side, weep for all I had castaway and the breaking of my own life....\n\nBut what he said then made me start away in horror.\n\n\"Viviane was old,\" he said, \"and she had dwelt in Avalon, sheltered from the real world. I have had to live, with Arthur, in the world where battles are won and real decisions made. Morgaine, my dearest, listen tome. It is too late to demand that Arthur keep his pledge to Avalon in that same form he gave it. Time passes, the sound of church bells covers this land, and the people are content to have it so. Who are we to say that this is not the will of the Gods that lie behind the Gods? Whether we wish it or no, my dearest love, this is a Christian land, and we who honor Viviane's memory will do her no good by making it known to all men that she came hitherto make impossible demands of the King.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Impossible demands?\" I wrenched my hands away. \"How dare you?\"\n\n\"Morgaine, listen to reason-\"\n\n\"Not reason but treason! If Taliesin heard this-\"\n\n\"I speak as I have heard Taliesin himself speak,\" he said gently. \"Viviane did not live in order to undo what she has done, to create a land at peace-whether it is called Christian or Druid does not matter; the will of the Goddess will be done overall, whatever name men may call her. Who are you to say that it was not the will of the Goddess that Viviane was struck down before she could spread strife again in a land that has come to peace and successful compromise? I tell you, it shall not be torn again by strife, and if Viviane had not been struck down by Balin, I would myself have spoken against what she asked-and I think Taliesin would have said as much.\"\n\n\"How dare you speak for Taliesin?\"\n\n\"Taliesin himself named me the Merlin of Britain,\" said Kevin, \"and he must therefore have trusted me to act for him when he could not speak for himself.\"\n\n\"Next you will say you have become a Christian! Why wear you not beads and a crucifix?\"\n\nHe said, in such a gentle voice that I could have wept, \"Do you truly think it would make such a great difference, Morgaine, if I did so?\"\n\nI knelt before him, as I had done a year ago, pressed his broken hand to my breast. \"Kevin, I have loved you. For that I beg you-be faithful now to Avalon and to Viviane's memory! Come with me now, tonight. Do not this travesty, but accompany me to Avalon, where the Lady of the Lake shall lie with the other priestesses of the Goddess....\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He bent over me; I could feel the anguished tenderness in his misshapen hands. \"Morgaine, I cannot. My dearest, will you not becalm and listen to the voice of reason in what I am saying?\"\n\nI stood up, flinging off his weak grip, and raising my arms, summoned the power of the Goddess. I heard my voice thrumming with the power of a priestess. \"Kevin! In her name who came to you, in the name of the manhood she has given you, I lay obedience on you! Your allegiance is not to Arthur nor to Britain, but only to the Goddess and to your vows! Come now, leave this place! Come with me to Avalon, bearing her body!\"\n\nI could see in the shadows the very glow of the Goddess around me; fora moment Kevin knelt shuddering, and I know that in another moment he would have obeyed. And then, I know not what happened-perhaps it crossed my mind, No, I am not worthy, I have no right... I have forsaken Avalon, I cast it away, by what right then do I command the Merlin of Britain? The spell broke; Kevin made a harsh, abrupt gesture, awkwardly rising to his feet.\n\n\"Woman, you do not command me! You who have renounced Avalon, by what right do you presume to give orders to the Merlin? Rather should you kneel before me!\" He thrust me away with both hands. \"Tempt me no more!\"\n\nHe turned his back and limped away, the shadows making wavering misshapen movements on the wall as he moved from the room; I watched him go, too stricken even to weep.\n\nAnd four days later Viviane was buried, with all the rites of the church, on the Holy Isle in Glastonbury. But I did not go thither." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Never, I swore, should I step foot upon that Isle of the Priests.\n\nArthur mourned her sincerely, and built for her a great tomb and a cairn, swearing that one day he and Gwenhwyfar should lie thereat her side.\n\nAs for Balin, the Archbishop Patricius laid it upon him that he should make a pilgrimage to Rome and the Holy Lands; but before he could go into exile, Balan heard the tale from Lancelet and hunted him down, and the foster-brothers fought, one with another, and Balin was killed at once with a single stroke; but Balan took cold in his wounds and did not survive him a whole day. So Viviane-so they said when a song was made of it-was avenged; but what of that, when she lay in a Christian tomb?\n\nAnd I... I did not even know whom they had chosen as Lady of the Lake in her place, for I could not return to Avalon.\n\n... I was not worthy of Lancelet, I was not worthy even of Kevin... I could not tempt him to do his true duty to Avalon....\n\n... I should have gone to Taliesin and begged him, even on my knees, to take me back to Avalon, that I might atone for all my faults and return again to the shrine of the Goddess....\n\nBut before the summer was ended, Taliesin was gone too; I think he never knew for certain that Viviane was dead, because even after she was buried, he spoke as if she would come soon and return with him to Avalon; and he spoke of my mother, too, as if she lived and was a little girl in the House of Maidens. And at summer's end he died peacefully and was buried at Camelot, and even the bishop mourned him as a wise and learned man." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And in the winter after that, we heard that Meleagrant had set himself up to rule asking in the Summer Country. But when spring came, Arthur was away on a mission to the South, and Lancelet too had ridden out to see to the King's castle at Caerleon, when Meleagrant sent a messenger under a flag of truce, begging that his sister Gwenhwyfar should come and speak with him about the rule of that country over which they both had a claim." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I would feel safer, and I think my lord the king would like it better, if Lancelet were hereto ride with you,\"Cai said soberly.\" At Pentecost yonder fellow would have drawn steel in this hall before his king, and he would not await the King's justice. Brother of yours or no, I like it not that you ride alone with only your lady and your chamberlain.\"\n\n\"He is not my brother,\" Gwenhwyfar said. \"His mother was the king's mistress fora time, but he put her away because he found her with another man. She claimed, and perhaps told her son, that Leodegranz was his father. The king never acknowledged it. If he were an honorable man, and such as my lord would trust, perhaps he could be regent for meas well as any other. But I will not allow him to profit by such a lie.\"\n\n\"Will you trust yourself then in his hands, Gwenhwyfar?\" asked Morgaine quietly.\n\nGwenhwyfar looked at Cai and Morgaine, shaking her head. Why did Morgaine look so calm and unafraid? Was Morgaine never afraid of anything, never touched by any emotion behind that cool, unreadable face? Rationally she knew that Morgaine, like all mortal flesh, must sometimes suffer from pain, fear, grief, anger-yet only twice had she actually seen emotion in Morgaine, and that long ago; once when Morgaine had fallen into trance and dreamed of blood on the hearth-then she had cried out in fear-and once when Viviane was slain here before her eyes and she had sunk down fainting.\n\nGwenhwyfar said, \"I trust him not at all, except to be the greedy impostor he is. But think, Morgaine. All his claim is based upon the fact that he is my brother. Should he offer me the slightest insult, or treat meas anything less than his honored sister, his claim is proved a lie. So he dares do nothing else than welcome meas his honored sister and queen, do you see?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Morgaine shrugged. \"I would not trust him even so far as that.\"\n\n\"No doubt, like the Merlin, you have sorcery to give you knowledge of what may come if I do.\"\n\nMorgaine said indifferently, \"It needs no sorcery to know that a villain is a villain, and no supernatural wisdom that bids me not let the nearest rogue hold my wallet for me.\"\n\nWhatever Morgaine said, Gwenhwyfar always felt compelled to do precisely other; always she felt that Morgaine thought her a fool without the wit to lace her own shoes. Did Morgaine think that she, Gwenhwyfar, could not settle a matter of state when Arthur was absent? Yet she had hardly been able to face Morgaine since that ill-starred Beltane a year ago when she had begged her sister-in-law fora charm against her barrenness. Morgaine had told her that charms often work as you would not have them work... now whenever she looked on Morgaine, she thought her sister-in-law must be remembering it, too.\n\nGod punishes me; perhaps for meddling with sorcery, perhaps for that wicked night. And as always when she allowed the faintest memory of that time to come into her mind, she felt her whole body flushing with mingled delight and shame. Ah, it was easy to say they had all three been drunken, or to excuse herself that what was done that night was done with Arthur's consent, indeed, at his urging. Still it was grievous sin, adultery.\n\nAnd since that night she had hungered for Lancelet, night and day; yet they had hardly been able to face each other. She could not look him in the eyes. Did he hate her as a shameful, adulterous woman? He must despise her. Yet she longed for him with terrible despair." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Help keep the tale going for the author.\nTags: fantasy, arthurian, historical fantasy\nAuthor: Marion Zimmer Bradley\nTitle: The Mists of Avalon\nChapter: 45" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Morgaine shrugged. \"I would not trust him even so far as that.\"\n\n\"No doubt, like the Merlin, you have sorcery to give you knowledge of what may come if I do.\"\n\nMorgaine said indifferently, \"It needs no sorcery to know that a villain is a villain, and no supernatural wisdom that bids me not let the nearest rogue hold my wallet for me.\"\n\nWhatever Morgaine said, Gwenhwyfar always felt compelled to do precisely other; always she felt that Morgaine thought her a fool without the wit to lace her own shoes. Did Morgaine think that she, Gwenhwyfar, could not settle a matter of state when Arthur was absent? Yet she had hardly been able to face Morgaine since that ill-starred Beltane a year ago when she had begged her sister-in-law fora charm against her barrenness. Morgaine had told her that charms often work as you would not have them work... now whenever she looked on Morgaine, she thought her sister-in-law must be remembering it, too.\n\nGod punishes me; perhaps for meddling with sorcery, perhaps for that wicked night. And as always when she allowed the faintest memory of that time to come into her mind, she felt her whole body flushing with mingled delight and shame. Ah, it was easy to say they had all three been drunken, or to excuse herself that what was done that night was done with Arthur's consent, indeed, at his urging. Still it was grievous sin, adultery.\n\nAnd since that night she had hungered for Lancelet, night and day; yet they had hardly been able to face each other. She could not look him in the eyes. Did he hate her as a shameful, adulterous woman? He must despise her. Yet she longed for him with terrible despair." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "After that Pentecost, Lancelet had hardly been at court. She had never thought he had cared so much for his mother, nor yet for his brother Balan, yet he had mourned them both deeply. He had been away from court all this time.\n\n\"I wish,\" said Cai, \"that Lancelet were here. Who should accompany the Queen on a mission of this sort, except that knight Arthur has named as his queen's champion and protector?\"\n\n\"If Lancelet were here,\" said Morgaine, \"many of our troubles would be over, for he would settle Meleagrant with a few words. But there is no good talking of what cannot be. Gwenhwyfar, shall I ride with you and protect you?\"\n\n\"In God's name,\" said Gwenhwyfar, \"I am not a child who cannot stir forth without a nurse! I will take my chamberlain, sir Lucan, and I will take Bracca to dress my hair and lace my gown if I am therefor more than a night, and to sleep at the foot of my bed; what do I need more than that?\"\n\n\"Still, Gwenhwyfar, you must have an escort fitting your rank. There are still some of Arthur's Companions here at court.\"\n\n\"I will take Ectorius,\" said Gwenhwyfar. \"He is Arthur's foster-father, and nobly born, and a veteran of many of Arthur's wars.\"\n\nMorgaine shook her head impatiently. \"Old Ectorius, and Lucan who lost an arm at Mount Badon-why do you not take Cai and the Merlin with you as well, so that you may have all the old and the lame? You should have an escort of good fighting men who can protect you, Gwenhwyfar, in case it is in this man's mind to hold the Queen to ransom, or worse.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Gwenhwyfar repeated patiently, \"If he does not treat meas his sister, then his claim is worthless." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And what man would offer any threat to his sister?\"\n\n\"I do not know if Meleagrant is so good a Christian as all that,\" Morgaine said, \"but if you are not afraid of him, Gwenhwyfar, you know him better than I do. No doubt you can find an escort of old bumbling veterans to ride with you-so be it. You might offer towed him to your kinswoman Elaine, to make his claim of kinship even more valid, and set him as regent in your place-\"\n\nGwenhwyfar shuddered, remembering the great coarse man dressed in ill-tanned skins and furs. \"Elaine is a gently reared lady; I would not give her to such a one,\" she said. \"I will talk with him-if he seems tome an honest fighting man and such a one as will keep the peace in this kingdom, then if he will swear loyalty to my lord Arthur, he may reign upon the island-I like not all of Arthur's Companions either, but a man maybe an honest king without being a good one to sit with ladies and talk in hall.\"\n\n\"I marvel to hear you say so,\" said Morgaine. \"To hear you sing my kinsman Lancelet's praises, I thought you believed no man could be a good knight unless he were handsome and full of this kind of courtly matters.\"\n\nGwenhwyfar would not quarrel again with Morgaine. \"Come, sister, I love Gawaine well, yet he is a rough Northman who trips over his own feet and has hardly a word to say to any woman. For all I know, Meleagrant too maybe such a jewel in the wrappings of a knucklebone, and that is why I go thither-to judge for myself.\"\n\nSo the next morning Gwenhwyfar set forth, with her escort of six knights, Ectorius, the veteran Lucan, her waiting-woman, and a nine-year-old pageboy. She had not visited her childhood home since that day she left it with Igraine, to be married to Arthur. It was not far: a few leagues down the hill, and to the shores of the lake, which at this season was drying up into boggy marshes, with cattle grazing in the summer fields and lush grasses filled with buttercup and dandelion and primrose. At the shore two boats were waiting, hung with her father's banners. This was arrogance, that Meleagrant should bear these unpermitted, but after all, it was possible that the man genuinely believed himself Leodegranz's heir. It might even be true; perhaps her father had lied about it." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She had landed at these very shores, bound for Caerleon, so many years ago... how young she had been, and how innocent! Lancelet had been at her side, but fate had given her to Arthur-God knows, she had tried to be a good wife to him, though God had denied her children. And then despair washed over her again as she looked at the waiting boats. She might give her husband three or five or seven sons, and a year might come of plague, or smallpox, or the throat fever, and all her sons would begone... such things had happened. Her own mother had borne four sons, yet none of them had lived to be as much as five years old, and Alienor's son had died with her. Morgaine... Morgaine had borne a son to their evil God of witches, and for all she knew, that son lived and thrived, while she, a faithful Christian wife, could not bear any child, and now she might soon be too old.\n\nMeleagrant himself was at the landing, bowing, welcoming her as his honored sister, gesturing her toward his own boat, the smaller of the two. Gwenhwyfar never knew even afterward how it had happened that she was separated from all of her escort except for the little page. \"My lady's servants may go in the other boat, I myself will be your escort here,\" said Meleagrant, taking her arm with an overfamiliarity she did not like; but after all, she must bear herself with diplomacy and not anger him. At the last moment, with a momentary sense of panic, she gestured to sir Ectorius.\n\n\"I will have my chamberlain with me, as well,\" she insisted, and Meleagrant smiled, his great coarse face reddening." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"As my sister and queen desires,\" he said, and let Ectorius and Lucan step onto the smaller boat with her. He fussed about spreading a rug for her to sit on, and the oarsmen pulled out into the lake. It was shallow, grown heavily with weeds; in some seasons it was dry here. And suddenly, as Meleagrant seated himself beside her, Gwenhwyfar was seized with an attack of the old terror; her stomach heaved, and fora moment she thought she would vomit. She clung to the seat with both hands. Meleagrant was too near her; she moved as faraway as the dimensions of the seat would allow. She would have felt more comfortable if Ectorius had been near; his presence was serene and fatherly. She noted the great axe Meleagrant wore through his belt-it was like the one he had left near the throne, the one Balin had seized to murder Viviane.... Meleagrant said, leaning so close that his heavy breath sickened her, \"Is my sister faint? Surely the motion of the boat does not trouble you, it is so calm-\"\n\nShe edged away from him, struggling for self-control. She was alone here except for two old men, and she was out in the middle of the lake, with nothing around her but weed and water and the reedy horizon... why had she come? Why was she not in her own walled garden at home, in Camelot? There was no safety here, she was out under the wide-open sky, so that she felt sick and naked and exposed....\n\n\"We will be onshore soon,\" Meleagrant said, \"and if you wish to rest before we conduct our business, sister, I have had the queen's apartments prepared for you-\"\n\nThe boat scraped onshore. The old path was still there, she noted, the narrow winding way up to the castle, and the old wall, where she had sat that afternoon watching Lancelet run among the horses. She felt confused, as if it might have been only the day before and she was that shy young girl. She reached out surreptitiously and touched the wall, feeling it firm and solid, and stepped through the gate with relief." }, { "from": "human", "value": "The old hall seemed smaller than when she had lived there; she had grown used to great spaces in Caerleon and later at Camelot." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Her father's old high seat was spread with skins like those Meleagrant wore, and a great black bearskin lay at the foot of the seat. The whole looked uncared-for, the skins ragged and greasy, the hall unswept, with a sour, sweaty smell; she wrinkled her nose, but it was so much a relief to be within walls that she did not care. She wondered where her escort had gone.\n\n\"Will you rest and refresh yourself, sister? Shall I show you to your apartments?\"\n\nShe smiled and said, \"I shall hardly be here long enough to call them mine, though it is true I would like to wash the dust off my hands and takeoff my cloak. Will you send someone to find my serving-woman? You should have a wife if you are to think of being regent here, Meleagrant.\"\n\n\"There is time enough for that,\" he said, \"but I will show you to the apartments I have prepared for my queen.\" He led the way up the old stairs. They were also ill-kept and neglected; Gwenhwyfar, frowning, thoughtless well of choosing him as regent. If he had moved into the castle and restored it, had installed a wife and good servants to keep it well, with fresh hangings and good cleaning, and smart men-at-arms, well-but his soldiers looked more villainous than he did himself, and she had not yet seen any woman about the place. A faint qualm was beginning to steal over her; maybe she had not been too wise to come here alone, not to insist on her escort accompanying her every step of the way-\n\nShe turned on the stairs and said, \"I will have my chamberlain accompany me, if you please, and I want my woman sent for at once!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"As my lady wishes.\" He grinned. His teeth seemed very long, yellow and stained. She thought, He is like a wild beast... and edged against the wall in terror. Yet it was from some inner reserve of strength she drew to say firmly, \"Now, please. Call sir Ectorius, or I will go right down into the hall again until my serving-woman is here. It is not seemly for Arthur's queen to go alone with a strange man-\"\n\n\"Not even with her brother?\" asked Meleagrant, but Gwenhwyfar, ducking beneath his outstretched arm, saw that Ectorius had come into the hall after her and called, \"Foster-father! Accompany me, if you will! And send sir Lucan to find my servant!\"\n\nThe old man came slowly up the stairs after them, passing Meleagrant, and Gwenhwyfar putout her arm to lean on him. Meleagrant looked but ill pleased at this. They came to the head of the stairs, to the chamber where Alienor had once dwelt; Gwenhwyfar had been in a little room behind hers. Meleagrant opened the door. It smelled stale and dank inside, and Gwenhwyfar hesitated. Perhaps she should insist ongoing at once downstairs and to business; she could hardly refresh herself or rest well in a room as dirty and neglected as this-\n\n\"Not you, old man,\" said Meleagrant, turning suddenly and pushing Ectorius down the stairs hard. \"My lady does not need your service now.\" Ectorius stumbled, off balance, and at that moment Meleagrant pushed her into the room and slammed the door hard behind her. She heard the bar thrown down and stumbled to her knees; by the time she got up she was alone in the room, and no amount of hammering on the door brought any sound at all." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "So Morgaine's warning had been right. Had they murdered her escort? Had they killed Ectorius and Lucan? The room where Alienor had borne her children and lived and later died was cold and dank; there were only some old rags of linen sheets across the great bed, and the straw smelled foul. Alienor's old carved chest was there, but the woodcarving was greasy and smeared with dirt, and it was empty. The hearth was clogged with ash as if there had been no fresh fire lighted therefor years. Gwenhwyfar beat on the door and shouted until her hands and her throat were sore; she was hungry and exhausted, and sickened by the smell and the dirt of this place. But she could not budge the door, and the window was too small to climb out-and there was a twelve-foot drop outside. She was imprisoned. Through the window she could see only a neglected barnyard with a single mouldy-looking cow wandering and bellowing at intervals.\n\nThe hours dragged by. Gwenhwyfar had to accept two things, that she could not get out of the room by her own efforts, and that she could not attract the attention of any person who would be likely to come and let her out. Her escort was gone-dead or imprisoned, in any case unable to come to her aid. Her waiting-woman and page were probably dead, certainly well out of reach. She was here, and alone, at the mercy of a man who would probably use her as a hostage to exact some kind of concession from Arthur.\n\nHer own person was probably safe from him. As she had pointed out to Morgaine, all his claim rested on the fact that he was the only surviving son of her father; bastard, but still of the royal blood. However, when she thought of his rapacious grin and huge presence, she was terrified; he might easily abuse her or try to force her to acknowledge him as regent of this country." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The day dragged on; the sun moved slowly from the small crack of window, across the room, and away again, and at last it began to grow dark. Gwenhwyfar went through into the little chamber behind Alienor's that had been her own when she was a child; once her mother had dwelt in Alienor's chamber. The dark confined space, no more than a closet, felt comfortingly secure; who could hurt her inhere? No matter that it was dirty and stale, the bedstraw mildewed; she crept into the bed and wrapped herself in her cloak. Then she went back into the outer room and tried to shove Alienor's heavy carved chest against the door. She had discovered that she was very much afraid of Meleagrant, and even more afraid of his ruffianly men-at-arms.\n\nCertainly he would not let them hurt her-the only bargaining power he had washer safety. Arthur would kill him, she told herself, Arthur would kill him if he offered her the slightest insult or harm.\n\nBut, she asked herself in her misery, would Arthur really care? Although he had been kind and loving to her all these years and treated her with all honor, still he might not be sorry to be quit of a wife who could not bear him a child-a wife who was, furthermore, in love with another man and could not conceal it from him.\n\nIf I were Arthur I would make no move against Meleagrant; I would tell him that now he had me, he might keep me, for all the good it would do him.\n\nWhat did Meleagrant want? If she, Gwenhwyfar, were dead, there would be no one else with the shadow of a claim on the Summer Country's throne; there were some young nephews and nieces by her sisters, but they dwelt faraway and probably did not know or care about this land. Perhaps he simply meant to murder her or leave her hereto starve. The night dragged on. Once she heard some men and horses moving about in the barnyard below; she went to the small window and peered out, but she saw only a dim torch or two, and although she yelled and shouted through her sore throat, no one raised his eyes or took the slightest notice." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Once, far into the night, when she had fallen into a brief, nightmare-ridden doze, she started up, thinking she heard Morgaine calling her name; she sat bolt upright on the dirty straw of the bed, staring into the thick darkness, but she was alone.\n\nMorgaine, Morgaine. If you can see me with your sorcery, say to my lord when he comes home that Meleagrant is false, that it was a trap... and then she wondered, would God be angry with her for calling on Morgaine's sorcery to deliver her? And she fell to praying softly until the monotony of her prayers put her to sleep again.\n\nShe slept heavily, this time, without dreams, and when she woke, her mouth dry, she realized it was full day and she was still prisoner in the empty and filthy apartment. She was hungry and thirsty, and sickened with the smell of the place, not only the stale straw and mould, but the smells from one corner she had had to use as a latrine. How long were they going to leave her here alone? The morning wore away and Gwenhwyfar no longer even had the strength or courage to pray.\n\nWas she being punished, then, for her guilt, for not valuing enough what she had had? She had been a faithful wife to Arthur, yet she had hungered after another man. She had meddled with Morgaine's sorcery. But, she thought in despair, if I am being punished for my adultery with Lancelet, for what was I being punished while I was yet a faithful wife to Arthur?\n\nEven if Morgaine could see, with her magic, that she was imprisoned, would she trouble to help her? Morgaine had no reason to love her; indeed, Morgaine almost certainly despised her." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Was there anyone who really cared?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Why should anyone care what happened to her?\n\nIt was past noon when at last she heard a step on the stairs. She sprang to her feet, wrapping herself tightly in her cloak, and backed away from the door. It was Meleagrant who came in, and at sight of him she drew back even farther.\n\n\"Why have you done this tome?\" she demanded. \"Where is my woman, my page, my chamberlain? What have you done with my escort? Do you think Arthur will allow you to rule this country when you have offered insult to his queen?\"\n\n\"His queen no longer,\" Meleagrant said quietly. \"When I am done with you, he will not have you back. In the old days, lady, the consort of the queen was king of the land, and if I hold you and get sons on you, no man will gainsay my right to rule.\"\n\n\"You will get no sons from me,\" Gwenhwyfar said with a mirthless laugh. \"I am barren.\"\n\n\"Pah-you were married to a damned beardless boy,\" he said, and added something more, which Gwenhwyfar did not completely understand, only that it was unimaginably foul.\n\n\"Arthur will kill you,\" she said.\n\n\"Let him try. It is harder than you would think to attack an island,\" said Meleagrant, \"and by that time, perhaps, he will not care to try, since he would have to take you back-\"\n\nShe said, \"I cannot marry you, I have a husband.\"\n\n\"No man in my kingdom will care one way or the other,\" said Meleagrant. \"There were many who chafed at the rule of the priests, and I have cast forth every damned priest of them! I rule by the old laws, and I will make myself king by that law, which says your man rules here-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She whispered, \"No,\" and backed away, but he sprang at her and pulled her toward him.\n\n\"You're not to my taste,\" he said brutally. \"Skinny, ugly, pale wenches-I like better a woman who's some flesh to her bones! But you're old Leodegranz's daughter, unless your mother had more blood to her than I think she could have had! And so-\" He pulled her to him. She struggled, got her arm loose, and struck him hard across the face.\n\nHe shouted as her elbow struck his nose, grabbed her arm and shook her, hard; then hither with his clenched fist across the jaw. She felt something snap and tasted blood bursting in her mouth. He hither again and again with his fists; she put her arms up, terrified, toward off his blows, but he went on beating her. \"Now,\" he yelled, \"there'll be no more of that, you'll find out who's your master-\" He seized her wrist and wrenched at it.\n\n\"Oh, no-no-please, please, don't hurt me-Arthur, Arthur will kill you-\"\n\nHe answered her only with an obscenity, wrenched at her wrist, flung her down on the dirty straw of the bed, knelt beside her, hauling at his clothing. She writhed, shrieking; he hither again and she lay still, crouched on a corner of the bed.\n\n\"Takeoff your gown!\" he ordered.\n\n\"No!\" she cried, huddling her clothes about her. He reached out, twisting her wrist, and held her while he ripped her gown deliberately down to the waist.\n\n\"Now will you take it off, or shall I tear off every rag of it?\"\n\nShaking, sobbing, with trembling fingers, Gwenhwyfar pulled her gown over her head, knowing that she should fight, but too terrified of his fists and blows to resist. When she had done he pulled her down, held her down on the dirty straw, pushing her legs open with a rough hand. She struggled only a little, frightened of his hands, sickened by his foul breath, his huge hairy body, the big meaty phallus that thrust painfully into her, pushing and pushing till she felt she would break in two." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Don't pull away from me like that, damn you!\" he shouted, thrusting violently; she cried outwith pain and he hither again. She lay still, sobbing, and let him do what he would. It seemed to goon forever, his big body straining and pumping on and on, till finally she felt him convulse, thrust agonizingly hard; then he was gone from her, rolled a little away, and she gasped for breath, struggling to pull her clothes around her. He stood up, wrenching at his belt, and gestured to her.\n\n\"Won't you let me go?\" she begged. \"I promise you-I promise you-\"\n\nHe grinned fiercely. \"Why should I?\" he asked. \"No, here you are and here you'll stay. Is there anything you need? A gown to put in the place of that one?\"\n\nShe stood weeping, exhausted, shamed, sickened. At last she said shakily, \"I-can I have some water, and-and something to eat? And\"-She began to cry harder than ever, with shame-\"and a chamber pot?\"\n\n\"Whatever my lady desires,\" said Meleagrant sarcastically, and went away, locking her in again.\n\nLater in the day a crook-backed old crone brought her some greasy roast meat and a hunk of barley bread, and jugs of water and beer. She also brought some blankets and a chamber pot.\n\nGwenhwyfar said, \"If you will bear a message to my lord Arthur, I will give you this-\" and she took the gold comb from her hair. The old woman's face brightened at the look of the gold, but then she looked away, scared, and sidled out of the room. Gwenhwyfar burst into tears again." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "At last she regained some calm, ate and drank, and tried to wash herself a little. She felt sick and sore, but worse than that was the sense of being used, shamed, ineradicably dirtied.\n\nWas it true what Meleagrant had said-that Arthur would not have her back now, that she had been spoilt beyond redemption? It might be so... if she were a man she would not want anything Meleagrant had used either....\n\nNo, but it was not fair; this was not anything she had done wrong, she had been trapped and tricked, used against her will.\n\nOh, but it is no more than I deserve... I who am not a faithful wife, but love another.... She felt sick with guilt and shame. But after a time she began to recover her composure and to consider her predicament.\n\nShe was herein Meleagrant's castle-her father's old castle. She had been raped and was held captive, and Meleagrant had proclaimed his intention of holding this island kingdom by right of being her consort. It was not to be considered that Arthur would let him do so; no matter what he thought of her personally, for his own honor as High King he would have to make war on Meleagrant. It would not be easy, but it should not be impossible to recapture an island. She knew nothing of Meleagrant as a fighter-except, she thought with a rare flash of grim humor, against a helpless woman, whom he had beaten into submission. But it was not to be considered, either, that he could stand against the High King who had driven the Saxons into utter rout at Mount Badon.\n\nAnd then she must face him and tell him what had happened to her. It might be simpler to kill herself. Come what might, she could not imagine herself facing Arthur, telling him how Meleagrant had treated her... I should have fought against him harder; Arthur, in battle, has faced very death, once he took a great wound which kept him abed half a year, and I-I stopped fighting after a few slaps and blows.... She wished she had some of Morgaine's sorcery; she would turn him into a pig! But Morgaine would never have fallen into his hands, she would have guessed it was a trap; and she would have used that little dagger of hers, too-she might not have killed him, but he would have lost his desire, and perhaps his ability, to ravish any woman!" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She had eaten and drunk what she could, washed herself, and brushed her filthy dress clean.\n\nAgain the day had begun to wane. It could not be hoped for-that she would be missed, that anyone would come for her until Meleagrant began to boast of what he had done, proclaim himself the consort of King Leodegranz's daughter. She had gone of her own freewill, and properly attended by two of Arthur's Companions. Not until Arthur returned from the Southern Shores, and perhaps not fora week or ten days after that, when she did not return at the appointed time, would he begin to suspect that all was not well.\n\nMorgaine, why did I not listen to you? You warned me he was a villain.... Fora moment it seemed that she could see her sister-in-law's pale, passionless face-calm, slightly mocking-so clearly that she rubbed her eyes; Morgaine, laughing at her? No, it was a trick of the light, it was gone.\n\nWould that she could see me through her magic... perhaps she could send someone... no, she would not, she hates me, she would laugh at my ill fortune... and then she remembered: Morgaine laughed and mocked, but when it was areal trouble, no one could be kinder. Morgaine had tended her when she miscarried; she had, against her own protest, been willing to try and help her with a charm. Perhaps Morgaine did not hate her after all. Perhaps all Morgaine's mockery was a defense against Gwenhwyfar's own pride, her scorn of the sorceresses of Avalon.\n\nTwilight was beginning to blur the furniture in the room. She should have thought to ask for some sort of light. Now it seemed she would spend a second night as prisoner here, and it might be that Meleagrant would return... and at the thought she felt sick again with terror; she was still sore from his brutal treatment, her mouth swollen, bruises darkening on her shoulders and, she supposed, on her face. And although, when she was alone here, she could think quite calmly about ways to fight him and perhaps drive him away, she knew, with a sick sinking of terror in her body, that when he touched her, she would shrink away in dread and let him do whatever he would, to avoid more blows... she was so afraid, so afraid that he would hurt her again...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And how could Arthur forgive her for this, that she had not been beaten entirely into submission, but had given way like a coward, after the threat of a few blows and slaps... how could he take her back as his queen and continue to love and honor her, when she had allowed another man to have her...?\n\nHe had not minded when she and Lancelet... he had been apart of that... if there was sin it was not all hers, she had done as her husband wished....\n\nOh, yes, but Lancelet was his kinsman and dearest friend....\n\nThere was a commotion in the courtyard; Gwenhwyfar went to the window, peering out, but she could see only that same corner of the barnyard, and that same bellowing cow. Somewhere there was noise, shouting and yelling and the clash of weapons, but she could not see and the sound was muffled by the walls and stairs; it might be no more than those villains of Meleagrant's, fighting or brawling in the courts, or even-oh, no! God forbid it!-murdering her escort. She tried to crane her neck so she could see further from the slit of window, but there was nothing to see.\n\nThere was a sound outside. The door flew open and Gwenhwyfar, turning apprehensively, saw Meleagrant, a naked sword in hand. He gestured with it. \"Get within-into that inner chamber,\" he ordered. \"In with you, and not a sound from you, madam, or it will be the worse for you.\"\n\nDoes this mean someone has come to rescue me? He looked desperate, and Gwenhwyfar knew that she could get no information from him. She backed away, slowly, into the little inner room. He followed her, his hand on the sword, and Gwenhwyfar flinched, her whole body cringing in anticipation of the stroke... would he kill her now, or hold her as hostage for his own escape?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She never knew his plan. Meleagrant's head suddenly exploded in a spray of blood and brains; he crumpled with a weird slowness, and Gwenhwyfar sank down, too, half fainting, but before she reached the floor, she was in Lancelet's arms.\n\n\"My lady, my queen-ah, my beloved-\" He caught her against him, holding her, and then, half senseless, Gwenhwyfar knew he was covering her face with kisses. She made no protest; it was like a dream. Meleagrant lay in his blood on the floor, the sword lay where it had fallen. Lancelet had to lift her over the body before he could set heron her feet.\n\n\"How-how did you know?\" she stammered.\n\n\"Morgaine,\" he said tersely. \"When I came to Camelot, Morgaine said she had tried to bid you delay till I was there. She felt it was a trap-I took horse and came after you, with half a dozen men. I found your escort imprisoned in the woods near here, tied and gagged-once I had freed them, it was not hard-no doubt he thought himself secure.\" Now Lancelet let her go long enough to seethe bruises on her face and body, her torn gown, the cut lip where it was swollen. He touched them with shaking fingers. \"Now do I regret he died so quickly,\" he said. \"It would give me delight to make him suffer as you have suffered-ah, my poor love, my darling, you have been so cruelly used-\"\n\n\"You don't know,\" she whispered, \"you don't know-\" and she was sobbing again, clinging to him. \"You came, you came, I thought no one would come, that no one would want me now, that no one would ever touch me again-now when I am so shamed....\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He held her, kissing her again and again in a frenzy of tenderness. \"Shamed? You? No, the shame is his, his, oh, and he has paid for it...\" he muttered through his kisses. \"I thought I had lost you forever, he might have killed you, but Morgaine said no, you lived-\"\n\nEven then, Gwenhwyfar spared a moment of fear and resentment-did Morgaine know how she had been humiliated, violated? Ah, God, if only Morgaine need not have known! She could not bear it, that Morgaine should know of this!\n\n\"Sir Ectorius? Sir Lucan-\"\n\n\"Lucan is well enough; Ectorius is not young, and he has suffered grave shock, but there is no reason to think he will not live,\" Lancelet said. \"You must go down, my beloved, and show yourself to them; they must know that their queen lives.\"\n\nGwenhwyfar looked at her torn gown, touched her bruised face with hesitant hands. She said, her voice catching in her throat, \"Can I not have a little time to make myself proper? I do not want them to see-\" and she could not goon.\n\nLancelet hesitated, then nodded. He said, \"Yes; let them think he dared offer you no insult. It is better that way. I came alone, knowing I could match Meleagrant; the others are downstairs. Let me look in the other chambers-a man of his kind would not dwell here without some woman or other.\" He left her fora moment, and she could barely endure to see him out of her sight. She edged away from the body of Meleagrant on the floor, looking down at the man as if he were a wolf's carcass killed by some shepherd, without even distate for the blood." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "After a moment Lancelet returned. \"There is a room yonder which is clean, and chests therewith some garments laid away-I think it was the old king's room. There is even a mirror.\" He led her down the hall. This room had been swept, and the bed straw on the big bed was fresh and clean, and there were sheets and blankets, and fur comforters-not too clean, but not disgusting, either. There was a carved chest she recognized, and inside it she found three gowns, one of which she had seen Alienor wear, and the others made for someone taller. Handling them, through a mist of tears, she thought, These must have been my own mother's. I wonder that my father never gave them to Alienor. And then she thought, I never knew my father well. I have no idea what manner of man he was, he was only my father. And that seemed so sad to her that she wanted to weep again.\n\n\"I will put this on,\" she said, and then she broke into a weak laugh. \"If I can manage without a woman to dress me-\"\n\nLancelet touched her face gently. \"I will dress you, my lady.\" He began to help her off with her gown. And then his face twisted, and he lifted her up in his arms, half-dressed as she was.\n\n\"When I think of that-that animal, touching you-\" he said, with his face muffled against her breast, \"and I who love you barely dare to lay a hand on you-\"\n\nAnd for all her faithfulness, she had only come to this; God had rewarded her for her virtue and self-restraint by betraying her into Meleagrant's hands for rape and brutality! And Lancelet, who had offered her love and tenderness, who had scrupulously stepped aside that he might not betray his kinsman-he had to witness it! She turned in his arms, embracing him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Lancelet,\" she whispered, \"my love, my dearest-takeaway from me the memory of what was done tome-let us not go from here yet fora little while-\"\n\nHis eyes overflowed with tears; he laid her down gently on the bed, caressing her with shaking hands.\n\nGod did not reward me for virtue. What makes me think he could punish me? And then a thought which frightened her, perhaps there is no God at all, nor any of the Gods people believe in. Perhaps it is all a great lie of the priests, so that they may tell mankind what to do, whatnot to do, what to believe, give orders even to the King. She raised herself, pulling Lancelet down to her, her bruised mouth searching for his, her hands wandering allover the beloved body, this time without fear and without shame. She no longer cared, nor felt restraint. Arthur? Arthur had not protected her from ravishment. She had suffered what she had had to suffer, and now, at least, she would have this much. It had been by Arthur's doing that she had first lain with Lancelet, and now she would do what she would.\n\nThey rode out of Meleagrant's castle two hours later, side by side, their hands reaching out between their horses to touch as they rode, and Gwenhwyfar no longer cared; she looked straight at Lancelet, her head held high with joy and gladness. This washer truelove, and never again would she trouble herself to hide it from any man." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "On the shores of Avalon the priestesses wound slowly along the reedy shore, torches in hand.... I should have been among them, but there was some reason I could not go.... Viviane would have been angry with me that I was not there, yet I seemed to stand on afar shore, unable to speak the word that would have brought me to them....\n\nRaven paced slowly, her paleface lined as I had never seen it, along streak of white at the side of her temple... her hair was unbound; could it be that she was still maiden, untouched save by the God? Her white draperies moved in the same wind that made the torches flare. Where was Viviane, where was the Lady? The sacred boat stood at the shore of the eternal lands, but she would come no more to the place of the Goddess... and who was this in the veil and wreath of the Lady?\n\nI had never seen her before, save in dreams....\n\nThick, colorless hair, the color of ripe wheat, was braided in a low coronal over her brow; but hanging at her waist where the sickle knife of a priestess should have hung... ah, Goddess! Blasphemy! For at the side of her pale gown a silver crucifix hung; I struggled against invisible bonds to rush forward and tearaway the blasphemous thing, but Kevin stepped between us and held my hands in his own, which twisted and writhed like misshapen serpents... and then he was writhing between my hands... and the serpents were tearing at me with their teeth...\n\n\"Morgaine! What is it?\" Elaine shook her bedfellow's shoulder. \"What is it! You were crying out in your sleep-\"\n\n\"Kevin,\" she muttered, and sat up, her unbound hair, raven-dark, moving about her like dark water. \"No, no, it wasn't you-but she had fair hairlike yours, and a crucifix-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You were dreaming, Morgaine,\" Elaine said. \"Wake up!\"\n\nMorgaine blinked and shuddered, then drew along breath and looked up at Elaine with her customary composure. \"I am sorry-an evil dream,\" she said, but her eyes still looked haunted. Elaine wondered what dreams pursued the King's sister; for sure they must be evil, for she had come here from that evil island of witches and sorceresses... yet somehow Morgaine had never seemed to her an evil woman. How could any woman be so good when she worshipped devils and refused Christ?\n\nShe turned away from Morgaine and said, \"We must getup, cousin. The King will return this day, so last night's messenger said.\"\n\nMorgaine nodded and got out of bed, pulling off her shift; Elaine modestly averted her eyes. Morgaine seemed to be without shame-had she never heard that all sin came into this world through the body of a woman? Now she stood shamelessly naked, rummaging in her chest fora holiday shift, and Elaine turned away and began to dress.\n\n\"Make haste, Morgaine, we must go to the Queen-\"\n\nMorgaine smiled. \"Not too much haste, kinswoman, we must give Lancelet time to be well away. Gwenhwyfar would not thank you for making a scandal.\"\n\n\"Morgaine, how can you say such a thing? After what has happened, it is no more than reason that Gwenhwyfar should be afraid to be alone at night and should wish her champion to sleep at her very door... and indeed, it was fortunate Lancelet came in time to save her from worse-\"\n\n\"Don't be more of a fool than you must, Elaine,\" said Morgaine with weary patience. \"Do you believe that?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You, of course, know better by your magic,\" flared Elaine, so loudly that the other women who slept in the room turned their heads to hear what the Queen's cousin and the King's sister were quarrelling about. Morgaine lowered her voice and said, \"Believe me, I want no scandal, no more than you. Gwenhwyfar is my sister-in-law and Lancelet is my kinsman too. God knows, Arthur should not chide Gwenhwyfar for what befell with Meleagrant-poor wretch, it was none of her doing, and no doubt it must be given out that Lancelet came in time to rescue her. But I have no doubt Gwenhwyfar will tell Arthur, at least in secret, how Meleagrant used her-no, Elaine, I saw how she was when Lancelet brought her back from the island, and I heard what she said, her terror that that damned hellhound might have managed to get her with child!\"\n\nElaine's face went dead white. \"But he is her brother,\" she whispered. \"Is there any man alive would do such sin as that?\"\n\n\"Oh, Elaine, in God's name, what a ninny you are!\" Morgaine said. \"Is that what you think the worst of it?\"\n\n\"And you are saying-Lancelet has shared her bed while the King was away-\"\n\n\"I am not surprised, nor do I think it the first time,\" said Morgaine. \"Have sense, Elaine-do you begrudge it? After what Meleagrant did to her, I would not be surprised if Gwenhwyfar would never again wish any man to touch her, and for her sake I am glad, if Lancelet can heal that hurt for her. And now, perhaps, Arthur will put her away, so that he may get him a son somewhere.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Elaine said, staring at her, \"Perhaps Gwenhwyfar will go into a convent-she told me once she was never happier than in her convent at Glastonbury." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But would they have her, if she had been paramour to her husband's captain of horse? Oh, Morgaine, I am so ashamed of her!\"\n\n\"It has nothing to do with you,\" Morgaine said. \"Why should you care?\"\n\nElaine said, surprising herself with her outburst, \"Gwenhwyfar has a husband, she is wife to the High King, and her husband is the most honorable and kindly king ever to rule these lands! She has no need to look elsewhere for love! Yet how can Lancelet turn away to seek any other lady, if the Queen stretches out her hand?\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Morgaine, \"perhaps now she and Lancelet will go forth from this court. Lancelet has lands in Less Britain, and they have loved one another long, though I think that till this mishap, they had lived as Christian man and woman.\" Silently she absolved herself for the lie; what Lancelet had told her in his agony was to beheld forever in the depths of her heart.\n\n\"But then would Arthur be the laughingstock of every Christian king in these islands,\" said Elaine shrewdly. \"If his queen should flee out of his lands with his best friend and his captain of horse, they would call him cuckold or worse.\"\n\n\"I do not think Arthur will care what they say of him,\" Morgaine began, but Elaine shook her head.\n\n\"No, Morgaine, but he must care. The lesser kings must respect him so that they will rally to his standard when there is need. How can they do so when he allows his wife to live in open sin with Lancelet? Yes, I know you speak of these few days. But can we be certain it will stop at that? My father is Arthur's friend and vassal, but I think even he would mock at a king who could not rule his wife, and wonder how such a one could rule a kingdom.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Morgaine shrugged and said, \"What can we do, short of murdering the guilty pair?\"\n\n\"What talk!\" said Elaine with a shudder. \"No, but Lancelet must leave the court. You are his kinswoman, cannot you make him see that?\"\n\n\"Alas,\" said Morgaine, \"I fear I have but little influence with my kinsman in that way.\" And inside it was as if some cold thing seized her with its teeth.\n\n\"If Lancelet were married,\" said Elaine, and suddenly it seemed as if she wrenched at her own courage. \"If he were married tome! Morgaine, you are wise in charms and spells, cannot you give me a charm which will turn Lancelet's eyes from Gwenhwyfar tome? I am a king's daughter too, and I am certainly as beautiful as Gwenhwyfar-and I at least have no husband!\"\n\nMorgaine laughed bitterly. \"My spells, Elaine, can be worse than useless-ask Gwenhwyfar one day how such a spell rebounded upon her! But Elaine,\" she said, suddenly serious, \"would you truly travel that road?\"\n\n\"I think that if he married me,\" Elaine said, \"he would come to see that I am no less worthy of love than Gwenhwyfar.\"\n\nMorgaine put her hand under the young woman's chin and turned up her face. \"Listen, my child,\" she began, and Elaine felt that the dark eyes of the sorceress were searching into her very soul. \"Elaine, this would not be easy. You have said you love him, but love when a maiden speaks so is no more than a fancy. Do you truly know what kind of a man he is? Is this a fancy which could endure for all the years of a marriage? If you wanted only to lie with him-that I could arrange easily enough. But when the glamour of the spell had worn off, he might well hate you because you had tricked him. And what then?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Elaine said, stammering, \"Even that... even that I will risk. Morgaine, my father has offered me to other men, but he has promised me that he will never force my will. I tell you, if I cannot marry Lancelet, I shall go behind convent walls for all of my life, I swear it....\" The girl's whole body trembled, but she did not weep. \"But why should I turn to you, Morgaine? Like all of us, like Gwenhwyfar herself, you would have Lancelet, whether as husband or paramour, and the King's sister may choose for herself....\"\n\nThen, fora moment, Elaine thought her eyes tricked her, for in the cold eyes of the sorceress it seemed that tears gathered. Something in her voice made Elaine's eyes sting too. \"Ah, no, child, Lancelet would not have me, even if Arthur bade him. Believe me, Elaine, you would have small happiness with Lancelet.\"\n\nElaine said, \"I do not think women have ever much happiness in marriage-only young girls think so, and I am not so young. But a woman must marry sometime or other, and I would rather have Lancelet.\" Then she burst out, \"I do not think you can do anything of the sort! Why do you mock me? Are your charms and spells all moonlight rubbish, then?\"\n\nShe had expected Morgaine to flareup at her, to defend her own craft, but Morgaine sighed and shook her head and said, \"I put not much faith in love charms and spells, I told you that when first we spoke. They are for concentrating the will of the ignorant. The craft of Avalon is a very different thing, and not lightly to be invoked because a maiden would rather lie with one man than another.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Oh, it is ever so with the craft of the wise,\" Elaine burst out scornfully." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I could do thus or thus, but I will not because it would not be right to meddle in the work of the Gods, or the stars are not right, or what have you....\"\n\nMorgaine sighed, a heavy sound. \"Kinswoman, I can give you Lancelet for husband, if that is truly what you desire. I do not think it will make you happy, but you are so far wise, you have said that you expect not happiness in marriage... believe me, Elaine, I want nothing more than to see Lancelet well wedded and away from this court and from the Queen. Arthur is my brother, and I would not see shame brought upon him, as soon or late it must be. But you are to remember that you asked me for this. See that you do not whimper when it turns to bitterness.\"\n\n\"I swear I will abide whatever comes, if I can have him for husband,\" Elaine said. \"But why would you do this, Morgaine? Is it simply out of spite for Gwenhwyfar?\"\n\n\"Believe that if you will, or believe I love Arthur too well to see scandal destroy what he has wrought here,\" Morgaine said steadily, \"and bear in mind, Elaine, charms seldom work as you expect they will....\"\n\nWhen the Gods had set their will, what did it matter what any mortal did, even with charms and spells? Viviane had set Arthur on the throne... yet the Goddess had done her own will and not Viviane's, for she had denied Arthur any son by his queen. And when she, Morgaine, had sought to remedy what the Goddess had left undone, the rebound of that charm had thrown Gwenhwyfar and Lancelet together into this scandalous love.\n\nWell, that at least she could remedy, by making it sure that Lancelet made an honorable marriage. And Gwenhwyfar too was trapped; she would be glad, perhaps, of something to break this deadlock." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Her mouth twitched a little in something that was not quite a smile. \"Beware, Elaine, there is a wise saying: Have a care what you pray for, it might be given you. I can give you Lancelet for husband, but I will ask a gift in return.\"\n\n\"What can I give you that you would value, Morgaine? You care not for jewels, that I have seen....\"\n\n\"I want neither jewels nor riches,\" Morgaine said, \"only this. You will bear Lancelet children, for I have seen his son...\" and she stopped, feeling her skin prickle all the way up her spine, as when the Sight came upon her. Elaine's blue eyes were wide with wonder. She could almost hear Elaine's thought, So it is true then, and I will have Lancelet for husband and give him children....\n\nYes, it is true, though I did not know it until I spoke... if I work within the Sight, then I am not meddling with what should be left to the Goddess, and so the way will be made clear for me.\n\n\"I will say nothing of your son,\" Morgaine said steadily. \"He must do his own fate....\" She shook her head to clear it of the strange darkness of the Sight. \"I ask only that you give me your first daughter to be schooled at Avalon.\"\n\nElaine's eyes were wide. \"In sorcery?\"\n\n\"Lancelet's own mother was High Priestess of Avalon,\" Morgaine said. \"I will bear no daughter for the Goddess. If through my doing you give Lancelet the son which every man craves, you must swear tome-swear by your own God-that you will send me your daughter for fostering.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The room seemed full of a ringing silence. At last Elaine said, \"If all this comes to pass, and if I have Lancelet's son, then I swear you shall have his daughter for Avalon. I swear it by the name of Christ,\" she said, and made the sign of the cross.\n\nMorgaine nodded. \"And in turn I swear,\" she said, \"that she shall be as the daughter I shall never bear to the Goddess, and that she shall avenge a great wrong....\"\n\nElaine blinked. \"A great wrong-Morgaine, what are you speaking of?\"\n\nMorgaine swayed a little; the ringing silence in the room was broken. She was aware of the sound of rain outside the windows, and of a chill in the chamber. She frowned and said, \"I do not know-my mind wandered. Elaine, this thing cannot be done here. You must beg leave to go and see your father, and you must make certain that I am invited to go and bear you company. I will see to it that Lancelet is there.\" She drew along breath, and turned to take up her gown. \"And as for Lancelet, we must by now have given him time to begone from the Queen's chamber. Come, Gwenhwyfar will be awaiting us.\"\n\nAnd indeed when Elaine and Morgaine reached the Queen, there was no sign of the presence thereof Lancelet, or any other man. But once, when Elaine was fora moment beyond earshot, Gwenhwyfar met Morgaine's eyes, and Morgaine thought she had never seen such awful bitterness.\n\n\"You despise me, do you not, Morgaine?\"\n\nFor once, Morgaine thought, Gwenhwyfar has voiced the question that has been in her thoughts all these weeks. She felt like hurling back a sharp answer-If I do so, is it not because you have first despised me? But she said as gently as she could, \"I am not your confessor, Gwenhwyfar, and you, not I, are the one who professes belief in a God who will damn you because you share your bed with a man who is not your husband. My Goddess is gentler with women.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"He should have been,\" Gwenhwyfar burst out, then stopped herself and said, \"Arthur is your brother, in your eyes he can do no wrong-\"\n\n\"I said not that.\" Morgaine could not bear the wretchedness in the younger woman's face. \"Gwenhwyfar, my sister, none has accused you-\"\n\nBut Gwenhwyfar turned away. She said between clenched teeth, \"No, and I want not your pity either, Morgaine.\"\n\nWant it, or want it not, it is yours, Morgaine thought, but she did not put the thought into words; she was not a healer, to probe old wounds and make them bleed. \"Are you ready to break your fast, Gwenhwyfar? What will you choose to eat?\"\n\nMore and more, in this court, since there is no war, it is as if I were her servant, and she nobler than I. It was, Morgaine thought dispassionately, a game they all played, and she did not begrudge it to Gwenhwyfar. But there were in this kingdom noblewomen who might; and she liked it not, either, that Arthur accepted this, that now there were no wars to be fought, Arthur assumed that his old Companions should now be his personal attendants, even though they might be kings or lords in their own right. At Avalon she had willingly served Viviane because the old woman was the living representative of the Goddess, and her wisdom and magical powers put her almost beyond the human. But she had known, too, that the same powers were available to her, if she would work seriously to attain them; and a day could come when she would have the reverence, too, if she took on the power of the Goddess.\n\nBut fora war leader of the land, or for his consort-no, such powers were not suitable except in war itself, and it angered her that Arthur should keep his court in such state, assuming a power which should belong only to the greatest Druids and priestesses. Arthur bears the sword of Avalon still, and if he keeps not his oath to Avalon, they will require it at his hands." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And then it seemed to Morgaine that the room grew still all around her and seemed to open itself out as if everything were very faraway; she could still see Gwenhwyfar, her mouth half opened to speak, but at the same time it seemed she could see through the woman's body, as if she were in the fairy kingdom. Everything seemed, all at once, distant and small and looming over her, and there was a deep silence within her head. In that silence she saw the walls of a pavilion, and Arthur sleeping with Excalibur naked in his hand. And she bent over him-she could not take the sword, but with Viviane's little sickle knife she cut the strings that bound the scabbard to his waist; it was old now, the velvet frayed and the precious metal of the embroideries dulled and tarnished. Morgaine took the scabbard in her hand, and then she was on the shores of a great lake, with the sound of reeds washing around over her....\n\n\"I said, no, I do not want any wine, I am weary of wine for breakfast,\" Gwenhwyfar remarked. \"Perhaps Elaine could find some new milk in the kitchens-Morgaine? Have you gone into a swoon?\"\n\nMorgaine blinked and stared at Gwenhwyfar. Slowly she came back, trying to focus her eyes. None of it was true, she was not riding madly along the shores of a lake with the scabbard in her hand... yet all this place had the look of the fairy world, as if she saw everything through rippling water, and it was somehow like a dream she had had once, if she could only remember... and even while she assured the other women that she was quite all right, promising to go herself to the dairy for fresh milk if there was none in the kitchen, still her mind led her through the labyrinths of the dream... if she could only remember what it was that she had dreamed, all would be well...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But as she went down into the fresh air, cool even in summer, she felt no longer as if this world might melt at any moment into the world of fairy. Her head ached as if it had been split asunder, and all that day she was held captive by the strange spell of her waking dream. If only she could remember... she had flung Excalibur into the Lake, that was it, so that the fairy queen might not have it... no, that was not it, either... and her mind would begin again to try and unreel the strange obsessive path of her dream.\n\nBut past noon, when the sun was falling toward evening, she heard the horns announcing Arthur's arrival, and felt the stir which ran all through Camelot. With the other women she ran out to the earthworks at the edge of the heights and watched the royal party riding toward them, banners flying. Gwenhwyfar was trembling at her side. She was taller than Morgaine, but somehow, with her slender pale hands and the fragility of her narrow shoulders, it seemed to Morgaine that Gwenhwyfar was only a child, a tall, lanky child, nervous at some imaginary mischief which must be punished. She touched Morgaine's sleeve with her trembling hand.\n\n\"Sister-must my lord know? It is done and Meleagrant is dead. There is no reason for Arthur to make war on anyone. Why should he not think that my lord Lancelet reached me in time-in time to prevent-\" Her voice was only a thin treble, like a little girl's, and she could not speak the words.\n\n\"Sister,\" said Morgaine, \"it is for you to tell or not.\"\n\n\"But-if he heard it elsewhere-\"\n\nMorgaine sighed; could not Gwenhwyfar have said for once what she meant? \"If Arthur hears aught to distress him, he will not hear it from me, and there is no other has the right to speak. But he cannot lay it to your charge that you were trapped and beaten into submission.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "And then she knew, as if she had heard it, the voice of a priest speaking to the trembling Gwenhwyfar-was it now or when Gwenhwyfar was a child?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "-saying that no woman was ever ravished save she had tempted some man to it, as Eve led our first father Adam into sin; that the Holy Virgin martyrs of Rome had willingly died rather than lay down their chastity... it was this made Gwenhwyfar tremble. Somewhere in her mind, dismiss it how she might or try to smother the knowledge in Lancelet's arms, she truly believed it washer fault, that she merited death for the sin of having lived to be ravaged. And since she had not died first, Arthur had the right to kill her for it... no reassurances would ever quiet that voice in Gwenhwyfar's mind.\n\nShe feels this guilt over Meleagrant so that she need feel none for what she has done with Lancelet....\n\nGwenhwyfar was shivering at her side, despite the warm sun. \"I would he were here, that we might go indoors. Look, there are hawks flying in the sky. I am afraid of hawks, always I am afraid they will swoop down on me....\"\n\n\"They would find you too big and tough a mouthful, I am afraid, sister,\" Morgaine said amiably.\n\nServants were heaving at the great gates, opening them for the royal party to ride through. Sir Ectorius still limped heavily from the night he had spent imprisoned in the cold, but he came forward at Cai's side, and Cai, as keeper of his castle, bowed before Arthur.\n\n\"Welcome home, my lord and king.\"\n\nArthur dismounted and came to embrace Cai.\n\n\"This is an overly formal welcome to my home, Cai, you rascal-is all well here?\"\n\n\"All is well here now, my lord,\" said Ectorius, \"but once again you have cause to be grateful to your captain.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"True,\" said Gwenhwyfar, coming forward, her hand laid lightly in Lancelet's. \"My lord and king, Lancelet saved me from a trap laid by a traitor, saved me from such a fate as no Christian woman should suffer.\"\n\nArthur laid one hand in his queen's and the other in that of his captain of horse. \"I am, as always, grateful to you, my dear friend, and so is my wife. Come, we shall speak about this in private.\" And, moving between the two of them, he went up the steps into the castle.\n\n\"I wonder what manner of lies they will hurry to pour into his ears, that chaste queen and her finest of knights?\" Morgaine heard the words, spoken low and very clear, from somewhere in the crowd; but she could not tell from where they came. She thought, Perhaps peace is not an unmixed blessing: without a war, there is nothing for them to do at court, with their usual occupation gone, but pass on every rumor and bit of scandal.\n\nBut if Lancelet were gone from the court, then would the scandal be quieted. And she resolved that whatever she could do to accomplish that end, would be done at once.\n\nThat night at supper Arthur asked Morgaine to bring her harp and sing to them. \"It seems long since I heard your music, sister,\" he said, and drew her close and kissed her. He had not done this in along time.\n\n\"I will sing gladly,\" she said, \"but when will Kevin return to court?\" She thought with bitterness of their quarrel; never, never should she forgive him his treason to Avalon! Yet, against her will, she missed him and thought regretfully of the time when they had been lovers.\n\nI am weary of lying alone, that is all...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But this made her think of Arthur, and her son at Avalon... if Gwenhwyfar should leave this court, then surely Arthur would marry again; but it looked not like that at this moment. And should Gwenhwyfar never bear a son, then should not their son be acknowledged as his father's heir? He was doubly of royal blood, the blood of the Pendragon and of Avalon... Igraine was dead and the scandal could not harm her.\n\nShe sat on a carven and gilded stool near the throne, her harp on the floor at her feet; Arthur and Gwenhwyfar sat close together, hand in hand. Lancelet sprawled on the floor at Morgaine's side, watching the harp, but now and again she saw his eyes move to Gwenhwyfar and she quailed at the terrible longing there; how could he show his heart like this to any onlooker? And then Morgaine knew that only she could see his heart-to all other eyes he was only a courtier looking respectfully at his queen, laughing and jesting with her as a privileged friend of her husband.\n\nAnd as her hands moved on the strings, the world again seemed to fall into the distance, very small and far and at the same time huge and strange, things losing their shapes so that her harp seemed at once a child's toy and something monstrous, a huge formless thing smothering her, and she was high on a throne somewhere peering through wandering shadows, looking down at a young man with dark hair, a narrow coronet around his brow, and as she looked on him, the sharp pain of desire ran down her body, she met his eyes and it was as if a hand touched her in her most private part, rousing her to hunger and longing.... She felt her fingers falter on the strings, she had dreamed something... a face wavering, a young man's smile at her, no, it was not Lancelet but some other... no, it was all like shadows-" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Gwenhwyfar's clear voice broke through." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"See to the lady Morgaine,\" she said, \"my sister is faint-!\"\n\nShe felt Lancelet's arms supporting her and looked up into his dark eyes-it was like her dream, desire running through her, melting her... no, but she had dreamed that. It was not real. She put her hand confusedly to her brows. \"It was the smoke, the smoke from the hearth-\"\n\n\"Here, sip this.\" Lancelet held a cup to her lips. What madness was this? He had barely touched her and she felt sick with desire for him; she thought she had long forgotten that, had had it burned out of her over the years... and yet his touch, gentle and impersonal, roused her to fierce longing again. Had she dreamed about him, then?\n\nHe does not want me, he does not want any woman save the Queen, she thought, and stared past him at the hearth, where no fire burned in this summer season, and a wreath of green bay leaves twined to keep the empty fireplace from gaping too black and ugly. She sipped at the wine Lancelet held for her.\n\n\"I am sorry-I have been a little faint all the day,\" she said, remembering the morning. \"Let some other take the harp, I cannot....\"\n\nLancelet said, \"By your leave, my lords, I will sing!\" He took the harp and said, \"This is a tale of Avalon, which I heard in my childhood. I think it was written by Taliesin himself, though he may have made it from an older song.\"\n\nHe began to sing an old ballad, of Arianrhod the queen, who had stepped over a stream and come away with child; and she had cursed her son when he was born, and said he should never have a name till she gave him one, and how he tricked her into giving him a name, and later how she cursed him and said he should never have a wife, whether of flesh and blood, nor yet of the fairy folk, and so he made him a woman of flowers...." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Continue the tale as the writer's plot helper.\nTags: fantasy, arthurian, historical fantasy\nAuthor: Marion Zimmer Bradley\nTitle: The Mists of Avalon\nChapter: 46" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Gwenhwyfar's clear voice broke through." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"See to the lady Morgaine,\" she said, \"my sister is faint-!\"\n\nShe felt Lancelet's arms supporting her and looked up into his dark eyes-it was like her dream, desire running through her, melting her... no, but she had dreamed that. It was not real. She put her hand confusedly to her brows. \"It was the smoke, the smoke from the hearth-\"\n\n\"Here, sip this.\" Lancelet held a cup to her lips. What madness was this? He had barely touched her and she felt sick with desire for him; she thought she had long forgotten that, had had it burned out of her over the years... and yet his touch, gentle and impersonal, roused her to fierce longing again. Had she dreamed about him, then?\n\nHe does not want me, he does not want any woman save the Queen, she thought, and stared past him at the hearth, where no fire burned in this summer season, and a wreath of green bay leaves twined to keep the empty fireplace from gaping too black and ugly. She sipped at the wine Lancelet held for her.\n\n\"I am sorry-I have been a little faint all the day,\" she said, remembering the morning. \"Let some other take the harp, I cannot....\"\n\nLancelet said, \"By your leave, my lords, I will sing!\" He took the harp and said, \"This is a tale of Avalon, which I heard in my childhood. I think it was written by Taliesin himself, though he may have made it from an older song.\"\n\nHe began to sing an old ballad, of Arianrhod the queen, who had stepped over a stream and come away with child; and she had cursed her son when he was born, and said he should never have a name till she gave him one, and how he tricked her into giving him a name, and later how she cursed him and said he should never have a wife, whether of flesh and blood, nor yet of the fairy folk, and so he made him a woman of flowers...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Morgaine sat listening, still twined in her dream, and it seemed to her that Lancelet's dark face was filled with terrible suffering, and as he sang of the flower woman, Blodeuwedd, his eyes lingered fora moment on the queen." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But then he turned to Elaine, and sang courteously of how the blossom woman's hair was made of fine golden lilies, and how her cheeks were like the petals of the apple blossom, and she was clad in all the colors of the flowers that bloom, blue and crimson and yellow, in the fields of summer....\n\nMorgaine sat quietly in her place, cushioning her aching head in her hand. Later Gawaine brought out a pipe from his own northern country, and began to play a wild lament, filled with the cries of seabirds and sorrow. Lancelet came and sat near to Morgaine, taking her hand gently.\n\n\"Are you better now, kinswoman?\"\n\n\"Oh, yes-it has happened before,\" Morgaine said. \"It is as if I had fallen into a dream and saw all things through shadows-\" And yet, she thought, it was not quite like that either.\n\n\"My mother said something like that tome once,\" said Lancelet, and Morgaine gauged his sorrow and weariness by that; never before had he spoken to her, nor to any other as far as she knew, of his mother or of his years at Avalon. \"She seemed to think it was a thing which came of itself with the Sight. Once she said it was as if she were drawn into the fairy country and looking out from there as its prisoner, but I know not if she had ever been within the fairy country or if this was but away of speaking....\"\n\nBut I have, Morgaine thought, and it is not like that, not quite... it is like trying to remember a dream that has faded....\n\n\"I myself have known it a little,\" Lancelet said. \"It comes at a time when I cannot see clearly, but only as if all things were very faraway and not real... and I could not quite touch them but must first cross a weary distance... perhaps it is something in the fairy blood we bear-\" He sighed and rubbed his eyes. \"I used to taunt you with that, when you were only a little maiden, do you recall, I called you Morgaine of the Fairies and it made you angry?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She nodded. \"I remember well, kinsman,\" she said, thinking that for all the weariness in his face, the newlines there, the touch of grey in the crisp curls of his hair, he was still more beautiful to her, more beloved, than any other man she had ever known. She blinked her eyes fiercely; so it was and so it must be: he loved her as kinswoman, no more.\n\nAgain it seemed to her that the world moved behind a barrier of shadows; it mattered nothing what she did. This world was no more real than the fairy kingdom. Even the music sounded faraway and distant-Gawaine had taken up the harp and was singing some tale he had heard among the Saxons, of a monster who dwelled in a lake and how one of their heroes had gone down into the lake and ripped off the monster's arm, then faced the monster's mother in her evil den....\n\n\"A grim and grisly tale,\" she said under her breath to Lancelet, and he smiled and said, \"Most Saxon tales are so. War and bloodshed and heroes with skill in battle and not much else in their thick noddles....\"\n\n\"And now we are to live at peace with them, it seems,\" Morgaine said.\n\n\"Aye. So it shall be. I can live with the Saxons, but not with what they call music... though their tales are entertaining enough, I suppose, fora long evening by the hearth.\" He sighed, and said, almost inaudibly, \"I think perhaps I was not born for sitting by a hearth, either-\"\n\n\"You would like to be out in battle again?\"\n\nHe shook his head. \"No, but I am weary of the court.\" Morgaine saw his eyes go to where Gwenhwyfar sat beside Arthur, smiling as she listened to Gawaine's tale. Again he sighed, a sound that seemed ripped up from the very deeps of his soul." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Lancelet,\" she said, quietly and urgently, \"you must begone from here or you will be destroyed.\"\n\n\"Aye, destroyed body and soul,\" he said, staring at the floor.\n\n\"About your soul I know nothing-you must ask a priest about that-\"\n\n\"Would that I could!\" said Lancelet with suppressed violence; he struck his fist softly on the floor beside her harp, so that the strings jangled a little. \"Would that I could believe there is just such a God as the Christians claim....\"\n\n\"You must go, cousin. Goon some quest like Gareth's, to kill ruffians who are holding the land to ransom, or to kill dragons, or what you will, but you must go!\"\n\nShe saw his throat move as he swallowed. \"And what of her?\"\n\nMorgaine said quietly, \"Believe this or no, I am her friend too. Think you not, she has a soul to be saved as well?\"\n\n\"Why, you give me counsel as good as any priest.\" His smile was bitter.\n\n\"It takes no priesthood to know when two men-and a woman as well-are trapped, and cannot escape from what has been,\" said Morgaine. \"It would be easy to blame her for all. But I, too, know what it is to love where I cannot-\" She stopped and looked away from him, feeling scalding heat rise in her face; she had not meant to say so much. The song had ended, and Gawaine yielded up the harp, saying, \"After this grim tale we need something light-a song of love, perhaps, and I leave that to the gallant Lancelet-\"\n\n\"I have sat too long at court singing songs of love,\" said Lancelet, rising and turning toward Arthur. \"Now that you are here again, my lord, and can see to all things yourself, I beg you to send me forth from this court on some quest.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Arthur smiled at his friend. \"Will you begone so soon? I cannot keep you if you are longing to be away, but where would you go?\"\n\nPellinore and his dragon. Morgaine, her eyes cast down, staring and seeing the flicker of the fire past her lids, formed the words in her mind with all the force she could manage, trying to thrust them into Arthur's mind. Lancelet said, \"I had it in mind to go after a dragon-\"\n\nArthur's eyes glinted with mischief. \"It might be well, at that, to make an end of Pellinore's dragon. The tales grow daily greater, so that men are afraid to travel into that country! Gwenhwyfar tells me Elaine has asked for leave to visit her home. You may escort the lady thither, and Ibid you not return until Pellinore's dragon is dead.\"\n\n\"Alas,\" protested Lancelet, laughing, \"would you exile me from your court for all time? How can I kill a dragon who is but a dream?\"\n\nArthur chuckled. \"May you never meet a dragon worse than that, my friend! Well, I charge you to make an end for all time of that dragon, even if you must laugh it out of existence by making a ballad of it!\"\n\nElaine rose and curtseyed to the King. \"By your leave, my lord, may I ask that the lady Morgaine visit me fora time as well?\"\n\nMorgaine said, not looking at Lancelet, \"I would like to go with Elaine, my brother, if your lady can spare me. There are herbs and simples in that country about which I know little, and I would learn of them from the country wives. I need them for medicines and charms.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Well,\" said Arthur, \"you may go if you will." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But it will be lonely here without you all.\" He smiled his rare, gentle smile at Lancelet. \"My court is not my court without my best of knights. But I would not hold you here against your will, and neither would my queen.\"\n\nI am not so sure of that, Morgaine thought, watching Gwenhwyfar struggling to compose her face. Arthur had been long away; he was eager to be reunited with his wife. Would Gwenhwyfar tell him honestly that she loved another, or would she go meekly to his bed and pretend again?\n\nAnd fora bizarre moment Morgaine saw herself as the Queen's shadow... somehow her fate and mine have gotten all entangled... she, Morgaine, had had Arthur and borne him a son, which Gwenhwyfar longed to do; Gwenhwyfar had had Lancelet's love for which Morgaine would willingly have given her soul... it is just like the God of the Christians to make such blunders-he does not like lovers. Or is it the Goddess who jests cruelly with us?\n\nGwenhwyfar beckoned to Morgaine. \"You look ill, sister. Are you still faint?\"\n\nMorgaine nodded. I must not hate her. She is as much victim as I.... \"I am still a little weary. I will go to rest soon.\"\n\n\"And tomorrow,\" Gwenhwyfar said, \"you and Elaine are to take Lancelet from us.\" The words were spoken lightly, as a jest, but Morgaine seemed to see very deep into Gwenhwyfar, where the woman was fighting rage and despair like her own. Ah, our fates are entangled by the Goddess, and who can fight her will but she hardened her heart against the other woman's despair and said, \"What is the good of a queen's champion, if he is not away fighting for what seems good to him? Would you hold him at court and away from the winning of honor, my sister?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Neither of us would want that,\" Arthur said, coming up behind Gwenhwyfar and laying his arm around her waist." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Since by the goodwill of my friend and champion, my queen is here and safe when I return. Goodnight to you, my sister.\"\n\nMorgaine stood and watched them move away from her, and after a moment she felt Lancelet's hand on her shoulder. He did not speak, but stood silent, watching Arthur and Gwenhwyfar. And as she stood there, silent, she knew that if she made a single move, she could have Lancelet this night. In his despair, now when he saw the woman he loved returning to her husband, and that husband so dear to him that he could not lift a hand to take her, he would turn to Morgaine if she would have him.\n\nAnd he is too honorable not to marry me afterward....\n\nNo. Elaine would have him, perhaps, on those terms, but not I. She is guileless; he will not come to hate her, as he would certainly come to hate me.\n\nGently she removed Lancelet's hand from her shoulder. \"I am weary, my kinsman. I am also for my bed. Goodnight, my dear. Bless you.\" And, knowing the irony of it, said, \"Sleep well,\" knowing he would not. Well, so much the better for the plan she had made.\n\nBut much of that night she too lay unsleeping, bitterly regretting her own foreknowledge. Pride, she thought drearily, was a cold bedfellow." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "In Avalon the Tor rose, crowned with the ring stones, and on the night of the darkened moon, the procession wound slowly upward, with torches. At their head walked a woman, pale hair braided in a crown over abroad, low forehead; she was robed in white, the sickle knife hanging at her girdle. By the light of the flaring torches, it seemed that she sought out Morgaine where she stood in the shadows outside the circle, and her eyes demanded. Where are you, you who should stand herein my place? Why do you linger? Your place is here....\n\nArthur's kingdom is slipping from the Lady's grasp, and you are letting it go. Already he turns for all things to the priests, while you, who should stand in the place of the Goddess to him, will not move. He holds the sword of the Holy Regalia; is it you who will force him to live by it, or you who will take it from his hand and bring him down? Remember, Arthur has a son, and his son must grow to maturity in Avalon, that he may hand the kingdom of the Goddess down to his son....\n\nAnd then it seemed that Avalon faded away and she saw Arthur in desperate battle, Excalibur in his hand, and he fell, run through by another sword, and he flung Excalibur into the Lake that it might not fall into the hands of his son....\n\nWhere is Morgaine, whom the Lady prepared for this day? Where is she who should stand in the place of the Goddess for this hour?\n\nWhere is the Great Raven? And suddenly it seemed tome that a flight of ravens wheeled overhead, diving and pecking at my eyes, circling down at me, crying aloud in Raven's own voice, \"Morgaine! Morgaine, why have you deserted us, why did you betray me?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I cannot,\" I cried, \"I do not know the way...\" but Raven's face melted into the accusing face of Viviane, and then into the shadow of the Old Deathcrone....\n\nAnd Morgaine woke, knowing she lay in a sunlit room in Pellinore's house; the walls were white with plaster, painted in the old Roman fashion. Only outside the windows, far off and distant, she could hear the cry of a raven somewhere, and shivered.\n\nViviane had never scrupled to meddle with the lives of others, when it meant the good of Avalon or of the kingdom. Nor should she. Yet she herself had delayed as the sunny days sped by. Lancelet spent the days on the hills by the Lake, searching for the dragon-as if there actually were a dragon, Morgaine thought scornfully-and the evenings by the fire, exchanging songs and tales with Pellinore, singing to Elaine while sitting at her feet. Elaine was beautiful and innocent, and not unlike her cousin Gwenhwyfar, though five years younger. Morgaine let day after sunny day slide by, sure that they all must seethe logic of it, that Lancelet and Elaine should marry.\n\nNo, she told herself bitterly, if any of them had had any wit to see logic or reason, then should Lancelet have married me years ago. Now it was time to act.\n\nElaine turned over in the bed they shared and opened her eyes; she smiled and curled up next to Morgaine. She trusts me, thought Morgaine painfully; she thinks I am helping her to win Lancelet out of friendship. If I hated her I could do her no worse harm. But she said quietly, \"Now Lancelet has had enough time to feel the loss of Gwenhwyfar. Your time has come, Elaine.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Will you give Lancelet a charm or a love potion...?\"\n\nMorgaine laughed. \"I put small trust in love charms, though tonight he shall have something in his wine which will make him ready for any woman. Tonight you shall not sleep here, but in a pavilion near the woods, and Lancelet shall have a message that Gwenhwyfar has come and has sent for him. And so he will come to you, in the darkness. I can do no more than that-you must be ready for him-\"\n\n\"And he will think I am Gwenhwyfar-\" She blinked, swallowing hard. \"Well, then-\"\n\n\"He may think you are Gwenhwyfar fora short while,\" Morgaine said, steadily, \"but he will know soon enough. You area virgin, are you not, Elaine?\"\n\nThe girl's face was crimson, but she nodded.\n\n\"Well, after the potion I have given him, he will not be able to stop himself,\" said Morgaine, \"unless you should panic and try to fight him away from you-I warn you, it will not be all that much pleasure, since you area virgin. Once I begin I cannot turn back, so say now whether you wish me to begin.\"\n\n\"I will have Lancelet for my husband, and God forbid I should ever turn back before I am honorably his wife.\"\n\nMorgaine sighed. \"So be it. Now-you know the scent Gwenhwyfar uses...\"\n\n\"I know it, but I do not like it much, it is too strong for me.\"\n\nMorgaine nodded. \"I make it for her-you know I am schooled in such things. When you go to bed in the pavilion, you must scent your body and your bedclothes with it. It will turn his mind to Gwenhwyfar and arouse him with that memory-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "The younger woman wrinkled her nose in distaste." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It seems unfair-\"\n\n\"It is unfair,\" said Morgaine. \"Makeup your mind to that. What we are doing is dishonest, Elaine, but there's good to it too. Arthur's kingdom cannot long stand if the King is known a cuckold. When you are wedded awhile, since you and Gwenhwyfar are so much alike, no doubt it will be put round that it was you Lancelet loved all this time.\" She gave Elaine the flask of scent. \"Now, if you have a servant you can trust, have him put up the pavilion somewhere Lancelet will not see it till this night....\"\n\nElaine said, \"Even the priest would approve, I doubt it not, since I am taking him away from adultery with a married woman. I am free to marry....\"\n\nMorgaine felt her own smile thin and strained. \"Well for you, if you can quiet your conscience so... some priests say so, that the end is all, and whatever means be used, they are for the best...\"\n\nShe realized that Elaine was still standing, like a child at lessons, before her. \"Well, go, Elaine,\" she said, \"go and send Lancelet away another day to hunt the dragon. I must prepare my charm.\"\n\nShe watched them as they shared cup and plate at breakfast. Lancelet was fond of Elaine, she thought-fond as he might be of a friendly little dog. He would not be unkind to her when they were married.\n\nViviane had been just as ruthless as this, she had not scrupled to send a brother to the bed of his own sister.... Morgaine worried the memory painfully, like a sore tooth. This too is for the good of the kingdom, she thought, and as she went to hunt out her herbs and medicines, to steep them in wine for the potion she would give Lancelet, she tried to form a prayer to the Goddess who joined man and women in love, or in simple lust like the rutting of beasts." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Goddess, I know enough of lust... she thought, and steadied her hands, breaking the herbs and dropping them into the wine. I have felt his desire, though he would not give me what I would have had from him....\n\nShe sat watching the slow simmering of the herbs in the wine; small bubbles rose, lazily broke, and spat bittersweet essences which fumed around her. The world seemed very small and faraway, her brazier but a child's toy, each bubble that rose in the wine large enough that she could have floated away inside it... her whole body aching with a desire she knew would never be slaked. She could sense that she was moving into the state where powerful magic could be made....\n\nIt seemed she was both within and without the castle, that apart of her was out on the hills, following the Pendragon banner which Lancelet sometimes carried... twisting, a great red dragon... but there were no dragons, not this kind of dragon, and Pellinore's dragon, it was surely only a jest, a dream, as unreal as the banner which flew somewhere, far to the southward, over the walls of Camelot, a dragon invented by some artist for the banner, like the designs Elaine drew for her tapestry. And Lancelet surely knew this. Following the dragon, he was but enjoying a pleasant ride over the summer hills, following a dream and a fantasy, leaving him leisure for daydreaming of Gwenhwyfar's arms.... Morgaine looked down at the bubbling liquid in her little brazier, drop by drop added a little more wine to the mixture, that it would not boil away. He would dream of Gwenhwyfar, and that night there would be a woman in his arms, wearing Gwenhwyfar's perfume. But first Morgaine would give him this potion which would put him at the mercy of the rut in him, so that he would not stop when he found he held not an experienced woman and his paramour, but a shrinking virgin.... Fora moment Morgaine stopped to pity Elaine, because what she was cold-bloodedly arranging was certainly something like rape. Much as Elaine longed for Lancelet, she was a virgin and had no real idea of the difference between her romantic dreams of his kisses, and what really awaited her-being taken by a man too drugged to know the difference. Whatever it was for Elaine, and however bravely she endured it, it would hardly be a romantic episode." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I gave up my maidenhood to the King Stag... yet that was different. From childhood I had known what awaited me, and I had been taught and reared in the worship of that Goddess who brings man and woman together in love or in rut.... Elaine was reared a Christian and taught to think of that very life force as the original sin for which mankind was doomed to death....\n\nFora moment she thought she should seek out Elaine, try to prepare her, encourage her to think of this as the priestesses were taught to think of it: a great force of nature, clean and sinless, to be welcomed as a current of life, sweeping the participant into the torrent... but Elaine would think that even worse sin. Well, then, she must make of it what she would; perhaps her love for Lancelet would carry her through it undamaged.\n\nMorgaine turned her thoughts back to simmering the herbs and the wine, and at the same time, somehow, it seemed she was riding on the hills... neither was it a fair day fora ride; the sky was dark and clouded, a little wind blowing, the hills bleak and bare. Below the hills the long arm of the sea which was the lake looked grey and fathomless, like fresh-smithied metal; and the surface of the lake began to boil a little, or was it but the water in her brazier? Dark bubbles rose and spilled afoul stench, and then, slowly, rising from the lake, along, narrow neck crowned with a horse's head and a horse's mane, along sinuous body, writhing toward the shore... rising, crawling, slithering its whole length onto the shore.\n\nLancelet's hounds were running about, darting down to the water, barking frenziedly. She heard him call out to them in exasperation; stop dead and look down toward the water, paralyzed, only half believing what he saw with his eyes. Then Pellinore blew his hunting horn to summon the others, and Lancelet put spurs to his horse, his spear braced on the saddle, and rode at a breakneck speed down the hill, charging. One of the hounds gave a pitiful scream; then silence, and Morgaine, from her strange distant watch, saw the curiously slimed trail where half the dog's broken body lay eaten away with the dark slime." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Pellinore was charging at it, and she heard Lancelet's shout to warn him back from riding directly at the great beast... it was black and like a great worm, all but that mockery of a horse's head and mane. Lancelet rode at it, avoiding the weaving head, thrusting his long spear directly into the body. A wild howl shook the shore, a crazed banshee scream... she saw the great head weaving wildly back and forth, back and forth... Lancelet flung himself from his rearing, bucking horse, and ran on foot toward the monster. The head weaved down, and Morgaine flinched, as she saw the great mouth open. Then Lancelet's sword pierced the eye of the dragon, and there was a great gush of blood and some black foul stuff... and it was all the bubbles rising from the wine....\n\nMorgaine's heart jumped wildly. She lay back and sipped a little of the undiluted wine in the flask. Had it been an evil dream, or had she actually seen Lancelet kill the dragon in which she had never really believed? She rested therefor sometime, telling herself that she had dreamed, and then forced herself to rise, to add some sweet fennel to the mixture, for the strong sweetness would conceal the other herbs. And there should be strong salted beef for dinner, so that everyone should thirst and drink a great deal of the wine, especially Lancelet. Pellinore was a pious man-what would he think if all his castle folk went to rutting? No, she should make sure that only Lancelet drank the spiced mixture, and perhaps, in mercy, she should give some to Elaine too....\n\nShe poured the spiced wine into a flask and put it aside. Then she heard a cry, and Elaine rushed into her room." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Oh, Morgaine, come at once, we need your work with simples-Father and Lancelet have slain the dragon, but they are both burned....\"\n\n\"Burned? What nonsense is this? Do you believe truly that dragons fly and belch fire?\"\n\n\"No, no,\" Elaine said impatiently, \"but the creature spat some slime at them and it burns like fire-you must come and dress their wounds....\"\n\nDisbelieving, Morgaine glanced at the sky outside. The sun was hovering, a bare hand span above the western horizon; she had sat here most of the day. She went quickly, calling to the maids for bandage linen.\n\nPellinore had a great burn along one arm-yes, it looked very much like a burn; the fabric of his tunic was eaten away by it, and he roared with anguish as she poured healing salve on it. Lancelet's side was burned slightly, and on one leg the stuff had eaten through his boots, leaving the leather only a thin jellylike substance covering his leg. He said, \"I should clean my sword well. If it can do that to the leather of a boot, think what it would have done to my leg...\" and shuddered.\n\n\"So much for all those who thought my dragon only a fantasy,\" said Pellinore, raising his head and sipping the wine his daughter gave him. \"And thanks be to God that I had the wit to bathe my arm in the lake, or the slime would have eaten my arm as it dissolved my poor dog-did you seethe corpse, Lancelet?\"\n\n\"The dog? Yes,\" said Lancelet, \"and hope never to see that kind of death again.... But you can confound them all when you hang the dragon's head over your gate-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I cannot,\" said Pellinore, crossing himself." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"There was no proper bone to it at all, it was all soft like a grub or an earthworm... and it has already withered away to slime. I tried to cut the head and the very air seemed to eat away at it.... I do not think it was a proper beast at all, but something straight from hell!\"\n\n\"Still it is dead,\" Elaine said, \"and you have done what the King bade you, made an end once and for all of my father's dragon.\" She kissed her father, saying with tender apology, \"Forgive me, sir, I thought, too, that your dragon was all fancy-\"\n\n\"Would to God it had been,\" Pellinore said, crossing himself yet again. \"I would rather be a mockery from hereto Camelot than face any such thing again! I wish I thought there were no more such beasts... Gawaine has told tales of what lives in the lochs yonder.\" He signalled to the potboy for more wine. \"I think it would be well to get drunk this night, or I shall see that beast in nightmares for the next month!\"\n\nWould that be best? Morgaine wondered. No, if all about the castle were drunk, it would not fit her plans at all. She said, \"You must listen to what I say, if I am to care for your wounds, sir Pellinore. You must drink no more, and you must let Elaine take you to bed with hot bricks at your feet. You have lost some blood, and you must have hot soup and possets, but no more wine.\"\n\nHe grumbled but he listened to her, and when Elaine had taken him away, with his body servants, Morgaine was left alone with Lancelet.\n\n\"So,\" she said, \"how would you best celebrate your killing of your first dragon?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He lifted his cup and said, \"By praying that it will be my last. I truly thought my hour had come. I would rather face a whole horde of Saxons with no more than my axe!\"\n\n\"The Goddess grant you have no more such encounters, indeed,\" Morgaine said, and filled his cup with the spiced wine. \"I have made this for you, it is medicinal and will soothe your hurts. I must go and see that Elaine has Pellinore safely tucked away for the night-\"\n\n\"But you will comeback, kinswoman?\" he said, holding her lightly by one wrist; she saw the wine beginning to burn in him. And more than the wine, she thought; an encounter with death sends a man ready for rutting....\n\n\"I will comeback, I promise; now let me go,\" she said, and bitterness flooded her.\n\nSo, am I fallen so low that I would have him drugged, not knowing? Elaine will have him that way... why is it better for her? But she wants him for husband, for better or worse. Not I. I am a priestess, and I know this thing that burns in me is not of the Goddess, but unholy... am I so weak that I would have Gwenhwyfar's castoff garments and her castoff paramour also? And while her scorn cried no, the weakness through her whole body cried yes, so that she was sick with self-contempt as she went along the hall to the chamber of King Pellinore.\n\n\"How does your father, Elaine?\" She wondered that her voice was so steady.\n\n\"He is quiet now, and I think he will sleep.\"\n\nMorgaine nodded. \"Now you must go to the pavilion, and sometime this night Lancelet will come to you. Forget not the scent Gwenhwyfar wears....\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Elaine was very pale, her blue eyes burning. Morgaine reached out and caught her by the arm; she held out a flask with some of the drugged wine in it. She said, and her own voice was shaking, \"Drink this first, child.\"\n\nElaine raised it to her lips and drank. \"It is sweet with herbs... is it a love potion?\"\n\nMorgaine's smile only stretched her mouth. \"You may think it so, if you will.\"\n\n\"Strange, it burns my mouth, and burns me within.... Morgaine, it is not poison? You do not-you do not hate me, Morgaine, because I will be Lancelet's wife?\"\n\nMorgaine drew the girl close and embraced and kissed her; the warm body in her arms somehow roused her, whether to desire or tenderness she could not tell. \"Hate you? No, no, cousin, I swear it to you, I would not have sir Lancelet for husband if he begged me on his knees... here, finish the wine, sweeting... scent your body here, and here... remember what he wants of you. It is you who can make him forget the Queen. Now go, child, wait for him in the pavilion there....\" And again she drew Elaine close to her and kissed her. \"The Goddess blesses you.\"\n\nSo like to Gwenhwyfar. Lancelet is already half in love with her, I think, and I but complete the work....\n\nShe drew along, shaking breath, composing herself to return to the hall and to Lancelet. He had not hesitated to pour himself more of the drugged wine, and raised fuddled eyes as she came in.\n\n\"Ah, Morgaine-kinswoman-\" He drew her down beside him. \"Drink with me...\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No, not now. Listen tome, Lancelet, I bear a message for you....\"\n\n\"A message, Morgaine?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" she said. \"Queen Gwenhwyfar has come hitherto visit her kinswoman, and she sleeps in the pavilion beyond the lawns.\" She took his wrist and drew him along to the door. \"And she has sent you a message: she does not wish to disturb her women, so you must go to her very quietly where she is in bed. Will you do that?\"\n\nShe could seethe haze of drunkenness and passion in his dark eyes. \"I saw no messenger-Morgaine, I did not know you wished me well....\"\n\n\"You do not know how well I wish you, cousin.\"\n\nI wish that you may marry well and cease this hopeless, wretched love fora woman who can only bring you to dishonor and despair....\n\n\"Go,\" she said gently, \"your queen awaits you. If you doubt me, this token was sent you.\" She held out a kerchief; it was Elaine's, but one kerchief is like to another, and it had been all but drenched in the scent associated with Gwenhwyfar.\n\nHe pressed it to his lips. \"Gwenhwyfar,\" he whispered. \"Where, Morgaine, where?\"\n\n\"In the pavilion. Finish the wine-\"\n\n\"Will you drink tome?\"\n\n\"Later,\" she said with a smile. His steps faltered a little; he caught at her for support, and his arms went round her. His touch roused her, light as it was. Lust, she told herself fiercely, animal rut, this is nothing blessed by the Goddess.... She struggled for calm. He was drugged like an animal, he would not care, he would take her now mindlessly, as he would have taken Gwenhwyfar, Elaine.... \"Go, Lancelet, you must not keep your queen waiting.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She saw him disappear in the shadows near the pavilion. He would go in quietly. Elaine would belying there, the lamp falling on her golden hair so like the Queen's, but so dim he could not distinguish her features, her body and bed smelling of Gwenhwyfar's scent. She tormented herself by imagining, as she turned to pace the long empty room, how his slender naked body would slide under the covers, how he would take Elaine in his arms and cover her with kisses. If the little fool has but the wit to keep her mouth shut and say nothing till he is done....\n\nGoddess! Shut away the Sight from me, let me not see Elaine in his arms... writhing, racked, Morgaine did not know whether it washer own imagination or the Sight that tortured her with the awareness of Lancelet's naked body, of the touch of his hands... how clearly she felt them in memory.... She went back into the hall where the servants were clearing the tables and said roughly, \"Give me some wine.\"\n\nStartled, the man poured her a cup. Now they will think me a sot as well as a witch. She did not care. She drank down the wine and asked for more. Somehow it cutaway the Sight, freed her from her awareness of Elaine, frightened and ecstatic, pinned down under his rough, demanding body....\n\nRestlessly, like a prowling cat, she paced the hall, flickers of the Sight coming and going. When she judged the time was ripe, she drew along breath, steeling herself for what she knew she must do now. The bodyservant who slept across the king's door started awake as Morgaine bent to rouse him.\n\n\"Madam, you cannot disturb the king at this hour-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It concerns his daughter's honor.\" Morgaine took a torch from the wall bracket and held it aloft; she could sense how she looked to him, tall and terrible, feeling herself merge into the commanding form of the Goddess. He drew aside in terror, and she moved smoothly past.\n\nPellinore lay in his high bed, tossing restlessly in pain from his bandaged wound. He, too, started awake, looking up at Morgaine's paleface, the torch held high.\n\n\"You must come quickly, my lord,\" she said, her voice smooth and taut with her own controlled passion. \"This is betrayal of hospitality... I felt it right that you must know. Elaine-\"\n\n\"Elaine? What-\"\n\n\"She is not asleep in our bed,\" Morgaine said. \"Come quickly, my lord.\" She had been wise not to let him drink; she could not have roused him had he slept heavily with wine. Pellinore, startled, incredulous, threw on a garment, shouting for his daughter's women. It seemed to Morgaine that they followed her down the stairs and out the doors as smoothly as the writhing of a dragon, a procession with herself and Pellinore at the serpent's head, and she thrust back the silken flap of the pavilion, holding the torch high and watching with cruel triumph as Pellinore's outraged face was lighted by the torch. Elaine lay with her arms wound around Lancelet's neck, smiling and blissful; Lancelet, coming awake in the torchlight, stared around in shock and awareness, and his face was agonized with betrayal. But he did not say a word.\n\nPellinore shouted, \"Now you will make amends, you lecherous wretch, you who have betrayed my daughter-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Lancelet buried his face in his hands." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He said through them, strangled, \"I will-make amends-my lord Pellinore.\" Then he raised his face and looked straight into Morgaine's eyes. She met them, unflinching; but it was like a sword through her body. Before this, at least, he had loved her as a kinswoman.\n\nWell, better that he should hate her. She would try to hate him, too. But before Elaine's face, shamed and yet smiling, she wanted to cry instead, and beg for them to pardon her.\n\nMorgaine speaks...\n\nLancelet was married to Elaine on Transfiguration; I remember little of the ceremony save Elaine's face, joyous and smiling. By the time Pellinore had arranged the wedding, she knew already that she bore Lancelet's son in her belly, and although he looked wretched, thin and pallid with despair, he was tender with Elaine, and proud of her swelling body. I remember Gwenhwyfar too, her face drawn with long weeping, and the look of ineradicable hatred that she turned on me.\n\n\"Can you swear that this was not your doing, Morgaine?\"\n\nI looked her straight in the eye.\n\n\"Do you begrudge your kinswoman a husband of her own, as you have one?\"\n\nShe could not face meat that. And again I told myself, fiercely: Had she and Lancelet been honest with Arthur, had they fled from the court together, to live beyond Arthur's kingdom, so that Arthur could have taken him another wife to get an heir for the kingdom, then I would not have meddled.\n\nBut from that day, Gwenhwyfar hated me; and that I regretted most, for in a strange way I had loved her. Gwenhwyfar never seemed to hate her kinswoman; she sent Elaine a rich gift and a silver cup when her son was born, and when Elaine had the boy christened Galahad, for his father, she named herself his godmother and swore that he should be heir to the kingdom if she did not give Arthur a son. Sometime that year she indeed announced she was pregnant, but nothing came of it, and I think, indeed, it was only her desire fora child, and her fancy." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The marriage was no worse than most. That year Arthur had to face war on the northern coast, and Lancelet spent little time at home. Like many husbands, he spent his time at war, coming home two or three times a year to see to their lands-Pellinore had given them a castle near his own-to receive the new cloaks and shirts Elaine wove and embroidered for him-after he married Elaine, Lancelet always dressed as fine as the King himself-to kiss his son, and later his daughters, to sleep with his wife once, or maybe twice, and then he was off again.\n\nElaine always seemed happy. I do not know whether she was truly happy, being one of those women who can find their best happiness in home and babes, or whether she longed for more than this and yet abode bravely by the bargain she had made.\n\nAs for me, I dwelt at court for two more years. And then, at Pentecost of the second year, when Elaine was pregnant with her second child, Gwenhwyfar had her revenge." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As with every year, the day of Pentecost was Arthur's high festival. Gwenhwyfar had been awake since earliest daylight. On this day, all of those Companions who had fought at Arthur's side should beat court, and this year Lancelet would be here too...\n\n... last year he had not come. Word had been sent that he was in Less Britain, answering a call from his father, King Ban, who sought to settle trouble in his kingdom; but Gwenhwyfar knew in her heart why Lancelet had not come, why he had chosen to stay apart.\n\nIt was not that she could not forgive his marriage to Elaine. Morgaine and her spite had brought that about-Morgaine, who would have had Lancelet for herself and would stop at nothing to part him from the one he truly loved. Rather than see him in Gwenhwyfar's arms, Gwenhwyfar supposed, Morgaine would have seen him in hell, or in his grave.\n\nArthur, too, missed Lancelet sorely, that she had seen. Although he satin his high seat at Camelot, and dealt justice to all manner of men-he was loved, loved far more than any king Gwenhwyfar had heard tell of before this-she could see that always he looked back to the days of battle and conquest; she supposed all men were like that. Arthur would bear to his grave the scars of the wounds he had taken in his great battles. When they had fought year after year to bring peace to the land, he had spoken as if he wished for nothing more than leisure to sit at home in Camelot and enjoy his castle. Now he was never so happy as when he could get some of his old Companions about him, and fall to talking of those old evil days when there were Saxons and Jutes and wild Northmen on every hand." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She looked at Arthur where he lay sleeping. Yes, and he was still the handsomest and goodliest of all his old Companions; at times she thought he was fairer of face and better to look at even than Lancelet, though it was unfair to compare them, one so dark, one so blond. And after all they were cousins, they were of one blood... how, she wondered, had Morgaine come into that kindred? Perhaps indeed she was a changeling, nothing human at all, but left by the evil fairy folk to do wickedness among mankind... a sorceress schooled in un-Christian ways. Arthur too was tainted by that background, though she had gotten him to go often to mass and to speak of himself as Christian. Morgaine liked not that, either.\n\nWell, she would fight to the last to save Arthur's soul! She loved him well, he was the best husband a woman could ever have had, even had he been no High King but a simple knight. Surely the madness that had seized her was long gone. It was right and fitting she should think kindly of her husband's cousin. Why, it was at Arthur's own will that she had first lain in Lancelet's arms. And now it was all past and over, and she had confessed it and been absolved; her priest had told her it was as if the sin had never been, and now she must strive to forget it.\n\nYet she could not help remembering, a little, on this morning when Lancelet would becoming to court with his wife and son... he was a married man, married to her own cousin. Now he was not only her husband's kinsman but her own kinsman as well. She could greet him with a kiss, and it would be no sin.\n\nArthur turned over, as if her thoughts could disturb him, and smiled at her." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It is Pentecost day, sweetheart,\" he said, \"and all of our kinfolk and friends will be here. Let me see you smile.\"\n\nShe smiled at him and he drew her down against him, kissing her and letting his fingers circle her breasts.\n\n\"You are certain what we do this day will not offend you? I would not have anyone think you were less tome,\" he said anxiously. \"You are not old, God may yet bless us with children if it is his will. But the lesser kings have demanded it of me-life is never certain, so I must name an heir. When our first son is born, sweet, then it will be as if this day had never been, and I am sure young Galahad will not begrudge the throne to his cousin, but serve and honor him as Gawaine has done for me....\"\n\nIt might yet be true, Gwenhwyfar thought, surrendering herself to her husband's gentle caresses. There were such things told of in the Bible: the mother of John the Baptizer, who had been cousin to the Virgin-God had opened her womb long after she was past the age of bearing, and she, Gwenhwyfar, was not yet thirty... why, Lancelet had said once that his mother was older than this when he was born. Perhaps this time, after all these years, she would arise from her husband's bed bearing again the seed of his son in her body. And now that she had learned not only to submit to him as a good wife must, but to take pleasure in his touch, his manhood filling her, surely she was softened and all the more ready to conceive and bear....\n\nNo doubt it was all for the best, when fora time three years ago she had thought she bore Lancelet's child, but something had gone amiss... three months she had not had her moon-blood and she had told one or two of her ladies that she was with child; and then, after three more months, when she should have felt the first quickening, it had proved to be nothing after all... but now, surely, with this new warmth she had known since she had been all wakened, this time it would come about as she wished. And Elaine would not gloat and triumph over her again.... She might, fora little time, have been the mother of the King's heir, but Gwenhwyfar would be the mother of the King's son...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She said something like that later, when they were dressing, and Arthur looked at her, troubled. \"Is Lancelet's wife unkind or scornful to you, Gwen? I had thought you and your cousin were good friends....\"\n\n\"Oh, we are,\" said Gwenhwyfar, blinking back tears, \"but it is always so with women... those women who have sons think ever they are the betters of any woman who is barren. The wife of the swineherd, in her childbed, no doubt thinks with scorn and pity of the Queen who cannot give her lord so much as a single son.\"\n\nArthur came and kissed the back of her neck. \"Don't, sweeting, don't cry. I would rather have you than another woman who could have given me a dozen sons already.\"\n\n\"Truly?\" Gwenhwyfar said, a hint of scorn in her voice. \"Yet I was only something my father gave you with a hundred horsemen, just apart of the bargain-and you took me dutifully to get the horses-but I was a bad bargain-\"\n\nHe raised his eyes and stared at her with a blue incredulous gaze. \"Have you been thinking of that and holding it against me all these years, my Gwen? But surely you must know that since the first moment that I looked on your face, no one could be dearer tome than you!\" he said and wound his arms around her. She was rigid, blinking back tears, and he kissed her at the corner of her eye. \"Gwenhwyfar, Gwenhwyfar, could you think-you are my wife, beloved, my own dear wife, and nothing on earth could part us. If I wanted only a broodmare to get mesons, God knows I could have had enough of them!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"But you have not,\" she said, still stiff and cold in his arms. \"I would willingly take your son to foster, and bring him up as your heir. But you thought me not worthy to foster your son... and it was you who pushed me into Lancelet's arms-\"\n\n\"Oh, my Gwen,\" he said, and his face was rueful like a punished child. \"Do you hold it against me, that old madness? I was drunk, and it seemed tome that you loved Lancelet well... I thought to give you pleasure, and if it might truly be so, that it was my fault you did not bear, then you could have a child by one so close tome that I could in good conscience call whatever child came of that night, my own heir. But mostly it was that I was drunk-\"\n\n\"At times,\" she said, her face set like stone, \"it has seemed tome that you loved Lancelet more than me. Can you say in truth that it was to give me pleasure, or was it for the pleasure of him you loved best of all-?\"\n\nHe dropped his arm from her neck as if he were stung. \"Is it a sin, then, to love my kinsman and think, too, of his pleasure? It is true, I love you both-\"\n\n\"In Holy Writ it speaks of that city that was destroyed for such sins,\" said Gwenhwyfar.\n\nArthur was as white as his shirt. \"I love my kinsman Lancelet with all honor, Gwen; King David himself wrote of his cousin and kinsman Jonathan, Thy love tome was wonderful, passing the love of woman, and God smote him not. It is so with comrades in battle. Dare you to say that such a love is a sin, Gwenhwyfar? I will avow it before the throne of God-\" He stopped, unable to force further sound through his dry throat." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gwenhwyfar heard her own voice cracking with hysteria.\n\n\"Can you swear that when you brought him to our bed... I saw it then, you touched him with more love than ever you have given the woman my father forced on you-when you led me into this sin, can you swear it was not your own sin, and all your fine talk no more than a cover for that very sin that brought down fire from Heaven on the city of Sodom?\"\n\nHe stared at her, still deathly white. \"You are certainly mad, my lady. On that night you speak of-I was drunk, I know not what you may have thought you saw. It was Beltane, and the force of the Goddess was with us all. I think all your prayers and thoughts of sin have turned your mind, my Gwen.\"\n\n\"No Christian man would say so!\"\n\n\"And that is one reason why I like not to call myself a Christian!\" he shouted back at her, losing patience at last. \"I am tired of all this talk of sin! If I had put you away from me-aye, and I was counselled to do so, and would not because I loved you too well-and taken another woman-\"\n\n\"No! Rather would you share me with Lancelet, and have him too-\"\n\n\"Say that again,\" he said very low, \"and wife or no, love or no, I will kill you, my Gwenhwyfar!\"\n\nBut she was sobbing hysterically now and could not stop herself. \"You say you wished fora son, and so you led me into such sin as God cannot pardon-if I have sinned, and God has punished me with barrenness, was it not you who led me into that sin? And even now, it is Lancelet's son is your heir. Can you daresay it is not Lancelet you love best, when you make his son your heir and not your own son, when you will not give me your son to foster for you-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Let me call your women, Gwenhwyfar,\" he said, with a deep breath. \"You are beside yourself. I swear to you, I have no son, or if I do, it is some chance-gotten child from my days in battle, and the woman knew me not, nor who I was. No woman anywhere near my own station has ever come tome and said she bore my child. Priests or no, sin or no, I cannot believe any woman would be ashamed to admit that she had borne the son of a childless High King. I have taken no unwilling woman, nor played at adultery with any man's wife. What is this mad talk of a son of mine you would foster as my heir? I tell you, I have none. I have often wondered if some sickness in boyhood, or that wound I took, might have gelded me... I have no son.\"\n\n\"No, but that is a lie!\" Gwenhwyfar said angrily. \"Morgaine bade me not speak of it, but long ago I went to her, I begged her fora charm to help my barrenness. I was in despair, I said I would give myself to another man, since it was likely you could not father a son. And at that time Morgaine swore tome that you could father a child, that she had seen a son of yours, fostered at the court of Lot of Lothian, but she made me promise not to speak of it-\"\n\n\"Fostered at the court of Lothian...\" said Arthur, and then he caught at his chest, as if in dreadful pain there. \"Ah, merciful God!\" he said in a whisper, \"and I never knew....\"\n\nGwenhwyfar felt sudden terror striking through her. \"No, no, Arthur, Morgaine is a liar! No doubt it was but her malice, it was she who contrived Lancelet's marriage to Elaine, because she was jealous... no doubt she was lying to plague me....\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Arthur said in a distant voice, \"Morgaine is a priestess of Avalon. She does not lie. I think, Gwenhwyfar, that we must ask of this. Send for Morgaine-\"\n\n\"No, no,\" Gwenhwyfar begged. \"I am sorry I spoke-I was beside myself and raving as you said-oh, my dear lord and husband, my king and my lord, I am sorry for every word I said! I beg you to forgive me-I beg you.\"\n\nHe put his arms around her. \"There is need for you to forgive me too, my dear lady. I see now I have done you great wrong. But when you have unloosed the winds, then must you abide by their blowing, whatever they may tear down....\" He kissed her very gently on the forehead. \"Send for Morgaine.\"\n\n\"Oh, my lord, oh, Arthur, I beg you-I promised to her that I would never speak of it to you-\"\n\n\"Well, then, you have broken your promise,\" Arthur said. \"I besought you not to speak, but you would have it so, and now what has been said cannot be unsaid.\" He stepped to the door of the chamber and called to his chamberlain, \"Go to the lady Morgaine and command that she attend me and my queen as quickly as she may.\"\n\nWhen the man had gone, Arthur called Gwenhwyfar's servant, and Gwenhwyfar stood like a stone as the woman put on her holiday robe and braided her hair. She sipped at a cup of hot water and wine, but her throat was tight. She had spoken the unforgivable.\n\nBut if it is true that this morning he has given me his child to bear... and a strange pain struck inward through her body even into her womb. Could anything take root and grow in such bitterness?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "After a time Morgaine came into the room in a dark-red gown, her hair braided with crimson silk ribbons; she had dressed well for the festival and looked alive and glowing.\n\nAnd I am but a barren tree, Gwenhwyfar thought; Elaine has Lancelet's son; even Morgaine, who has no husband and no wish for one, has played the harlot and borne a son to somebody or other, and Arthur has fathered a son on some unknown woman, but I-I have none.\n\nMorgaine came and kissed her; Gwenhwyfar stood rigid within her arms. Then Morgaine turned to Arthur and said, \"You commanded me to come, my brother?\"\n\nArthur said, \"I am sorry to disturb you so early, sister. But, Gwenhwyfar,\" he said, \"now must you repeat in my presence and Morgaine's what you have said. I will have no secret slanders repeated within my court.\"\n\nMorgaine looked at Gwenhwyfar and saw the marks of tears around her reddened eyes. \"Dear brother,\" she said, \"your queen is ill. Is she pregnant again? As to whatever she has said, well, it's a true saying, hard words break no bones.\"\n\nArthur looked coldly at Gwenhwyfar, and Morgaine drew back; this was not the brother she knew well, this was the stern face of the High King as he satin his hall to dispense justice.\n\n\"Gwenhwyfar,\" he said, \"not only as your husband, but as your king, I command you: Repeat before Morgaine's face what you have said behind her back, and what she told you, that I had a son in fosterage at the court of Lothian-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It is true, Gwenhwyfar thought in that split second. Never before, save when Viviane was murdered before her eyes, have I seen Morgaine's face other than calm, serene, the face of a priestess.... It is true, and somehow it touches her deeply... but why?\n\n\"Morgaine,\" Arthur said. \"Tell me-is this true? Have Ia son?\"\n\nWhat is it to Morgaine? Why should she wish it to be concealed, even from Arthur? She might wish her own harlotries to be hidden, but why should she conceal it from Arthur that he has a son? And then some inkling of the truth struck her, and she gasped aloud.\n\nMorgaine thought: A priestess of Avalon does not lie. But I am cast out of Avalon, and for this, and unless it is all to be for nothing, I must lie, and lie well and quickly....\n\n\"Who was it?\" demanded Gwenhwyfar angrily. \"One of the whore priestesses of Avalon who lies with men in sin and lustfulness at their demon festivals?\"\n\n\"You know nothing of Avalon,\" said Morgaine, fighting to keep her voice steady. \"Your words are like the wind, without meaning-\"\n\nArthur took her by the arm. He said, \"Morgaine-my sister-\" and she thought that in another moment she would weep... as he had wept in her arms, that morning when first he knew how Viviane had trapped them both....\n\nHer mouth was dry and her eyes burned. She said, \"I spoke-of your son-only to comfort Gwenhwyfar, Arthur. She feared you could not give her a child-\"\n\n\"Would you had spoken so to comfort me,\" said Arthur, but his smile was only a grimace stretching his mouth. \"All these years have I thought I could beget no son, even to save my kingdom-Morgaine, now you must tell me the truth.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Morgaine drew along breath. In the dead silence inside the room she could hear a dog barking somewhere beyond the windows, and some small insect chirping somewhere. At last she said, \"In the name of the Goddess, Arthur, since you will have it said at last-I bore a son to the King Stag, ten moons after your kingmaking on Dragon Island. Morgause has him in her keeping, and she swore tome that you should never hear it from her lips. Now you have had it from mine. Let it end here.\"\n\nArthur was white as death. He caught her into his arms, and she could feel how he was trembling. Tears were streaming down his face and he made no effort to check them or wipe them away. \"Ah, Morgaine, Morgaine, my poor sister-I knew I had done you a great wrong, but I dreamed never that it was so great a wrong as this-\"\n\n\"You mean this is true?\" Gwenhwyfar cried out. \"That this unchaste harlot of a sister of yours, she is such a one as would practice her whore's arts on her own brother-!\"\n\nArthur swung round to her, his arm still around Morgaine. He said in a voice she had never heard before, \"Be silent! Speak not one word against my sister-it was neither her doing nor her fault!\" He drew along, shaking breath, and Gwenhwyfar had time to hear the echo of her own ugly words.\n\n\"My poor sister,\" Arthur said again. \"And you have borne this burden alone, nor ever laid the fault rightly at my door-no, Gwenhwyfar,\" he said earnestly, turning to her again, \"it is not what you think. It was at my kingmaking, and neither of us knew the other-it was dark, and we had not seen one another since I was so small that Morgaine could carry me about in her arms. She was tome no more than the priestess of the Mother, and I was no more to her than the Horned One, and when we knew one another, it was too late and the harm was done,\" he said, and it was as if he forced his voice past tears. And he held Morgaine close to him, crying out, \"Morgaine, Morgaine, you should have told me!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And again you think only of her!\" Gwenhwyfar cried. \"Not of your own greatest of all sins-she is your own sister, the child of your own mother's womb, and for such a thing as this God will punish you-\"\n\n\"He has punished me indeed,\" said Arthur, holding Morgaine close. \"But the sin was unknowing, with no desire to do evil.\"\n\n\"Maybe it is for this,\" Gwenhwyfar faltered, \"that he has punished you with barrenness, and even now, if you repent and do penance-\"\n\nMorgaine pulled herself gently free of Arthur. Gwenhwyfar watched, with a rage she could not speak, as Morgaine dried his tears with her own kerchief, almost an absentminded gesture, the gesture of a mother or older sister, with nothing in it of the harlotry she wished to see. She said, \"Gwenhwyfar, you think too much of sin. We did no sin, Arthur and I. Sin is in the wish to do harm. We came together by the will of the Goddess, for the forces of life, and if a child came to birth, then it was made in love, whatever brought us together. Arthur cannot acknowledge a son begotten on his sister's body, it is true. But he is not the first king to have a bastard son whose very existence he cannot admit. The boy is healthy and well, and safe in Avalon. The Goddess-for that matter, your God-is not a vindictive demon, looking about to punish somebody for some imagined sin. What happened between Arthur and me, it should not have happened, neither he nor I would have sought it, but done is done-the Goddess would not punish you with childlessness for the sins of another. Can you blame your own childlessness on Arthur, Gwen?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gwenhwyfar cried, \"I do so! He has sinned, and God has punished him-for incest, for fathering a son on his own sister-for serving the Goddess, that fiend of foul abominations and lechery.... Arthur,\" she cried, \"tell me you will do penance, that you will goon this holy day and tell the bishop how you have sinned, and do such penance as he may lay on you, and then perhaps God will forgive you and he will cease to punish us both!\"\n\nArthur, troubled, looked from Morgaine to Gwenhwyfar. Morgaine said, \"Penance? Sin? Do you truly believe that your God is an evil-minded old man, who snoops around to see who lies in bed with another's wife?\"\n\n\"I have confessed my sins,\" Gwenhwyfar cried, \"I have done penance and been absolved, it is not for my sins that God punishes us! Say you will do so too, Arthur! When God gave you the victory at Mount Badon, you swore to put aside the old dragon banner, and rule as a Christian king, but you left this sin unconfessed. Now do penance for this too, and let God give you the victory of this day as he did at Mount Badon-and be freed of your sins, and give me a son who can rule after you at Camelot!\"\n\nArthur turned and leaned against the wall, covering his face with his hands. Morgaine would have moved toward him again, but Gwenhwyfar cried, \"Keep away from him, you-! Would you tempt him into sin further than this? Have you not done enough, you and that foul demon you call your Goddess, you and that evil old witch whom Balin rightly killed for her heathen sorceries-?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Morgaine shut her eyes, and her face looked as if she were about to weep. Then she sighed and said, \"I cannot listen to you curse at my religion, Gwenhwyfar. I cursed not yours, remember that. God is God, however called, and always good. I think it sin to believe God can be cruel or vindictive, and you would make him meaner than the worst of his priests. I beg you to consider well what you do before you put Arthur into the hands of his priests with this.\" She turned, her crimson draperies moving silently around her, and left the room.\n\nArthur turned back to Gwenhwyfar as he heard Morgaine go. At last he said, more gently than he had ever spoken to her, even when they lay in each other's arms, \"My dearest love-\"\n\n\"Can you call me so?\" she said bitterly, and turned away. He followed her, laying a hand on her shoulder and turning her round to face him.\n\n\"My dearest lady and queen-have I done you such a wrong?\"\n\n\"Even now,\" she said shaking, \"even now all you can think of is the wrong you have done to Morgaine-\"\n\n\"Should I be happy at the thought of what I have brought on my own sister? I swear to you, I knew her not until the thing was done, and then, when I recognized her, it was she who comforted me, as if I had been the little boy who used to sit in her lap.... I think if she had turned on me and accused me, as she had every right to do, I would have gone away and drowned myself in the Lake. But I never thought what might come to her... I was so young, and there were all the Saxons and all the battles-\" He spread his hands helplessly. \"I tried to do as she bade me-put it behind us, remember that what we had done was done in ignorance. Oh, I suppose it was sin, but I did not choose to sin....\"" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Move the story forward in your role as narrative aide.\nTags: fantasy, arthurian, historical fantasy\nAuthor: Marion Zimmer Bradley\nTitle: The Mists of Avalon\nChapter: 48" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Morgaine shut her eyes, and her face looked as if she were about to weep. Then she sighed and said, \"I cannot listen to you curse at my religion, Gwenhwyfar. I cursed not yours, remember that. God is God, however called, and always good. I think it sin to believe God can be cruel or vindictive, and you would make him meaner than the worst of his priests. I beg you to consider well what you do before you put Arthur into the hands of his priests with this.\" She turned, her crimson draperies moving silently around her, and left the room.\n\nArthur turned back to Gwenhwyfar as he heard Morgaine go. At last he said, more gently than he had ever spoken to her, even when they lay in each other's arms, \"My dearest love-\"\n\n\"Can you call me so?\" she said bitterly, and turned away. He followed her, laying a hand on her shoulder and turning her round to face him.\n\n\"My dearest lady and queen-have I done you such a wrong?\"\n\n\"Even now,\" she said shaking, \"even now all you can think of is the wrong you have done to Morgaine-\"\n\n\"Should I be happy at the thought of what I have brought on my own sister? I swear to you, I knew her not until the thing was done, and then, when I recognized her, it was she who comforted me, as if I had been the little boy who used to sit in her lap.... I think if she had turned on me and accused me, as she had every right to do, I would have gone away and drowned myself in the Lake. But I never thought what might come to her... I was so young, and there were all the Saxons and all the battles-\" He spread his hands helplessly. \"I tried to do as she bade me-put it behind us, remember that what we had done was done in ignorance. Oh, I suppose it was sin, but I did not choose to sin....\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "He looked so wretched that fora moment Gwenhwyfar was tempted to say what he wanted to hear, that indeed he had done no wrong; to take him in her arms and comfort him." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But she did not move. Never, never had Arthur come to her for comfort, never had he acknowledged that he had done her any wrong; even now, all he could do was to insist that the sin which had kept them childless was no sin; his concern was only for the wrong he had done that damned sorceress of a sister of his! She said, crying again and furious because she knew he would think she wept from sorrow and not from rage, \"You think it is only Morgaine you have wronged?\"\n\n\"I cannot see I have harmed any other,\" he said stubbornly. \"Gwenhwyfar, it was before ever I set eyes on you!\"\n\n\"But you married me with this great sin unconfessed, and even now you cling to your sin when you might be shriven and do penance, and freed of your punishment-\"\n\nHe said wearily, \"Gwenhwyfar mine, if your God is such a one as would punish a man fora sin he knew not he committed, would he then abate that punishment because I tell a priest, and mouth such prayers as he gives me, and I know not what all-eat bread and water fora space, or what have you-?\"\n\n\"If you truly repent-\"\n\n\"Oh, God, do you think I have not repented?\" Arthur burst out. \"I have repented it every time I looked on Morgaine, these twelve years past! Would it make my repentance stronger to avow it before one of these priests who wants nothing more than to have power over a king?\"\n\n\"You think only of your pride,\" Gwenhwyfar said angrily, \"and pride too is a sin. Would you but humble yourself, God would forgive you!\"\n\n\"If your God is such a God as that, I want not his forgiveness!\" Arthur's fists were clenched. \"I must rule this kingdom, my Gwen, and I cannot do that if I kneel before some priest and accept whatever he chooses to lay on me for penance! And there is Morgaine to think of-already they call her sorceress, harlot, witch! I have no right to confess to a sin which will call down scorn and public shame to my sister!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Morgaine too has a soul to be saved,\" said Gwenhwyfar, \"and if the people of this land see that their king can put aside his pride and take thought for his soul, repent humbly for his sins, then it will help them to save their souls too, and it will be to his credit even in Heaven.\"\n\nHe said, sighing, \"Why, you argue as well as any councillor, Gwenhwyfar. I am not a priest, and I am not concerned with the souls of my people-\"\n\n\"How dare you say so?\" she cried. \"As a king is above all his people and their lives are in his hand, so are their souls too! You should be foremost in piety as you are in bravery on the battlefield! How would you think of a king who sent his soldiers out to fight, and sat safe out of sight and watched them from afar?\"\n\n\"Not well,\" said Arthur, and Gwenhwyfar, knowing she had him now, said, \"Then what would you think of a king who saw his people pursue ways of piety and virtue, and said he need have no thought to his own sins?\"\n\nArthur sighed. \"Why should you care so much, Gwenhwyfar?\"\n\n\"Because I cannot bear to think that you will suffer hellfire... and because if you free yourself of your sin, God may cease to punish us with childlessness.\"\n\nShe choked at last and began to cry again. He put his arms around her and stood with her head against his shoulder. He said gently, \"Believe you this truly, my queen?\"\n\nShe remembered; once before, when he had first refused to bear the banner of the Virgin into the battle, he had spoken to her like this. And then she had triumphed and brought him to Christ, and God had given him the victory. But then she had not known he had this sin unconfessed on his soul. She nodded against him and heard him sigh." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Then I have done you wrong too, and I must somehow amend it. But I cannot see how it is right that Morgaine should suffer shame for this.\"\n\n\"Always Morgaine,\" said Gwenhwyfar, in ablaze of white rage. \"You will not have her suffer, she is perfect in your eyes-tell me then, is it right that I should suffer for the sin that she has done, or you? Do you love her so much better than me that you will let me go childless all my days so that sin maybe kept secret?\"\n\n\"Even if I have done wrong, my Gwen, Morgaine is blameless-\"\n\n\"Nay, that she is not,\" Gwenhwyfar flared, \"for she follows that ancient Goddess, and the priests say that their Goddess is that same old serpent of evil whom our Lord drove from the Garden of Eden! Even now Morgaine clings to those filthy and heathenish rituals of hers-God tells us, yes, that those heathen who have not heard the word of the Lord maybe saved, but what of Morgaine, who was brought up in a Christian household, and afterward turned to the filthy sorcerous ways of Avalon? And all these years at this court, she has heard the word of Christ, and do they not say that those who hear the word of Christ and do not repent and believe in him, they shall surely be damned? And women especially have need of repentance, since through a woman sin came first into the world-\" Gwenhwyfar was sobbing so hard that she could hardly speak.\n\nAt last Arthur said, \"What do you want me to do, my Gwenhwyfar?\"\n\n\"This is the holy day of Pentecost,\" she said, wiping her eyes and trying to control her sobs, \"when the spirit of God came down to Man. Will you go to the mass and take the sacrament with this great sin on your soul?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I suppose-I suppose I cannot,\" said Arthur, his voice breaking." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"If truly you believe this, Gwenhwyfar, I will not deny it to you. I will repent as far as it is in me to repent for something I cannot think a sin, and I will do what penance the bishop lays on me.\" His smile was only a thin, harried grimace. \"I hope, for your sake, my love, that you are right about God's will.\"\n\nAnd Gwenhwyfar, even as she put her arms around him, crying with thankfulness, had a moment of shattering fear and doubt. She remembered when she had stood in the house of Meleagrant, and known that all her prayers could not save her. God had not rewarded her for her virtue, and when Lancelet came to her, had she not sworn to herself that never again would she hide or repent, because a God who had not rewarded her virtue would surely not punish her sin. God could not care either way....\n\nBut God had punished her indeed; God had taken Lancelet from her and given him to Elaine, so for all that perilling of her soul she had won nothing... she had confessed and done penance, but God punished her still. And now she knew it might not be all her fault, but that she was bearing the weight of Arthur's sin too, the sin he had done with his sister. But if they were both freed of sin, if he did penance for that great sin unconfessed, and humbled himself, then no doubt God would forgive him too....\n\nArthur kissed the top of her head and stroked her hair. Then he moved away, and she felt cold and lost when he took his arms away from her, as if she were not safely within walls but out under the huge open sky, bewildering, huge, filled with terror. She moved toward him again, to take refuge in his arms, but he had dropped into a chair and sat there, exhausted, beaten, a thousand leagues away from her." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "At last he raised his head, and said, with a sigh that seemed ripped from the very depths of his being, \"Send for Father Patricius.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "When Morgaine left Arthur and Gwenhwyfar in their chamber, she snatched a cloak and fled out into the weather, uncaring of the rain. She went to the high battlements and walked there, alone; the tents of Arthur's followers and Companions, of the lesser kings and the guests, crowded the level space at the brow of the hill that was Camelot, and even in the rain, all the banners and flags fluttered brightly. But the sky was dark, and thick low clouds almost touched the brow of the hill; pacing, restless, Morgaine thought that the Holy Ghost could have chosen a finer day to descend on his people-and especially on Arthur.\n\nOh, yes. Gwenhwyfar would give him no peace until he had given himself into the hands of the priests. And what of his vow to Avalon?\n\nAnd yet if it should be Gwydion's fate that one day he should sit on his father's throne, if that was what the Merlin planned... no man could escape fate. Morgaine thought mirthlessly, No woman either. Taliesin, who knew all manner of music and old tales, had once told her a story from the ancients who dwelt to the south in the Holy Land or somewhere near to there, of a man who was born under a curse that he should slay his father and wed with his mother. So the parents listened to the curse and cast him out to die, and he was reared by strangers, and one day, meeting with his father, unknowing, he quarrelled with him, killed him, and wedded with his widow; so that the very means they had taken to prevent the falling of the curse had brought it to pass-had he been reared in his father's house, he would not have done what he did in ignorance....\n\nShe and Arthur had done what they did in ignorance, too, yet the fairy woman had cursed her son: Cast forth your babe, or kill it as it comes from the womb; what of the King Stag when the young stag is grown? And it seemed to her that all round her the world grew grey and strange, as if she had wandered into the mists of Avalon, and there was a strange humming in her brain." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There seemed a terrible clanging and banging in the air all round her, deafening her... no, it was the church bells, ringing for the mass. She had heard, too, that the fairy folk could not abide the sound of the church bells, and it was for that reason they had taken to the far hills and hollows... it seemed to her that she could not go and sit quietly, as she usually did, listening with polite attention because the Queen's waiting-women should set an example to all the others. She thought that the walls would stifle her and the mumbling of the priests and the smoke of the incense would drive her mad; better to stay out herein the clean rain. Now she thought to draw up the hood of the woolen cloak over her head; the ribbons in her hair were all wet, likely they were spoilt. She fumbled with them and the red came off on her fingers; poorly dyed they were, for materials so costly.\n\nBut the rain was slowing a little, and people were beginning to move about in the spaces between the tents.\n\n\"There will be no mock battle games today,\" said a voice behind her, \"or I would ask you for one of those ribbons you are casting about, and carry it into battle as a flag of honor, lady Morgaine.\"\n\nMorgaine blinked, trying to collect herself. A young man, slender and dark-haired, with dark eyes; something familiar about him, but she could not quite remember....\n\n\"You do not remember me, lady?\" he said reproachfully. \"And I was told you had wagered a ribbon on my success in just such a mock battle a year or two ago-or was it three?\"\n\nNow she remembered him; he was the son of King Uriens of North Wales. Accolon, that was his name; and she had wagered with one of the Queen's ladies who claimed that no man could stand in the field against Lancelet.... She had never known how her wager came off; that was the Pentecost when Viviane had been murdered." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Indeed I remember you, sir Accolon, but that Pentecost feast, you may remember, ended in such brutal murder, and it was my foster-mother who was slain-\"\n\nHe was at once contrite. \"Then I must beg your pardon for calling such a sad occasion to your mind. And I suppose there will be enough mock battles and combats before we leave here again, now that there is no war in the land-my lord Arthur wishes to know that his legions are still skilled to defend us all.\"\n\n\"The need seems not too likely,\" she said, \"even the wild Northmen turn elsewhere these days. Do you miss the days of battle and glory?\"\n\nHe had, she thought, a nice smile. \"I fought at Mount Badon,\" he said. \"It was my first battle, and came near to being my last. I think I prefer mock battles and tourneys. I will fight if I must, but it is better to fight in play against friends who have no real desire to kill, with pretty ladies looking down and admiring us-in real battle, lady, there is none to admire gallantry, and indeed, little of gallantry, for all they talk of courage....\"\n\nThey had moved, as they spoke, nearer to the church; and now the sound of the bells nearly drowned his voice-a pleasant, musical voice, she thought. She wondered if he played upon the harp. She turned abruptly away from the sound of the bells.\n\n\"Are you not going to the holy day mass, lady Morgaine?\"\n\nShe smiled and looked down at his wrists, where the serpents twined. She ran alight finger over one of them. \"Are you?\"\n\n\"I do not know. I thought I might go to seethe faces of my friends-no, I think not,\" he said, smiling at her, \"when there is a lady to talk to....\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She said, tingeing her voice with irony, \"Do you not fear for your soul?\"\n\n\"Oh, my father is pious enough for both of us... he has no wife now, and no doubt he wishes to study out the land and see how it lies for his next conquest. He has listened well to the Apostle and knows it is better to marry than to burn, and he burns oftener than I would think dignified fora man of his years....\"\n\n\"You have lost your mother, sir Accolon?\"\n\n\"Aye, before I was weaned; and my stepmothers one, two, and three,\" Accolon said. \"My father has three sons living, and it is certain he can have no further need of heirs, but he is too pious only to take a woman to his bed, so he must marry again. And even my oldest brother is married, and has a son.\"\n\n\"You were the son of his old age?\"\n\n\"Of his middle age,\" Accolon said, \"and I am not so young as all that. If there had not been war when I was younger, I might have been destined for Avalon and the lore of the priests. But my father has grown Christian in his old age.\"\n\n\"Yet you wear the serpents.\"\n\nHe nodded. \"And know something of their wisdom, yet not enough to content me. In these days there is not much fora younger son to do. My father told me he would also seek a wife for meat this gathering,\" he said with a smile. \"I would that you were the daughter of some lesser man, lady.\"\n\nMorgaine felt herself blushing like a girl. \"Oh, I am too old for you,\" she said, \"and I am only the King's half-sister by his mother's first marriage. My father was Duke Gorlois, the first man Uther Pendragon killed as a traitor....\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There was a brief silence before Accolon said, \"In these days it is dangerous, perhaps, to wear the serpents-or will be, if the priests grow more powerful. When Arthur came to the throne, I heard he had the support of Avalon, that the Merlin gave him the sword of the Holy Regalia. But now he has made this so Christian a court... my father told me that he feared Arthur would move this land back to the Druid rule, but it seems he has not....\"\n\n\"True,\" she said, and fora moment anger stifled her. \"Yet still he wears the Druid sword....\"\n\nHe looked at her closely. \"And you bear the crescent of Avalon.\" Morgaine blushed. All the people had gone into the church now, and the doors were shut. \"It has begun to rain harder-lady Morgaine, you will be drenched, you will take cold. You must go inside. But will you come and sit beside meat the feast this day?\"\n\nShe hesitated, smiling. It was certain that Arthur and Gwenhwyfar would not seek her company at the high table this day of all days.\n\nShe who must remember what it was like to fall prey to Meleagrant's lust... should she blame me, she that comforted herself in the arms of her husband's dearest friend? Oh, no, it was not rape, nothing like to it, but still I was given to the Horned One without anyone's asking if it was what I wished... it was not desire brought me to my brother's bed, but obedience to the will of the Goddess....\n\nAccolon was still waiting for her answer, his face turned to her, eagerly. If I willed it, he would kiss me, he would beg me for the favor of a single touch. She knew it and the thought was healing to her pride. She smiled at him, a smile that dazzled him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I will indeed, if we can sit far off from your father.\"\n\nAnd it struck her suddenly: Arthur had looked at her like that. That is what Gwenhwyfar fears. She knows what I did not know, that if I stretched my hand to Arthur, I could make him ignore anything she said; Arthur loves me best. I have no desire for Arthur, I would have him only as a dear brother, but she does not know that. She fears that I will beckon with my hand, and with the secret arts of Avalon I will seduce him to my bed again.\n\n\"I beg you, go inside and change your-your gown,\" said Accolon earnestly, and Morgaine smiled at him again and pressed his hand in her own.\n\n\"I will see you at the feast.\"\n\nAll through the holy day service, Gwenhwyfar had sat alone, striving to compose herself. The Archbishop had preached the usual Pentecost sermon, telling of the descent of the Holy Spirit, and she thought, If Arthur has at last repented all his sins and become a Christian, then I must give thanks to the Holy Spirit for coming onus both today. She let her fingers stray unseen to her belly; today they had lain together, it might be that at Candlemas she would hold in her arms the heir to the kingdom... she looked across the church to where Lancelet knelt at Elaine's side. She could see, jealously, that Elaine's waist was already swelling again. Another son, or a daughter. And now Elaine flaunts herself, beside the man I loved so long and so well with the son I should have borne... well, I must bend my head and be humble awhile, it will not hurt me to pretend that I believe her son will follow Arthur on his throne.... Ah, I am a sinful woman, I spoke to Arthur of humbling his pride, and I am full of pride." }, { "from": "human", "value": "The church was crowded, as always at this holy day mass." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Arthur looked pale and subdued; he had spoken with the bishop, but there had been no time for extended talk before the mass. She knelt beside him and felt that he was a stranger, far more of a stranger than when she had first lain in his bed, terrified of the unknown things ahead of her.\n\nI should have held my peace with Morgaine....\n\nWhy do I feel guilty? It was Morgaine who sinned... I have repented my sins and confessed them and been absolved....\n\nMorgaine was not in the church; no doubt, she had not had the brazenness to come unshriven to holy services when she had been exposed for what she was-incestuous, heathen, witch, sorceress.\n\nThe service seemed to last forever, but at last the blessing was given and the people began to move out of the church. Once fora moment she found herself crushed against Elaine and Lancelet; he had his arm protectively around his wife, that she should not be jostled. Gwenhwyfar raised her eyes to them, so that she need not look at Elaine's swollen belly.\n\n\"It is long since we have seen you at court,\" she said.\n\n\"Ah, there is much to do in the North,\" Lancelet said.\n\n\"No more dragons, I trust?\" Arthur asked.\n\n\"God be thanked, no,\" Lancelet said, smiling. \"My first sight of a dragon was like to be my last.... God forgive me that I mocked at Pellinore when he spoke of the beast! And now that there are no more Saxons to slay, I suppose our Companions must go against dragons and bandits and reavers, and all manner of ill things that plague the people.\"\n\nElaine smiled shyly at Gwenhwyfar. \"My husband is like to all men-they would rather go into battle, even against dragons, than stay home and enjoy that peace they fought so hard to win! Is Arthur so?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I think he has battle enough, here at court where all men come to him for justice,\" said Gwenhwyfar, dismissing that." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"When will this one come?\" she added, looking at Elaine's swelling body. \"Do you think it will be another son, or a daughter?\"\n\n\"I hope it is another son, I do not want a daughter,\" Elaine said, \"but it shall be as God wills. Where is Morgaine? Did she not come to church? Is she ill?\"\n\nGwenhwyfar smiled scornfully. \"I think you know how good a Christian Morgaine is.\"\n\n\"But she is my friend,\" Elaine said, \"and no matter how bad a Christian she maybe, I love her and I will pray for her.\"\n\nWell you might, thought Gwenhwyfar bitterly. She had you married to spite me. It seemed that Elaine's sweet blue eyes were cloying, her voice false. It seemed to her that if she stood there a moment more listening to Elaine she would turn on her and strangle her. She made an excuse, and after a moment Arthur followed her.\n\nHe said, \"I had hoped we would have Lancelet with us for some weeks, but he would be off to the North again. But he said Elaine might stay, if you would like to have her. She is near enough to her confinement that he would rather she did not return alone. Perhaps Morgaine is lonely for her friend, too. Well, you women must arrange that among yourselves-\" He turned, and his face was bleak as he looked down at her. \"I must go to the Archbishop. He said he would speak with me immediately after mass.\"\n\nShe wanted to clutch at him, keep him back, hold him with her by both hands, but it had gone too far for that.\n\n\"Morgaine was not in church,\" he said. \"Tell me, Gwenhwyfar, did you say anything to her-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I spoke not one word to her, good or bad,\" she said shrilly. \"As for where she is, I care not-I wish she were in hell!\"\n\nHe opened his mouth and fora moment she thought he would chide her, and in a perverse way she longed for his wrath. But he only sighed and lowered his head. She could not bear to see him so beaten, like a whipped dog. \"Gwen, I beg you, do not quarrel further with Morgaine. She has been hurt enough already-\" And then, as if he was ashamed of his pleading, he turned abruptly and went away from her, toward where the Archbishop was standing and greeting his flock. As Arthur came toward him he bowed, spoke a few words of excuse to the others, and the King and the Archbishop moved away together through the crowds.\n\nInside the castle there was much to do-welcoming guests to the hall, speaking to men who had been Arthur's Companions in years gone by, explaining to them that Arthur had business with one of his councillors-that was no lie, Patricius was indeed one of Arthur's advisers-and would be late. Fora time everyone was so busy greeting old friends, exchanging stories of what had befallen in their homes and villages, of what marriages had been made and daughters betrothed and sons grown to manhood, of what babies had been born and robbers slain and roads built, that the time went on and the absence of King Arthur was hardly noticed. But at last even reminiscences palled, and the people in the hall began to murmur. The food would be cold, Gwenhwyfar knew; but you could not start the King's feast unless the King was there. She gave orders for wine and beer and cider to be served, knowing that by the time the food was served now, many of the guests would be too drunk to care. She saw Morgaine far down the table, laughing and talking with a man she did not recognize, save that he had the serpents of Avalon around his wrist; would she practice her priestess-harlotries to seduce him too, as she had seduced Lancelet before him, and the Merlin? Morgaine's whorish ways were so great, she could not let any man slip beyond her grasp." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "When Arthur finally came, walking slowly and heavily, she was overwhelmed with distress; she had never seen him look like that except when he was wounded and near to death. She felt suddenly that he had taken a deeper wound than she could know, in his very soul, and fora moment wondered, had Morgaine been right to spare him this knowledge? No. As his devoted wife, what she had done was to secure the health of his soul and his eventual salvation; what was a little humiliation against that?\n\nHe had taken off his holiday gown and wore a simple tunic, unadorned; nor had he put on the coronet he wore on such occasions. His golden hair looked dull and greyed. As they saw him enter, all his Companions had broken into wild applause and cheering; he stood solemnly, accepting it, smiling, then finally raised a hand.\n\n\"I am sorry to have kept you all waiting,\" he said. \"I beg you forgive me, and go to your meat.\" He sat down at his place, sighing. The servants began to go around with the smoking pots and platters, the carvers to wield their knives. Gwenhwyfar let one of the butlers lay some slices of roast duck on her plate, but she only played with her food. After a time she dared to raise her eyes and look toward Arthur. Among the abundance of festival meats, he had nothing on his plate but a bit of bread, without even butter, and in his cup was only water.\n\nShe remonstrated, \"But you are eating nothing-\"\n\nHis smile was wry. \"It is no insult to the food. I am sure it is fine as always, my love.\"\n\n\"It is not well done, to fast on a feast day-\"\n\nHe grimaced. \"Well, if you must have it,\" he said impatiently, \"the bishop would have it that my sin was so grievous that he cannot absolve it with ordinary penance, and since that was what you wished of me, well-\" He spread his hands wearily. \"And so I come to Pentecost holiday in my shirt and without my fine clothing, and I have many fastings and prayers till I have done full penance-but you have had your wish, Gwenhwyfar.\" He picked up his cup and drank water, resolutely, and she knew he did not want her to say more." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But she had not wanted it like this.... Gwenhwyfar tightened her whole body so that she would not weep again; all eyes were on them, and surely it was scandal enough that the King sat fasting at his own highest festival. Outside the rain beat and battered on the roof. There was a strange silence in the hall. At last Arthur raised his head and called for music.\n\n\"Let Morgaine sing for us-she is better than any minstrel!\"\n\nMorgaine! Morgaine! Always Morgaine! But what could she do? Morgaine, she noticed, had put off the bright gown she had worn that morning and was wearing dark sober stuff like a nun's. She looked not so much like a harlot, now, without her bright ribbons; she came and took the harp, and sat near the King's table to sing.\n\nBecause it seemed to be what Arthur wished, there was some laughing and gaiety, and when Morgaine had finished, another took the harp, and another. There was much moving from table to table, talking, singing, drinking.\n\nLancelet came toward them and Arthur gestured to him to sit beside them, as in the old days, on the bench. The servants were bringing great plates of sweets and fruit, baked apples in cream and wine, all manner of delicate and subtle pastries. They sat talking of nothing in particular, and Gwenhwyfar felt happy fora moment: it was like old times, when they had all been friends, when there was love among them all... why could it not always have stayed like that?\n\nAfter sometime, Arthur rose and said, \"I think I will go and talk to some of the older Companions... my legs are young, and some of them are getting so old and grey. Pellinore-he looks not as if he could fight a dragon. I think a good stiff fight with Elaine's little lapdog would be hard for him now!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lancelet said, \"Since Elaine is married, it is as if he has nothing more to do in life. Such men often die soon after they have decided such a thing. I hope it may not be so with him-I love Pellinore and hope he will belong with us.\" He smiled shyly. \"I never felt I had a father-though Ban was good tome in his way-and now, for the first time, I have a kinsman who treats meas a son. Brothers I had not either, till I was grown and Ban's sons Lionel and Bors came to the court. I grew to manhood hardly speaking their language. And Balan had other concerns.\"\n\nArthur had hardly smiled since he had come from the bishop's rooms, but he was smiling now. \"Does a cousin count for so much less than a brother, then, Galahad?\"\n\nLancelet reached out and gripped his wrist. \"God strike me if I could forget that, Gwydion-\" He raised his eyes to Arthur, and fora moment, Gwenhwyfar thought Arthur would embrace him; but then Arthur drew back and let his hand drop. Lancelet gazed at him, startled, but Arthur got quickly to his feet.\n\n\"There is Uriens, and Marcus of Cornwall-he too grows old.... They shall see that their king is not too proud to come and speak to them today. Stay hereby Gwenhwyfar, Lance, let it be like old times today.\"\n\nLancelet did as he was asked, sitting on the bench beside Gwenhwyfar. At last he asked, \"Is Arthur ill?\"\n\nGwenhwyfar shook her head. \"I think he has penance to do and is brooding about it.\"\n\n\"Well, surely Arthur can have no great sin on his soul,\" Lancelet said, \"he is one of the most spotless men I know. I am proud that he is still my friend-I do not deserve it, I know, Gwen.\" He looked at her so sadly that again Gwenhwyfar almost wept. Why could she not have loved the two of them without sin, why had God ordained that a woman must have only one husband? She was grown as bad as Morgaine, that she could think such a thing!" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She touched his hand. \"Are you happy with Elaine, Lancelet?\"\n\n\"Happy? What man alive is happy? I do as best I can.\"\n\nShe looked down at her hands. Fora moment she forgot that this man had been her lover and remembered only that he had been her friend. \"I want you to be happy. Truly, I do.\"\n\nHis hand closed fora moment over hers. \"I know, my dear. I did not want to come here today. I love you, and I love Arthur-but the day is past when I can be content to be his captain of horse and-\" His voice broke. \"And the champion of the Queen.\"\n\nShe said suddenly, looking up, her hand in his, \"Does it seem sometimes to you that we are no longer young, Lancelet?\"\n\nHe nodded and sighed. \"Aye-it does so.\"\n\nMorgaine had taken the harp again and was singing. Lancelet said, \"Her voice is as sweet as ever. I am put in memory of my mother singing-she sang not so well as Morgaine, but she had the same soft, low voice-\"\n\n\"Morgaine is as young as ever,\" said Gwenhwyfar jealously.\n\n\"It is so with those of the old blood, they seem ever young until the day they are suddenly old,\" Lancelet said; then, bending down to touch her cheek in alight kiss, he said abruptly, \"Never think you are less beautiful than Morgaine, my Gwen. It is a different beauty, that is all.\"\n\n\"Why do you say this?\"\n\n\"Love, I cannot bear it if you are unhappy....\"\n\nShe said, \"I do not think I know what it means, to be happy.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "How is Morgaine so untouched? That which wrecked my life and Arthur's, it lies lightly on her, there she sits laughing and singing, and yonder knight with the serpents about his wrists, is glamoured by her.\n\nSoon after, Lancelet said he must go back to Elaine, and left her; and when Arthur returned, there were Companions and old followers coming to him for concessions, to give him gifts and recall their service. After a time Uriens of North Wales came, portly now and greying, but he still had all his own teeth, and he led his men into the field when he must.\n\nHe said, \"I have come to ask you a favor, Arthur. I want to marry again, and I would like to be allied with your house. I have heard that Lot of Lothian is dead, and I ask your permission to marry his widow, Morgause.\"\n\nArthur had to stifle a laugh. \"Ah, for that, my friend, you must ask leave of sir Gawaine. Lothian is his now, and no doubt he would be glad to marry his mother away, but no doubt, the lady is old enough to have a mind of her own. I cannot order her to marry-it would be like ordering my mother to marry!\"\n\nGwenhwyfar was struck by sudden inspiration. This would be the perfect solution-Arthur himself had said that if it became known at court, Morgaine could be scorned or shamed. She reached out and touched Arthur's sleeve. She said in a low voice, \"Arthur, Uriens is a valuable ally. You have told me that the mines of Wales are valuable as they were to the Romans, for iron and lead... and you have a kinswoman whose marriage is in your keeping.\"\n\nHe looked at her, startled. \"Uriens is so old!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Morgaine is older than you,\" she said, \"and since he has grown sons and grandsons, he will not mind too much if Morgaine does not give him children.\"\n\n\"That is true,\" said Arthur with a frown, \"and this seems a good match.\" He raised his head to Uriens and said, \"I cannot order lady Morgause to marry again, but my sister, the Duchess of Cornwall, is not married.\"\n\nUriens bowed. \"I could not presume to ask so high, my king, but if your sister would be queen in my country-\"\n\n\"I will compel no woman to marry unwilling,\" said Arthur, \"but I will ask her.\" He beckoned one of the pages. \"Ask the lady Morgaine if she will come tome when she has finished singing.\"\n\nUriens' eyes were on Morgaine where she sat, her dark gown lending fairness to her skin. \"She is very beautiful, your sister. Any man would think himself fortunate to have such a wife.\"\n\nAs Uriens went to his seat, Arthur said thoughtfully, watching Morgaine come toward them, \"She is long unmarried-she must wish fora home of her own where she will be mistress, rather than serving another woman always. And she is too learned for many young men. But Uriens will be glad that she is gracious and will rule his home well. I wish, though, that he were not quite so old....\"\n\n\"I think she will be happier with an older man,\" Gwenhwyfar said. \"She is not a giddy young thing.\"\n\nMorgaine came and curtseyed to them. Always, in public, she was smiling and impassive, and Gwenhwyfar was for once glad of it.\n\n\"Sister,\" said Arthur, \"I have had an offer of marriage for you. And after this morning\"-he lowered his voice-\"I think it well you should not live at court fora time.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Indeed I would be glad to begone from here, brother.\"\n\n\"Why, then-\" Arthur said, \"how would you like to live in North Wales? I hear it is desolate there, but no more than Tintagel, surely-\"\n\nTo Gwenhwyfar's surprise, Morgaine blushed like a girl of fifteen. \"I will not try to pretend I am as surprised as all that, brother.\"\n\nArthur chuckled. \"Why, he did not tell me he had spoken to you, the sly fellow.\"\n\nMorgaine colored and played with the end of her braid. She did not, Gwenhwyfar thought, look anywhere near her age. \"You may tell him I should be happy to live in North Wales.\"\n\nArthur said gently, \"Does the difference in age not bother you?\"\n\nHer face was rosy. \"If it does not bother him, it does not bother me.\"\n\n\"So be it,\" said Arthur, and beckoned to Uriens, who came, beaming. \"My sister has told me that she would like it well to be Queen of North Wales, my friend. I see no reason we cannot have the wedding with all speed, perhaps on Sunday.\" He raised his cup and called out to the assembled company, \"Drink to a wedding, my friends-a wedding between the lady Morgaine of Cornwall, my dear sister, and my good friend King Uriens of North Wales!\"\n\nFor the first time that day it sounded like a proper Pentecost feasting, as the applause, cries of congratulation, acclaim, all stormed up. Morgaine stood still as a stone.\n\nBut she agreed to this, she said he had spoken to her... Gwenhwyfar thought, and then she remembered the young man who had been flirting with Morgaine. Was that not Uriens' son-Accolon, Accolon, that was it. But surely she could not have expected him to offer for her; Morgaine was older than he was! It must have been Accolon-will she make a scene? Gwenhwyfar wondered." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And then, with another surge of hatred, Now let Morgaine see what it is like to be given in marriage to a man she does not love!\n\n\"So you will be a queen, too, my sister,\" she said, taking Morgaine's hand. \"I shall be your bride-woman.\"\n\nBut for all her sweet words, Morgaine looked her straight in the eye, and Gwenhwyfar knew that she had not been deceived.\n\nSo be it. We will at least be rid of one another. And no more pretense of friendship between us.\n\nMorgaine speaks...\n\nFora marriage destined to end as mine did, it began well enough, I suppose. Gwenhwyfar gave me a fine wedding, considering how she hated me; I had six bride-women and four of them were queens. Arthur gave me some fine and costly jewelry-I had never cared a great deal for jewelry, having not been accustomed to wear it in Avalon and never having learned since, though I had a few pieces that had been Igraine's. Now he gave me many more of our mother's gems, and some that had been plunder of the Saxons. I would have protested, but Gwenhwyfar reminded me that Uriens would expect to see his wife finely dressed as befitted a queen, and I shrugged and let her deck me out like a child's doll. One piece, an amber necklace, I remembered seeing Igraine wear when I was very young but never since; once I had seen it in her jewel chest when I was but small, and she said Gorlois had given it her and one day it should be mine, but before I was old enough to wear it I was priestess in Avalon and had no need of jewels. Now it was mine, with so many other things that I protested I would never wear them." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The one thing I asked of them-to delay the wedding till I could send for Morgause, who was my only living kinswoman-they would not do. Perhaps they thought I might come to my senses and protest that when I agreed to marry into North Wales, I had Accolon in mind, not the old king. I am sure Gwenhwyfar knew, at least. I wondered what Accolon would think of me; I had all but pledged myself to him, and before that night fell I had been publicly promised to his father! I had no chance to ask.\n\nBut after all, I suppose Accolon would want a bride of fifteen, not one of four-and-thirty. A woman past thirty-so women mostly said-must content herself with a man who had been often married and wanted her for her family connections, or for her beauty or possessions, or perhaps as a mother for his children. Well, my family connections could hardly be better. As for the rest-I had jewels enough, but I could hardly imagine myself as a mother to Accolon and whatever other children the old man might have. Grandmother to his son's children perhaps. I reminded myself with a start that Viviane's mother had been a grandmother younger than I was now; she had borne Viviane at thirteen, and Viviane's own daughter had been born before Viviane was fourteen.\n\nI spoke but once alone with Uriens, in the three days which elapsed between Pentecost and our bridal. Perhaps I hoped that he, a Christian king, would refuse when he knew; or perhaps even now he wanted a young wife who could give him children. Nor did I want him to take me under false pretenses and reproach me later, and I knew what a great thing these Christians made of an untouched wife; I suppose they had it from the Romans, with their pride of family and worship of virginity." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I am long past thirty years old, Uriens,\" I said, \"and I am no maiden.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I knew no gracious or polite way to say such things.\n\nHe reached forward and touched the small blue crescent between my brows. It was fading now; I could see it in the mirror which had been one of Gwenhwyfar's gifts. Viviane's had faded, too, when I came to Avalon, but she had used to paint it with blue dye.\n\n\"You were priestess of Avalon, one of the maidens of the Lady of the Lake, and you went as a maiden to the God, is it so?\"\n\nI assented.\n\nUriens said, \"Some of my people still do so, and I make no great effort to put it down. The peasants feel that it is all very well for kings and great folk, who can afford to pay priests and the like to pray them out of Hell, to follow the way of Christ, but it would be hard on them if the Old Ones, who had been worshipped in our hills since timeout of mind, should not have their due. Accolon thinks much the same, but now so much of power is going into the hands of the priests, it is needful I too must not offend them. As for me, I care not what God sits on the throne in Heaven, or what God is worshipped by my people, so that my kingdom is at peace. But once I wore the antlers. I swear I will never reproach you, lady Morgaine.\"\n\nAh, Mother Goddess, I thought, this is grotesque, this is madness, you jest with me... I might well have made a happy marriage with Accolon, after all. But Accolon was young and would wish fora young wife.... I said to Uriens, \"One more thing you must know. I bore a child to the Horned One....\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I have said I will not reproach you with anything that is past, lady Morgaine-\"\n\n\"You do not understand. It went so ill with me when that child was born that I will certainly never bear another.\" A king, I thought, a king would want a fertile bride, even more than his younger son....\n\nHe patted my hand. I think he actually meant to comfort me. \"I have sons enough,\" he said. \"I have no need of others. Children area fine thing, but I have had my share and more.\"\n\nI thought: He is foolish, he is old... but he is kind. If he had professed a madness of desire for me, I would have been sickened by him, but kindness I can live with.\n\n\"Do you grieve for your son, Morgaine? If you wish, you may send for him and have him fostered at my court, and I swear to you that neither he nor you shall ever hear a word of reproach, and he shall be decently reared as befits the son of the Duchess of Cornwall and the Queen of North Wales.\"\n\nThis kindness brought tears to my eyes. \"You are very kind,\" I said, \"but he is well where he is, in Avalon.\"\n\n\"Well, if you decide otherwise, tell me,\" he said. \"I would be glad of another boy about the house, and he would be the right age, I suppose, fora playmate to my youngest son, Uwaine.\"\n\n\"I thought Accolon was your youngest, sir.\"\n\n\"No, no, Uwaine is only nine years old. His mother died when he was born... you wouldn't think an old fellow like me could have a boy as young as nine, would you?\"\n\nWhy, yes, I would, I thought with an ironic smile, men areas proud of their ability to father sons as if it took a great skill. As if any tomcat could not do the same! At least a woman must bear a child in her body for most of a year and suffer to bring it forth, and so she has some reason for pride; but men accomplish their trick with no thought or trouble at all!" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But I said, trying to make a jest of it, \"When I was a young girl, sir, there was a saying in my country: a husband of forty may not become a father, but a husband of sixty surely will do so.\"\n\nI had done this deliberately. If he had gone stiff and offended by the ribaldry of that, I would have known how I must treat him in the future, and taken great care always to speak him modest and quiet. Instead he laughed heartily and said, \"I think you and I may agree well enough, my dear. I have had enough of being married to young girls who don't know how to laugh. I hope you will be content, marrying an old fellow like me. My sons laugh at me because I married again after Uwaine was born, but to tell the truth, lady Morgaine, a man gets used to being married, and I do not like living alone. And when my last wife died of the summer fever-well, it is true that I wished to be akin by marriage to your brother, but also, I am lonely. And it comes tome that you, who are unmarried so many years beyond the women of your age, you may not like it so ill to have a home and a husband, even if he is not young and handsome. I know you were not consulted about this marriage-but I hope you will not be too unhappy.\"\n\nAt least, I thought, he does not expect me to be madly excited about the great honor of being married to him. I could have said that it would be no change-I had not truly been happy since I left Avalon, and since I would be unhappy wherever I was, at least it would be better to be away from Gwenhwyfar's malice. I could no longer make pretense to be her loyal kinswoman and friend, and that saddened me somewhat, because there had been a time when we had truly been friends, and it was not I who had changed. I certainly had no wish to rob her of Lancelet; but how could I explain to her that, though I had once desired him, I despised him, too, and would not have had him for husband as a gift. Oh, yes, if Arthur had married us to each other before he was wed to Gwenhwyfar-but even then it was too late. It was always too late after that afternoon beneath the ring stones. If I had let him take me then, none of this would have come about... but done is done, and I had not known what other plans Viviane had had for me; and they had brought me in the end to this wedding with Uriens." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Our first bedding was about what I expected. He stroked me and fussed and pumped away atop me fora little while, snorting and breathing hard, and then was suddenly done and away from me and asleep. Having expected no better, I was not disappointed, nor particularly sorry to curl up in the curve of his arm; he liked having me there, and although after the first few weeks he lay with me but seldom, still he liked having me in his bed and would sometimes hold me in his arms for hours, talking of this and that, and what was more, listening to what I said. Unlike the Romans of the South, these men of the Tribes never scorned to listen to a woman's advice, and for that, at least, I was grateful, that he would hear what I said and never put it aside as being but a woman's counsel.\n\nNorth Wales was a beautiful country, great hills and mountains that reminded me of the country of Lothian. But where Lothian was high and barren, Uriens'country was all green and fertile, lush with trees and flowers, and the soil was rich and the crops good. Uriens had built his castle in one of the finer valleys. His son Avalloch, and Avalloch's wife and children, deferred tome in all things, and his youngest son, Uwaine, called me'Mother.\" I came to know what it might have been to have a son to bring up, to look after all the little daily concerns of a growing child, climbing trees and breaking bones, outgrowing his clothes or tearing them in the woods, being rude to his tutors or taking dog's leave to go hunting when he should have been at his book; the priest who taught Uwaine his letters despaired, but he was the pride and joy of the arms master. Troublesome as he was, I loved him well; he waited on meat dinner, and often satin hall to listen tome when I played the harp-like all the folk of that country he had an ear for music and a clear and tuneful voice; and like all of that court, Uriens\" family would rather make music themselves than listen to paid minstrels. After a year or two I began to think of Uwaine as my own son, and of course he could not remember his own mother. Wild as he was, he was always gentle with me; boys that age are not easy to control, but there were endearing moments, after days of rudeness or sullenness, when he would suddenly come and sit by me in the hall and sing to my harp, or bring me wildflowers or a clumsily tanned hareskin, and once or twice, awkward and shy as a young stork, he would bend and brush my cheek with his mouth. Often I wished, then, that I had had children of my own that I could rear myself. There was little enough else to do at this quiet court, faraway from the wars and troubles to the south." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And then, when I had been married to Uriens fora year, Accolon came home." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Summer on the hills; the orchard in the queen's garden covered with pink and white blossoms. Morgaine, walking beneath the trees, felt an aching homesickness all through her blood, remembering the Avalon spring and the trees covered with those white and rosy clouds. The year was swinging toward the summer solstice; Morgaine reckoned it up, realizing ruefully that at last the effects of half a lifetime in Avalon were wearing away-the tides no longer ran in her blood.\n\nNo, need I lie to myself? It is not that I have forgotten, or that the tides no longer run in my blood, it is that I no longer let myself feel them. Morgaine considered herself dispassionately-the somber costly gown, suitable fora queen... Uriens had given her all the gowns and jewels which had belonged to his late wife, and she had her jewels from Igraine as well; Uriens liked to see her decked out in jewels befitting a queen.\n\nSome kings kill their prisoners of state, or enslave them in their mines; if it pleases the King of North Wales to hang his with jewels and parade her forth at his side, and call her queen, why not?\n\nYet she felt full of the flow of the summer. Beneath heron the hillside she could hear a plowman encouraging his ox with soft cries. Tomorrow would be Midsummer.\n\nNext Sunday a priest would carry torches into the field and circle it in procession with his acolytes, chanting psalms and blessings. The richer barons and knights, who were all Christian, had persuaded the people that this was more seemly in a Christian country than the old ways, where the people lighted fires in the fields, and called the Lady in the old worship. Morgaine wished-and not for the first time-that she had been only one of the priestesses, not one of the great royal line of Avalon." }, { "from": "human", "value": "I would still be there, she thought, one of them, doing the work of the Lady..." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "not here, like any shipwrecked sailor, lost in an alien land.... Abruptly she turned and walked through the blossoming garden, her eyes downcast, refusing to look any further at the apple blossoms.\n\nSpring comes again and again, and the summer follows, with its fruitfulness. But I am as alone and barren as one of those locked-up Christian virgins within convent walls. She set her will against the tears which seemed somehow always beneath the surface these days, and went inside. Behind her the setting sun spread crimson over the fields, but she would not look at it; all was grey and barren here. As grey and barren as I.\n\nOne of her women greeted her as she stepped inside the door.\n\n\"My lady, the king has returned and would see you in his chamber.\"\n\n\"Yes, I suppose so,\" said Morgaine, more to herself than to the woman. A tight band of headache settled around her forehead, and fora moment she could not breathe, could not force herself to walk inside the darkness of the castle which, all this cold winter, had closed round her like a trap. Then she told herself not to be fanciful, set her teeth, and went to Uriens' chamber, where she found him half-clad and lying on the flagstones, stretched outwith his body servant rubbing his back.\n\n\"You have tired yourself again,\" she said, not adding, you are no longer young enough to go about your own lands like this. He had ridden to a nearby town to hear about some disputed lands. She knew that he would want her to sit beside him and listen to his tales of all that he had heard in the countryside. She sat down in her own chair nearby and listened with half an ear to what he told her.\n\n\"You can go, Berec,\" he told the man. \"My lady will fetch my clothes for me.\" When the man had gone he asked, \"Morgaine, will you rub my feet? Your hands are better than his.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Certainly." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But you will have to sit in the chair.\"\n\nHe stretched out his hands and she gave him a tug upward. She placed a footstool under his feet and knelt beside it, chafing his thin, callused old feet until the blood rose to the surface and they looked alive again; then she fetched a flask and began to rub one of her herbal oils into the king's gnarled toes.\n\n\"You should have your man make you some new boots,\" she said. \"The crack in the old ones will make a sore there-see where it is blistered?\"\n\n\"But the old ones fit me so well, and boots are so stiff when they are new,\" he protested.\n\nMorgaine said, \"You must do as you like, my lord.\"\n\n\"No, no, you are right, as always,\" he said. \"I will tell the man tomorrow to come and measure my feet fora pair.\"\n\nMorgaine, putting away her flask of herbal oil and fetching a pair of shapeless old soft shoes, thought: I wonder if he knows that this maybe his last pair of boots, and that is why he is reluctant? She would not think about what the king's death would mean to her. She did not want to wish him dead-he had never been anything but kind to her. She slid the soft indoor slippers on his feet and stood up, wiping her hands on a towel. \"Is that better, my lord?\"\n\n\"Wonderful, my dear, thank you. No one can look after me the way you do,\" he said. Morgaine sighed. When he had the new boots he would have more trouble with his feet; they would, as he had rightly foreseen, be stiff, and that would make his feet just as sore as they were now. Perhaps he should stop riding and stay at home in his chair, but he would not do that." }, { "from": "human", "value": "She said, \"You should have Avalloch ride out to hear these cases." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He must learn to rule over his people.\" His oldest son was the same age as she. He had waited long enough to rule, and Uriens looked like living forever.\n\n\"True, true-but if I do not go, they will think their king does not care for them,\" Uriens said. \"But perhaps when the roads are bad next winter I will do so....\"\n\n\"You had better,\" she said. \"If you have chilblains again, you could lose the use of your hands.\"\n\n\"The fact is, Morgaine,\" he said, smiling his good-natured smile at her, \"I am an old man, and there is nothing that can be done about it. Do you think there is roast pork for supper?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" she said, \"and some early cherries. I made sure of that.\"\n\n\"You area notable housekeeper, my dear,\" he said, and took her arm as they went out of the room. She thought, He thinks he is being kind to say so.\n\nThe household of Uriens was assembled already for the evening meal: Avalloch; Avalloch's wife, Maline, and their young children; Uwaine, lanky and dark, with his three young foster-brothers and the priest who was their tutor; and below them at the long table the men-at-arms and their ladies, and the upper servants. As Uriens and Morgaine took their seats and Morgaine signalled to the servants to bring food, Maline's younger child began to clamor and shout.\n\n\"Granny! I want to sit on Granny's knee! Want Granny to feed me!\"\n\nMaline-a slender, fair-haired, pale young woman, heavily pregnant-frowned and said, \"No, Conn, sit down prettily and be quiet!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But the child had already toddled to Morgaine's knee, and she laughed and lifted him up. I am an unlikely grandmother, she thought; Maline is almost as old as I. But Uriens\" grandsons were fond of her, and she hugged the little boy close, taking pleasure in the feel of the small curly head digging into her waist, the grubby little fingers clutching at her. She sliced bits of pork with her knife and fed them to Conn from her own plate, then cut him apiece of bread in the shape of a pig.\n\n\"See, now you have more pork to eat...\" she said, wiping her greasy fingers, and turned her attention to her own meal. She ate but little meat, even now; she soaked her bread in the meat juices, but no more. She was quickly finished, while the rest were still eating; she leaned back in her chair and began to sing softly to Conn, who curled up contentedly in her lap. After a time she grew aware that they were all listening to her, and she let her voice drop away.\n\n\"Please goon singing, Mother,\" Uwaine said, but she shook her head.\n\n\"No, I am tired-listen, what did I hear in the courtyard?\" She rose and signalled to one of the serving-men to light her to the doorway. Torch held high, he stood behind her, and she saw the rider come into the great courtyard. The serving-man stuck his torch into one of the wall brackets and hurried to help the rider dismount. \"My lord Accolon!\"\n\nHe came, his scarlet cape swirling behind him like a river of blood. \"Lady Morgaine,\" he said, with a deep bow, \"or should I say-my lady mother?\"\n\n\"Please do not,\" Morgaine said impatiently. \"Come in, Accolon, your father and brothers will be happy to see you.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"As you are not, lady?\"\n\nShe bit her lip, suddenly wondering if she would weep. She said, \"You area king's son, as I am a king's daughter. Do I have to remind you how such marriages are made? It was not my doing, Accolon, and when we spoke together, I had no idea-\" She stopped, and he looked down at her, then stooped over her hand.\n\nHe said so softly that even the serving-man did not hear, \"Poor Morgaine. I believe you, lady. Peace between us, then-Mother?\"\n\n\"Only if you do not call me Mother,\" she said, with a shred of a smile. \"I am not so old. It is well enough for Uwaine-\" and then, as they came back into the hall, Conn started upright and began to cry out again for'Granny!\" Morgaine laughed, mirthlessly, and went back to pickup the toddler. She was aware of Accolon's eyes on her; she cast her own down at the child in her lap, listening silently as Uriens greeted his son.\n\nAccolon came formally to embrace his brother, to bow before his brother's wife; he knelt and kissed his father's hand and then turned to Morgaine. She said shortly, \"Spare me further courtesies, Accolon, my hands are all pork fat, I have been holding the baby, and he is a messy feeder.\"\n\n\"As you command, madam,\" said Accolon, going to the table and taking the plate one of the serving-women brought to him. But while he ate and drank, she was still conscious of his eyes.\n\nI am sure he is still angry with me. Asking my hand in the morning, and in the evening, seeing me promised to his father; no doubt he thinks I succumbed to ambition-why marry the king's son if you can have the king?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No,\" she said firmly, giving Conn a little shake, \"if you are to stay in my lap you must be quiet and not paw at my dress with your greasy hands....\"\n\nWhen he saw me last I was clad in scarlet and I was the king's sister, reputed a witch... now I am a grandmother with a dirty child in my lap, looking after the housekeeping and nagging my old husband not to ride in mended boots which make his feet sore. Morgaine was acutely aware of every grey hair, every line in her face. In the name of the Goddess, why should I care what Accolon thinks of me? But she did care and she knew it; she was accustomed to having young men look at her and admire her, and now she felt that she was old, ugly, undesirable. She had never thought herself a beauty, but always before this she had been one of the younger people, and now she sat among the aging matrons. She hushed the child again, for Maline had asked Accolon what news of Arthur's court.\n\n\"There is no news of great doings,\" Accolon said. \"I think those days are over for our lifetime. Arthur's court is quiet, and the King still does penance for some unknown sin-he touches no wine, even at high feast days.\"\n\n\"Has the Queen yet shown any signs of bearing him an heir?\" Maline asked.\n\n\"None,\" said Accolon, \"though one of her ladies told me before the mock games that she thought the Queen might be pregnant.\"\n\nMaline turned to Morgaine and said, \"You knew the Queen well, did you not, mother-in-law?\"\n\n\"I did,\" said Morgaine, \"and as for that rumor, well, Gwenhwyfar always thinks herself pregnant if her courses come a day late.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The King is a fool,\" said Uriens. \"He should put her away and take some woman who would give him a son. I remember all too well what chaos ruled the land when they thought Uther would die with no son. Now the succession should be firmly established.\"\n\nAccolon said, \"I have heard that the King has named one of his cousins for his heir-the son of Lancelet. I like that not-Lancelet is the son of Ban of Benwick, and we want no foreign High Kings reigning over our own.\"\n\nMorgaine said firmly, \"Lancelet is the son of the Lady of Avalon, of the old royal line.\"\n\n\"Avalon!\" said Maline disdainfully. \"This is a Christian land. What is Avalon to us now?\"\n\n\"More than you think,\" said Accolon. \"I have heard that some of the country people, who remember the Pendragon, are not happy with so Christian a court as Arthur's, and remember that Arthur, before his crowning, took oath to stand with the folk of Avalon.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Morgaine, \"and he bears the great sword of the Holy Regalia of Avalon.\"\n\n\"The Christians seem not to hold that against him,\" Accolon said, \"and now I remember some news from the court-King Edric of the Saxons has turned Christian and came to be baptized, with all his retinue, at Glastonbury, and he knelt and took oath before Arthur in token that all the Saxon lands accepted Arthur as High King.\"\n\n\"Arthur? King over Saxons? Will wonders never cease!\" Avalloch said. \"I always heard him say he would deal with the Saxons only at the point of his sword!\"" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "As the author's assistant, please continue the story.\nTags: fantasy, arthurian, historical fantasy\nAuthor: Marion Zimmer Bradley\nTitle: The Mists of Avalon\nChapter: 50" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The King is a fool,\" said Uriens. \"He should put her away and take some woman who would give him a son. I remember all too well what chaos ruled the land when they thought Uther would die with no son. Now the succession should be firmly established.\"\n\nAccolon said, \"I have heard that the King has named one of his cousins for his heir-the son of Lancelet. I like that not-Lancelet is the son of Ban of Benwick, and we want no foreign High Kings reigning over our own.\"\n\nMorgaine said firmly, \"Lancelet is the son of the Lady of Avalon, of the old royal line.\"\n\n\"Avalon!\" said Maline disdainfully. \"This is a Christian land. What is Avalon to us now?\"\n\n\"More than you think,\" said Accolon. \"I have heard that some of the country people, who remember the Pendragon, are not happy with so Christian a court as Arthur's, and remember that Arthur, before his crowning, took oath to stand with the folk of Avalon.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Morgaine, \"and he bears the great sword of the Holy Regalia of Avalon.\"\n\n\"The Christians seem not to hold that against him,\" Accolon said, \"and now I remember some news from the court-King Edric of the Saxons has turned Christian and came to be baptized, with all his retinue, at Glastonbury, and he knelt and took oath before Arthur in token that all the Saxon lands accepted Arthur as High King.\"\n\n\"Arthur? King over Saxons? Will wonders never cease!\" Avalloch said. \"I always heard him say he would deal with the Saxons only at the point of his sword!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Yet there he was, the Saxon king, kneeling in Glastonbury church, and Arthur hearing his oath and taking him by the hand,\" said Accolon. \"Perhaps he will marry the Saxon's daughter to the son of Lancelet and have done with all this fighting. And there sat the Merlin among Arthur's councillors, and one would have said he was as good a Christian as any of them!\"\n\n\"Gwenhwyfar must be happy now,\" said Morgaine. \"Always she said God had given Arthur the victory at Mount Badon because he bore the banner of the Holy Virgin. And later I heard her say that God had spared his life that he might bring the Saxons into the fold of the church.\"\n\nUriens shrugged and said, \"I do not think I would trust a Saxon behind me with an axe, even if he wore a bishop's miter!\"\n\n\"Nor I,\" said Avalloch, \"but if the Saxon chiefs are praying and doing penance for their souls' sake, at least they are not riding to burn our villages and abbeys. And as to penance and fasting-what, think you, can Arthur have on his conscience? When I rode with his armies, I was not among his Companions and knew him not so well, but he seemed an uncommon good man, and a penance of such length means some sin greater than common. Lady Morgaine, do you know, you who are his sister?\"\n\n\"His sister, not his confessor.\" Morgaine knew her voice was sharp, and fell silent.\n\nUriens said, \"Any man who waged war for fifteen years among the Saxons must have more on his conscience than he cares to tell; but few are so tender of conscience as to think of it when the battle is past. All of us have known murder and ravage and blood and the slaughter of the innocent. But the battles are over for our lifetime, God grant, and having made our peace with men, we have leisure to make peace with God.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "So Arthur does penance still, and that old Archbishop Patricius still holds the mortgage on his soul! How, I wonder, does Gwenhwyfar enjoy that?\n\n\"Tell us more of the court,\" Maline begged. \"What of the Queen? What did she wear when she sat at court?\"\n\nAccolon laughed. \"I know nothing of ladies'garments. Something of white, with pearls-the Marhaus, the great Irish knight, brought them to her from the Irish king. And her cousin Elaine, I heard, has borne Lancelet a daughter-or was that last year? She had a son already, I think, that was chosen Arthur's heir. And there is some scandal in King Pellinore's court-it seems that his son, Lamorak, went on a mission to Lothian, and now speaks of marrying Lot's widow, old Queen Morgause-\"\n\nAvalloch chuckled. \"The boy must be mad. Morgause is fifty, at least, maybe more!\"\n\n\"Five-and-forty,\" Morgaine said. \"She is ten years older than I.\" And she wondered why she thus turned the knife in her own wound... do I want Accolon to realize how old I am, grandmother to Uriens' brood...?\n\n\"He is mad indeed,\" Accolon said, \"singing ballads, and carrying about the lady's garter and such nonsense-\"\n\n\"I should think that same garter would make a horse's halter by now,\" said Uriens, and Accolon shook his head.\n\n\"No-I have seen Lot's lady and she is a beautiful woman still. She is not a girl, but she seems all the more beautiful for that. What I wonder is, what can the woman want with a raw boy like that? Lamorak is not more than twenty.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Or what can a boy like that want with the old lady?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Avalloch insisted.\n\n\"Perhaps,\" said Uriens, with a ribald laugh, \"the lady is well learned at sport among the cushions. Though one would hardly think she could have learned it, married all those years to old Lot! But no doubt she had other teachers....\"\n\nMaline flushed and said, \"Please! Is this talk seemly in a Christian household?\"\n\nUriens said, \"If it were not, daughter-in-law, I doubt your girdle would be grown so wide.\"\n\n\"I am a married woman,\" said Maline, crimson.\n\nMorgaine said sharply, \"If to be a Christian household means not to speak of what one is not ashamed to do, then the Lady forbid I should ever call myself Christian!\"\n\n\"Still,\" said Avalloch, \"perhaps it is ill done to sit here at meat and tell ugly stories about lady Morgaine's kinswoman.\"\n\nAccolon said, \"Queen Morgause has no husband to be offended, and the lady is of age, and her own mistress. No doubt her sons are well pleased that she contents herself with a paramour and does not marry the boy! Is she not also the Duchess of Cornwall?\"\n\n\"No,\" said Morgaine, \"Igraine was Duchess of Cornwall after Gorlois was set down for his treason to Pendragon. Gorlois had no son, and since Uther gave Tintagel to Igraine for bride-gift, I suppose now it belongs tome.\" And Morgaine was suddenly overcome with homesickness for that half-remembered country, the bleak outline of castle and crags against the sky, the sudden dips into hidden valleys, the eternal noise of the sea below the castle... Tintagel! My home! I cannot return to Avalon, but I am not homeless... Cornwallis mine." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And under the Roman law,\" said Uriens, \"I suppose, as your husband, my dear, I am Duke of Cornwall.\"\n\nAgain Morgaine felt the surge of violent anger. Only when I am dead and buried, she thought. Uriens cares nothing for Cornwall, only that Tintagel, like myself, is his property, bearing the mark of his ownership! Would that I could go there, live there alone as Morgause at Lothian, my own mistress with none to command me.... A picture came in her mind, the queen's chamber at Tintagel, and she seemed very small, she was playing with an old spindle on the floor.... If Uriens dares to lay claim to an acre of Cornwall, I will give him six feet of it, and dirt between his teeth!\n\n\"Tell me now your news of this country,\" said Accolon. \"The spring was late-I seethe plowmen are just getting into the fields.\"\n\n\"But they have nearly done with plowing,\" said Maline, \"and Sunday they will go to bless the fields-\"\n\n\"And they are choosing the Spring Maiden,\" said Uwaine. \"I was down in the village, and I saw them choosing among all the pretty girls... you were not here last year, Mother,\" he said to Morgaine. \"They choose the prettiest of all for the Spring Maiden, and she walks in the procession around the fields when the priest comes to bless it... and there are dancers who dance round the fields... and they carry an image made from the last harvest, made from the barley straw. Father Eian does not like that,\" he said, \"but I don't know why not, it is so pretty....\"\n\nThe priest coughed and said self-consciously, \"The blessing of the church should be enough-why should we need more than the word of God to make the fields grow and blossom? The straw image they carry is a memory of the bad old days when men and animals were burned alive so that their lives should make the fields fertile, and the Spring Maiden a memory of-well, I will not speak before children of that evil and idolatrous custom!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"There was a day,\" said Accolon, speaking directly to Morgaine, \"when the queen of the land was the Spring Maiden, and the Harvest Lady as well, and she did that office in the fields, that the fields might have life and fertility.\" Morgaine saw at his wrists the faint blue shadow of the serpents of Avalon.\n\nMaline made the sign of the cross and said primly, \"God be thanked that we live among civilized men.\"\n\nAccolon said, \"I doubt you would be asked to do that office, sister-in-law.\"\n\n\"No,\" said Uwaine, tactless as any boy, \"she is not pretty enough. But our mother is, isn't she, Accolon?\"\n\n\"I am glad you think my queen is handsome,\" said Uriens hastily, \"but the past is past-we do not burn cats and sheep alive in the fields, nor kill the king's scapegoat to scatter his blood there, and it is no longer needful that the queen should bless the fields in that way.\"\n\nNo, thought Morgaine. Now all is sterile, now we have priests with their crosses, forbidding the lighting of the fires of fertility-it is a miracle the Lady does not blight the fields of grain, since she is angry at being denied her due....\n\nSoon after, the household went to rest; Morgaine, the last to rise from her seat, went to supervise the locks and bars, and then went, with a small lamp in her hand, to make sure Accolon had been given a good bed-Uwaine and his foster-brothers were now occupying the room that had been his when he lived here as a boy.\n\n\"Is all well with you here?\"\n\n\"Everything I could desire,\" said Accolon, \"except a lady to grace my chamber. My father is a fortunate man, lady. And you well deserve to be the wife of a king, not of a king's younger son.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Must you always taunt me?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "she burst out. \"I have told you; I was given no choice!\"\n\n\"You were pledged tome!\"\n\nMorgaine knew that the color was leaving her face. She set her lips like stone. \"Done is done, Accolon.\"\n\nShe lifted her lamp and turned away. He said behind her, almost a threat, \"This is not done between us, lady.\"\n\nMorgaine did not speak; she hurried along the corridor to the chamber she shared with Uriens. Her lady-in-waiting was ready to unlace her gown, but she sent the woman away. Uriens sat on the edge of the bed, groaning.\n\n\"Even those slippers are too hard on my feet! Aaah, it is good to go to rest!\"\n\n\"Rest well, then, my lord.\"\n\n\"No,\" he said, and pulled her down at his side. \"So tomorrow the fields are to be blessed... and perhaps we should be grateful we live in a civilized land, and the king and the queen need no longer bless the fields by lying together in public. But on the eve of the blessing, dear lady, perhaps we should have our own blessing, private in our chamber-what would you say to that?\"\n\nMorgaine sighed. She had been scrupulously careful of her aging husband's pride; never did she make him feel less than a man for his occasional and clumsy use of her body. But Accolon had roused in her an anguished memory of her years in Avalon-the torches borne to the top of the Tor, the Beltane fires lighted and the maidens waiting in the plowed fields... and tonight she had had to hear a shabby priest mocking what was, to her, holy beyond holiness. Now even Uriens, it seemed, made a mockery of it." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I would say that such blessing as you and I might give the fields would be better left undone. I am old and barren, and you are not such a king as can give much life to the fields, either!\"\n\nUriens stared at her. In all the year of their marriage she had never spoken a harsh word to him. He was too startled even to reproach her.\n\n\"I doubt it not, you are right,\" he said quietly. \"Well, then, we will leave that to the young people. Come to bed, Morgaine.\" But when she lay down beside him, he lay quiet, and after a moment, he put ashy arm across her shoulders. Now Morgaine was regretting her harsh words... she felt cold and alone, she lay biting her lip so that she would not cry, but when Uriens spoke to her, she pretended she was asleep.\n\nMidsummer dawned brilliant and beautiful; Morgaine, waking early, realized that, however much she might say to herself that the sun tides ran no longer in her blood, there was something within her that ran heavy with the summer. As she dressed, she looked dispassionately at the sleeping form of her husband.\n\nShe had been a fool. Why should she have accepted compliantly Arthur's word, fearing to embarrass him before his fellow kings? If he could not keep his throne without a woman's help it might be he did not deserve to hold it. He was a traitor to Avalon, an apostate; he had given her into the hands of another apostate. Yet she had meekly agreed to what they had planned for her.\n\nIgraine let her life be used for their politics. And something in Morgaine, dead or sleeping since the day she fled forth from Avalon, bearing Gwydion within her womb, suddenly woke and stirred, moving sluggishly and slow like a sleeping dragon, a movement as secret and unseen as the first movements of a child in the womb; something that said, clear and quiet within her, If I would not let Viviane, whom I loved, use me this way, why should I bow my head meekly and let myself be used for Arthur's purposes? I am queen in North Wales, and I am duchess in Cornwall, where Gorlois's name still means something, and I am of the royal line of Avalon." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Uriens groaned, heaving himself stiffly over. \"Ah, God, I ache in every muscle and there is a toothache in every toe of my foot-I rode too far yesterday. Morgaine, will you rub my back?\"\n\nShe started to fling back furiously, You have a dozen body servants, and I am your wife, not your slave, then stopped herself; instead she smiled and said, \"Yes, of course,\" and sent a pageboy for her vials of herbal oil. Let him think her still compliant to everything; healing was apart of a priestess's work. If it was the smallest part, still, it gave her access to his plans and his thoughts. She rubbed his back and kneaded salve into his sore feet, listening to the small details of the land dispute he had ridden out yesterday to settle.\n\nFor Uriens, any woman could be queen, he wants only a smiling face and kind hands to cosset him. Well, he shall have them while it suits my purpose.\n\n\"And now it looks as if we would have a fine day for the blessing of the crops. We never have rain at Midsummer-day,\" Uriens said. \"The Lady shines on her fields when they are consecrated to her-that is what they used to say when I was young and a pagan, that the Great Marriage could not be consummated in the rain.\" He chuckled. \"Still, I remember once when I was very young, when the fields had been rained on for ten days, and the priestess and I might have been pigs wallowing in the mud!\"\n\nAgainst her will, Morgaine smiled; the picture he made in her mind was ludicrous. \"Even in ritual, the Goddess will have her joke,\" she said, \"and one of her names is the Great Sow, and we are all her piglets.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Ah, Morgaine, those were good times,\" he said, then his face tightened. \"Of course, that was long ago-now what the folk want in their kings is dignity. Those days are gone, and forever.\"\n\nAre they? I wonder. But Morgaine said nothing. It occurred to her that Uriens, when he was younger, might have been a king strong enough to resist the tide of Christianity washing over the land. If Viviane had tried harder to put a king on the throne who was not bound hard and fast to the rule of the priests... but of course, who could have foreseen that Gwenhwyfar would be pious beyond all reason? And why had the Merlin done nothing?\n\nIf the Merlin of Britain and the wise folk at Avalon had done nothing to stem this tide that was drowning the land and washing away all the old ways and the old Gods, why should she blame Uriens, who was after all only an old man, and wanted peace? There was no reason to make him an enemy. If he was content, it would not matter to him what she did... she did not know yet what she meant to do. But she knew that her days of silent compliance were over.\n\nShe said, \"I wish I had known you then,\" and let him kiss heron the forehead.\n\nIf I had been married to him when first I became marriageable, North Wales might never have become a Christian land. But it is not too late. There are those who have not forgotten that the king still wears, however faded, the serpents of Avalon about his arms. And he has married one who was a High Priestess of the Lady.\n\nI could have done her work better here than all those years at Arthur's court, in Gwenhwyfar's shadow. It occurred to Morgaine that Gwenhwyfar would have been content with a husband like Uriens, whom she could keep within her own sphere, rather than one like Arthur, living an entire life in which she had no part." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And there had been a time, too, when Morgaine had had influence with Arthur-the influence of the woman he had first taken incoming to manhood, who wore, for him, the face of the Goddess. Yet, in her folly and pride, she had let him fall into the hands of Gwenhwyfar and the priests. Now, when it was too late, she began to understand what Viviane had intended.\n\nBetween us, we could have ruled this land; they would have called Gwenhwyfar the High Queen, but she would have had Arthur only in body; he would have been mine in heart and soul and mind. Ah, what a fool I was.... He and I could have ruled-for Avalon! Now Arthur is the priests' creature. And he bears, still, the great sword of the Druid Regalia, and the Merlin of Britain does nothing to hinder him.\n\nI must take up the work that Viviane let fall....\n\nAh, Goddess, I have forgotten so much....\n\nAnd then she stopped, shaking at her own daring. Uriens had reached a pause in his tale; she had ceased rubbing his feet, and he looked down questioning at her, and she said hastily, \"I am quite sure you did the right thing, my dear husband,\" and spread some more of the sweet-smelling salve on her hands. She had not the slightest idea what she had agreed to, but Uriens smiled and went on with his tale, and Morgaine slid off into her own thoughts again.\n\nI am a priestess still. Strange how I am suddenly sure of that again, after all these years, when even the dreams of Avalon are gone.\n\nShe pondered what Accolon had told them. Elaine had borne a daughter. She herself could not give Avalon a daughter, but as Viviane had done, she would bring her a fosterling. She helped Uriens to dress, went down with him, and with her own hands fetched him fresh new-baked bread from the kitchen and some of the foaming new beer. She served him, spreading honey on his bread. Let him think her the most doting of his subjects, let him think her only his sweet compliant wife. It meant nothing to her, but one day it might mean much to have his trust, so that she could do what she chose." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Even with the summer my old bones ache-I think, Morgaine, that I will ride south to Aquae Sulis and take the waters there." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There is an ancient shrine to Sul-when the Romans were here they built a huge bathhouse, and some of it is still there, unfallen. The great pools are choked, and when the Saxons came they carried off much of the fine work, and threw down the statue of the Goddess, but the spring is still there, undamaged-boiling up in clouds of steam, day after day and year after year, from the forges at the center of the earth. It is awesome to behold! And there are hot pools where a man can soak all the weariness from his bones. I have not been therefor two or three years, but I shall go again, now the countryside is quiet.\"\n\n\"I see no reason you should not,\" she agreed, \"now there is peace in the land.\"\n\n\"Would you care to go with me, my dear? We can leave my sons to care for everything here, and the old shrine would interest you.\"\n\n\"I would like to seethe shrine,\" she said, sincerely enough. She thought of the cold unfailing waters of the Holy Well on Avalon, bubbling up inexhaustible, forever, sourceless, cool, clear.... \"Still, I do not know if it would be well to leave all things in your sons' hands. Avalloch is a fool. Accolon is clever, but he is only a younger son-I do not know if your people would listen to him. Perhaps if I were here, Avalloch would take counsel of his younger brother.\"\n\n\"An excellent idea, my dear,\" Uriens said sunnily, \"and in any case it would be along journey for you. If you are here I will not have the slightest hesitation in leaving all things to the young men-I will tell them they must come to you for good advice in all things.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And when will you set forth?\" It would not beat all a bad thing, Morgaine thought, if it were known that Uriens did not hesitate to leave his kingdom in her hands.\n\n\"Tomorrow, perhaps. Or even after the blessing of the crops this day. Will you have them pack my things?\"\n\n\"Are you sure you can travel that long a road? It is not an easy ride even fora young man-\"\n\n\"Come, come, my dear, I am not yet too old to ride,\" he said, frowning a little, \"and I am sure the waters will dome good.\"\n\n\"I am sure they will.\" Morgaine rose, leaving her own breakfast almost untasted. \"Let me call your body servant and have everything made ready for you to depart.\"\n\nShe stood at his side during the long procession around the fields, standing on a little hill above the village and watching the capering dancers, like young goats... she wondered if any of them so much as knew the significance of the phallic green wands wound about with red and white garlands, and the pretty girl with her hair streaming, who walked, serene and indifferent, among them. She was fresh and young, not fourteen, and her hair was coppery gold, streaming halfway between her waist and knees; and she had on a gown, dyed green, that looked very old. Did any of them know what they were watching, or seethe incongruity of the priest's procession, following them, two boys in black carrying candles and crosses, and the priest intoning the prayers in his bad Latin; Morgaine spoke better Latin than he!\n\nThese priests hate fertility and life so much, it is a miracle their so-called blessing does not blast the fields sterile-\n\nIt was like an answer from her own mind when a voice spoke softly behind her. \"I wonder, lady, if any here save ourselves truly know what they are watching?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Accolon took her arm fora moment to help her over a rough clump of the plowed land, and she saw again the serpents, fresh and blue along his wrists.\n\n\"King Uriens knows and has tried to forget. That seems tome a worse blasphemy than not to know at all.\"\n\nShe had expected that would make him angry; had, in away, been inviting it. With Accolon's strong hands on her arm, she felt the strong hunger, the inner leap... he was young, he was a virile man, and she-she was the aging wife of his old father... and the eyes of Uriens\" subjects were on them, and the eyes of his family and his house priest! She could not even speak freely, she must treat him with cold detachment: her stepson! If Accolon said anything kind or pitying, she would scream aloud, would tear at her hair, at her face and flesh with her nails....\n\nBut Accolon only said, in a voice that could not have been overheard three feet away, \"Perhaps it is enough for the Lady that we know, Morgaine. The Goddess will not fail us while a single worshipper gives her what is due.\"\n\nFora moment she looked round at him. His eyes were dwelling on her, and although his hands on hers were careful, courteous, detached, it seemed that heat ran upward from them into her whole body. She was suddenly frightened and wanted to pull away.\n\nI am his father's wife and of all women I am the one most forbidden to him. I am more forbidden to him, in this Christian land, than I was to Arthur.\n\nAnd then a memory from Avalon surfaced in her mind, something she had not thought of fora decade; one of the Druids, giving instruction in the secret wisdom to the young priestesses, had said, If you would have the message of the Gods to direct your life, look for that which repeats, again and again; for this is the message given you by the Gods, the karmic lesson you must learn for this incarnation. It comes again and again until you have made it part of your soul and your enduring spirit." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "What has come tome again and again...?\n\nEvery man she had desired had been too close kin to her-Lancelet, who was the son of her foster-mother; Arthur, her own mother's son; now the son of her husband...\n\nBut they are too close kin tome only by the laws made by the Christians who seek to rule this land... to rule it in anew tyranny; not alone to make the laws but to rule the mind and heart and soul. Am I living out in my own life all the tyranny of that law, so I as priestess may know why it must be overthrown?\n\nShe discovered that her hands, still tightly held in Accolon's, were trembling. She said, trying to collect her scattered thoughts, \"Do you truly believe that the Goddess would withdraw her life from this earth if the folk who dwell here should no longer give her her due?\"\n\nIt was the sort of remark that might have been made, priestess to priest, in Avalon. Morgaine knew, as well as anyone, that the true answer to that question was that the Gods were what they were, and did their will upon the earth regardless of whether man regarded their doing one way or the other. But Accolon said, with a curious animal flash of white teeth in a grin, \"Then must we make it sure, lady, that she should always be given her due, lest the life of the world fail.\" And then he addressed her by a name never spoken except by priest to priestess in ritual, and Morgaine felt her heart beating so hard she was dizzy.\n\nLest the life of the world fail. Lest my life fail within me... he has called on me in the name of the Goddess....\n\n\"Be still,\" she said, distracted. \"This is neither the time nor the place for such talk.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"No?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They had come to the edge of the rough ground. He let goof her hand and somehow her own felt cold without it. Ahead of them the masked dancers shook their phallic wands and capered, and the Spring Maiden, her longhair buffeted and tangled by the breeze, was going around the circle of the dancers, exchanging a kiss with each-a ritualized, formal kiss, where her lips barely touched each cheek. Uriens beckoned Morgaine impatiently to his side; she moved stiffly and cold, feeling the spot on her wrists where Accolon had held her as a spot of heat on her icy body.\n\nUriens said fussily, \"It is your part, my dear, to give out these things to the dancers who have entertained us this day.\" He motioned to a servant, who filled Morgaine's hands with sweets and candied fruits; she tossed them to the dancers and the spectators, who scrambled for them, laughing and pushing. Always mockery of the sacred things... a memory of the day when the folk scrambled for bits of the flesh and blood of the sacrifice.... Let the rite be forgotten, but not mocked this way! Again and yet again they filled her hands with the sweets, and again and again she tossed them into the crowd. They saw no more in the rite than dancers who had entertained them; had they all forgotten? The Spring Maiden came up to Morgaine, laughing and flushed with innocent pride; Morgaine saw now that although she was lovely, her eyes were shallow, her hands thick and stubby with work in the fields. She was only a pretty peasant girl trying to do the work of a priestess, without the slightest idea what she was doing; it was folly to resent her.\n\nYet she is a woman, doing the Mother's work in the best way she has ever been told; it is not her fault that she was not schooled in Avalon for the great work. Morgaine did not quite know what was expected of her, but as the girl knelt fora moment before the Queen, Morgaine took on the half-forgotten stance of a priestess in blessing, and felt for an instant the old awareness of something shadowing her, above her, beyond... she laid her hands fora moment on the girl's brow, felt the momentary flow of power between them, and the girl's rather stupid face was transfigured fora moment. The Goddess works in her, too, Morgaine thought, and then she saw Accolon's face; he was looking at her in wonder and awe. She had seen that look before, when she brought down the mists from Avalon... and the awareness of power flooded her, as if she were suddenly reborn." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I am alive again. After all these years, I am a priestess again, and it was Accolon who brought it back tome....\n\nAnd then the tension of the moment broke, and the girl backed away, stumbling over her feet, and dropping a clumsy curtsey to the royal party. Uriens distributed coins to the dancers and a somewhat larger gift to the village priest for candles to burn in his church, and the royal party went homeward. Morgaine walked sedately at Uriens' side, her face a mask, but inwardly seething with life. Her stepson Uwaine came and walked beside her.\n\n\"It was prettier than usual this year, Mother. Shanna is so lovely-the Spring Maiden, the daughter of the blacksmith Euan. But you, Mother, when you were blessing her, you looked so beautiful, you should have been the Spring Maiden yourself-\"\n\n\"Come, come,\" she chided the boy, laughing. \"Do you really think I could dress in green with my hair flying, and dance all round the plowed fields that way? And I am no maiden!\"\n\n\"No,\" said Uwaine, surveying her with along look, \"but you looked like the Goddess. Father Eian says that the Goddess was really a demon who came to keep the folk from serving the good Christ, but do you know what I think? I think that the Goddess was here for people to worship before they were taught how to worship the holy mother of Christ.\"\n\nAccolon was walking beside them. He said, \"Before the Christ, the Goddess was, and it will not hurt if you think of her as Mary, Uwaine. You should always do service to the Lady, under whatever name. But I would not advise you to speak much about this to Father Eian.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Oh no,\" said the boy, his eyes wide. \"He does not approve of women, even when they are Goddesses.\"\n\n\"I wonder what he thinks of queens?\" Morgaine murmured. Then they had arrived back at the castle and Morgaine had to see to King Uriens' travelling things, and in the confusion of the day, she let the new insights slide into the back of her mind, knowing that later she would have to consider all this most seriously.\n\nUriens rode away after midday, with his men-at-arms and a body servant or two, taking leave of Morgaine tenderly with a kiss, counselling his son Avalloch to listen to Accolon's counsel and that of the queen in all things. Uwaine was sulking; he wanted to go with his father, whom he adored, but Uriens would not be troubled with a child in the party. Morgaine had to comfort him, promise some special treat for him while his father was away. But at last all was quiet, and Morgaine could sit alone before the fire in the great hall-Maline had taken her children off to bed-and think of all that had befallen her that day.\n\nIt was twilight outside, the long evening of Midsummer. Morgaine had taken her spindle and distaff in her hand, but she was only pretending to spin, twirling it once in awhile and drawing out a little thread; she disliked spinning as much as ever, and one of the few things she had asked of Uriens was that she might employ two extra spinning women so that she would be free of that detested task; she did twice her share of the household weaving in its stead. She dared not spin; it would throw her into that strange state between sleep and waking, and she feared what she might see. So now she only twirled the spindle now and again, that none of the servants would see her sitting with her hands idle... not that anyone would have the right to reproach her, she was busy early and late...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The room was darkening, a few slashes of crimson light from the setting sun still brilliant, darkening the corners by contrast. Morgaine narrowed her eyes, thinking of the red sun setting over the ring stones on the Tor, of the priestesses walking in train behind the red torchlight, spilling it into the shadows... fora moment Raven's face flickered before her, silent, enigmatic, and it seemed that Raven opened her silent lips and spoke her name... faces floated before her in the twilight: Elaine, her hair all unbound as the torchlight caught her in Lancelet's bed; Gwenhwyfar, angry and triumphant at Morgaine's wedding; the calm, still face of the strange woman with braided fair hair, the woman she had seen only in dreams, Lady of Avalon... Raven again, frightened, entreating... Arthur, bearing a candle of penitence as he walked among his subjects... oh, but the priests would never dare force the King to public penance, would they? And then she saw the barge of Avalon, draped all in black fora funeral, and her own face like a reflection on the mists, mirrored there, with three other women draped all in black like the barge, and a wounded man lying white and still in her lap-\n\nTorchlight flared crimson across the darkroom, and a voice said, \"Are you trying to spin in the dark, Mother?\"\n\nConfused by the light, Morgaine looked up and said peevishly, \"I have told you not to call me that!\"\n\nAccolon put the torch into a bracket, and came to sit at her feet. \"The Goddess is Mother to us all, lady, and I acknowledge you as such....\"\n\n\"Are you mocking me?\" Morgaine demanded, agitated." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I do not mock.\" As Accolon knelt close to her, his lips trembled. \"I saw your face today. Would I mock that-wearing these?\" He thrust out his arms, and by a trick of the light, the blue serpents dyed on his wrists seemed to writhe and thrust up their painted heads. \"Lady, Mother, Goddess-\" His painted arms went out around her waist, and he buried his head in her lap. He muttered, \"Yours is the face of the Goddess tome....\"\n\nAs if she moved in a dream, Morgaine putout her hands to him, bending to kiss the back of his neck where the soft hair curled. Part of her was wondering, frightened, What am I doing? Is it only that he has called on me in the name of the Goddess, priest to priestess? Or is it only that when he touches me, speaks tome, I feel myself woman and alive again after all this time when I have felt myself old, barren, half dead in this marriage to a dead man and a dead life? Accolon raised his face to her, kissed her full on the lips. Morgaine, yielding to the kiss, felt herself melting, opened, a shudder, half pain half pleasure, running through her as his tongue against hers shot waking memories through her whole body... so long, so long, this long year when her body had been deadened, never letting itself wake lest it be aware of what Uriens was doing.... She thought, defiant, I am a priestess, my body is mine to be given in homage to her! What I did with Uriens was the sin, the submission to lust! This is true and holy....\n\nHis hands trembled on her body; but when he spoke, his voice was quiet and practical.\n\n\"I think all the castle folk are abed. I knew you would be here waiting for me....\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Fora moment Morgaine resented his certainty; then she bowed her head." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They were in the hands of the Goddess and she would not refuse the flow that carried heron, like a river; long, long, she had only whirled about in a backwater, and now she was washed clean into the current of life again. \"Where is Avalloch?\"\n\nHe laughed shortly. \"He is gone down to the village to lie with the Spring Maiden... it is one of our customs that the village priest does not know. Ever, since our father was old and we were grown men, it has been so, and Avalloch does not think it incompatible with his duty as a Christian man, to be the father of his people, or as many of them as possible, like Uriens himself in his youth. Avalloch offered to cast lots with me for the privilege, and I had started to do so, then I remembered your hands blessing her, and knew where my true homage lay....\"\n\nShe murmured half in protest, \"Avalon is so faraway...\"\n\nHe said, with his face against her breast, \"But she is everywhere.\"\n\nMorgaine whispered, \"So be it,\" and rose. She pulled him upright with her and made a half turn toward the stairs, then stopped. No, not here; there was not abed in this castle that they could honorably share. And the Druid maxim returned to her, Can that which was never made nor created by Man, be worshipped under a roof made by human hands?\n\nOut, then, into the night. As they stepped into the empty courtyard, a falling star rushed downward across the sky, so swiftly that for an instant it seemed to Morgaine that the heavens reeled and the earth moved backward under her feet... then it was gone, leaving their eyes dazzled. A portent. The Goddess welcomes me back to herself...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Come,\" she whispered, her hand in Accolon's, and led him upward to the orchard, where the white ghosts of blossom drifted in the darkness and fell around them. She spread her cloak on the grass, like a magic circle under the sky; held out her arms and whispered, \"Come.\"\n\nThe dark shadow of his body over her blotted out the sky and the stars.\n\nMorgaine speaks...\n\nEven as we lay together under the stars that Midsummer, I knew that what we had done was not so much lovemaking as a magical act of passionate power; that his hands, the touch of his body, were reconsecrating me priestess, and that it washer will. Blind as I was to all at that moment, I heard around us in the summer night the sound of whispers and I knew that we were not alone.\n\nHe would have held me in his arms, but I rose, driven on by whatever power held me now at this hour, and raised my hands above my head, bringing them down slowly, my eyes closed, my breath held in the tension of power... and only when I heard him gasp in awe did I venture to open my eyes, to see his body rimmed with that same faint light which edged my own.\n\nIt is done and she is with me.... Mother, I am unworthy in thy sight... but now it has come again.... I held my breath to keep from breaking out into wild weeping. After all these years, after my own betrayal and my faithlessness, she has come again tome and I am priestess once more. A pale glimmer of moonlight showed me, at the edge of the field where we lay, though I saw not even a shadow, the glimmer of eyes like some animal in the hedgerow. We were not alone, the little people of the hills had known where we were and what she wrought here, and come to seethe consummation unknown here since Uriens grew old and the world had turned grey and Christian. I heard the echo of a reverent whisper and returned it in a tongue of which I knew less than a dozen words, just audible where I stood and where Accolon still knelt in reverence." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It is done; so let it be!\"\n\nI bent and kissed him on the brow, repeating, \"It is done. Go, my dear; be thou blessed.\"\n\nHe would have stayed, I know, had I been the woman with whom he had come into that garden; but before the priestess he went silent away, not questioning the word of the Goddess.\n\nThere was no sleep for me that night. Alone, I walked in the garden till dawn, and I knew already, shaking with terror, what must be done. I did not know how, or whether, alone, I could do what I had begun, but as I had been made priestess so many years ago and renounced it, so must I retrace my steps alone. This night I had been given a great grace; but I knew there would be no more signs for me and no help given until I had made myself, alone, unaided, again the priestess I had been trained to be.\n\nI bore still on my brow, faded beneath that housewifely coif Uriens would have me wear, the sign of her grace, but that would not help me now. Gazing at the fading stars, I did not know whether or no the rising sun would surprise meat my vigil; the sun tides had not run in my blood for half a lifetime, and I no longer knew the precise place on the eastern horizon where I should turn to salute the sun at its rising. I knew not, anymore, even how the moon-tides ran with the cycles of my body... so far had I come from the training of Avalon. Alone, with no more than a fading memory, I must somehow recapture all the things I had once known as part of myself.\n\nBefore dawn I went silently indoors, and moving in the dark, found for myself the one token I had of Avalon-the little sickle knife I had taken from Viviane's dead body, a knife like the one I had borne as priestess and had abandoned in Avalon when I fled from there. I bound it silently around my waist, beneath my outer garments; it would never leave my side again and it would be buried with me." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I wore it thus, hidden there, the only memory I could keep of that night. I did not even paint the crescent anew on my brow, partly because of Uriens-he would have questioned it-and partly because I knew I was not, yet, worthy to bear it; I would not have worn the crescent as he wore the faded serpents about his arms, an ornament and a half-forgotten reminder of what once he had been and was no more. Over these next months and as they stretched into years, one part of me moved like a painted doll through the duties he demanded of me-spinning and weaving, making herbal medicines, looking to the needs of son and grandson, listening to my husband's talk, embroidering him fine clothes and tending him in sickness... all these things I did without much thought, with the very surface of my mind and a body gone numb for those times when he took brief and distasteful possession of it.\n\nBut the knife was thereto touch now and again for reassurance as I learned again to count sun tides from equinox to solstice and back to equinox again... count them painfully on my fingers like a child or a novice priestess; it was years before I could feel them running in my blood again, or know to a hairline's difference whereon the horizon moon or sun would rise or set for the salutations I learned again to make. Again, late at night while the household lay sleeping round me, I would study the stars, letting their influence move in my blood as they wheeled and swung around me until I became only a pivot point on the motionless earth, center of the whirling dance around and above me, the spiraling movement of the seasons. I rose early and slept late so that I might find hours to range into the hills, on pretext of seeking root and herb for medicines, and there I sought out the old lines of force, tracing them from standing stone to hammer pool... it was weary work and it was years before I knew even a few of them near to Uriens\" castle." }, { "from": "human", "value": "But even in that first year, when I struggled with fading memory, trying to recapture what I had known so many years ago, I knew my vigils were not unshared." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I was never unattended, though never did I see more than I had seen that first night, the gleam of an eye in the darkness, a flicker of motion out of the corner of my eyes... they were seldom seen, even herein the far hills, anywhere in village and field; they lived their own life secretly in deserted hills and forests where they had fled when the Romans came. But I knew they were there, that the little folk who had never lost sight of Her watched over me.\n\nOnce in the far hills I found a ring of stones, not a great one like that which stood on the Tor at Avalon, nor the greater one which had once been Temple of the Sun on the great chalk plains; here the stones were no more than shoulder-high even on me (and I am not tall) and the circle no greater than the height of a tall man. A small slab of stone, the stains faded and overgrown with lichens, was half-buried in the grass at the center. I pulled it free of weed and lichen, and as I did whenever I could find food unseen in the kitchens, left for her people such things as I knew seldom came to them-a slab of barley bread, a bit of cheese, a lump of butter. And once when I went there I found at the very center of the stones a garland of the scented flowers which grew on the border of the fairy country; dried, they would never fade. When next I took Accolon out of doors when the moon was full, I wore them tied about my brow as we came together in that solemn joining which swept away the individual and made us only Goddess and God, affirming the endless life of the cosmos, the flow of power between male and female as between earth and sky. After that I went never unattended beyond my own garden. I knew better than to look for them directly, but they were there and I knew they would be there if I needed them. It was not for nothing that I had been given that old name, Morgaine of the Fairies... and now they acknowledged meas their priestess and their queen." }, { "from": "human", "value": "I came to the stone circle, walking by night, when the harvest moon sank low in the sky and the breath of the fourth winter grew cold on the eve of the Day of the Dead." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There, wrapped in my cloak and shivering through the night, I kept the vigil, fasting; snow was drifting out of the sky when I rose and turned my steps homeward, but as I left the circle I turned my foot on a stone which had not been there when I came thither, and, bending my head, I saw the pattern of white stones arranged.\n\nI bent, moving one stone to make the next in sequence of the magical numbers-the tides had shifted and now we were under the winter's stars. Then I went home, shivering, to tell a story of being benighted in the hills and sleeping in an empty shepherd's hut-Uriens had been frightened by the snow, and sent two men to seek me. Snow, lying deep on the mountainsides, kept me within doors much of the winter, but I knew when the storms would lift and risked the journey to the ring stones at Midwinter, knowing the stones would be clear... snow lay never within the great circles, I knew, and I guessed that it would be so herein the smaller circles, where magic was still done.\n\nAnd thereat the very center of the circle I saw a tiny bundle-a scrap of leather tied with sinew. My fingers were recapturing their old skill and did not fumble as I untied it and rolled the contents into my palm. They looked like a couple of dried seeds, but they were the tiny mushrooms which grew so rarely near Avalon. They were no use as food, and most folk thought them poison, for they would cause vomiting and purging and a bloody flux; but taken sparingly, fasting, they could open the gates to the Sight... this was a gift more precious than gold. They grew not in this country at all, and I could only guess how far the little folk had wandered in search of them. I left them what food I had brought, dried meats and fruits and a honeycomb, but not in repayment; the gift was priceless. I knew that I would lock myself within my chamber at Midwinter, and there seek again the Sight I had renounced. With the gates of vision thus opened I could seek and dare the very presence of the Goddess, begging to repronounce what I had forsworn. I had no fear that I would be cast forth again. It was she who sent me this gift that I might seek again her presence." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And I bent to the ground in thanksgiving, knowing that my prayers had been heard and my penance done." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The snow was beginning to melt off the hills and a few of the earliest wildflowers showed in sheltered valleys when the Lady of the Lake was summoned to the barge to greet the Merlin of Britain. Kevin looked pale and worn, his face haggard, his twisted limbs dragging more reluctantly than ever, and he braced himself with a stout stick. Niniane noticed, her eyes hiding the pity she felt, that he had been forced to put My Lady from him into the hands of a serving-man, and she pretended not to see, knowing what a blow that must have been to his pride. She slowed her own stepson the path toward her dwelling place, and there she welcomed him, summoned her women to buildup the fire, and sent for wine, of which he took only a token sip, and bowed gravely in thanks.\n\n\"What brings you here so early in the year, Venerable?\" she asked him. \"Have you come from Camelot?\"\n\nHe shook his head. \"I was therefor apart of the winter,\" he said, \"and I spoke much with Arthur's councillors, but early in the spring I went southward on a mission to the treaty troops-I should say now, I suppose, the Saxon kingdoms. And I take it you know whom I saw there, Niniane. Was that Morgause's doing, or yours, I wonder?\"\n\n\"Neither,\" she said quietly. \"It was Gwydion's own choice. He knew he should have some experience in battle, Druid teaching or no-there have been warrior Druids ere this. And he chose to go south to the Saxon kingdoms-they are allied with Arthur, but there he would not come under Arthur's eyes. He did not-for reasons known as well to you as tome-wish for Arthur to set eyes on him.\" After a moment she added, \"I would not swear that Morgause did not influence his choice. He takes counsel of her, when he will seek the counsel of any.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Is it so?\" Kevin raised his eyebrows. \"Aye, I suppose so-she is the only mother he has ever known. And she ruled Lot's kingdom as well as any man, and still rules, even with her new consort.\"\n\n\"I heard not that she had anew consort,\" said Niniane. \"I cannot see as well what happens in the kingdoms as did Viviane.\"\n\n\"Aye, she had the Sight to aid her,\" Kevin said, \"and maidens with the Sight when her own Sight failed her. Have you none, Niniane?\"\n\n\"I have-some,\" she said hesitating. \"Yet it fails me now and again-\" and she was silent a moment, staring at the flagstones of the floor. At last she said, \"I think-Avalon is-is drifting further from the lands of men, Lord Merlin. What season was it in the world outside?\"\n\n\"Ten days have passed since the equinox, Lady,\" said Kevin.\n\nNiniane drew along breath. \"And I kept that feast but seven days since. It is as I thought-the lands are drifting. As yet no more than a few days in every moon, but I fear soon we shall be as far from sun tide and moon tide as that fairy kingdom they tell of... it is ever harder to summon the mists and to pass forth from this land.\"\n\n\"I know,\" said Kevin. \"Why, think you, I came at the slack of the tide?\" He smiled his twisted grin and said, \"You should rejoice-you will not age as women in the outer world are prone to age, Lady, but remain younger.\"\n\n\"You do not comfort me,\" said Niniane with a shudder. \"Yet there is none in the outer world whose fate I follow, save-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Gwydion's,\" said Kevin. \"I thought as much. But there is one with whose fate you should be concerned as well-\"\n\n\"Arthur in his palace? He has renounced us,\" said Niniane, \"and Avalon lends him no more help-\"\n\n\"It is not of Arthur I spoke,\" said Kevin, \"nor does he seek help from Avalon, not now. But-\" He hesitated. \"I heard it from the folk of the hills-there is a king again in Wales, and a queen.\"\n\n\"Uriens?\" Niniane laughed, a scoffing laugh. \"He is older than those same hills, Kevin! What can he do for those folk?\"\n\n\"Nor did I speak of Uriens,\" said Kevin. \"Had you forgotten? Morgaine is there, and the Old People have accepted her as their queen. She will protect them, even against Uriens, while she lives. Had you forgotten that the son of Uriens had teaching here, and wears the serpents about his wrists?\"\n\nNiniane was silent fora moment, motionless. At last she said, \"I had forgotten that. He was not the elder son, so I thought he would never reign-\"\n\n\"The elder son is a fool,\" said Kevin, \"though the priests think him a good successor to his father, and from their view, he is so-pious and simple and he will not interfere with their church. The priests trust not the second son-Accolon-because he wears the serpents. And, since Morgaine has come there, he has remembered it, and serves her as his queen. And for the folk of the hills she is queen, too, whoever may sit on the throne in the Roman fashion. For them, the king is he who dies yearly among the deer, but the queen is eternal. And it maybe that in the end Morgaine will do what Viviane left undone.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Niniane could hear, with a detached surprise, the bitterness in her own voice." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Kevin, not for one day since Viviane died and they came to set me here, have I been allowed to forget that I am not Viviane, that after Viviane I am nothing. Even Raven follows me with her great silent eyes that say always, You are not Viviane, you cannot do the work Viviane spent her life to do. I know it well-that I was chosen only because I am the last of Taliesin's blood and there was no other, that I am not of the royal line of the Queen of Avalon! No, I am not Viviane, and I am not Morgaine, but I have served faithfully herein this place when I sought it never and when it was thrust upon me because of Taliesin's blood. I have been faithful to my vows-is this nothing to anyone?\"\n\n\"Lady,\" said Kevin gently, \"Viviane was such a priestess as comes not into this world more than once in many hundreds of years, even in Avalon. And her reign was long-she ruled here for nine-and-thirty years, and very few of us can remember before her time. Any priestess who must follow in her steps would feel herself less in comparison. There is nothing for which you must reproach yourself. You have been faithful to your vows.\"\n\n\"As Morgaine was not,\" said Niniane.\n\n\"True. But she is of the blood royal of Avalon, and she bore the heir to the King Stag. It is not for us to judge her.\"\n\n\"You defend her because you were her lover-\" Niniane flared, and Kevin raised his head. She had not realized; set within the dark and twisted face, his eyes were blue, like the very center of flame. He said quietly, \"Would you try to pick a quarrel with me, Lady? That is over and gone years since, and when last I saw Morgaine, she called me traitor and worse, and drove me from her presence with harsh words such as no man with blood in his veins could forgive. Do you think I love her too well? But it is not my place to judge her, nor yours. You are the Lady of the Lake. Morgaine is my queen, and Queen of Avalon. She does her work in the world as you do yours here-and I where the Gods lead me. And they led me this spring into the fen country, where, at the court of a Saxon who calls himself king under Arthur, I saw Gwydion.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Niniane had been schooled in her long training to keep her face impassive; but she knew that Kevin, who had had the same teaching, could see that she must do so with an effort, and felt that somehow those sharp eyes could read within her. She wanted to ask news of him, but instead she said only, \"Morgause told me that he has some knowledge of strategy and is no coward in battle. How fared he, then, among those barbarians who would rather batter out brains with their great clubs than make use of them at their courts? I knew he went south to the Saxon kingdoms because one of them wished fora Druid at court who could read and write and knew something of figures and mapmaking. And he said tome that he wished to be seasoned in war without coming under the eye of Arthur, so I suppose he had his wish. Even though there has been peace in the land, there is always fighting among yonder folk-is the Saxon God not one of war and battles?\"\n\n\"Mordred, they call Gwydion, which means \"Evil Counsel\" in their tongue. It is a compliment-they mean it is evil for those who would harm them. They give every guest a name, as they call Lancelet Elf-arrow.\"\n\n\"Among the Saxons, a Druid, even a young one, might seem wiser than he is, in contrast to all their thick heads! And Gwydion is clever! Even as a boy he could think of a dozen answers for everything!\"\n\n\"Clever he is,\" said Kevin slowly, \"and knows well how to make himself loved, I have seen that. Me, he welcomed as if I had been his favorite uncle in childhood, saying how good it was to see a familiar face from Avalon, embracing me, making much of me-all as if he loved me well.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No doubt he was lonely and you were like a breath from home,\" said Niniane, but Kevin frowned and drank a little wine, then set it down and forgot it again. He demanded, \"How far did Gwydion go in the magical training?\"\n\n\"He wears the serpents,\" Niniane said.\n\n\"That may mean much or little,\" Kevin said. \"You should know that-\" And although the words were innocent, Niniane felt their sting; a priestess who bore the crescent on her brow might be a Viviane-or no more than she herself. She said, \"He is to return at Midsummer to be made King of Avalon, that state Arthur betrayed. And now he is grown to manhood-\"\n\nKevin warned, \"He is not ready to be king.\"\n\n\"Do you doubt his courage? Or his loyalty-\"\n\n\"Oh-courage,\" said Kevin, and made a dismissing gesture. \"Courage, and cleverness-but it is his heart I trust not and cannot read. And he is not Arthur.\"\n\n\"It is well for Avalon that he is not,\" Niniane flared. \"We need no more apostates who swear loyalty to Avalon and forsake their oath to the folk of the hills! The priests may set a pious hypocrite on the throne, who will serve whatever God he finds expedient at the moment-\"\n\nKevin raised his twisted hand, with such a commanding gesture that Niniane fell silent. \"Avalon is not the world! We have neither strength, nor armies, nor craft, and Arthur is loved beyond measure. Not in Avalon, I grant you, but all the length and breadth of these islands, where Arthur is the hand that has created the peace they value. At this moment, any voice arising against Arthur would be silenced within months, if not within days. Arthur is loved-he is the very spirit of all Britain. And even if it were otherwise, what we do in Avalon has little weight in the world outside. As you marked, we are drifting into the mists.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Then all the more must we move quickly, to bring Arthur down and set a king on the throne of Britain who will restore Avalon to the world and the Goddess....\"\n\nKevin said quietly, \"I wonder, sometimes, if that can ever be done-if we have all spent our lives within a dream without reality.\"\n\n\"You say that? You, the Merlin of Britain?\"\n\n\"I have been at Arthur's court, not sheltered in an island that moves ever further from the world outside,\" said Kevin gently. \"This is my home, and I would die, as I am sworn... but it was with Britain I made the Great Marriage, Niniane, not with Avalon alone.\"\n\n\"If Avalon dies,\" said Niniane, \"then Britain is without her heart and will die, for the Goddess has withdrawn her soul from all the land.\"\n\n\"Think you so, Niniane?\" Kevin sighed again, and said, \"I have been all up and down these lands, in all weathers and all times-Merlin of Britain, hawk of the Sight, messenger of the Great Raven-and I see now another heart in the land, and it shines forth from Camelot.\"\n\nHe was silent. After along while Niniane said, \"Was it when you said such words as this to Morgaine that she called you traitor?\"\n\n\"No-it was something else,\" he said. \"Perhaps, Niniane, we do not know the ways of the Gods and their will as well as we think we do. I tell you, if we move now to bring Arthur down, this land will fall into a chaos worse than that when Ambrosius died and Uther had to fight for his crown. Do you think Gwydion can fight as Arthur did to take the land? Arthur's Companions would all be ranged against any man who rose against their king and their hero-he is like a God to them and can do no wrong.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It was never our wish,\" said Niniane, \"that Gwydion should face his father and fight him for his crown-only that one day, when Arthur knows he has no heir, he must turn to the son who comes of the royal line of Avalon and is sworn to loyalty to Avalon and the true Gods. And to that end he must be proclaimed King Stag in Avalon, so that there maybe voices, when Arthur seeks an heir, to speak for him. I have heard that Arthur has chosen Lancelet's son for his heir, since the Queen is barren. But Lancelet's son is but a young child, and Gwydion already a man grown. If anything happened to Arthur now, do you not think they would choose Gwydion-a grown man, a warrior and a Druid-over a child?\"\n\n\"Arthur's Companions would not follow a stranger, were he twice over warrior and Druid. Most likely they would name Gawaine regent for Lancelet's son till he came of age. And the Companions are Christian, most of them, and would reject Gwydion because of his birth-incest is a grave sin among them.\"\n\n\"They know nothing of sacred things.\"\n\n\"Granted. They must have time to accustom themselves to the idea, and that time is not yet. But if Gwydion cannot now be acknowledged as Arthur's son, it should be known that the priestess Morgaine, who is Arthur's own sister, has a son, and that this son is closer to the throne than Lancelet's child. And this summer there will be war again-\"\n\n\"I thought,\" said Niniane, \"that Arthur had made peace.\"\n\n\"Herein Britain, yes. But there is one in Less Britain who would claim all of Britain as his empire-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Ban?\" asked Niniane in astonishment. \"He was sworn long ago-he made the Great Marriage before our Lancelet was born. He would be all too old to go to war against Arthur-\"\n\n\"Ban is old and feeble,\" said Kevin. \"His son Lionel rules in his place, and Lionel's brother Bors is one of Arthur's Companions, and worships Lancelet as his hero. Neither of them would trouble Arthur's rule. But there is one who will. He calls himself Lucius, and he has somehow gotten the ancient Roman eagles and proclaimed himself emperor. And he will challenge Arthur-\"\n\nNiniane's skin prickled. She asked, \"Is that the Sight?\"\n\n\"Morgaine said tome once,\" Kevin said with a smile, \"that it needed not the Sight to know a rogue will be a rogue. It needs not the Sight to know that an ambitious man will challenge where the challenge will further his ambition. There are those who may think Arthur is growing old because his hair shines not all gold as it did and he flies the dragon no more. But do not rate him low, Niniane. I know him, you do not. He is not a fool!\"\n\n\"I think,\" said Niniane, \"that you love him too well fora man you are sworn to destroy.\"\n\n\"Love him?\" Kevin's smile was mirthless. \"I am Merlin of Britain, messenger of the Great Raven, and I sit at his side in council. Arthur is an easy man to love. But I am sworn to the Goddess.\" Again the short laugh. \"I think my sanity depends on this-that I know that what benefits Avalon must in the long years benefit Britain. You see Arthur as the enemy, Niniane. I see him still as the King Stag, protecting his herd and his lands.\"" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Proceed with the plot in your role as storytelling partner.\nTags: fantasy, arthurian, historical fantasy\nAuthor: Marion Zimmer Bradley\nTitle: The Mists of Avalon\nChapter: 51" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Ban?\" asked Niniane in astonishment. \"He was sworn long ago-he made the Great Marriage before our Lancelet was born. He would be all too old to go to war against Arthur-\"\n\n\"Ban is old and feeble,\" said Kevin. \"His son Lionel rules in his place, and Lionel's brother Bors is one of Arthur's Companions, and worships Lancelet as his hero. Neither of them would trouble Arthur's rule. But there is one who will. He calls himself Lucius, and he has somehow gotten the ancient Roman eagles and proclaimed himself emperor. And he will challenge Arthur-\"\n\nNiniane's skin prickled. She asked, \"Is that the Sight?\"\n\n\"Morgaine said tome once,\" Kevin said with a smile, \"that it needed not the Sight to know a rogue will be a rogue. It needs not the Sight to know that an ambitious man will challenge where the challenge will further his ambition. There are those who may think Arthur is growing old because his hair shines not all gold as it did and he flies the dragon no more. But do not rate him low, Niniane. I know him, you do not. He is not a fool!\"\n\n\"I think,\" said Niniane, \"that you love him too well fora man you are sworn to destroy.\"\n\n\"Love him?\" Kevin's smile was mirthless. \"I am Merlin of Britain, messenger of the Great Raven, and I sit at his side in council. Arthur is an easy man to love. But I am sworn to the Goddess.\" Again the short laugh. \"I think my sanity depends on this-that I know that what benefits Avalon must in the long years benefit Britain. You see Arthur as the enemy, Niniane. I see him still as the King Stag, protecting his herd and his lands.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Niniane said in a trembling whisper, \"And what of the King Stag when the young stag is grown?\"\n\nKevin leaned his head on his hands. He looked old and ill and weary. \"That day is not yet, Niniane. Do not seek to push Gwydion so swiftly he will be destroyed, merely because he is your lover.\" And he rose and limped out of the room without looking back, leaving Niniane sullen and angry.\n\nHow did that wretched man know that?\n\nAnd she told herself, I am under no vows like the Christian nuns! If I choose to take a man to my bed, that is for me to say... even if that man should be my pupil, and only a boy when he came here!\n\nIn the first years, he had twined himself around her heart, a lonely boy, lost and bereft, with none to love him or care for him or wonder how he did.... Morgause was the only mother he had known, and now he was parted from her too. How could Morgaine have found it in her heart to give up a fine son like this, clever and beautiful and wise, and never send to inquire how he did, or come to set eyes on him? Niniane had never borne a child, though she had thought, sometimes, that if she had come from Beltane with her womb filled she would have liked to bear a daughter to the Goddess. But it had never gone thus with her, and she had not rebelled against her lot.\n\nBut in those first years she had let Gwydion find his way into her heart. And then he had gone from them, as men must do, grown too old for the teachings of the priestesses, to be taught among the Druids and schooled in the arts of war. And he had returned, one year at Beltane, and she thought it was by craft that he had come near to her in the fire rites and she had gone apart with him...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But they had not parted when that season was over; and whenever, after that, in his comings and goings, anything had brought him to Avalon, she made it clear that she wanted him, and he had not said her no. I am closest to his heart, she thought, I know him best-what does Kevin know of him?\n\nAnd now the time has come when he shall return to Avalon, and shall have his trial as King Stag....\n\nAnd she turned her thoughts to that: where should she find a maiden for him? There are so few women in the House of Maidens who are even halfway fit for this great office, she thought, and there was sudden pain and dread in her thoughts.\n\nKevin was right. Avalon is drifting, dying; few come here for the ancient teachings, and there are none to keep the rites... and one day there will be no one at all... and again she felt that almost painful prickling in her body which came to her, now and again, in lieu of the Sight.\n\nGwydion came home to Avalon a few days before Beltane. Niniane greeted him formally at the boat, and he bowed to her in reverence before the maidens and the assembled folk of the Island, but when they were alone he caught her in his arms and kissed her, laughing, until they were both breathless.\n\nHis shoulders had broadened, and there was a red seam on his face. He had been fighting, she could tell; he no longer had the untroubled look of a priest and scholar.\n\nMy lover and my child. Is this why the Great Goddess has no husband, after the Roman fashion, but only sons, as we are all her children? And I who sit in her place must feel my lover as my son too... for all those who love the Goddess are her children...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And the lands are astir with it,\" he said, \"herein Avalon and among the Old People of the hills, that on Dragon Island the Old People will be choosing their king again.... It was for this that you summoned me there, was it not?\"\n\nSometimes, she thought, he could be as infuriating as an arrogant child. \"I do not know, Gwydion. The time may not be ripe, and the tides may not be ready. Nor can I find anywhere within this house anyone to play for you the part of the Spring Maiden.\"\n\n\"Yet it will be this spring,\" he said quietly, \"and this Beltane, for I have seen it.\"\n\nHer mouth curved a little as she said, \"And have you then seen the priestess who will admit you to the rite when you have won the antlers, supposing that the Sight does not mislead you to your death?\"\n\nShe thought as he faced her that he had but grown more beautiful, his face cold and set, dark with hidden passion. \"I have, Niniane. Do you not know that it was you?\"\n\nShe said, suddenly chilled to the bone, \"I am no maiden. Why do you mock me, Gwydion?\"\n\n\"Yet I have seen you,\" he said, \"and you know it as well as I. In her the Maiden and the Mother and the Crone meet and blend. She will be old and young as it shall please her, Virgin and Beast and Mother and the face of Death in the lightning, flowing and filling and returning again to her virginity....\"\n\nNiniane bent her head and said, \"Gwydion, no, it cannot be-\"\n\n\"I am her consort,\" he said implacably, \"and shall win it there... it is not the time fora virgin-the priests make much of that nonsense. I call upon her as the Mother to give me my due and my life....\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Niniane felt as if she were trying to stand against some relentless tide that would sweep her away. She said, hesitating, \"So it has always been, that in the running of the deer, though the Mother sends him forth, he returns again to the Maiden....\"\n\nYet there was reason in what he said. Surely it was better to have a priestess for the rites who knew what she was doing, rather than some half-trained child new come to the temple, whose only qualification was that she was not yet old enough to feel the call to the Beltane fire.... Gwydion spoke truth: the Mother ever renews herself, Mother and Crone and again the Maiden, even as the moon who hides herself in the dark sky.\n\nShe bent her head and said, \"Let it be so. You shall make the Great Marriage with the land and with me in her name.\"\n\nBut when she was alone again she was frightened. How had she come to agree to this? What, in the name of the Goddess, was this power in Gwydion, that he could make all men do his will?\n\nIs this, then, his heritage from Arthur, and the blood of the Pendragon? And ice flooded her again.\n\nWhat of the King Stag... Morgaine was dreaming...\n\nBeltane, and the deer running on the hills... and the life of the forest running through her body, as if every part of the forest was apart of the life within her... he was down among the deer, the running stag, the naked man with the antlers tied on his brow, and the horns thrust down and down, his dark hair matted with blood... but he was on his feet, charging, a knife flashing in the sunlight through the trees, and the King Stag came crashing down and the sound of his bellowing filled the forest with cries of despair." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And then she was in the dark cave, and the signs painted there were painted on her body, she was one with the cave, and all around her the Beltane fires flared, sparks crashing skyward-there was the taste of fresh blood on her mouth, and now the cave mouth was shadowed with the antlers... it should not be full moon, she should not see so clearly that her naked body was not the slender body of a virgin, but that her breasts were soft and full and pink as they had been when her child was born, almost as if they were dripping with milk, and surely she had been tested that she came virgin to this rite... what would they say to her, that she came not as the Spring Maiden to the King Stag?\n\nHe knelt at her side and she raised her arms, welcoming him to the rite and to her body, but his eyes were dark and haunted. His hands on her were tender, frustrating, toying with pleasure as he denied her the rite of power... it was not Arthur, no, this was Lancelet, King Stag, who should pull down the old stag, consort of the Spring Maiden, but he looked down at her, his dark eyes tormented by that same pain that struck inward through her whole body, and he said, I would you were not so like to my mother, Morgaine....\n\nTerrified, her heart pounding, Morgaine woke in her own room, Uriens sleeping at her side and snoring. Still caught up in the frightening magic of the dream, she shook her head in confusion toward the terror away.\n\nNo, Beltane is past... she had kept the rites with Accolon as she had known she would do, she was not lying in the cave, awaiting the King Stag... and why, she wondered, why should this dream of Lancelet visit her now, why did she dream not of Accolon, when she had made him her priest and Lord of Beltane, and her lover? Why, after so many years, should the memory of refusal and sacrilege strike inward at her very soul?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She tried to compose herself for sleep again, but sleep would not come, and she lay awake, shaken, until the sun thrust the rays of early summer into her chamber." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gwenhwyfar had come to hate the day of Pentecost, when each year Arthur sent out word that all his old Companions should come to Camelot and renew their fellowship. With the growing of peace in the land, and the scattering of the old Companions, every year there were fewer to come, more who had ties to their own homes and families and estates. And Gwenhwyfar was glad, for these Pentecost reunions put her too much in mind of those days when Arthur had not been a Christian king but bore the hated Pendragon banner. At Pentecost court he belonged to his Companions and she had no part at all in his life.\n\nShe stood behind him now as he sealed the two dozen copies his scribes had made, for everyone of his fellow kings and many of his old Companions. \"Why do you send out a special call for them to come this year? Surely all those who have no other business will come without your calling.\"\n\n\"But that is not enough this year,\" said Arthur, turning to smile at her. He was going grey, she realized, though he was so fair-haired that none could see unless they were standing quite close. \"I wish to assure them of such games and mock battles as will make all men aware that Arthur's legion is still well able to fight.\"\n\n\"Do you think any will doubt this?\" Gwenhwyfar asked.\n\n\"Perhaps not. But there is this man Lucius in Less Britain-Bors has sent me word, and as all my subject kings came to my aid when the Saxons and Northmen would have overrun this island, so I am pledged to come to theirs. Emperor, he calls himself, of Rome!\"\n\n\"And has he any right to be emperor?\" Gwenhwyfar asked.\n\n\"Need you ask? Far less than I, certainly,\" Arthur said. \"There has been no Emperor of Rome for more than a hundred years, my wife. Constantine was emperor and wore the purple, and after him Magnus Maximus, who went abroad over the channel to try and make himself emperor; but he came never back to Britain, and God alone knows what befell him or where he died. And after him, Ambrosius Aurelianus rallied our people against the Saxons, and after him Uther, and I suppose either of them could have called himself emperor, or I, but I am content to be High King of Britain. When I was a boy I read something of the history of Rome, and it was nothing new that some upstart pretender should somehow get the loyalty of a legion or two, and proclaim himself to the purple. But herein Britain it takes more than an eagle standard to make an Imperator. Else would Uriens be emperor in this land! I have sent for him to come-it seems long since I have seen my sister.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Gwenhwyfar did not answer that, not directly." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She shuddered. \"I do not want to see this land touched by war again, and torn apart by slaughter-\"\n\n\"Nor do I,\" said Arthur. \"I think every king would rather have peace.\"\n\n\"I am not so certain. There are some of your men who never cease speaking of the old days when they fought early and late against the Saxons. And now they begrudge Christian fellowship to those same Saxons, no matter what their bishop says-\"\n\n\"I do not think it is the days of war they regret,\" Arthur said, smiling at his queen, \"I think it is the days when we were all young, and the closeness that was between us all. Do you never long for those years, my wife?\"\n\nGwenhwyfar felt herself coloring. Indeed, she remembered well... those days when Lancelet had been her champion, and they had loved... this was noway fora Christian queen to think, and yet she could not stop herself. \"Indeed I do, my husband. And, as you say, perhaps it is only longing for my own youth... I am not young,\" she said, sighing, and he took her hand and said, \"You areas beautiful tome, my dearest, as the day when we were first bedded,\" and she knew that it was true.\n\nBut she forced herself to becalm, not to blush. I am not young, she thought, it is not seemly that I should think of those days when I was young and regret them, because in those days I was a sinner and an adulteress. Now I have repented and made peace with God, and even Arthur has done penance for his sin with Morgaine. She forced herself to practicality, as befitted the Queen of all Britain. \"I suppose we shall have more visitors than ever, then, at Pentecost-I must take counsel with Cai, and sir Lucan, as to where we shall bestow them all, and how we shall feast them. Will Bors come from Less Britain?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"He will come if he can,\" Arthur said, \"although Lancelet sent me a message earlier in this week, asking leave to go and aid his brother Bors if he is besieged there. I sent him word to come here, for it might be that we will all go.... Now that Pellinore is gone, Lancelet is king there as Elaine's husband, while their son is a little child. And Agravaine will come for Morgause of Lothian, and Uriens-or perhaps one of his sons. Uriens is marvelously well preserved for his years, but he is not immortal. His elder son is something of a fool, but Accolon is one of my old Companions, and Uriens has Morgaine to guide and counsel him.\"\n\n\"That seems not right tome,\" Gwenhwyfar said, \"for the Holy Apostle said that women should submit themselves to their husbands, yet Morgause rules still in Lothian, and Morgaine would be more than helpmeet to her king in North Wales.\"\n\n\"You must remember, my lady,\" said Arthur, \"that I come of the royal line of Avalon. I am king, not only as Uther Pendragon's son, but because I am son of Igraine, who was daughter to the old Lady of the Lake. Gwenhwyfar, from timeout of mind, the Lady ruled the land, and the king was no more than consort in time of war. Even in the days of Rome, the legions dealt with what they came to call\" client queens,\"who ruled the Tribes, and some of them were mighty warriors. Have you never heard of the Queen Boadicea?-she who, when her daughters were raped by the men of the legions, and the queen herself flogged as a rebel against Rome, raised an army and nearly drove all the Romans from these shores.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gwenhwyfar said bitterly, \"I hope they killed her.\"\n\n\"Oh, they did, and outraged her body... yet it was a sign that the Romans could not hope to conquer without accepting that in this country, the Lady rules.... Every ruler of Britain, down to my father, Uther, has borne the title the Romans coined fora war leader under a queen: dux bellorum, duke of war. Uther, and I after him, bear the throne of Britain as dux bellorum to the Lady of Avalon, Gwenhwyfar. Forget not that.\"\n\nGwenhwyfar said impatiently, \"I thought you had done with that, that you had professed yourself a Christian king and done penance for your servitude to the fairy folk of that evil island....\"\n\nArthur said, with equal impatience, \"My personal life and my religious faith are one thing, Gwenhwyfar, but the Tribes standby me because I bear this!\" His hand struck against Excalibur, belted at his side, inside its crimson scabbard. \"I survived in war because of the magic of this blade-\"\n\n\"You survived in war because God spared you to Christianize this land,\" said Gwenhwyfar.\n\n\"Someday, perhaps. That time is not yet, lady. In Lothian, men are content to live under the rule of Morgause, and Morgaine is queen in Cornwall and in North Wales. If the time were ripe for all these lands to fall to the rule of Christ, then would they clamor fora king and not fora queen. I rule this land as it is, Gwenhwyfar, not as the bishops would have it to be.\"\n\nGwenhwyfar would have argued further, but she saw the impatience in his eyes and held her peace. \"Perhaps in time even the Saxons and the Tribes may come to the foot of the cross. A day will come, so Bishop Patricius has said, when Christ will be the only king among Christian men, and kings and queens his servants. Godspeed the day,\" and she made the sign of the cross. Arthur laughed." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Servant to Christ will I be willingly,\" he said, \"but not to his priests. No doubt, though, Bishop Patricius will be among the guests, and you may feast him as fine as you will.\"\n\n\"And Uriens will come from North Wales,\" Gwenhwyfar said, \"and Morgaine too, no doubt. And from Pellinore's land, Lancelet?\"\n\n\"He will come,\" said Arthur, \"though I fear, if you wish to see your cousin Elaine again, you must journey thither to make her a visit: Lancelet sent word that she is in childbed again.\"\n\nGwenhwyfar flinched. She knew that Lancelet spent little time at home with his wife, but Elaine had given Lancelet what she could not-sons and daughters.\n\n\"How old now is Elaine's son? He is to be my heir, he should be fostered at this court,\" Arthur said, and Gwenhwyfar replied, \"I offered as much when he was born, but Elaine said that even if he was to be king one day, he must be brought up to a simple and modest manhood. You too were fostered as a plain man's son, and it did you no harm.\"\n\n\"Well, perhaps she is right,\" said Arthur. \"I would like, once, to see Morgaine's son. He would be grown to manhood now-it has been seventeen years. I know he cannot succeed me, the priests would not have it, but he is all the son I have ever fathered, and I would like, once, to set eyes on the lad and tell him... I know not what I would like to tell him. But I would like to see him once.\"\n\nGwenhwyfar struggled against the furious retort that sprang to her lips; nothing could be gained by arguing this again. She said only, \"He is well where he is.\" She spoke the truth, and after she said it she knew it was the truth; she was glad Morgaine's son was being reared on that isle of sorceries, where no Christian king could go. Schooled there, it was more certain than ever that no sudden swing of fortune would set him on the throne after Arthur-more and more, the priests and people of this land distrusted the sorcery of Avalon. Reared at court, it might be that some unscrupulous person would begin to think of Morgaine's son as a successor more legitimate than Lancelet's." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Arthur sighed. \"Yet it is hard fora man to know he has a son and never set eyes on him,\" he said. \"Perhaps, one day.\" But his shoulders went up and then down in resignation. \"No doubt you are right, my dear. What of the Pentecost feast? I know you will make it, as always, a memorable day.\"\n\nAnd so she had done, Gwenhwyfar thought on that morning, looking out over the expanse of tents and pavilions. The great war-gaming field had been cleared and lined with ropes and banners, and the flags and banners of half a hundred petty kings and more than a hundred knights were moving briskly in the summer wind on the heights. It was like an army encamped here.\n\nShe sought out the banner of Pellinore, the white dragon he had adopted after the killing of the dragon in the lake. Lancelet would be there... it had been more than a year since she had seen him, and then formally before all the court. It had been many years since she had been alone with him even fora moment; the day before he had married Elaine, he had come to seek her out alone and to say farewell.\n\nHe had been Morgaine's victim too; he had not betrayed her, they had both been victim of the cruel trick Morgaine had played on them. When he told her about it, he had wept, and she cherished the memory of his tears as the highest compliment he had ever given her... who had seen Lancelet weep?\n\n\"I swear to you, Gwenhwyfar, she trapped me-Morgaine sent me the false message, and a kerchief with your scent. And I think she drugged me, too, or put some spell upon me.\" He had looked into her eyes, weeping, and she had wept too. \"And Morgaine told Elaine some lie too, saying I was sick with love of her... and we were there together. I thought it was you at first, it was as if I were under some enchantment. And then when I knew it was Elaine in my arms, still I could not stop myself. And then they were all therewith torches... what could I do, Gwen? I had taken the virgin daughter of my host, Pellinore would have been within his rights to kill me then and therein her bed...\" Lancelet cried out, and then, his voice breaking, he had ended, \"Would to God that I had rushed on his sword instead....\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "She had asked him, You do not care at all for Elaine, then?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She had known it was an inexcusable thing to say, but she could not live without that reassurance... but while Lancelet might uncover his own misery to her, he would not speak of Elaine; he had only said, stiffly, that none of this was Elaine's fault, and that he was bound in honor to try to make her as happy as he could.\n\nWell, it was done, Morgaine had had her will. So she would see Lancelet and welcome him as her husband's kinsman, no more. The other madness was past and gone, but she would see him and that was better than nothing. She tried to banish all this with thoughts of the feast. Two oxen were being roasted, would it be enough? And there was a huge wild boar taken in hunting a few days ago, and two pigs from the farms nearby, being baked in a pit yonder; already it smelled so good that a group of hungry children were hanging around sniffing the good smell. And there were hundreds of loaves of barley bread, many of which would be given away to the countryfolk who came to crowd around the edges of the field and watch the doings of the nobles, the kings and knights and Companions; and there were apples baked in cream, and nuts by the bushel, and confectionery for the ladies, honey cakes, and rabbits and small birds stewed in wine... if this feast was not a success, certainly it would not be for the want of good and abundant food!\n\nSometime after the noon hour they gathered, along line of richly dressed nobles and ladies coming into the great hall and being ushered to their proper places. The Companions, as always, were shown to their places at the great round mead-hall table; but huge as it was, it would no longer place all the assembled company." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gawaine, who was always closest to Arthur, presented his mother, Morgause. She was leaning on the arm of a young man Gwenhwyfar did not fora moment recognize; Morgause was slender as ever, her hair still thick and rich, braided with gems. She sank in a curtsey before Arthur, who motioned her to rise and embraced her.\n\n\"Welcome, Aunt, to my court.\"\n\n\"I have heard that you ride only white horses,\" said Morgause, \"and so I have brought you one from the Saxon country. I have a fosterling there who sent it as a gift.\"\n\nGwenhwyfar saw Arthur's jaw tighten, and she too could guess who the fosterling must be. But he only said, \"A kingly gift truly, Aunt.\"\n\n\"I will not have the horse led into the hall, as I am told is the custom in the Saxon countries,\" Morgause said gaily. \"I do not think the lady of Camelot would like having her high hall, garnished for guests, turned into a byre! And, no doubt, your stewards have enough to do, Gwenhwyfar!\" She embraced the Queen; the younger woman was enveloped in a warm wave, and close by she could see that Morgause's face was painted, her bright eyes lined with kohl; but she was beautiful no less.\n\nGwenhwyfar said, \"I thank you for your forbearance, lady Morgause-it would not be the first time a fine horse or dog had been led before my lord and king herein this hall, and I know 'tis meant as courtesy, but I have no doubt your horse will be waiting outside quite content-I do not think the hospitality of Camelot means much even to the finest of horses. He would rather dine in his stall! Though Lancelet used to tell us a tale of some Roman who had his horse fed on wine in a golden trough and gave him honors and laurel wreaths-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The handsome young man at Morgause's side laughed and said, \"I remember, Lancelet told that story at my sister's wedding. It was the Emperor Gaius the God, who made his favorite horse one of his senators, and when he died, the next emperor said something like, at least the horse had given no evil counsel and done no murder. But do not the same, my lord Arthur-we have no chairs fit to hold such a Companion, should you see fit to name your stallion as one of them!\"\n\nArthur laughed heartily and took the young man by the hand, saying, \"I will not, Lamorak,\" and with a start, Gwenhwyfar realized who the young man at Morgause's side must be: he was Pellinore's son. Yes, she had heard some rumor of this-that Morgause had taken the young man as her favorite, even before her whole court-how could the woman share her bed with a man young enough to be her son? Why, Lamorak was only five-and-twenty, even now! She looked with fascinated horror and secret envy at Morgause. She looks so young, she is still so beautiful despite all her paint, and she does what she will and cares not if all men criticize her! Her voice was chill as she said, \"Will you come and sit beside me, kinswoman, and leave the men to their talk?\"\n\nMorgause pressed Gwenhwyfar's hand. \"Thank you, cousin. I come so seldom to court, I am happy to sit for once among ladies and gossip about who is married and who has taken a paramour and all the new fashions in gowns and ribbons! I am kept so busy in Lothian with the ruling of the land that I have small time for women's matters, and it is a luxury and a pleasure for me.\" She patted Lamorak's hand and, when she thought no one noticed, brushed his temple with a surreptitious kiss. \"I leave you to the Companions, my dear.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Her ample fragrance, the warm scent of her ribbons and the folds of her gown, almost dizzied Gwenhwyfar as the Queen of Lothian sat beside heron the bench. Gwenhwyfar said, \"If you are kept so busy with affairs of state, cousin, why do you not find a wife for Agravaine, and let him rule in his father's place, and give over the ruling of Lothian? Surely the folk there cannot be happy without a king-\"\n\nMorgause's laugh was warm and merry. \"Why, then I should have to live unwedded, since in that country the queen's husband is king, and my dear, that would not suit meat all! And Lamorak is over-young to rule asking, though he has other duties, and I find him most satisfactory-\"\n\nGwenhwyfar listened with fascinated distaste; how could a woman Morgause's age make a fool of herself with so young a man? Yet his eyes followed Morgause as if she were the most beautiful and fascinating woman in the world. He hardly looked at Isotta of Cornwall, who was bending before the throne now at the side of her elderly husband, Duke Marcus of Cornwall. Isotta was so beautiful that a little murmur went all down the hall; tall and slender, with hair the color of anew-struck copper coin. But no doubt Marcus had thought more of the Irish gold she wore at her throat and at the clasp of her cloak, and the Irish pearls braided into her hair, than the treasure of her beauty. Isotta was, Gwenhwyfar thought, the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. Next to Isotta Morgause looked raddled and overblown, but still Lamorak's eyes followed her.\n\n\"Aye, Isotta is very beautiful,\" Morgause said, \"but it is told in the court of Duke Marcus that she has more of an eye for his heir, young Drustan, than for old Marcus himself, and who can blame her? But she is modest and discreet, and if she has sense enough to give the old man a child-though, heaven knows, she might fare better at such craft with the young Drustan, at that.\" Morgause chuckled. \"She looks not like a woman over-happy in her marriage bed. Still, I do not suppose Marcus wants much more of her than a son for Cornwall. Marcus wants only for that, I think, before he declares that Cornwall belongs to him who keeps it, not to Morgaine, who has it from Gorlois-where is my kinswoman Morgaine? I am eager to embrace her!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"She is therewith Uriens,\" said Gwenhwyfar, looking to where the King of North Wales waited to approach the throne.\n\n\"Arthur would have done better to marry Morgaine into Cornwall,\" Morgause said. \"But I think he felt Marcus was too old for her. Though he might well have married her to yonder young Drustan-his mother was kindred to Ban of Less Britain, and he is a distant cousin to Lancelet, and handsome almost as Lancelet himself, is he not, Gwenhwyfar?\" She smiled merrily and added, \"Ah, but I had forgotten, you are so pious a lady, you look never on the beauty of any man save your own wedded husband. But then, it is easy for you to be virtuous, married to one so young and handsome and gallant as Arthur!\"\n\nGwenhwyfar felt that Morgause's chatter would drive her mad. Did the woman think of nothing else? Morgause said, \"I suppose you must speak a word or two of courtesy to Isotta-she is newcome to Britain. I have heard she speaks little of our tongue, only that of her Irish homeland. But I have heard, too, that in her own country she was a notable mistress of herbs and magic, so that when Drustan fought with the Irish knight the Marhaus, she healed him when none thought he could live, and so he is her faithful knight and champion-or at least he said that was his reason,\" Morgause chattered on, \"though she is so beautiful, I would not wonder... perhaps I should make her known to Morgaine, she too is a great mistress of herb lore and spells of healing. They would have much to speak of, and I think Morgaine knows a little of the Irish tongue. And Morgaine, too, is married to a man old enough to be her father-I think that was ill done of Arthur!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gwenhwyfar said stiffly, \"Morgaine married Uriens with her own consent. You do not think Arthur would marry away his dear sister without asking her!\"\n\nMorgause almost snorted, \"Morgaine is full enough of life that I do not think she would be content in an old man's bed,\" she said, \"and if I had a stepson as handsome as yonder Accolon, I know well I would not!\"\n\n\"Come, ask the lady of Cornwall to sit with us,\" Gwenhwyfar said, to put an end to Morgause's gossip. \"And Morgaine, too, if you will.\" Morgaine was safely married to Uriens; what was it to Gwenhwyfar if she made a fool of herself or put her immortal soul at hazard by playing the harlot with this manor that?\n\nUriens, with Morgaine and his two younger sons, had come to greet Arthur, who took the old king by both hands, calling him'Brother-in-law,\" and kissed Morgaine on either cheek.\n\n\"But you have come to offer me a gift, Uriens? I need no gifts from kinsmen, your affection is enough,\" he said.\n\n\"Not only to offer you a gift but to ask a boon of you,\" said Uriens. \"I beg you to make my son Uwaine a knight of your Round Table and receive him as one of your Companions.\"\n\nArthur smiled at the slender, dark young man who knelt before him. \"How old are you, young Uwaine?\"\n\n\"Fifteen, my lord and king.\"\n\n\"Well, then, rise, sir Uwaine,\" said Arthur graciously. \"You may watch this night by your arms, and tomorrow one of my Companions shall make you knight.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"By your leave,\" said Gawaine, \"may I be the one to confer this honor on my cousin Uwaine, lord Arthur?\"\n\n\"Who better than you, my cousin and friend?\" Arthur said. \"If that is agreeable to you, Uwaine, let it be so. I receive you willingly as my Companion for your own sake, and because you are stepson to my dear sister. Make him a place at table there, you men, and you, Uwaine, may fight in my company tomorrow in the mock battles.\"\n\nUwaine stammered, \"I thank you, my k-king.\"\n\nArthur smiled at Morgaine. \"I thank you for this gift, my sister.\"\n\n\"It is a gift tome as well, Arthur,\" Morgaine said. \"Uwaine has been like a true son tome.\"\n\nGwenhwyfar thought, cruelly, that Morgaine looked her age; her face was touched with subtle lines, and there were streaks of white in the raven hair, though her dark eyes were as fine as ever. And she had spoken of Uwaine as her son, and she looked at him with pride and affection. Yet her own son must be older yet....\n\nAnd so Morgaine, damn her, has two sons, and I not so much as a fosterling!\n\nMorgaine, seated at Uriens'side down the table, was conscious of Gwenhwyfar's eyes on her. How she hates me! Even now when I can do her no harm! Yet she did not hate Gwenhwyfar; she had even ceased to resent the marriage to Uriens, knowing that in some obscure way it had brought her back to what she had once been-priestess of Avalon. Still, but for Gwenhwyfar, I would have been married to Accolon at this moment, and as it is, we are at the mercy of some servant who might spy onus, or blab to Uriens fora reward... herein Camelot they must be very discreet. Gwenhwyfar would stop at nothing to make trouble." }, { "from": "human", "value": "She should not have come." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Yet Uwaine had wished for her to see him knighted, and she was the only mother Uwaine had ever known.\n\nUriens could not, after all, live forever-though sometimes, in the dragging years, she felt that he had decided to rival old King Methuselah-and she doubted that even the stupid pig farmers of North Wales would accept Avalloch asking. If she could only bear Accolon a child, then no one would question that Accolon, at her side, would reign rightly.\n\nShe would have risked it-Viviane, after all, had been nearly as old as she was now when Lancelet was born, and she had lived to see him grown. But the Goddess had not sent her even the hope of conception, and to be honest, she did not want it. Uwaine was son enough for her, and Accolon had not reproached her for childlessness-no doubt he felt that no one would seriously believe it was Uriens' son, though Morgaine doubted not she could persuade her old husband to acknowledge the child his own; he doted on her in everything, and she shared his bed often enough-too often, for her taste.\n\nShe said to Uriens now, \"Let me fill your plate. That roast pig is too rich for you, it will make you ill. Some of those wheaten cakes, perhaps, sopped in the gravy, and here is a fine fat saddle of rabbit.\" She beckoned to a serving-man carrying a tray of early fruits and chose some gooseberries and cherries for her husband. \"Here, I know you are fond of these.\"\n\n\"You are good tome, Morgaine,\" he said, and she patted his arm. It was worth it-all the time she spent in cosseting him, caring for his health, embroidering him fine cloaks and shirts, and even now and then, discreetly, finding a young woman for his bed and giving him a dose of one of her herb medicines which would allow him something like normal virility; Uriens was convinced that she adored him, and never questioned her devotion or denied her anything she asked." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The feasting was breaking up now-people moving about the hall, nibbling at cakes and sweets, calling for wine and ale, stopping to speak to kinsmen and friends whom they saw only once or twice a year. Uriens was still munching his gooseberries; Morgaine asked leave to go and speak to her kinswomen.\n\n\"As you like, my dearest,\" he mumbled. \"You should have cut my hair, my wife, all the Companions are wearing their hair shorn-\"\n\nShe patted his scanty locks and said, \"Oh, no, my dear, I think it is better suited to your years. You do not want to look like a schoolboy, or a monk.\" And, she thought, there is so little of your hair that if you cut it short, your bald spot would shine through like a beacon! \"Look, the noble Lancelet still wears his hair long and flowing, and Gawaine, and Gareth-no one could call them old men!\"\n\n\"You are right, as always,\" Uriens said smugly. \"I suppose it is fitted to a mature man. It is all very well fora boy like Uwaine to clip his hair short.\" And Uwaine, indeed, had shorn his hair close to the nape of his neck in the new fashion. \"I mark there is gray in Lancelet's hair as well-we are none of us young anymore, my dear.\"\n\nYou were a grandsire when Lancelet was born, Morgaine thought crossly, but she only murmured that none of them was as young as they had been ten years ago-a truth with which no one could possibly argue-and moved away.\n\nLancelet was still, she thought, the finest-looking man she had ever seen; next to him even Accolon seemed too perfect, his features too precise. There was grey in his hair, yes, and in the smoothly trimmed beard; but his eyes twinkled with the old smile. \"Good day to you, cousin.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She was surprised at his cordial tone. Yet, she thought, it is true what Uriens said, we are none of us so young anymore, and there are not many of us who remember that time when we were all young together. He embraced her, and she felt his curly beard silky against her cheek.\n\nShe asked him, \"Is Elaine not here?\"\n\n\"No, she bore me another daughter but three days since. She had hoped the child would be already born, and she well enough to ride to Pentecost, but it was a fine big girl and she took her own time incoming. We had hoped to have her three weeks ago!\"\n\n\"How many children have you now, Lance?\"\n\n\"Three. Galahad is a big lad of seven, and Nimue is five years old. I do not see them very often, but their nurses say they are clever and quick for their age, and Elaine would name the new little one Gwenhwyfar, for the Queen.\"\n\n\"I think I shall ride north and visit her,\" Morgaine said.\n\n\"She will be glad to see you, I am sure. It is lonely there,\" said Lancelet. Morgaine did not think Elaine would be glad to see her at all, but that was between her and Elaine. Lancelet glanced toward the dais where Gwenhwyfar had taken Isotta of Cornwall to sit at her side while Arthur spoke with Duke Marcus and his nephew. \"Know you yonder Drustan? He is a fine harper, though not like to Kevin, of course.\"\n\nMorgaine shook her head. \"Is Kevin to play at this feast?\"\n\n\"I have not seen him,\" Lancelet said. \"The Queen likes him not-the court is grown too Christian for that, though Arthur values him as a councillor and for his music as well.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She asked him bluntly, \"Are you grown a Christian too?\"\n\n\"I could wish I were,\" he said, sighing from the bottom of his heart. \"That faith seems too simple tome-the idea that we have only to believe that Christ died for our sins once and for all. But I know too much of the truth... of the way lifeworks, with life afterlife in which we ourselves, and only we, can workout the causes we have set in motion and make amends for the harm we have done. It stands not in the realm of reason that one man, however holy and blessed, could atone for all the sins of all men, done in all lifetimes. What else could explain why some men have all things, and others so little? No, that is a cruel trick of the priests, I think, to coax men into thinking that they have the ear of God and can forgive sins in his name-ah, I wish it were true indeed. And some of their priests are fine and sincere men.\"\n\n\"I never met with one who was half so learned or so good as Taliesin,\" said Morgaine.\n\n\"Taliesin was a great soul,\" Lancelet said. \"Perhaps one lifetime of service to the Gods cannot create so much wisdom, and he is one of the great ones who has served them for hundreds of years. Next to him, Kevin seems no more fit to be the Lord Merlin than my little son to sit on Arthur's throne and lead his troops into battle. And Taliesin was big enough to make no quarrel with the priests, knowing they served their God as best they could, and perhaps after many lives they would learn that their God was bigger than they thought him. And I know he respected their strength to live chastely.\"\n\n\"That seems tome blasphemy and a denial of life,\" said Morgaine, \"and I know Viviane would have thought it so.\" Why, she wondered, do I stand here arguing religion with Lancelet, of all men?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Viviane, like Taliesin, came from another world and another time,\" said Lancelet." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"They were giants in those days, and now we must make do with such as we have. You are so like her, Morgaine.\" He smiled, a rueful half-smile, and it wrenched her heart; she remembered that he had said something like this to her... nay, she had dreamed it too, but she could not remember all... but he went on, \"I see you herewith your husband and your fine stepson-a credit he will be to the Companions. I always wished you happiness, Morgaine, and for so many years you seemed so unhappy, but now you are queen in your own country, and you have a good son....\"\n\nSurely, she thought, what more could any woman want...?\n\n\"But now I must go and pay my respects to the Queen-\"\n\n\"Yes,\" she said, and could not keep the bitterness from her voice. \"You would be eager to do that.\"\n\n\"Oh, Morgaine,\" he said, dismayed, \"we have known each other so long, we are all kin, cannot we let the past die? Do you despise me so much, do you still hate her as much as that?\"\n\nMorgaine shook her head. \"I don't hate either of you,\" she said. \"Why should I? But I thought, now you were wedded-and Gwenhwyfar too deserves to be left in peace.\"\n\n\"You have never understood her,\" said Lancelet hotly. \"I well believe you have disliked her since you were both young girls! It is not well done of you, Morgaine! She has repented her sin, and I-well, I am wedded, as you say, to another. But I will not shun her as if she were a leper. If she wants my friendship as her husband's kinsman, it is hers!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Morgaine knew he spoke sincerely; well, it was nothing to her. She had now from Accolon what she had so long desired from him... and strangely even that was painful, like the space left by an aching tooth after it was drawn; she had loved him so many years that now when she could look on him without desire, she felt hollow inside. She said softly, \"I am sorry, Lance, I had no wish to make you angry. As you say, it is all past.\"\n\nI daresay he really believes that he and Gwenhwyfar can be no more than friends... maybe for him it is so, and Gwenhwyfar has grown so pious, I doubt it not at all....\n\n\"So there you are, Lancelet, as always, chattering with the court's most beautiful ladies,\" said a merry voice, and Lancelet turned and caught the newcomer in a bear hug.\n\n\"Gareth! How goes it with you in the North country? And so you too area married man and a householder... is it two children your lady has given you now, or three? Handsome, you are better-looking than ever-even Cai could not mock you now!\"\n\n\"I would like it well to have him back in my kitchens,\" laughed Cai, coming up to clap Gareth on the shoulder. \"Four sons, is it not? But the lady Lionors has twins, like one of the wildcats of your country, does she not? Morgaine, I think you grow ever younger with the years,\" he added, bending over her hand; he had always liked her.\n\n\"But when I see Gareth grown, and such a man, I feel older than the hills themselves.\" Morgaine too laughed. \"A woman knows she is getting old when she looks at every tall young man and says to herself, I knew him before he was breeched....\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"And, alas, 'tis true of me, cousin.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gareth bent to hug Morgaine. \"I remember, you used to carve me wooden knights when I was no more than a babe-\"\n\n\"You remember still those wooden knights?\" Morgaine was pleased.\n\n\"I do-one of them Lionors keeps with my treasures still,\" Gareth said. \"It is bravely painted in blue and red, and my oldest son would gladly have it, but I treasure it too greatly. Did you know I called it Lancelet when I was a babe, cousin?\"\n\nThe older man laughed too, and Morgaine thought she had never seen Lancelet so carefree and merry as he was now among his friends. \"Your son-he is almost as old as my Galahad, I think. Galahad is a fine boy, though he looks not much like my side of the family. I saw him but a few days ago, for the first time since he was out of breechclouts. And the girls are pretty, or they seem so tome.\"\n\nGareth turned back to Morgaine and said, \"How does my foster-brother Gwydion, lady Morgaine?\"\n\nShe said shortly, \"I have heard he is in Avalon. I have not seen him,\" and turned away, leaving Lancelet to his friends. But Gawaine joined them, bending to give Morgaine an almost filial embrace.\n\nGawaine was a huge man now, monstrously heavy, with shoulders that looked-and probably were-strong enough to throw down a bull; his face was hacked and bitten with many scars. He said, \"Your son Uwaine seems a fine lad. I think he will make a good knight, and we may need such-have you seen your brother Lionel, Lance?\"\n\n\"No-is Lionel here?\" asked Lancelet, glancing around, and his eyes fell on a tall, sturdy man, wearing a cloak of a strange fashion. \"Lionel! Brother, how goes it with you in your foggy kingdom beyond the seas?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lionel came and greeted them, speaking with so thick an accent that Morgaine found it hard to follow his speech. \"All the worse for you not being there, Lancelet-we may have some trouble there, you have heard? You have heard Bors's news?\"\n\nLancelet shook his head. \"I heard nothing later than that he was to marry King Hoell's daughter,\" he said, \"I forget her name-\"\n\n\"Isotta-the same name as the Queen of Cornwall,\" said Lionel. \"But there has been no marriage as yet. Hoell, you must know, is one who can say never yea or nay to anything, but must ponder forever the advantage of alliance with Less Britain or Cornwall-\"\n\n\"Marcus cannot give Cornwall to any,\" said Gawaine dryly. \"Cornwallis yours, is it not, lady Morgaine? I seem to remember Uther gave it to the lady Igraine when he came to the throne, so that you have it of both Igraine and Gorlois, though Gorlois's lands were forfeit to Uther, if I mind the tale aright-it all befell before I was born, though you were a child then.\"\n\n\"Duke Marcus keeps the land for me,\" said Morgaine. \"I knew never that he claimed it, though I know once there was talk I should marry Duke Marcus, or Drustan his nephew-\"\n\n\"It would have been well if you had,\" said Lionel, \"for Marcus is a greedy man-he got much treasure with his Irish lady, and I doubt it not, he will try to swallow up all of Cornwall and Tintagel too, if he thinks he can getaway with it, as a fox gets away with a barnyard fowl.\"\n\nLancelet said, \"I liked better the days when we were all but Arthur's Companions. Now I am reigning in Pellinore's country, and Morgaine queen in North Wales, and you, Gawaine, should be king in Lothian, if you had your rights-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gawaine grinned at him. \"I have neither talent nor taste for kingship, cousin, I am a warrior, and to dwell always in one place and live at court would weary me to death! I am happy enough that Agravaine shall rule at my mother's side. I think the Tribes have the right of it-women to stay home and rule, and men to wander about and make war. I will not be parted from Arthur, but I admit I grow weary of life in court. Still, a mock battle is better than none.\"\n\n\"I am sure you will win honor and credit,\" said Morgaine, smiling at her cousin. \"How does your mother, Gawaine? I have not yet spoken with her.\" She added, with a touch of malice, \"I have heard she has other help than Agravaine in ruling your kingdom.\"\n\nGawaine chuckled broadly. \"Aye, \"tis all the fashion now-it is your doing, Lancelet. After you married Pellinore's daughter, I suppose Lamorak thought no knight could be great and courtly and win great renown unless he had first been the para-\" He stopped himself at Lancelet's grim face, and amended hastily, \"the chosen champion of a great and beautiful queen. I think it is not just a pose-I think Lamorak truly loves my mother, and I begrudge it not. She was wedded to old King Lot when she was not yet fifteen, and even when I was a little fellow I used to wonder how she could live at peace with him and be always kind and good.\"\n\n\"Kind and good is Morgause indeed,\" said Morgaine, \"nor had she any very easy life with Lot. He may have sought her counsel in all things, but the court was so full of his bastards he had no need to hire men-at-arms, and any woman who came into the court was his lawful prey, even I who was his wife's niece. Such behavior is thought manly in a king, and if any criticize it in Morgause, I will have a word to say to them myself!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gawaine said, \"I know well you are my mother's friend, Morgaine. I know too Gwenhwyfar does not like her. Gwenhwyfar-\" He glanced at Lancelet, shrugged, and held his peace. Gareth said, \"Gwenhwyfar is so pious, and no woman has ever had anything to complain about at Arthur's court-perhaps Gwenhwyfar finds it hard to understand that a woman may have cause for wanting more of life than her marriage gives her. As for me, I am fortunate that Lionors chose me of her own freewill, and she is always so busy breeding, or lying-in, or suckling our youngest, that she has no leisure to look at any other man even if she would. Which,\" he added, smiling, \"I hope she has no desire to do, for if she wished for it I think I could deny her nothing.\"\n\nLancelet's face lost its grimness. He said, \"I cannot imagine that a dame married to you, Gareth, would wish to look elsewhere.\"\n\n\"But you must look elsewhere, cousin,\" said Gawaine, \"for there is the Queen looking for you, and you should go and pay your respects as her champion.\"\n\nAnd indeed at that moment one of Gwenhwyfar's little maidens came and said in her childish voice, \"You are sir Lancelet, are you not? The Queen has asked that you will come and speak with her,\" and Lancelet bowed to Morgaine, said, \"We will speak later, Gawaine, Gareth,\" and went away. Gareth watched him, frowning, and muttered, \"Ever he runs when she stretches out her hand.\"\n\n\"Did you expect anything else, brother?\" Gawaine said in his easygoing way. \"He has been her champion since she was wedded to Arthur, and if it were otherwise-well, so Morgaine said: such things are considered manly in a king, why should we criticize them in a queen? Nay, 'tis all the fashion now-or have you not heard the tales about yonder Irish queen, married to old Duke Marcus, and how Drustan makes songs for her and follows her about... he is a harper, they say, as fine as Kevin! Have you yet heard him play, Morgaine?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She shook her head. She said, \"You should not call Isotta Queen of Cornwall-there is no queen in Cornwall but I. Marcus reigns there only as my castellan, and if he does not know it, it is time he found it out.\"\n\n\"I do not think Isotta cares what Marcus may call himself,\" said Gawaine, turning to look at the long table where the ladies sat. Morgause had joined Gwenhwyfar and the Irish queen, and Lancelet had come to speak with them; Gwenhwyfar was smiling at Lancelet, and Morgause making some jest which made them laugh, but Isotta of Cornwall was staring at nothing, her exquisite face pale and drawn. \"I never saw any lady who looked so unhappy as yonder Irish queen.\"\n\nMorgaine said, \"If I were married to old Duke Marcus, I doubt I should be happy,\" and Gawaine gave her a rough hug.\n\n\"Arthur did not well when he married you to that grandsire old Uriens, either, Morgaine-are you unhappy too?\"\n\nMorgaine felt her throat tighten, as if Gawaine's kindness would make her weep. \"Perhaps there is not much happiness for women in marriage after all....\"\n\n\"I would not say that,\" Gareth said. \"Lionors seems happy enough.\"\n\n\"Ah, but Lionors is married to you,\" Morgaine said, laughing. \"And I could not have that good fortune, I am only your old cousin.\"\n\n\"Still,\" said Gawaine, \"I criticize not my mother. She was good to Lot all his lifelong, and while he lived she never flaunted her lovers in his face. I begrudge her nothing, and Lamorak is a good man and a good knight. As for Gwenhwyfar-\" He grimaced. \"It's God's pity that Lancelet did not take her away from this kingdom while there was still time for Arthur to find himself another wife-still, I suppose young Galahad will be a good king in his day. Lancelet is of the old royal line of Avalon, and royal, too, in his blood from Ban of Less Britain.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Still,\" said Gareth, \"I think your son closer to the throne than his, Morgaine,\" and she remembered that he had been old enough to remember Gwydion's birth." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And the Tribes would give allegiance to Arthur's sister-in the old days, the sister's son was the natural heir, in the days when rule passed through the blood of the woman.\" He frowned and thought fora moment, then asked, \"Morgaine, is he Lancelet's son?\"\n\nShe supposed the question was natural enough-they had been friends from childhood. But she shook her head, trying to make a jest instead of showing the irritation she felt. \"No, Gareth, if it had been so I would have told you. It would have pleased you so, anything to do with Lancelet. Forgive me, cousins, I should go and speak with your mother-she was always good tome.\" She turned away, making her way slowly toward the dais where the ladies sat; the room was growing more and more crowded as everyone greeted old friends and little knots of people collected.\n\nShe had always disliked crowded places, and she had lately spent so much time on the green Welsh hills that she was no longer used to the smell of bodies crowded together and the smoke from the hearth fire. Moving to one side, she collided with a man who staggered under her lightweight and caught at the wall to steady himself, and she found herself face to face with the Merlin.\n\nShe had not spoken with Kevin since the day of Viviane's death. She looked him coldly in the face and turned away.\n\n\"Morgaine-\"\n\nShe ignored him. Kevin said, in a voice as cold as her glance, \"Willa daughter of Avalon turn her face away when the Merlin speaks?\"\n\nMorgaine drew along breath and said, \"If you bid me hear you in the name of Avalon, I am hereto listen. But that suits you not, you who gave Viviane's body to Christian rule. That I calla traitor's deed.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And who are you to speak of traitor's deeds, lady, who sits as queen in Wales when Viviane's high seat is empty in Avalon?\"\n\nShe flared, \"I sought once to speak in Avalon's name and you bade me hold my peace,\" and bowed her head, not waiting for his reply. No, he is right. How dare I speak of treachery when I fled from Avalon, too young and too foolish to know what Viviane planned? Only now do I begin to know that she gave me a hold on the King's conscience: And I cast it aside unused and let Gwenhwyfar lead him into the hands of the priests. \"Speak, Merlin. Avalon's daughter listens.\"\n\nFora moment he said nothing, but only looked at her, and she remembered, sorrowfully, the years when he had been her only friend and ally at this court. At last he said, \"Your beauty, like Viviane's, ripens with the years, Morgaine. Next to you every woman at this court, including that Irishwoman they call so beautiful, is a painted doll.\"\n\nShe smiled faintly and said, \"You did not stop me in my tracks with the thunders of Avalon to make me pretty compliments, Kevin.\"\n\n\"Did I not? I spoke ill, Morgaine-you are needed in Avalon. She who sits there now is-\" He broke off, troubled. \"Are you so much in love with your elderly husband that you cannot tear yourself away?\"\n\n\"No,\" she said, \"but I do the work of the Goddess there too.\"\n\n\"This much I know,\" he said, \"and so I have told Niniane. And if Accolon can succeed his father, the worship of the Goddess will grow there... but Accolon is not his father's heir, and the older son is a priest-ridden fool.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Accolon is not king, but Druid,\" Morgaine said, \"and Avalloch's death would avail nothing-they follow Roman ways in Wales now, and Avalloch has a son.\" Conn, she thought, who satin my lap and called me Granny.\n\nAnd Kevin said, as if he had heard her unspoken words: \"The lives of children are uncertain, Morgaine. Many come not to manhood.\"\n\n\"I will do no murder,\" she said, \"even for Avalon, and you may tell them so for me.\"\n\n\"Tell them yourself,\" said Kevin. \"Niniane said tome that you would becoming thereafter Pentecost.\" And now Morgaine felt the empty, cold sickness strike at her stomach and was glad she had eaten but little of the rich food of the feast.\n\nDo they know all, then? Do they watch, judging me, as I betray my old and trusting husband with Accolon? She thought of Elaine, trembling and shamed in the light of the torches that had caught her naked in Lancelet's arms. Do they know even what I plan before I am certain of it myself? But she had done only what the Goddess gave her to do.\n\n\"What is it that you came to tell me, Merlin?\"\n\n\"Only that your place in Avalon is empty still, and Niniane knows it as well as I. I love you well, Morgaine, and I am no traitor-it pains me that you think me so, when you have given me so much.\" He held out his twisted hands. \"Peace, then, Morgaine, between us?\"\n\nShe said, \"In the Lady's name, peace, then,\" and kissed his scarred mouth.\n\nFor him too the Goddess wears my face... and pain struck through her. The Goddess is the giver of life and manhood... and of death. As her lips touched his, the Merlin recoiled, and on his face was naked fear." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Do you recoil from me, Kevin? I swear it on my life, I will do no murder. You have nothing to fear-\" she said, but he putout his twisted fingers to stop the words.\n\n\"Make no oath, Morgaine, lest you pay the penalty of the forsworn... none of us knows what the Goddess may demand of us. I too have made the Great Marriage, and my life was forfeit on that day. I live only at the will of the Goddess, and my life is not so sweet that I would begrudge to lay it down,\" he said. Years later Morgaine would remember these words and feel them sweeten the bitterest task of her life. He bent to her, in the salute given only to the Lady of Avalon or to the High Druid, and then, swiftly, turned away. Morgaine stood trembling, watching him go. Why had he done that? And why did he fear her?\n\nShe moved on through the crowds; when she reached the dais, Gwenhwyfar gave her a chilly smile, but Morgause rose and took her into an ample, warm embrace.\n\n\"Dearest child, you look tired-I know you have little love for crowds!\" She held a silver cup to Morgaine's lips, and Morgaine sipped the wine, then shook her head. She said, \"You seem to grow ever younger, Aunt!\"\n\nMorgause laughed gaily and said, \"Young company does that for me, my dear-saw you Lamorak? While he thinks me beautiful, I think myself so, and so I am... it is the only sorcery I need!\" She traced with her smooth finger a little line beneath Morgaine's eye, and said, \"I recommend it to you, my dear, or you will grow old and cross... are there no handsome young men at Uriens\" court with an eye for their queen?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Over her shoulder Morgaine saw Gwenhwyfar's frown of distaste, even though she certainly believed Morgause was joking. At least the tale of my behavior with Accolon is not common gossip here. Then she thought angrily, In the Lady's name, I am not ashamed of what I do, I am not Gwenhwyfar!\n\nLancelet was talking with Isotta of Cornwall. Yes, he would always have an eye for the most beautiful woman in the room, and Morgaine could tell Gwenhwyfar liked it not; Gwenhwyfar said now, with nervous haste, \"Lady Isotta, know you my husband's sister, Morgaine?\"\n\nThe Irish beauty raised her eyes listlessly to Morgaine, and smiled. She was very pale, her chiselled features white as new cream, her eyes that blue that is almost green. Morgaine saw that although she was tall, her bones were so small that she looked like a child hung with jewels and pearls and golden chains which seemed too heavy for her. Morgaine had sudden pity for the girl and withheld the first words that came into her mind, which were, So they call you queen in Cornwall now? I must have words with Duke Marcus! She said only, \"My kinsman told me you are skilled in herbs and medicines, lady. Someday, if we have leisure before I return to Wales, I would like to speak of them with you.\"\n\n\"It would be a pleasure,\" said Isotta courteously. Lancelet looked up and said, \"I have told her also that you area musician, Morgaine. Are we to hear you play this day?\"\n\n\"With Kevin here? My music is nothing to his,\" said Morgaine, but Gwenhwyfar shuddered, and interrupted.\n\n\"I wish Arthur would listen tome and send that man from his court. I like it not, to have wizards and sorcerers here, and such an evil face must portend evil within! I know not how you can bear to touch him, Morgaine-I should think any fastidious woman would be ill if he touched her, yet you embraced and kissed him as if he were a kinsman-\"" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Extende the story in collaboration with the author.\nTags: fantasy, arthurian, historical fantasy\nAuthor: Marion Zimmer Bradley\nTitle: The Mists of Avalon\nChapter: 52" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Over her shoulder Morgaine saw Gwenhwyfar's frown of distaste, even though she certainly believed Morgause was joking. At least the tale of my behavior with Accolon is not common gossip here. Then she thought angrily, In the Lady's name, I am not ashamed of what I do, I am not Gwenhwyfar!\n\nLancelet was talking with Isotta of Cornwall. Yes, he would always have an eye for the most beautiful woman in the room, and Morgaine could tell Gwenhwyfar liked it not; Gwenhwyfar said now, with nervous haste, \"Lady Isotta, know you my husband's sister, Morgaine?\"\n\nThe Irish beauty raised her eyes listlessly to Morgaine, and smiled. She was very pale, her chiselled features white as new cream, her eyes that blue that is almost green. Morgaine saw that although she was tall, her bones were so small that she looked like a child hung with jewels and pearls and golden chains which seemed too heavy for her. Morgaine had sudden pity for the girl and withheld the first words that came into her mind, which were, So they call you queen in Cornwall now? I must have words with Duke Marcus! She said only, \"My kinsman told me you are skilled in herbs and medicines, lady. Someday, if we have leisure before I return to Wales, I would like to speak of them with you.\"\n\n\"It would be a pleasure,\" said Isotta courteously. Lancelet looked up and said, \"I have told her also that you area musician, Morgaine. Are we to hear you play this day?\"\n\n\"With Kevin here? My music is nothing to his,\" said Morgaine, but Gwenhwyfar shuddered, and interrupted.\n\n\"I wish Arthur would listen tome and send that man from his court. I like it not, to have wizards and sorcerers here, and such an evil face must portend evil within! I know not how you can bear to touch him, Morgaine-I should think any fastidious woman would be ill if he touched her, yet you embraced and kissed him as if he were a kinsman-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Clearly,\" said Morgaine, \"I am altogether lacking in proper feelings-and I rejoice at it.\"\n\nIsotta of Cornwall said in her soft, sweet voice, \"If what is without is like to that which is within, then the music Kevin makes must be a sign to us, lady Gwenhwyfar, that the soul within him is indeed that of the highest angels. For no evil man could play as he plays.\"\n\nArthur had come to join them, and had heard the last few words. He said, \"Yet I will not affront my queen with the presence of one distasteful to her-nor will I have the insolence to command the music of such an artist as Kevin for one who cannot receive him with grace.\" He sounded displeased. \"Morgaine, will you play for us, then?\"\n\n\"My harp is in Wales,\" she said. \"Perhaps, if someone can lend me a harp, at another time. The hall is so crowded and noisy, the music would be lost.... Lancelet is as much a musician as I.\"\n\nLancelet, standing behind him, shook his head. \"Oh, no, cousin. I know one string from another, because I was reared in Avalon and my mother set a harp in my hand fora plaything as soon as I could hold one. But I have not the gift of music as Morgaine has, nor the nephew of Marcus-have you heard Drustan play, Morgaine?\"\n\nShe shook her head, and Isotta said, \"I will ask him to come and play for us.\"\n\nShe sent a page for him, and Drustan came, a slight young man, dark-eyed and dark-haired; he was indeed, Morgaine thought, not unlike Lancelet. Isotta asked him to play, and he called for his harp and sat on the steps of the dais, playing some Breton tunes. They were plaintive and sad, in a very old scale, and they made Morgaine think of the ancient land of Lyonnesse, faraway and sunk past the coastline of Tintagel. He had, indeed, a gift beyond Lancelet's; even, she thought, beyond her own. Though he was not Kevin, nor near to it, he was the finest player, otherwise, that she had heard. His voice, too, was sweet and musical." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Undercover of the music Arthur said softly to Morgaine, \"How is it with you, sister? It is long since you came to Camelot-we have missed you.\"\n\n\"Oh, indeed?\" said Morgaine. \"I thought that was why you married me away into North Wales-that my lady\"-an ironic bow to Gwenhwyfar-\"might not be affronted with the sight of anything distasteful to her, neither Kevin nor me.\"\n\n\"Why, how can you say that?\" demanded Arthur. \"I love you well, you know that, and Uriens is a good man, and he seems to dote on you-certainly he hangs on your every word! I sought to find you a kind husband, Morgaine, one who had sons and would not reproach you should you not give him children. And it was my pleasure this day to make your fine young stepson one of my Companions. What could you ask more than this, my sister?\"\n\n\"What, indeed?\" said Morgaine. \"What more could a woman desire than a good husband old enough to be her grandsire, and a kingdom to rule at the far end of the world-I should bow down and thank you on my knees, my brother!\"\n\nArthur sought to take her hand. \"Indeed I did what I thought would please you, sister. Uriens is too old for you, but he will not live forever. Truly, I thought it would make you happy.\"\n\nNo doubt, thought Morgaine, he was telling the exact truth as he saw it. How could he be so good and wise a king, and have so little imagination? Or was this the secret of his kingship, that he held to simple truths and sought for no more? Was this why the Christian faith had lured him, that it was so simple, with a few simple laws?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I like that everybody be happy,\" Arthur said, and she knew that this was really the key to his nature; he did indeed seek to see everyone happy, down to the least of his subjects." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He had allowed what went on between Gwenhwyfar and Lancelet because he knew it would make his queen unhappy if he parted them, nor would he hurt Gwenhwyfar by taking another wife or a mistress to give him the son she could not.\n\nHe is not ruthless enough to be High King, she thought, while she tried to listen to Drustan's sorrowful songs. Arthur turned to speaking of the lead and tin mines of Cornwall-she should ride to see to them, Duke Marcus should know that he was not ruler overall that country, and, no doubt, she and Isotta would befriends, they both cared for music-see how intently she listened to Drustan.\n\nIt is not love of music which makes it impossible to take her eyes from him, Morgaine thought, but she did not say so. She considered the four queens who sat at this table, and sighed; Isotta could not take her eyes from Drustan, and who could blame her? Duke Marcus was old and stern, with quick, darting, ill-natured eyes that reminded her of Lot of Orkney. Morgause had beckoned to her young Lamorak and was whispering to him; well, who could blame her? She had been wedded to Lot-and he was no prize-when she was but fourteen, and all the while Lot lived she had been mindful of his pride and never flaunted her young lovers in his face. And I am no better than any of them, cosseting Uriens with one hand and slipping away to Accolon's bed with the other, and justifying myself by calling Accolon my priest....\n\nShe wondered if any woman ever did otherwise. Gwenhwyfar was High Queen, and she had first taken a lover... and it seemed to Morgaine that her heart hardened like stone. She and Morgause and Isotta were married to old men, and such was their life. But Gwenhwyfar had been married to a man who was handsome, and no more than her own age, and High King as well-what had she to be discontented with?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Drustan put the harp aside, bowing, and took up a horn of wine to cool his throat. \"I can sing no more,\" he said, \"but if the lady Morgaine would like to take my harp, she is welcome. I have heard of the lady's skill as a musician.\"\n\n\"Yes, sing for us, child,\" said Morgause, and Arthur added his entreaty.\n\n\"Yes, it is long since I heard your voice, and it is still the sweetest voice I have ever heard... perhaps because it is the first voice I remember hearing,\" Arthur said. \"I think you sang me to sleep with lullabies before I could talk plain, and you were no more than a child yourself. Always I remember you best like that, Morgaine,\" he added, and before the pain in his eyes, Morgaine bent her head.\n\nIs this what Gwenhwyfar cannot forgive, that I bear for him the face of the Goddess? She took Drustan's harp and bent her head over the strings, touching them one by one.\n\n\"'Tis tuned differently than mine,\" she said, trying a few strings, and then looked up as there was a commotion in the lower hall. A trumpet blew, harsh and shrill inside the walls, and there was a tramp of armed feet. Arthur half rose, then sank back into his seat as four armed men, bearing sword and shield, strode into the hall.\n\nCai came to meet them, protesting-it was not allowed to bear weapons into the King's hall at Pentecost. They shoved him roughly to one side.\n\nThe men wore Roman helmets-Morgaine had seen one or two of those preserved in Avalon-and short military tunics and Roman armor, and thick red military cloaks streamed out behind them. Morgaine blinked-it was as if Roman legionaries had walked out of the past; one man bore, at the end of a pike, the carved and gilded figure of an eagle." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Arthur, Duke of Britain!\" cried out one of the men. \"We bear you a message from Lucius, Emperor of Rome!\"\n\nArthur rose from his seat and took a single step toward the men in legionary dress. \"I am not Duke of Britain, but High King,\" he said mildly, \"and I know of no Emperor Lucius. Rome has fallen and is in the hands of barbarians-and, I doubt not, impostors. Still, one does not hang the dog for the impertinence of the master. You may say your message.\"\n\n\"I am Castor, centurion of the Valeria Victrix legion,\" said the man who had spoken before. \"In Gaul, the legions have been formed again, behind the banner of Lucius Valerius, Emperor of Rome. The message of Lucius is this-that you, Arthur, Duke of Britain, may continue to rule under that style and designation, provided that you send him, within six weeks, imperial tribute consisting of forty ounces of gold, two dozens of the British pearls, and three wagonloads each of iron, tin, and lead from your country, with a hundred ells of woven British wool and a hundred slaves.\"\n\nLancelet rose from his place, leaped forward into the space before the King.\n\n\"My lord Arthur,\" he cried, \"let me flay these impudent dogs and send them yelping back to their master, and tell this idiot Lucius that if he wants tribute from England he may come and try to take it-\"\n\n\"Wait, Lancelet,\" said Arthur gently, smiling at his friend, \"that is not the way.\" He surveyed the legionaries fora moment; Castor had half drawn his sword, and Arthur said grimly, \"No steel maybe drawn on this holy day in my court, soldier. I do not expect a barbarian from Gaul to know the manners of a civilized country, but if you put not your sword back into its sheath, then, I swear, Lancelet may come and take it from you as best he can. And no doubt you have heard of sir Lancelet, even in Gaul. But I want no bloodshed at the foot of my throne.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Castor, baring his teeth with rage, thrust his sword back into his sheath." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I am not afraid of your knight Lancelet,\" he said. \"His days were long gone in the wars with the Saxons. But I was sent as a messenger with orders to shed no blood. What answer may I take the emperor, Duke Arthur?\"\n\n\"None-if you refuse me my proper title in my own hall,\" said Arthur. \"But say this to Lucius: that Uther Pendragon succeeded Ambrosius Aurelianus when there were no Romans to aid us in our death struggle against the Saxons, and I, Arthur, succeeded my father Uther, and my nephew Galahad will succeed me on the throne of Britain. There is none who can lawfully lay claim to the purple of the emperor-the Roman Empire rules no more in Britain. If Lucius wishes to rule in his native Gaul and the people there accept him asking, I will surely not come to contest his claim; but if he lays claim to a single inch of Britain or Less Britain, then he shall have nothing from us but three dozen good British arrowheads where they will do him most good.\"\n\nCastor, pale with fury, said, \"My emperor foresaw some such impudent answer as this, and this is what he bade me say: that Less Britain is already in his hands, and he has imprisoned King Ban's son Bors, in his own castle. And when the Emperor Lucius has laid all of Less Britain waste, then he will come to Britain, as did the Emperor Claudius of old, and conquer that country again, in despite of all your painted savage chiefs smeared with woad!\"\n\n\"Tell your emperor,\" said Arthur, \"that my offer of three dozen British arrowheads holds good, only now will I raise my offer to three hundred, and he gets no tribute from me but one of them through his heart. Tell him, too, that if he harms a single hair on the head of my Companion sir Bors, I shall give him to Lancelet and Lionel, who are Bors's brothers, to skin him alive and hang his flayed corpse from the castle walls. Now go back to your emperor and give him that message. No, Cai, don't let anyone lay a hand on him-a messenger is sacred to his Gods.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "There was an appalled silence as the legionaries strode out of the hall, turning crisply on their heels and letting their mailed boots stamp and ring on the stones." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "When they had gone a clamor arose, but Arthur raised his hand and quiet fell again.\n\n\"There will be no mock battles on the morrow, for we will have real ones soon,\" he said, \"and for prizes I can offer the plunder of this self-styled emperor. Companions, I would have you ready to ride at daybreak for the coast. Cai, you can handle the provisioning. Lancelet\"-a faint smile as he looked at his friend-\"I would leave you hereto guard the Queen, but since your brother is prisoned, I know you will wish to ride with us. I shall ask the priest to say holy service for those of you who wish to be shriven of any sins before you ride into battle, tomorrow at dawn. Sir Uwaine\"-his eyes sought out his newest Companion where he sat among the younger knights-\"now I can offer you glory in battle instead of war games. I beg you, as my sister's son, to ride at my side and cover my back against treachery.\"\n\n\"I am honored, m-my king,\" Uwaine stammered, his face glowing, and in that moment Morgaine saw something of how Arthur had inspired such great devotion.\n\n\"Uriens, my good brother-in-law,\" said Arthur, \"I leave the Queen in your care-remain at Camelot and guard her till I return.\" He bent to kiss Gwenhwyfar's hand. \"My lady, I beg you to excuse us from further feasting-there is war upon us again.\"\n\nGwenhwyfar was white as her shift. \"And you know it is welcome to you, my lord. God keep you, dear husband.\" And she leaned forward to kiss him. He rose and went down from the dais, beckoning.\n\n\"Gawaine, Lionel, Gareth-all of you-Companions, attend me!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Lancelet delayed fora moment before following him." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Bid me also God's blessing as I ride, my queen.\"\n\n\"Oh, God-Lancelet-\" Gwenhwyfar said, and, regardless of the eyes on her, she flung herself into his arms. He held her, gently, speaking so softly that Morgaine could not hear, but Morgaine saw that she was weeping. But when she raised her head her face was dry and tearless. \"Godspeed you, my dearest love.\"\n\n\"And God keep you, love of my heart,\" Lancelet said very softly. \"Whether I return or no, may he bless you.\" He turned to Morgaine. \"Now indeed do I rejoice that you are to pay a visit to Elaine. You must bear my greetings to my dear wife, and tell her I have gone with Arthur to the rescue of my kinsman Bors from this knave who calls himself the Emperor Lucius. Tell her I pray God to keep her and care for her, and send my love to our children.\"\n\nHe stood fora moment silent, and fora moment Morgaine thought he would kiss her too; instead, smiling, he laid his hand against her cheek. \"God bless you too, Morgaine-whether or no you want this blessing.\" He turned to join Arthur where the Companions were gathering in the lower hall.\n\nUriens came to the dais and bowed to Gwenhwyfar. \"I am at your service, my lady.\"\n\nIf she laughs at the old man, Morgaine thought with a sudden, fierce protectiveness, I will slap her! Uriens meant well, and the duty was no more than ceremonial, a minor tribute to kinship; Camelot would be very well in the hands of Cai and Lucan, as always. But Gwenhwyfar was accustomed to diplomacy at court. She said gravely, \"I thank you, sir Uriens. You are most welcome here. Morgaine is my dear friend and sister, and I will be happy to have her near meat court again.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Oh, Gwenhwyfar, Gwenhwyfar, what a liar you are! Morgaine said sweetly, \"But I must ride forth and visit my kinswoman Elaine. Lancelet charged me to bear his news.\"\n\n\"You are always kind,\" said Uriens, \"and since the war is not in our countryside, but across the channel, you shall go when you wish. I would ask Accolon to escort you, but it is likely he must ride with Arthur to the coast.\"\n\nHe really would leave me in Accolon's care; he thinks good of everyone, Morgaine thought, and kissed her husband with real warmth. \"When I have paid my visit to Elaine, my lord, may I have leave to visit my kinswoman in Avalon?\"\n\n\"You may do your own will, my lady,\" said Uriens, \"but before you go, will you unpack my things? My valet can never do it so well as you. And will you leave some of your herbal salves and medicines for me?\"\n\n\"To be sure,\" she said, and as she went to make all ready for her journey, she thought with resignation that no doubt, before they parted, he would want to sleep with her this night. Well, she had endured it before this, she could do so again.\n\nWhat a whore I have grown!" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Morgaine knew that she dared make this journey only if she made it one step at a time, one league at a time, one day at a time. Her first step, then, was to Pellinore's castle; bitter irony, that her first mission was a kindly message to Lancelet's wife and his children.\n\nAll that first day she followed the old Roman road northward through rolling hills. Kevin had offered to escort her, and she had been tempted; the old fear gripped her, that she would not find the way to Avalon this time either, not dare to summon the Avalon barge; that she would wander again into the fairy country and be lost there forever. She had not dared go after Viviane's death....\n\nBut now she must meet this test, as when she had first been made priestess... cast out of Avalon alone, with no test save this, that she must be able somehow to return... by her own strength, not Kevin's, she must win entry there again.\n\nStill she was frightened; it had been so long.\n\nOn the fourth day she came within sight of Pellinore's castle, and at noon of that day, riding along the marshy shores of the lake which now bore no trace of the dragon which once had lurked there (though her serving-man and woman shivered and clung together and told each other horrible tales of dragons), she caught sight of the somewhat smaller dwelling which Pellinore had given to Elaine and Lancelet when they were wedded.\n\nIt was more villa than castle; in these days of peace there were not many fortified places in that countryside. Broad lawns sloped down toward the road, and as Morgaine rode up toward the house, a flock of geese sent up a great squawk.\n\nA well-dressed chamberlain greeted her, asking her name and business." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I am the lady Morgaine, wife of King Uriens of North Wales. I bear a message from the lord Lancelet.\"\n\nShe was taken to a room where she could wash and refresh herself, then conducted to the great hall, where afire burned and wheat cakes were set before her, with honey and a flask of good wine. Morgaine found herself yawning at the ceremoniousness of this-she was, after all, a kinswoman, not a state visitor. After a time, a small boy peered into the room, and when he saw that she was alone, came in. He was fair, with blue eyes and a splashing of golden freckles on his face, and she knew at once whose son he was, though he was nothing like his father.\n\n\"Are you the lady Morgaine that they call Morgaine of the Fairies?\"\n\nMorgaine said, \"I am. And I am your cousin, Galahad.\"\n\n\"How do you know my name?\" he asked suspiciously. \"Are you a sorceress? Why do they call you Morgaine of the Fairies?\"\n\nShe said, \"Because I am of the old royal line of Avalon, and fostered there. And I know your name, not from sorcery, but because you look like your mother, who is also my kinswoman.\"\n\n\"My father's name is Galahad too,\" said the child, \"but the Saxons call him Elf-arrow.\"\n\n\"I came hereto bear your father's greetings to you, and to your mother, and to your sisters too,\" Morgaine said.\n\n\"Nimue is a silly girl,\" said Galahad. \"She is a big girl, five years old, but she cried when my father came and would not let him pick her up and kiss her, because she did not recognize him. Do you know my father?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Indeed I do,\" said Morgaine." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"His mother, the Lady of the Lake, was my foster-mother and my aunt.\"\n\nHe looked skeptical and frowned. \"My mother told me that the Lady of the Lake is an evil sorceress.\"\n\n\"Your mother is-\" Morgaine stopped and softened the words; he was, after all, only a child. \"Your mother did not know the Lady as I did. She was a good and wise woman, and a great priestess.\"\n\n\"Oh?\" She could see Galahad struggling with this concept. \"Father Griffin says that only men can be priests, because men are made in God's image and women are not. Nimue said that she wanted to be a priest when she grew up, and learn to read and write and play upon the harp, and Father Griffin told her that no woman could do all these things, or any of them.\"\n\n\"Then Father Griffin is mistaken,\" said Morgaine, \"for I can do them all and more.\"\n\n\"I don't believe you,\" Galahad said, surveying her with a level stare of hostility. \"You think everyone is wrong but you, don't you? My mother says that little ones should not contradict grown-ups, and you look as if you were not so much older than I. You aren't much bigger, are you?\"\n\nMorgaine laughed at the angry child and said, \"But I am older than either your mother or your father, Galahad, even though I am not very big.\"\n\nThere was astir at the door and Elaine came in. She had grown softer, her body rounded, her breasts sagging-after all, Morgaine told herself, she had borne three children and one was still at the breast. But she was still lovely, her golden hair shining as bright as ever, and she embraced Morgaine as if they had met but yesterday." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I see you have met my good son,\" she said. \"Nimue is in her room being punished-she was impertinent to Father Griffin-and Gwennie, thank Heaven, is asleep-she is a fussy baby and I was awake with her much of the night. Have you come from Camelot? Why did my lord not ride with you, Morgaine?\"\n\n\"I have come to tell you about that,\" Morgaine said. \"Lancelet will not ride home for some while. There is war in Less Britain, and his brother Bors is besieged in his castle. All of Arthur's Companions have gone to rescue him and put down the man who would be emperor.\"\n\nElaine's eyes filled with tears, but young Galahad's face was eager with excitement. \"If I were older,\" he said, \"I would be one of the Companions and my father would make me a knight and I would ride with them, and I would fight these old Saxons-and any old emperor too!\"\n\nElaine heard the story and said, \"This Lucius sounds tome like a madman!\"\n\n\"Mad or sane, he has an army and claims it in the name of Rome,\" Morgaine said. \"Lancelet sent me to see you, and bade me kiss his children-though I doubt not this young man is too big to be kissed like a babe,\" she said, smiling at Galahad. \"My stepson, Uwaine, thought himself too big for that when he was about your size, and a few days ago he was made one of Arthur's Companions.\"\n\n\"How old is he?\" asked Galahad, and when Morgaine said fifteen, he scowled furiously and began to reckon upon his fingers.\n\nElaine asked, \"How looked my dear lord? Galahad, runaway to your tutor, I want to speak with my cousin,\" and when the child had gone, she said, \"I had more time to speak with Lancelet before Pentecost than in all the years of our marriage. This is the first time in all these years that I have had more than a week of his company!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"At least he did not leave you with child this time,\" said Morgaine.\n\n\"No,\" said Elaine, \"and he was very considerate and did not seek my bed during those last weeks while we waited together for Gwen's birth-he said that I was so big, it would be no pleasure tome. I would not have refused him, but to tell the truth I think he cared not at all... and there's a confession for you, Morgaine.\"\n\n\"You forget,\" said Morgaine with a grim little smile, \"I have known Lancelet all my life.\"\n\n\"Tell me,\" Elaine said, \"I swore, once, I would never ask you this-was Lancelet your lover, did you ever lie with him?\"\n\nMorgaine looked at her drawn face and said gently, \"No, Elaine. There was a time when I thought-but it came never to that. I did not love him, nor did he love me.\" And to her own surprise, she knew the words were true, though she had never known it before.\n\nElaine stared at the floor, where a patch of sunlight came in through an old, discolored bit of glass that had been there since Roman days. \"Morgaine-while he was at Pentecost, did he seethe Queen?\"\n\n\"Since Lancelet is not blind, and since she sat on the dais beside Arthur, I suppose he did,\" Morgaine said dryly.\n\nElaine made an impatient movement. \"You know what I speak of!\"\n\nIs she still so jealous? Does she hate Gwenhwyfar so much? She has Lancelet, she has borne his children, she knows he is honorable, what more does she want? But before the younger woman's nervously twisting hands, the tears which seemed to hang on her eyelashes, Morgaine softened. \"Elaine, he spoke with the Queen, and he kissed her in farewell when the call to arms came. But I vow to you, he spoke as courtier to his queen, not as lover to lover. They have known one another since they were young, and if they cannot forget that once they loved in away that comes not twice to any manor woman, why should you begrudge them that? You are his wife, Elaine, and I could tell when he bade me bear you his message, he loves you well.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And I swore to be content with no more, did I not?\"\n\nElaine lowered her head fora long moment, and Morgaine saw her blinking furiously, but she did not cry, and at last she raised her head. \"You who have had so many lovers, have you ever known what it is to love?\"\n\nFora moment Morgaine felt herself swept by the old tempest, the madness of love which had flung her and Lancelet, on a sun-flooded hill in Avalon, into each other's arms, which had brought them together again and again, until it all ended in bitterness... by main will she forced away the memory and filled her mind with the thought of Accolon, who had roused again the sweetness of womanhood in her heart and body when she had felt old, dead, abandoned... who had brought her back to the Goddess, who had made her again into a priestess... she felt bands of crimson rising in quick successive waves over her face. Slowly, she nodded. \"Yes, child. I have known-I know what it is to love.\"\n\nShe could see that Elaine wanted to ask a hundred other questions, and she thought how happy it would be to share all this with the one woman who had been her friend since she left Avalon, whose marriage she had made-but no. Secrecy was apart of the power of a priestess, and to speak of what she and Accolon had known would be to bring it outside of the magical realm, make her no more than a discontented wife sneaking to the bed of her stepson. She said, \"But now, Elaine, there is something more to speak of. Remember, you made me avow once-that if I helped you to win Lancelet, you would give me what I asked of you. Nimue is past five years old, old enough for fostering. I ride tomorrow for Avalon. You must make her ready to accompany me.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No!\" It was along cry, almost a shriek. \"No, no, Morgaine-you cannot mean it!\"\n\nMorgaine had been afraid of this. Now she made her voice distant and hard.\n\n\"Elaine. You have sworn it.\"\n\n\"How could I swear fora child not yet born? I knew not what it meant-oh, no, not my daughter, not my daughter-you cannot take her from me, not so young!\"\n\nAgain Morgaine said, \"You have sworn it.\"\n\n\"And if I refuse?\" Elaine looked like a spitting cat ready to defend her kittens against a large and angry dog.\n\n\"If you refuse,\" Morgaine's voice was as quiet as ever, \"when Lancelet comes home, he shall hear from me how this marriage was made, how you wept and begged me to put a spell on him so that he would turn from Gwenhwyfar to you. He thinks you the innocent victim of my magic, Elaine, and blames me, not you. Shall he know the truth?\"\n\n\"You would not!\" Elaine was white with horror.\n\n\"Try me,\" Morgaine said. \"I know not how Christians regard an oath, but I assure you, among those who worship the Goddess, it is taken in all seriousness. And so I took yours. I waited till you had another daughter, but Nimue is mine by your pledged word.\"\n\n\"But-but what of her? She is a Christian child-how can I send her from her mother into-into a world of pagan sorceries...?\"\n\n\"I am, after all, her kinswoman,\" Morgaine said gently. \"How long have you known me, Elaine? Have you ever known me do anything so dishonorable or wicked that you would hesitate to entrust a child tome? I do not, after all, want her for feeding to a dragon, and the days are long, long past when even criminals were burnt on altars of sacrifice.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What will befall her, then, in Avalon?\" asked Elaine, so fearfully that Morgaine wondered if Elaine, after all, had harbored some such notions.\n\n\"She will be a priestess, trained in all the wisdom of Avalon,\" said Morgaine. \"One day she will read the stars and know all the wisdom of the world and the heavens.\" She found herself smiling. \"Galahad told me that she wished to learn to read and write and to play the harp-and in Avalon no one will forbid her this. Her life will be less harsh than if you had put her to school in some nunnery. We will surely ask less of her in the way of fasting and penance before she is grown.\"\n\n\"But-but what shall I say to Lancelet?\" wavered Elaine.\n\n\"What you will,\" said Morgaine. \"It would be best to tell him the truth, that you sent her to fosterage in Avalon, that she might fill the place left empty there. But I care not whether you perjure yourself to him-you may tell him that she was drowned in the lake or taken by the ghost of old Pellinore's dragon, for all care.\"\n\n\"And what of the priest? When Father Griffin hears that I have sent my daughter to become a sorceress in the heathen lands-\"\n\n\"I care even less what you tell him,\" Morgaine said. \"If you choose to tell him that you put your soul in pawn for my sorceries to win yourself a husband, and pledged your first daughter in return-no? I thought not.\"\n\n\"You are hard, Morgaine,\" said Elaine, tears falling from her eyes. \"Cannot I have a few days to prepare her to go from me, to pack such things as she will need-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"She needs not much,\" said Morgaine. \"A change of shift if you will, and warm things for riding, a thick cloak and stout shoes, no more than that. In Avalon they will give her the dress of a novice priestess. Believe me,\" she added kindly, \"she will be treated with love and reverence as the granddaughter of the greatest of priestesses. And they will-what is it your priests say-they will temper the wind to the shorn lamb. She will not be forced to austerities until she is of an age to endure them. I think she will be happy there.\"\n\n\"Happy? In that place of evil sorcery?\"\n\nMorgaine said, and the utter conviction of her words struck Elaine's heart, \"I vow to you-I was happy in Avalon, and everyday since I left, I have longed, early and late, to return thither. Have you ever heard me lie? Come-let me seethe child.\"\n\n\"I bade her stay in her room and spin in solitude till sunset. She was rude to the priest and is being punished,\" said Elaine.\n\n\"But I remit the punishment,\" said Morgaine. \"I am now her guardian and foster-mother, and there is no longer any reason to show courtesy to that priest. Take me to her.\"\n\nThey rode forth the next day at dawn. Nimue had wept at parting with her mother, but even before they were gone an hour, she had begun to peer forth curiously at Morgaine from under the hood of her cloak. She was tall for her age, less like Lancelet's mother, Viviane, than like Morgause or Igraine; fair-haired, but with enough copper in the golden strands that Morgaine thought her hair would be red when she was older. And her eyes were almost the color of the small wood violets which grew by the brooks." }, { "from": "human", "value": "They had had only a little wine and water before setting out, so Morgaine asked, \"Are you hungry, Nimue?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "We can stop and break our fast as soon as we find a clearing, if you wish.\"\n\n\"Yes, Aunt.\"\n\n\"Very well.\" And soon she dismounted and lifted the little girl from her pony.\n\n\"I have to-\" The child cast down her eyes and squirmed.\n\n\"If you have to pass water, go behind that tree with the serving-woman,\" said Morgaine, \"and never be ashamed again to speak of what God has made.\"\n\n\"Father Griffin says it is not modest-\"\n\n\"And never speak tome again of anything Father Griffin said to you,\" Morgaine said gently, but with a hint of iron behind the mild words. \"That is past, Nimue.\"\n\nWhen the child came back she said, with a wide-eyed look of wonder, \"I saw someone very small peering out at me from behind a tree. Galahad said you were called Morgaine of the Fairies-was it a fairy, Aunt?\"\n\nMorgaine shook her head and said, \"No, it was one of the Old People of the hills-they areas real as you or I. It is better not to speak of them, Nimue, or take any notice. They are very shy, and afraid of men who live in villages and farms.\"\n\n\"Where do they live, then?\"\n\n\"In the hills and forests,\" Morgaine said. \"They cannot bear to seethe earth, who is their mother, raped by the plow and forced to bear, and they do not live in villages.\"\n\n\"If they do not plow and reap, Aunt, what do they eat?\"\n\n\"Only such things as the earth gives them of her freewill,\" said Morgaine. \"Root, berry and herb, fruit and seeds-meat they taste only at the great festivals. As I told you, it is better not to speak of them, but you may leave them some bread at the edge of the clearing, there is plenty for us all.\" She broke off apiece of a loaf and let Nimue take it to the edge of the woods. Elaine had, indeed, given them enough food for ten days' ride, instead of the brief journey to Avalon." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She ate little herself, but she let the child have all she wanted, and spread honey herself on Nimue's bread; time enough to train her, and after all, she was still growing very fast.\n\n\"You are eating no meat, Aunt,\" said Nimue. \"Is it a fast day?\"\n\nMorgaine suddenly remembered how she had questioned Viviane. \"No, I do not often eat it.\"\n\n\"Don't you like it? I do.\"\n\n\"Well, eat it then, if you wish. The priestesses do not have meat very often, but it is not forbidden, certainly not to a child your age.\"\n\n\"Are they like the nuns? Do they fast all the time? Father Griffin says-\" She stopped, remembering she had been told not to quote what he said, and Morgaine was pleased; the child learned quickly.\n\nShe said, \"I meant you are not to take what he says as a guide for your own conduct. But you may tell me what he says and one day you will learn to separate for yourself what is right in what he says, and what is folly or worse.\"\n\n\"He says that men and women must fast for their sins. Is that why?\"\n\nMorgaine shook her head. \"The people of Avalon fast, sometimes, to teach their bodies to do what they are told without making demands it is inconvenient to satisfy-there are times when one must do without food, or water, or sleep, and the body must be the servant of the mind, not the master. The mind cannot beset on holy things, or wisdom, or stilled for the long meditation which opens the mind to other realms, when the body cries out \"Feed me!\" or \"I thirst!\" So we teach ourselves to still its clamoring. Do you understand?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"N-not really,\" said the child doubtfully.\n\n\"You will understand when you are older, then. For now, eat your bread, and make ready to ride again.\"\n\nNimue finished her bread and honey and wiped her hands tidily on a clump of grass. \"I never understood Father Griffin either, but he was angry when I did not. I was punished when I asked him why we must fast and pray for our sins when Christ had already forgiven them, and he said I had been taught heathendom and made Mother send me to my room. What is heathendom, Aunt?\"\n\n\"It is anything a priest does not like,\" said Morgaine. \"Father Griffin is a fool. Even the best of the Christian priests do not trouble little ones like you, who can do no sin, with much talk about it. Time enough to talk about sin, Nimue, when you are capable of doing it, or making choices between good and evil.\"\n\nNimue got on her pony obediently, but after a time she said, \"Aunt Morgaine-I am not such a good girl, though. I sin all the time. I am always doing wicked things. I am not at all surprised that Mother wanted to send me away. That is why she is sending me to a wicked place, because I am a wicked girl.\"\n\nMorgaine felt her throat close with something like agony. She had been about to mount her own horse, but she hurried to Nimue's pony and caught the girl in a great hug, holding her tight and kissing her again and again. She said, breathlessly, \"Never say that again, Nimue! Never! It is not true, I vow to you it is not! Your mother did not want to send you away at all, and if she had thought Avalon a wicked place she would not have sent you no matter what I threatened!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Nimue said in a small voice, \"Why am I being sent away, then?\"\n\nMorgaine still held her tight with all the strength of her arms. \"Because you were pledged to Avalon before you were born, my child. Because your grandmother was a priestess, and because I have no daughter for the Goddess, and you are being sent to Avalon that you may learn wisdom and serve the Goddess.\" She noted that her tears were falling, unheeded, on Nimue's fair hair. \"Who let you believe it was punishment?\"\n\n\"One of the women-while she packed my shift-\" Nimue faltered. \"I heard her say, Mother should not have sent me to that wicked place-and Father Griffin has told me often I am a wicked girl-\"\n\nMorgaine sank to the ground, holding Nimue in her lap, rocking her back and forth. \"No, no,\" she said gently, \"no, darling, no. You area good girl. If you are naughty or lazy or disobedient, that is not sin, it is only that you are not old enough to know any better, and when you are taught to do what is right, then you will do so.\" And then, because she thought this conversation had gone far fora child so young, she said, \"Look at that butterfly! I have not seen one that color before! Come, Nimue, let me lift you on your pony now,\" she said, and listened attentively as the little girl chattered on about butterflies.\n\nAlone she could have ridden to Avalon in a single day, but the short legs of Nimue's little pony could not make that distance, so they slept that night in a clearing. Nimue had never slept out of doors before, and the darkness frightened her when they putout the fire, so Morgaine let the child creep into the circle of her arms and lay pointing out one star after another to her." }, { "from": "human", "value": "The little girl was tired with riding and soon slept, but Morgaine lay awake, Nimue's head heavy on her arm, feeling fear stealing upon her." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She had been so long away from Avalon. Step by slow step, she had retraced all her training, or what she could remember; but would she forget some vital thing?\n\nAt last she slept, but before morning it seemed that she heard a step in the clearing, and Raven stood before her. She wore her dark gown and spotted deerskin tunic, and she said, \"Morgaine! Morgaine, my dearest!\" Her voice, the voice Morgaine had heard but once in all her years in Avalon, was so filled with surprise and joy and wonder that Morgaine woke suddenly and stared around the clearing, half expecting to see Raven therein the flesh. But the clearing was empty, except fora trace of mist that blotted out the stars, and Morgaine lay down again, not knowing if she had dreamed, or whether, with the Sight, Raven knew that she was approaching. Her heart was racing; she could feel the beat of it, almost painful inside her chest.\n\nI should never have stayed away so long. I should have tried to return when Viviane died. Even if I died in the attempt, I should have made it.... Will they want me now, old, worn, used, the Sight slowly going from me, with nothing to bring them...?\n\nThe child at her side made a small sleepy sound and stirred; she shifted her weight slightly and moved closer into Morgaine's arms. Morgaine put an arm round her, thinking, I bring them Viviane's granddaughter. But if they let me return only for her sake it will be more bitter than death. Has the Goddess cast me out forever?\n\nAt last she slept again, not to waken until it was broad daylight, misty drizzle beginning to fall. With this bad start the day went badly; toward midday Nimue's pony cast a shoe, and, although Morgaine was impatient and would have taken the child up to ride before her-she herself was the lightest of burdens fora horse, who could have carried two her size without trouble-she did not want to lame the pony, so they must turn aside fora village and a blacksmith. She did not want it known or rumored in the countryside that the King's sister rode for Avalon, but now there was no help for it. There was so little news in this part of the land that whatever happened here seemed to fly on wings." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Well, it could not be helped; the wretched little animal was not to blame. They delayed and found a small village off the main road. All day the rain fell; even though it was high summer, Morgaine was shivering, and the child was damp and fretful. Morgaine paid little attention to her fussing; she was sorry for her, especially when Nimue began to cry softly for her mother, but that could not be helped either, and one of the first lessons of a priestess in the making was to endure loneliness. She would simply have to cry until she found her own comfort or learned to live without it, as all the maidens in the House had had to learn to do.\n\nIt was now long past noon, although the overcast was so thick that they could get no hint of the sun. Still, at this time of year, the light lingered late, and Morgaine did not want to spend another night on the road. She resolved to ride as far as they could see their way and was encouraged to see that as soon as they began to ride again, Nimue stopped whimpering and began to take an interest in what they rode past. Now they were very near Avalon. Nimue was so sleepy that she swayed in her saddle and at last Morgaine lifted the little girl from her pony and held her in front of heron the saddle. But the child woke when they came to the shores of the Lake.\n\n\"Are we there, Aunt?\" she asked, as she was set on her feet.\n\n\"No, but it is not far now,\" Morgaine said. \"Within half an hour, if all goes well, you will be ready for supper and bed.\"\n\nAnd if all does not go well? Morgaine refused to think of that. Doubt was fatal to power, and to the Sight.... Five years she had spent, laboriously retracing her steps from the beginning; now it was as it had been before, cast out of Avalon, with no test save this, Have I the power to return...?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I don't see anything at all,\" Nimue said." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Is this the place? But there is nothing here, Aunt.\" And she looked fearfully at the dismal dripping shore, the solitary reeds murmuring to the rain.\n\n\"They will send us a boat,\" said Morgaine.\n\n\"But how will they know we are here? How can they see us in this rain?\"\n\n\"I will call it,\" said Morgaine. \"Be quiet, Nimue.\" Within her echoed the fretful child's cry, but now, when she stood at last on the shores of home, she felt the old knowledge welling up, filling her like a cup overrunning its brim. She bent her head for an instant in the most fervent prayer of her life, then drew along breath and raised her arms in invocation.\n\nFor an instant, heartsick with failure, she felt nothing; then, like a slowly descending line of light running down her, it struck through her, and she heard the little girl at her side gasp in sudden wonder; but she had no time for that, she felt her body like abridge of lightning between Heaven and Earth. She did not consciously speak the word of power, but felt it throbbing like thunder through her whole body... silence. Silence, Nimue white and dumb at her side. And then in the dim, dull waters of the Lake there was a little stirring, like mist boiling... and then a shadow, and then, long and dark and shining, the Avalon barge moving slowly out of the patch of mist. Morgaine let her breath go in along sigh that was half a sob.\n\nIt glided noiseless as a shadow to the shore, but the sound of the boat scraping on the land was very real and solid. Several of the little dark men scrambled out and took the horses' heads, bowing low to Morgaine, saying, \"I will lead them by the other path, lady,\" and vanishing into the rain. Another drew back so that Morgaine could first step into the boat, lift the staring child in after her, give a hand to the frightened servants. Still in silence, except for the muttered words of the man who had taken the horses, the boat glided out into the Lake." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"What is that shadow, Aunt?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Nimue whispered, as the oars shoved out from shore.\n\n\"It is Glastonbury church,\" said Morgaine, surprised that her voice was so calm. \"It is on the other island, the one we can see from here. Your grandmother, your father's mother, is buried there. Someday, perhaps, you will see her memorial stone.\"\n\n\"Are we going there?\"\n\n\"Not today.\"\n\n\"But the boat is going straight toward it-I have heard there is a convent on Glastonbury too-\"\n\n\"No,\" said Morgaine, \"we are not going there. Wait and see, and be quiet.\"\n\nNow would come the true test. They might have seen her from Avalon, with the Sight, and sent the boat, but whether she could open the mists to Avalon... that would be the test of all she had done in these years. She must not try and fail, she must simply arise and do it, without stopping to think. They were now in the very center of the Lake, where another stroke of the oars would take them into the current which ran toward the Isle of Glastonbury.... Morgaine rose swiftly, the flow of her draperies around her, and raised her arms. Again she remembered... it was like the first time she had done this, with a shock of surprise that the tremendous flow of power was silent, when it should blast the sky with thunders... she dared not open her eyes until she heard Nimue cry aloud in fear and wonder....\n\nThe rain was gone, and under the last brilliance of a setting sun, the Isle of Avalon lay green and beautiful before them, sunlight on the Lake, sunlight striking through the ring stones atop the Tor, sunlight on the whitewalls of the temple. Morgaine saw it through a blur of tears; she swayed in the boat and would have fallen, except fora hand laid on her shoulder." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Home, home, I am here, I am coming home....\n\nShe felt the boat scrape on the pebbled shore and composed herself. It seemed not right that she should not be wearing the garb of a priestess, though beneath her gown, as always, Viviane's little knife was belted close around her waist. It seemed not right... her silken veils, the rings on her narrow fingers... Queen Morgaine of North Wales, not Morgaine of Avalon... well, that could be changed. She lifted her head proudly, drawing along breath, and took the child by the hand. However she had changed, however many the years that lay between, she was Morgaine of Avalon, priestess of the Great Goddess. Beyond that Lake of mists and shadows, she might be queen to an elderly and laughable king, in a country faraway... but here she was priestess, and born of the old royal line of Avalon.\n\nShe saw without surprise, as she stepped on land, that before her stood a line of bowing servants and behind them, awaiting her, the dark-robed forms of priestesses... they had known and had come to welcome her home. And through the line of priestesses, she saw a face and form she had seen only in a dream, a tall woman, fair-haired and queenly, her golden hair braided low on her forehead. The woman came to Morgaine quickly through the line of the other priestesses, and took her into an embrace.\n\n\"Welcome, kinswoman,\" she said softly. \"Welcome home, Morgaine.\"\n\nAnd Morgaine spoke the name she had heard only in dreams till Kevin spoke it to her, confirming the dream. \"I greet you, Niniane, and I bring you Viviane's granddaughter. She shall be fostered here, and her name is Nimue.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Niniane was studying her curiously; what had she heard, Morgaine wondered, in all these years?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But then she looked away and stooped to look at the little girl.\n\n\"And this is Galahad's daughter?\"\n\n\"No,\" said Nimue, \"Galahad is my brother. I am the daughter of the good knight Lancelet.\"\n\nNiniane smiled. \"I know,\" she said, \"but here we do not use the name the Saxons gave your father, and he has the same name as your brother, you see. Well, Nimue, have you come to be a priestess here?\"\n\nNimue looked around at the sunset landscape. \"That is what my aunt Morgaine told me. I would like to learn to read and write and play the harp, and know about the stars and all kinds of things as she does. Are you really evil sorceresses here? I thought a sorceress would be old and ugly, and you are very pretty.\" She bit her lip. \"I am being rude again.\"\n\nNiniane laughed. \"Always speak out the truth, child. Yes, I am a sorceress. I do not think I am ugly, but you must decide for yourself whether I am good or evil. I try to do the will of the Goddess, and that is all anyone can do.\"\n\n\"I will try to do that, if you will tell me how,\" Nimue said.\n\nThe sun dropped below the horizon, and suddenly the shore was all grey twilight. Niniane signalled; a servant holding a single torch reached out to another, and the light passed swiftly from hand to hand until the shore was all ablaze with torchlight. Niniane patted the little girl on the cheek. She said, \"Until you are old enough to know her will for yourself, will you obey the rules here, and obey the women who have you in charge?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I will try,\" Nimue said, \"but I am always forgetting. And I ask too many questions.\"\n\n\"You may ask as many questions as you want to, when it is the proper time for such things,\" Niniane said, \"but you have been riding all day and it is late, so for tonight the first command I give you is to be a good girl, and go and have supper and a bath and go to your bed. Say farewell to your kinswoman, now, and go with Lheanna to the House of Maidens.\" She gestured to a sturdy, motherly looking woman in the dress of a priestess.\n\nNimue sniffled a little and said, \"Must I say goodbye now? Won't you come and tell me goodbye tomorrow, Aunt Morgaine? I thought I would be with you here.\"\n\nMorgaine said, very gently, \"No, you must go to the House of Maidens, and do what you are told.\" She kissed the petal-soft cheek. \"The Goddess bless you, darling. We will meet again when she wills it.\" And as she spoke she saw this same Nimue grown to tall womanhood, pale and serious with the blue crescent painted between her brows, and the shadow of the Death-crone... she swayed, and Niniane putout a hand to support her.\n\n\"You are weary, lady Morgaine. Send the babe to her rest, and come with me. We can talk tomorrow.\"\n\nMorgaine printed a final kiss on Nimue's brow and the little girl trotted away obediently at Lheanna's side. Morgaine felt a darkening mist before her eyes; Niniane gave her an arm and said, \"Lean on me. Come with me to my quarters where you can rest.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Niniane brought her to the dwelling that had once been Viviane's, and to the little room where the priestesses in attendance on the Lady of the Lake slept in their turn." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Alone, Morgaine managed to collect herself. Fora moment she wondered if Niniane had brought her to these quarters to emphasize that she, not Morgaine, was Lady of the Lake... then stopped herself; that kind of intrigue was for the court, not for Avalon. Niniane had simply given her the most convenient and secluded of the rooms available. Once Raven had dwelt here, in her consecrated silence, so that Viviane might teach her....\n\nMorgaine washed the grime of travel from her weary body, wrapped herself in the long robe of undyed wool which she found lying across the bed, and even ate some of the food they brought, but did not touch the warmed and spiced wine. There was a stone water jar at the side of the fireplace, and she dipped out a ladleful, drinking, with tears in her eyes.\n\nThe priestesses of Avalon drink only water from the Sacred Well.... Again she was the young Morgaine, sleeping within the walls of her own place. She went to bed and slept like a child.\n\nShe never knew what woke her. There was a step in the room, and silence. By the last flicker of the dying firelight and the flooding light of the moon through the shutters, she saw a veiled form, and fora moment she thought that Niniane had come to speak with her; but the hair that flowed over the shoulders was long and dark and the dark face beautiful and still. On one hand she could seethe darkened, thickened patch of an ancient scar... Raven! She sat up and said, \"Raven! Is it you?\"\n\nRaven's fingers covered her lips, in the old gesture of silence; she came to Morgaine's side, bent over her and kissed her. Without a word, she threw off her long cloak and lay down at Morgaine's side, taking her in her arms. In the dimness Morgaine could seethe rest of the scars running up along the arm and across the pale heavy breast... neither of them spoke a word, then, nor in the time that followed. It seemed that the real world and Avalon had both slipped away, and again she was in the shadows of the fairy country, held close in the arms of the lady.... Morgaine heard in her mind the words of the ancient blessing of Avalon, as Raven touched her slowly, with ritual silence and significance, and the sound seemed to shiver around her in the silence. Blessed be the feet that have brought you to this place... blessed the knees that shall bend before her altar... blessed be the gate of Life...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "And then the world began to flow and change and move around her, and fora moment it was not Raven in the silence, but a form edged in light, whom she had seen once, years before, at the time when she crossed the great silence..." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "and Morgaine knew that she too was glowing in light... still the deep flowing silence. And then it was only Raven again, lying close to her with her hair perfumed with the herbs they used in the rites, one arm flung over her, her silent lips just touching Morgaine's cheek. Morgaine could see that there were long pale streaks of white in the dark hair.\n\nRaven stirred and raised herself up. Still she did not speak, but she took from somewhere a silver crescent, the ritual ornament of a priestess. Morgaine knew, with a catch of breath, that it was the one she had left on her bed in the House of Maidens on that day when she had fled forth from Avalon with Arthur's child in her womb... silent, after a gasp of half-voiced protest, she let Raven bind it about her neck; but Raven showed her briefly, by the last glint of the setting moon, the flash of a knife blade bound about her own waist. Morgaine nodded, knowing that Viviane's ritual knife would never again while she lived leave her side; she was content that Raven should bear the one she herself had abandoned until one day she saw it bound about Nimue's waist.\n\nRaven took the little razor-sharp knife, and Morgaine watched, stilled into a dream, as she raised it; so be it, even if she wishes hereto shed my blood before the Goddess I tried to flee... but Raven turned the knife toward her own throat; from the breastbone she pricked a single drop of blood, and Morgaine, bowing her head, took the knife and made a slight cut over her heart.\n\nWe are old, Raven and I, we shed blood no longer from the womb but from the heart... and wondered afterward what she had meant. Raven bent to her and licked the blood away from the small cut; Morgaine bent and touched her lips to the small, welling stain at Raven's breast, knowing that this was a sealing long past the vows she had taken when she came to womanhood. Then Raven drew her again into her arms." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I gave up my maidenhood to the Horned One. I bore a child to the God. I burned with passion for Lancelet, and Accolon created me priestess anew in the plowed fields which the Spring Maiden had blessed. Yet never have I known what it was to be received simply in love.... It seemed to Morgaine, half in a dream, that she lay in the lap of her mother... no, not Igraine, but welcomed back into the arms of the Great Mother....\n\nWhen she woke she was alone. Opening her eyes into the sunlight of Avalon, weeping with joy, she wondered fora moment if she had dreamed. Yet over her heart was a small stain of dried blood; and on the pillow beside her lay the silver crescent, the ritual jewel of a priestess, which she had left when she fled from Avalon. Yet surely Raven had bound it about her throat....\n\nMorgaine tied it around her neck on its slender thong. It would never leave her again; like Viviane, she would be buried with this about her neck. Her fingers shook as she knotted the leather, knowing this was a reconsecration. There was something else on the pillow, and fora moment it shifted and changed, an unopened rosebud, a blown rose, and when Morgaine took it into her hand, it was the rose-hip berry, full and round and crimson, pulsing with the tart life of the rose. As she watched, it shrank, withered, lay dried in her hand; and Morgaine suddenly understood.\n\nFlower and even fruit are only the beginning. In the seed lies the life and the future.\n\nWith along sigh, Morgaine tied the seed into a scrap of silk, knowing that she must go forth again from Avalon. Her work was not completed, and she had chosen the place of her work and her testing when she fled forth from Avalon. One day, perhaps, she might return, but that time had not yet come." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And what I am must be hidden, as the rose lies hidden within the seed. She rose then and put on the garments of the queen. The robe of a priestess should be hers again one day, but she had yet to earn again the right to wear it. Then she sat and waited for Niniane to summon her.\n\nWhen she came into the central room where she had faced Viviane so often, time swooped and circled and turned on itself so that fora moment it seemed to Morgaine that she must see Viviane sitting where she had so often sat, dwarfed by the high seat and yet impressive, filling the whole room... then she blinked, and it was Niniane there, tall and slight and fair; it seemed to Morgaine that Niniane was no more than a child, sitting in play in the high seat.\n\nAnd then what Viviane had said to her when she stood before her, so many years ago, suddenly rushed over her: you have reached a stage where obedience maybe tempered with your own judgment... and fora moment it seemed to her that her best judgment was to turn aside now, to say to Niniane only such words as might reassure her. And then the surge of resentment came over her at the thought that this child, this foolish and ordinary girl in the dress of a priestess, was presuming to sit where Viviane had sat and to give orders in the name of Avalon. She had been chosen only because she was of the blood of Taliesin.... How does she dare sit here and presume to give orders tome...?\n\nShe looked down at the girl, knowing, without being certain how, that she had taken upon herself the old glamour and majesty, and then, with a sudden surge of the Sight, it seemed to her that she read Niniane's thoughts.\n\nShe should be herein my place, Niniane was thinking, how can I speak with authority to Queen Morgaine of the Fairies... and the thought was blurred, half with awe of the strange and powerful priestess before her, and half with simple resentment, if she had not fled from us and forsworn her duty, I would not now be struggling to fill a place for which we both know I am not fit." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Morgaine came and took her hands, and Niniane was surprised at her gentle voice.\n\n\"I am sorry, my poor girl, I would give my very life to return here and take the burden from you. But I cannot, I dare not. I cannot hide here and shirk my given task because I long for my home.\" It was no longer arrogance, nor contempt for the girl who had been thrust, unwilling, into the place which should have been hers, but simple pity for her. \"I have begun a task in the West country which must be completed-if I leave it half done, it were better it had never been begun. You cannot take my place there, and so, may the Goddess help us both, you must keep my place here.\" She bent and embraced the girl, holding her tight. \"My poor little cousin, there is a fate onus both, and we cannot escape it... if I had stayed here, the Goddess would have worked with me one way, but even when I tried to flee my sworn duty, she brought it upon me elsewhere... none of us can escape. We are both in her hands, and it is too late to say it would have been better the other way... she will do with us as she will.\"\n\nNiniane held rigidly aloof fora moment, then her resentment melted and she clung to Morgaine, almost as Nimue had done. Blinking back tears, she said, \"I wanted to hate you-\"\n\n\"And I, you, perhaps...\" Morgaine said. \"But she has willed otherwise, and before her we are sisters....\" Hesitantly, her lips reluctant to speak the words which had been withheld for so long, she added something else, and Niniane bent her head and murmured the proper response. Then she said, \"Tell me of your work in the West, Morgaine. No, sit here beside me, there is no rank between us, you know that....\"" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Take on the role of the writer's aide and proceed with the narrative.\nTags: fantasy, arthurian, historical fantasy\nAuthor: Marion Zimmer Bradley\nTitle: The Mists of Avalon\nChapter: 53" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Morgaine came and took her hands, and Niniane was surprised at her gentle voice.\n\n\"I am sorry, my poor girl, I would give my very life to return here and take the burden from you. But I cannot, I dare not. I cannot hide here and shirk my given task because I long for my home.\" It was no longer arrogance, nor contempt for the girl who had been thrust, unwilling, into the place which should have been hers, but simple pity for her. \"I have begun a task in the West country which must be completed-if I leave it half done, it were better it had never been begun. You cannot take my place there, and so, may the Goddess help us both, you must keep my place here.\" She bent and embraced the girl, holding her tight. \"My poor little cousin, there is a fate onus both, and we cannot escape it... if I had stayed here, the Goddess would have worked with me one way, but even when I tried to flee my sworn duty, she brought it upon me elsewhere... none of us can escape. We are both in her hands, and it is too late to say it would have been better the other way... she will do with us as she will.\"\n\nNiniane held rigidly aloof fora moment, then her resentment melted and she clung to Morgaine, almost as Nimue had done. Blinking back tears, she said, \"I wanted to hate you-\"\n\n\"And I, you, perhaps...\" Morgaine said. \"But she has willed otherwise, and before her we are sisters....\" Hesitantly, her lips reluctant to speak the words which had been withheld for so long, she added something else, and Niniane bent her head and murmured the proper response. Then she said, \"Tell me of your work in the West, Morgaine. No, sit here beside me, there is no rank between us, you know that....\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "When Morgaine had told her what she could, Niniane nodded. \"Something of this I heard from the Merlin,\" she said. \"In that country, then, men turn again to the old worship... but Uriens has two sons, and the elder is his father's heir. Your task then is to make certain that Wales has a king from Avalon-which means that Accolon must succeed his father, Morgaine.\"\n\nMorgaine closed her eyes and sat with bent head. At last she said, \"I will not kill, Niniane. I have seen too much of war and bloodshed. Avalloch's death would solve nothing-they follow Roman ways there now, since the priests have come, and Avalloch has a son.\"\n\nNiniane dismissed that. \"A son who could be reared to the old worship-how old is he, four years old?\"\n\n\"He was so when I came to Wales,\" said Morgaine, thinking of the child who had satin her lap and clung to her with his sticky fingers and called her Granny. \"Enough, Niniane. I have done all else, but even for Avalon, I will not kill.\"\n\nNiniane's eyes flamed blue sparks at her. She raised her head and said, warning, \"Never name that well from which you will not drink!\"\n\nAnd suddenly Morgaine realized that the woman before her was priestess, too, not merely the pliant child she had seemed; she could not be where she was, she could never have passed the tests and ordeals which went into the making of a Lady of Avalon, if she had not been acceptable to the Goddess. With unexpected humility, she realized why she had been sent here. Niniane said, almost in warning, \"You will do what the Goddess wills when her hand is laid upon you, and that I know by the token you bear...\" and her eyes rested upon Morgaine's bosom as if she could see through the folds of the gown to the seed which lay there, or to the silver crescent on its leather thong. Morgaine bent her head and whispered, \"We are all in her hands.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Be it so,\" said Niniane, and fora moment it was so silent in the room that Morgaine could hear the splash of a fish in the Lake beyond the borders of the little house. Then she said, \"What of Arthur, Morgaine? He bears still the sword of the Druid Regalia. Will he honor his oath at last? Can you make him honor it?\"\n\n\"I do not know Arthur's heart,\" Morgaine said, and it was a bitter confession. I had power over him, and I was too squeamish to use it. I flung it away.\n\n\"He must swear again to honor his oath to Avalon, or you must get the sword from him again,\" said Niniane, \"and you are the only person living to whom this task might be entrusted. Excalibur, the sword of the Holy Regalia, must not remain in the hands of one who follows Christ. You know Arthur has no son by his queen, and he has named the son of Lancelet, Galahad by name, to be his heir, since now the Queen grows old.\"\n\nMorgaine thought, Gwenhwyfar is younger than I, and I might still bear a child if I had not been so damaged in Gwydion's birth. Why are they so certain she will never bear? But before Niniane's certainty she asked no questions. There was magic enough in Avalon, and no doubt they had hands and eyes at Arthur's court; and indeed the last thing they would wish would be that the Christian Gwenhwyfar should bear Arthur a son... not now.\n\n\"Arthur has a son,\" said Niniane, \"and while his day is not yet, there is a kingdom he can take-a place to begin the recapture of this land for Avalon. In the ancient ways, the king's son meant little, the son of the Lady was all, and the king's sister's son was his heir... know you what I mean, Morgaine?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Accolon must succeed to the throne of Wales. Morgaine heard it again, and then what Niniane did not say: And my son... is the son of King Arthur. Now it all made sense. Even her own barrenness after Gwydion's birth. But she asked, \"What of Arthur's heir-Lancelet's son?\"\n\nNiniane shrugged and fora moment Morgaine wondered, horrified, whether it was intended to give Nimue the same hold on Galahad's conscience that she had been given on Arthur's.\n\n\"I cannot see all things,\" said Niniane. \"Had you been Lady here-but time has moved on and other plans must be made. Arthur may yet honor his oath to Avalon and keep the sword Excalibur, and then there will be one way to proceed. And he may not, and there will be another way which she will prepare, to which end we each have our tasks. But whether or no, Accolon must come to rule in the West country, and that is your task. And the next king will rule from Avalon. When Arthur falls-though his stars say he will live to be old-then the king of Avalon will rise. Or else, the stars say, such darkness will fall over this land that it will be as if he had never been. And when the next king takes power, then will Avalon return into the mainstream of time and history... and then there will be a subject king over the western lands, ruling his Tribespeople. Accolon shall rise high as your consort-and it is for you to prepare the land for the great king from Avalon.\"\n\nAgain Morgaine bowed her head and said, \"I am in your hands.\"\n\n\"You must return now,\" said Niniane, \"but first there is one you must know. His time is not yet... but there will be one more task for you.\" She raised her hand, and as if he had been waiting in an anteroom, a door opened and a tall young man came into the room." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And at the sight Morgaine caught her breath, with a pain so great that it seemed fora moment that she could not breathe. Here was Lancelet reborn-young and slender as a dark flame, his hair curling about his cheeks, his narrow dark face smiling... Lancelet as he had been on that day when they lay together in the shadow of the ring stones, as if time had slipped and circled back as in the fairy country....\n\nAnd then she knew who it must be. He came forward and bent to kiss her hand. His walk was Lancelet's too, the flowing movements that seemed almost a dance. But he wore the robes of a bard, and on his forehead was the small tattoo of an acorn crest, and about his wrists the serpents of Avalon writhed. Time reeled in her mind.\n\nIf Galahad is to be king in the land, is my son then the Merlin, tanist and dark twin and sacrifice? Fora moment it seemed she moved among shadows, king and Druid, the bright shadow who sat beside Arthur's throne as queen, and herself who had borne Arthur's shadow son... Dark Lady of power.\n\nShe knew anything she said would be foolish. \"Gwydion. You are not like your father.\"\n\nHe shook his head. \"No,\" he said, \"I bear the blood of Avalon. I looked once on Arthur, when he made a pilgrimage to Glastonbury of the priests-I went there unseen in a priest's robe. He bows overmuch to the priests, this Arthur our king.\" His smile was fleeting, feral.\n\n\"You have no reason to love either of your parents, Gwydion,\" said Morgaine, and her hand tightened on his, but she surprised a fleeting look in his eyes, icy hatred... then it was gone and he was the smiling young Druid again." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"My parents gave me their best gift,\" Gwydion said, \"the royal blood of Avalon. And one more thing I ask of you, lady Morgaine.\" Irrationally she wished he had called her, just once, by the name of Mother.\n\n\"Ask, and if I can give, it is yours.\"\n\nGwydion said, \"It is not a great gift. Surely not more than five years hence, Queen Morgaine, you will lead me to look on Arthur and let him know that I am his son. I am aware\"-a quick, disturbing smile-\"that he cannot acknowledge meas his heir. But I wish him to look on the face of his son. I ask no more than that.\"\n\nShe bent her head. \"Surely I owe you that much, Gwydion.\"\n\nGwenhwyfar might think what she liked-Arthur had already done penance for this. No man could be other than proud of this grave and priestly young Druid. Nor should she... after all these years, she knew it... feel shame for what had been, as now she knew she had felt it all these years since she fled from Avalon. Now that she saw her son grown, she bowed before the inevitability of Viviane's Sight.\n\nShe said, \"I vow to you that day will come, I swear it by the Sacred Well.\" Her eyes blurred, and angrily she blinked back the rebellious tears. This was not her son; Uwaine, perhaps, washer son, but not Gwydion. This dark, handsome young man so like the Lancelet she had loved as a girl, he was not her son looking for the first time on the mother who had abandoned him before he was weaned; he was priest and she priestess of the Great Goddess, and if they were no more to each other than that, at least they were no less." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She put her hands to his bent head and said, \"Be thou blessed.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Queen Morgause had long ceased to repine that she had not the Sight. Yet twice, in the last days of falling leaves, when the red larch trees stood bare in the icy wind that blew over Lothian, she dreamed of her foster-son Gwydion; and she was not at all surprised when one of her servant folk told her that a rider was on the road.\n\nGwydion wore a strangely colored cloak, coarse and with a clasp of bone such as she had never seen, and when she would have wrapped him in her arms, he shrank away, wincing.\n\n\"No, Mother-\" He put his free arm around her and explained, \"I caught a sword cut therein Brittany-no, it is not serious,\" he reassured her. \"It did not fester and perhaps I shall not even have a scar, but when it is touched it cries out tome!\"\n\n\"You have been fighting in Brittany, then? I thought you safe in Avalon,\" she remonstrated, as she led him within and set him by the fire. \"I have no southern wine for you-\"\n\nHe laughed. \"I am weary of it-barley beer is enough for me, or some of the firewater if you have it... with hot water and honey if there is any. I am stiff with riding.\" He let one of the women draw off his boots and hang his cloak to dry, leaning back at ease.\n\n\"So good it is to be here, Mother-\" He set the steaming cup to his lips and drank with pleasure.\n\n\"And you came so far, riding in the cold with a wound? Was there some great tidings that needed to tell?\"\n\nHe shook his head. \"None-I was homesick, no more,\" he said. \"It's all so green and lush and damp there, with fog and church bells... I longed for the clean air of the fells, and the gulls\" cry, and your face, Mother...\" He reached out for the cup he had set down, and she saw the serpents about his wrists. She was not greatly versed in the lore of Avalon, but she knew they were the sign of the highest rank of the priesthood. He saw her glance and nodded, but said nothing." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Was it in Brittany you got that ugly cloak, so coarse-woven and low, fit only fora serving-man?\"\n\nHe chuckled. \"It kept the rain from me. I took it from a great chief of the foreign lands, who fought under the legions of that man who called himself Emperor Lucius. Arthur's men made short work of that one, believe me, and there was plunder for all-I have a silver cup and a golden ring in my packs for you, Mother.\"\n\n\"You fought in the armies of Arthur?\" Morgause asked. She had never thought he would do this; he saw the surprise in her face and laughed again.\n\n\"Yes, I fought under that great King who fathered me,\" he said, with a grin of contempt. \"Oh, fear not, I had my orders from Avalon. I took care to fight among the warriors of Ceardig, the Saxon chief of the treaty men who loves me well, and to come not under Arthur's eyes. Gawaine knew me not, and I was careful not to let Gareth see me except when I was shrouded in a cloak like that-I lost my own cloak in battle, and feared if I was wearing a cloak of Lothian, Gareth would come to look on a wounded countryman, so I got this one....\"\n\n\"Gareth would have known you anywhere,\" said Morgause, \"and I hope you do not think your foster-brother would ever betray you.\"\n\nGwydion smiled, and Morgause thought that he looked very like the little boy who had once satin her lap. He said, \"I longed to make myself known to Gareth, and when I lay wounded and weak, I came near to doing so. But Gareth is Arthur's man, and he loves his king, I could see that, and I would not put that burden on my best of brothers,\" he said. \"Gareth-Gareth is the only one-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He did not finish the sentence, but Morgause knew what he would have said; stranger as he was everywhere, Gareth was his brother and his beloved friend. Abruptly he grinned, chasing away the remote smile that made him look so young. \"All through the Saxon armies, Mother, I was asked again and again if I was Lancelet's son! I cannot seethe resemblance so much myself, but then I am not really familiar with my own face... I look into a mirror only when I shave myself!\"\n\n\"Still,\" said Morgause, \"anyone who had seen Lancelet, especially anyone who knew him in youth, could not look on you without knowing you his kinsman.\"\n\n\"Some such thing as that I said-I put on a Breton accent, sometimes, and said I too was kinsman to old King Ban,\" Gwydion said. \"Yet I would think our Lancelet, with the face which makes him a magnet to all maids, would have fathered enough bastards that it would not be such a marvel to all men that one should go about wearing his face! Not so? I wondered,\" he said, \"but all I heard of Lancelet was that it might be that he had fathered a son on the Queen and the child was spirited away somewhere to be fostered by that kinswoman of hers whom they married off to Lancelet.... Tales of Lancelet and the Queen are many, each wilder than the next, but all agree that for every other woman the Gods made, he has nothing but courtesy and fair words. There were even women who flung themselves at me, saying that if they could not have Lancelet, they would have his son....\" He grinned again. \"It must have been hard for the gallant Lancelet. I have eye enough fora fair woman, but when they push themselves on me so, well...\" He shrugged, comically. Morgause laughed." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Then the Druids have not robbed you of that, my son?\"\n\n\"By no means,\" he said. \"But most women are fools, so that I prefer not to trouble myself making play with those who expect me to treat them as something very special, or to pay heed to what they say. You have spoilt me for foolish women, Mother.\"\n\n\"Pity the same could not have been said of Lancelet,\" said Morgause, \"for never did anyone think Gwenhwyfar had more wits than she needed to keep her girdle tied, and where Lancelet was concerned, I doubt she had that much,\" and she thought, You have Lancelet's face, my boy, but you have your mother's wit!\n\nAs if he had heard her thoughts, he set down the empty cup, and waved away a serving-girl who would have scurried to refill it. \"No more, I am so weary that I will be drunk at another taste! Supper I would have. I have had enough of hunter's fortune, I am sick of meat, and long for home food-porridge and bannock.... Mother, I looked on the lady Morgaine at Avalon before I left for Brittany.\"\n\nNow why, Morgause wondered, does he say this tome? It could not be looked for that he should have much love for his mother, and then she felt sudden guilt. I made sure he should not love any but me. Well, she had done what she must, and she did not regret it.\n\n\"How looks my kinswoman?\"\n\n\"She looks not young,\" said Gwydion, \"it seemed tome that she was older than you, Mother.\"\n\n\"No,\" Morgause said, \"Morgaine is younger than I by ten years.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Still, she looks worn and old, and you...\" He smiled at her, and Morgause felt the flood of sudden happiness. She thought, None of my own sons have I loved as this one. Morgaine did well to leave him to my care.\n\n\"Oh,\" she said, \"I grow old too, my lad... I had a grown son when you were born!\"\n\n\"Then you are twice the sorceress she is,\" said Gwydion, \"for one could swear you had dwelt long in the fairy country with time never touching you... you look tome as you did the day I rode away for Avalon, Mother mine.\" He reached out his hand to hers and brought it to his lips and kissed it, and she came and put her arm round him, careful to avoid his wound. She stroked the dark hair. \"So Morgaine is queen now in Wales.\"\n\n\"True,\" Gwydion said, \"and high, I hear, in favor with the King... Arthur has made her stepson Uwaine a member of his own personal bodyguard, next to Gawaine, and he and Gawaine are close friends. Uwaine's not a bad fellow-not unlike Gawaine, I'd say-tough and staunch, both of them, and devoted to Arthur as if the sun rose and set where he pissed...\" and Morgause noted the wry smile. \"But then it's a fault many men have-and I came hereto speak of this to you, Mother,\" he said. \"Know you anything of Avalon's plan?\"\n\n\"I know what Niniane said, and the Merlin, when they came to take you thither,\" said Morgause. \"I know you are to be Arthur's heir, even though he believes he will leave the kingdom to that son of Lancelet's. I know you are the young stag who will bring down the King Stag...\" she said in the old language, and Gwydion raised his brow." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Then you know it all,\" he said. \"But this, perhaps, you do not know... it cannot be done now. Since Arthur brought down this Roman who would be emperor, this Lucius, his star has never flamed higher than now. Anyone who raised a hand against Arthur would be torn in pieces by the mob, or by his Companions-never have I seen a man so loved. This, I think, is why I needed to look from afar on his face, to see what is it in a king which makes him so loved....\"\n\nHis voice fell away into silence and Morgause felt ill at ease. \"And did you so?\"\n\nGwydion nodded slowly. \"He is a king indeed... even I who have no cause to love him felt that spell he creates around him. You cannot imagine how he is worshipped.\"\n\n\"Strange,\" said Morgause, \"I for one never thought him so remarkable.\"\n\n\"No, be fair,\" said Gwydion. \"There are not many-perhaps there is no other within this land who could have rallied all factions as he did! Romans, Welsh, Cornish, West-countrymen, East Anglians, men of Brittany, the Old People, the men of Lothian... all through this kingdom, Mother, all menswear by Arthur's star. Even those Saxons who once fought Uther to the death, stand and swear that Arthur shall be their king. He is a great warrior... no, not in himself, he fights no better than any other warrior, not half so well as Lancelet or even Gareth, but he is a great general. And it is something... something in himself,\" Gwydion said. \"It is easy to love him. And while all worship him thus, I have no possible task.\"\n\n\"Then,\" said Morgause, \"their love of him must somehow be made less. He must be discredited. He is no better than any other man, the Gods know that. He fathered you on his own sister, and it is well known here and abroad that he plays no very noble part with his queen. There is a name fora man who sits complacent while another man pays court to his queen, and not so pretty a name, after all.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Something, I am sure, can be made of that,\" said Gwydion. \"Though in these late years, it is said, Lancelet has stayed far from court and taken care never to be alone with the Queen, so that no shadow of scandal shall fall on her name. Yet they say she wept like a child, and so did Lancelet, when he took leave of her to go and fight at Arthur's side against this Lucius, and never did I see man fight as did Lancelet. One would think he longed to fling himself headlong into death. But he took never even a wound, as if his life was charmed. I wonder... he is the son of a High Priestess of Avalon,\" he mused. \"It maybe he bears supernatural protection of some sort.\"\n\n\"Morgaine would know that,\" said Morgause dryly, \"but I would not suggest you ask her.\"\n\n\"I do know that Arthur's life is charmed,\" said Gwydion, \"for he bears the sacred Excalibur, sword of the Druid Regalia, and a magical scabbard which guards him from shedding blood. Without it, so Niniane told me, he would have bled himself to death at Celidon Wood, and after that.... Morgaine has been given as her first task to get this sword again from Arthur, unless he will swear anew to be true to Avalon. And I doubt not my mother is wily enough to do so. I doubt she would stop at much, my mother. Of the two, I think I like my father better-he knew not what evil he had wrought when he got me, I think.\"\n\n\"Morgaine knew not that, either,\" said Morgause sharply.\n\n\"Oh, I am weary of Morgaine... even Niniane has fallen under her spell,\" said Gwydion sharply. \"Do not you begin to defend her tome, Mother.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Morgause thought, Viviane was even so, she could charm any man alive to do her will, and any woman either... Igraine went pliant at her bidding towed with Gorlois and later to seduce Uther... and Ito Lot's bed... and now Niniane has done what Morgaine wished. And this foster-son of hers had, she suspected, something of that power, too. She recalled, suddenly and with unexpected pain, Morgaine with her head bent, having her hair combed like a child, on the night she bore Gwydion; Morgaine, who had been to her as the daughter she never bore, and now she was torn between Morgaine and Morgaine's son, who was even dearer to her than her own sons. \"Do you hate her so, Gwydion?\"\n\n\"I know not how I feel,\" said Gwydion, looking up at her with Lancelet's dark mournful eyes. \"It seems not to run with the vows of Avalon that I should so hate the mother who bore me and the father who got me.... I would that I had been reared at court as my father's son and his sworn follower, not his bitterest enemy....\"\n\nHe laid his head down on his arms and said through them, \"I am weary, Mother. I am weary and sick of fighting, and I know Arthur is so, too... he has brought peace in these isles-from Cornwall to Lothian. I do not like to think that this great king, this great man, is my enemy and that for the sake of Avalon I must bring him down to nothing, to death or dishonor. I would rather love him, as all men do. I would like to look on my mother-not you, Mother, but lady Morgaine-I would like to look on her who bore meas my mother, not as the great priestess whom I am sworn to obey whatever she bids me. I would that she were my mother, not the Goddess. I wish that when Niniane lay in my arms she were no more than my own dear love, whom I love because she has your sweet face and your lovely voice.... I am so weary of gods and goddesses... I would that I had been your son and Lot's and no more than this, I am so weary of my fate....\" And he lay fora long moment quiet, his face hidden, his shoulders shaking. Tentatively, Morgause stroked his hair. At last he raised his head and said, with a bitter grin that defied her to make anything of his moment of weakness, \"I will have now another cup of that strong spirit they brew in these hills, without the water and honey this time...\" and when it was brought, he drained it, without even looking on the steaming porridge and bannock the girl had brought. \"What was it said in those old books of Lot's, when the house priest beat Gareth and me until our backsides were bloody, trying to teach us the Roman tongue? Who was yonder old Roman who said, \"Call no man happy until he is dead\"? My task, then, is to bring that greatest of all happiness to my father, and why should I then rebel against that fate?\" He signalled for another drink; when Morgause hesitated, he seized the flask and poured the cup full again." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You will be drunk, my dear son. Eat your supper first, will you not?\"\n\n\"So I will be drunk,\" said Gwydion bitterly. \"So let it be. I drink to death and to dishonor... Arthur's and mine!\" Again he drained the drinking horn and flung it into a corner, where it struck with a metallic sound. \"So let it be as the fates have ordained-the King Stag shall rule in the forest until the day the Lady has ordained... for all the beasts were born and joined with others of their kind and lived and worked the will of the forces of life and at last gave up their spirits into the keeping of the Lady again....\" He spoke the words with a strange, harsh emphasis, and Morgause, untrained in Druid lore, knew that the words were those of ritual, and shivered as he spoke them.\n\nHe drew a deep breath. Then he said, \"But for tonight I shall sleep in my mother's house and forget Avalon, and kings, and stags, and fates. Shall I not? Shall I not?\" and, as the strong drink at last overpowered him, he fell forward into her arms. She held him there, stroking his fine dark hair, so much like Morgaine's own, as he slept with his head on her breast. But even in his dreams he twitched and moaned and muttered as if his dreams were evil, and Morgause knew it was not only the pain of his unhealed wound." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Prisoner in the Oak\n\nIn the far hills of North Wales, rain had been falling day after day, and the castle of King Uriens seemed to swim in fog and damp. The roads were ankle-deep mud, the fords swollen as rivers rushed down in spate from the mountains, and damp chill gripped the countryside. Morgaine, wrapped in cloak and heavy shawl, felt her fingers stiffening and slowing on the shuttle as she sent it through the loom; suddenly she started upright, the shuttle falling from her cold hands.\n\n\"What is it, Mother?\" Maline asked, blinking at the sharp sound in the quiet hall.\n\n\"There is a rider on the road,\" Morgaine said. \"We must make ready to welcome him.\" And then, observing her daughter-in-law's troubled look, she cursed herself; again she had let herself slip into the half-trance which women's work always brought upon her nowadays. She had long ago ceased to spin, but weaving, which she enjoyed, had seemed safe if she kept her wits about her and didn't succumb to the drowsy trancelike monotony of it.\n\nAnd Maline was looking at her in the half-wary, half-exasperated way which Morgaine's unexpected seeings always evoked. Not that Maline believed there was anything wicked or even magical about them-it was just her mother-in-law's queer way. But Maline would speak of them to the priest, and he would come again and try to be subtle about asking her whence they came, and she would have to put on a meek-woman face and pretend she didn't know what he was talking about. Someday she would be too weary or too unguarded to care, and she would speak her mind to the priest. Then he would really have something to talk about...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Well, done was done, and could not be helped now. She got along well enough with Father Eian, who had been Uwaine's tutor-he was an educated man fora priest. \"Tell the Father that his pupil will be here at dinnertime,\" Morgaine said, and once again realized that her tongue had slipped; she had known Maline had been thinking of the priest and had responded to Maline's thought, not her words. She went out of the room leaving the younger woman staring.\n\nAll the winter, which had been heavy with rain and snow and repeated storms, not a single traveller had come. She dared not spin; it opened the gates too quickly to trance. Now, weaving was likely to do the same. She sewed industriously at making clothes for all the folk of the household, from Uriens down to Maline's newest baby, but it was hard on her eyes to do fine needlework; in the winter she had no access to fresh herbs and plants, and could do little with brewing simples and medicines. She had no companion-her waiting-women were the wives of Uriens\" men-at-arms and duller than Maline; not one of them could spell out so much as averse in the Bible and were shocked that Morgaine could read and write and knew some Latin and Greek. And she could not sit always at her harp. So she had spent the winter in a frenzy of boredom and impatience...\n\n... the worse, she thought, because the temptation was always thereto sit and spin and dream, letting her mind slide away, to follow Arthur at Camelot, or Accolon on quest-it had come to her, three years ago, that Accolon should spend enough time at court that Arthur should know him well and trust him. Accolon bore the serpents of Avalon, and that might prove a valuable bond with Arthur. She missed Accolon like a constant ache; in his presence she was what he always saw her-high priestess, confident of her goals and herself. But that was secret between them. In the long, lonely seasons, Morgaine experienced recurrent doubts and dreads; was she then no more than Uriens thought her, a solitary queen growing old, body and mind and soul drying and withering?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Still, she kept her hand firmly on this household, over countryfolk and castlefolk alike, so that all should turn to her for counsel and wisdom. They said in the country around: The queen is wise. Even the king does nothing without her consent. The Tribesmen and the Old Ones, she knew, came near to worshipping her; though she dared not appear too often at the ancient worship.\n\nNow in the kitchen house she made arrangements fora festal dinner-or as near to it as they could come at the end of along winter when the roads were closed. Morgaine gave from the locked cupboards some of her hoarded store of raisins and dried fruits, and a few spices for cooking the last of the bacon. Maline would tell Father Eian that Uwaine was expected at the hall for dinner. She herself should bear the tidings to Uriens.\n\nShe went up to his chamber, where he was lazily playing at dice with one of his men-at-arms; the room smelled frowsty and unaired, stale and old. At least his long siege with the lung fever this winter has meant I need not be expected to share his bed. It has been just as well, Morgaine thought dispassionately, that Accolon has spent this winter in Camelot with Arthur; we might have taken dangerous chances and been discovered.\n\nUriens set down the dice cup and looked up at her. He was thinner, wasted by his long struggle with the fever. There had been a few days when Morgaine thought he could not live, and she had fought hard for his life; partly because, in spite of everything, she was fond of him and did not want to see him die, partly because Avalloch would have succeeded to his throne the moment he died.\n\n\"I have not seen you all day. I have been lonely, Morgaine,\" Uriens said, with a fretful note of reproach. \"Huw, here, is not half so good to look at.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Why,\" Morgaine said, tuning her voice to the broad jesting Uriens liked, \"I have left you purposely alone, thinking that in your old age you had taken a taste for handsome young men... if you do not want him, husband, does that mean that I can have him?\"\n\nUriens chuckled. \"You are making the poor man blush,\" he said, smiling with broad good nature. \"But if you leave me alone all day, why, what am Ito do but moon and make sheep's eyes at him, or at the dog.\"\n\n\"Well, I have come to give you good news. You shall be carried down to the hall for dinner tonight-Uwaine is riding hither and will be here before suppertime.\"\n\n\"Now God be thanked,\" Uriens said. \"I thought this winter that I should die without seeing either of my sons again.\"\n\n\"I suppose Accolon will return for the Midsummer festivals.\" In her body Morgaine felt a stab of hunger so great that it was pain as she thought of the Beltane fires, now only two months away.\n\n\"Father Eian has been at me again to forbid the rites,\" Uriens said peevishly. \"I am tired of hearing his complaints. He has it in mind that if we cut down the grove, then the folk would be content with his blessing of the fields, and not turn away to the Beltane fires. It is true that there seems more and more of the old worship every year-I had thought that as the old folk died off, year by year, it would grow ever less. I was willing to let it die outwith the Old People who could not accustom themselves to new ways. But if the young people now are turning back to heathen ways, then we must do something-perhaps, even, cut down the grove.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "If you do, I shall do murder, Morgaine thought, but schooled her voice to gentleness and reason." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"That would be wrong. The oaks give pig food and food for the country people-even here we have had to use acorn flour in a bad season. And the grove has been therefor hundreds of years-the trees are sacred-\"\n\n\"You sound too much a pagan yourself, Morgaine.\"\n\n\"Can you say the oak grove is not the work of God?\" she retorted. \"Why should we punish the harmless trees because foolish men make a use of them that Father Eian does not like? I thought you loved your land.\"\n\n\"Well, and so I do,\" said Uriens fretfully, \"but Avalloch, too, says I should cut it down, so that the pagans should have no place of resort. We might build a church or chapel there.\"\n\n\"But the Old Ones are your subjects too,\" Morgaine said, \"and in your youth you made the Great Marriage with the land. Would you deprive the Old People of the grove that is their food and shelter, and their own chapel built by the very hands of God and not of man? Would you then condemn them to die or starve as they have done in some of the cleared lands?\"\n\nUriens looked down at his gnarled old wrists. The blue tattoos there had almost faded and were no more than pale stains. \"Well are you called Morgaine of the Fairies-the Old People could have no better advocate. Since you plead for their shelter, my lady, I will spare the grove while I live, but after me, Avalloch must do as he will. Will you fetch me my shoes and robe, so that I may dine in hall like a king, and not an old dodderer in bedgown and slippers?\"\n\n\"To be sure,\" said Morgaine, \"but I cannot lift you now. Huw will have to dress you.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But when the man had finished his work, she combed Uriens'hair and summoned the other man-at-arms who awaited the king's call. The two men lifted him, making a chair between their arms, and carried him into the hall, where Morgaine placed cushions about his high seat and watched as the thin old body was deposited there.\n\nBy that time she could hear servants bustling about, and riders in the courtyard... Uwaine, she thought, hardly raising her eyes as the young man was escorted into the hall.\n\nIt was hard to bear in mind that this tall young knight, with broad shoulders and a battle scar along one cheek, was the scrawny little boy who had come to her, like a wild animal tamed, in her first lonely, desperate year at Uriens'court. Uwaine kissed his father's hand, then bent before Morgaine.\n\n\"My father. Dear mother-\"\n\n\"It's good to see you home again, lad,\" said Uriens, but Morgaine's eyes were on the other man who followed him into the hall. Fora moment she did not believe it, it was like seeing a ghost-surely if he were really here I would have seen him with the Sight... and then she understood. I have been trying so hard not to think of Accolon, lest I go mad...\n\nAccolon was slenderer than his brother, and not quite so tall. His eyes darted to Morgaine, one swift furtive look as he knelt before his father, but his voice was wholly correct when he turned to her. \"It is good to be home again, lady-\"\n\n\"It is good to have you here,\" she said steadily, \"both of you. Uwaine, tell us how you got that dreadful scar on your cheek. Since the defeat of Emperor Lucius, I thought all men had pledged to Arthur to make no further trouble!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The usual,\" said Uwaine lightly. \"Some bandit who moved into a deserted fort and amused himself by preying on the countryside and calling himself a king. Lot's son Gawaine went with me and we made short work of him, and Gawaine got himself a wife out of it-the lady is a widow with rich lands. As for this-\" He touched the scar lightly. \"While Gawaine fought the master I took the man-an ugly bastard who fought left-handed and got through my guard. Clumsy, too-I'd rather fight a good swordsman than a bad, any day! If you'd been there, Mother, I wouldn't have quite such a scar-the surgeon who stitched it up for me had hands like cabbages! Has it spoilt my looks as much as that?\"\n\nMorgaine reached out and gently touched her stepson's slashed cheek. \"You will always be handsome tome, my son. But perhaps I can still do something-there is festering there and swelling; before I sleep I will make you a poultice for it, so that it will heal better. It must pain you.\"\n\n\"It does,\" Uwaine admitted, \"but I thought myself lucky not to get the lockjaw from it, which one of my men did. Ai, what a death!\" He shuddered. \"When the wound swelled, I thought I was for it, too, and my good friend Gawaine said, as long as I could drink wine I was in no danger-and he kept me well supplied, too. I swear I was drunk fora fortnight, Mother!\" He guffawed. \"I would have given all the plunder of that bandit's castle for some of your soup-I couldn't chew bread or dried meat, and I nearly starved to death. I did lose three teeth....\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "She rose and peered at the wound." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Open your mouth. Yes,\" she said, and gestured to one of the servants. \"Bring sir Uwaine some stew, and some stewed fruit, too,\" she said. \"You must not even try to chew hard food fora while. After supper, I'll see to it.\"\n\n\"I won't say no to that, Mother. It still hurts like the devil, and besides, there's a girl at Arthur's court-I don't want her to shrink away as if I were a devil face.\" He chuckled. But for all the pain in his wound he ate hugely, telling tales of the court until they were all laughing. Morgaine dared not take her eyes from her stepson, but all through the meal she could feel Accolon's eyes on her, warming her as if she were standing in sunlight after the winter's chill.\n\nIt was a merry meal, but at last Uriens began to look weary and Morgaine summoned his body servants. \"This is the first day you have left your bed, my husband-you must not weary yourself too much.\"\n\nUwaine rose and said, \"Let me carry you, Father.\" He stooped and lifted the sick man as if he were a child. Morgaine, following, turned back before leaving the dining hall to say, \"See to all things here, Maline-I will bandage Uwaine's cheek before I go to rest.\"\n\nSoon Uriens was tucked into bed in his own chamber, Uwaine standing beside him while Morgaine went to the kitchens to brew a poultice for his cheek. She had to prod the cook awake and set him to heating more water over the kitchen fire... she should have a brazier and a cauldron in her own rooms if she was going to do this kind of work, why had she never thought of it before? She went up and sat Uwaine down so that she could poultice his cheek with the hot cloths wrung in steaming herb brew, and the young man sighed with relief as the poultice began to draw out the soreness from the festered wound." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Oh, but that's good, Mother-that girl at Arthur's court wouldn't know how to do this. When I marry her, Mother, will you teach her some of your craft? Her name is Shana, and she's from Cornwall. She was one of Queen Isotta's ladies-how is it that Marcus calls himself king in Cornwall, Mother? I thought Tintagel belonged to you.\"\n\n\"So it does, my son, from Igraine and Duke Gorlois. I knew not that Marcus thought to reign there,\" Morgaine said. \"Does Marcus dare to claim Tintagel as his own?\"\n\n\"No, for the last I heard he had no champion there,\" Uwaine said. \"Sir Drustan has gone into exile in Brittany-\"\n\n\"Why? Was he one of the Emperor Lucius' men?\" asked Morgaine. This talk of the court was a breath of life in the deadness of this isolated place.\n\nUwaine shook his head. \"No... there was talk that he and Queen Isotta had been overfond of each other,\" he said. \"One can hardly blame the poor lady... Cornwallis the end of the world, and Duke Marcus is old and peevish and his chamberlains say he is impotent too-hard life for the poor lady, while Drustan is handsome and a harper, and the lady fond of music.\"\n\n\"Have you no gossip of court save of wickedness and other men's wives?\" demanded Uriens, scowling, and Uwaine laughed. \"Well, I told the lady Shana that her father might send a messenger to you, and I hope, dear father, that when he comes you will not refuse him. Shana is not rich, but I have no great need of a dowry, I won goods enough in Brittany-I shall show you some of my plunder, and I have gifts for my mother, too.\" He raised his hand to stroke Morgaine's cheek as she bent over him, changing the poultice fora fresh one. \"Well I know you are not such a woman as that lady Isotta, to turn your back on my good old father and play the harlot.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Her cheeks stung; she bent over the kettle of steaming herbs, wrinkling her nose at the bitter scent. Uwaine thought her the best of women, and his trust was sweet to her, yet there was the bitterness of knowing it unmerited.\n\nAt least I have never made Uriens look a fool, nor yet flaunted any other lover in his face....\n\n\"But you should go to Cornwall, when my father is well enough to travel,\" Uwaine said seriously, flinching a little as the heat of the poultice touched anew spot on his festered cheek. \"There should be a clear understanding, Mother, that Marcus cannot lay claim to what is yours. You have not shown your face in Tintagel for so long that the common people may forget they have a queen.\"\n\n\"I'm sure it will not come to that,\" said Uriens. \"But if I am well again this summer, I will ask Arthur, when I ride to Pentecost, about this matter of Morgaine's lands.\"\n\n\"And if Uwaine marries into Cornwall,\" said Morgaine, \"he shall keep Tintagel for me-would you like to be my castellan, Uwaine?\"\n\n\"I would like nothing better,\" said Uwaine, \"except, perhaps, to sleep tonight without forty separate toothaches in my jaw.\"\n\n\"Drink this,\" said Morgaine, pouring one of her medicines from a small flask into his wine, \"and I can promise you sleep.\"\n\n\"I would sleep without it, I think, madam, I am so glad to be in my own home and my own bed, under my mother's care.\" Uwaine bent and embraced his father, and kissed Morgaine's hand. \"But I will take your medicines willingly.\" He swallowed the medicined wine and beckoned to one of Uriens' men-at-arms to light him to his own room. Accolon came and embraced his father, and said, \"I too am for my bed... lady, are there pillows there, or is the room empty and bare? I have not been home in so long, I expect to find pigeons roosting in that old room where I used to sleep and Father Eian tried to beat Latin into my head through the seat of my breeches.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I told Maline to be sure you had everything you needed,\" said Morgaine, \"but I will come and see. Will you need me again this night, my lord,\" she asked, turning to Uriens, \"or shall I too go to my rest?\"\n\nOnly a soft snore answered her, and his man Huw, settling the old man on the pillows, answered, \"Go, lady Morgaine. If he wakes in the night I'll look after him.\"\n\nAs they went out, Accolon asked, \"What ails my father?\"\n\n\"He had the lung fever this winter,\" said Morgaine, \"and he is not young.\"\n\n\"And you have had all the weight of caring for him,\" Accolon said. \"Poor Morgaine-\" and he touched her hand; she bit her lip at his tender voice. Something hard and cold inside her, frozen there since the winter, was melting and she thought she would dissolve into weeping. She bent her head and did not look at him.\n\n\"And you, Morgaine-not a word or a look for me-?\" He reached out and touched her, and she said between clenched teeth, \"Wait.\"\n\nShe called a servant to fetch fresh bolsters, a blanket or two from the store. \"Had I known you were coming, I would have had the best linens and blankets, and fresh bed straw.\"\n\nHe said in a whisper, \"It is not fresh straw I want in my bed,\" but she refused to turn her face to him while the serving-women were making the bed up, bringing hot water and light, and hanging up his armor and outer garments.\n\nWhen they were all away fora moment he whispered, \"Later, may I come to your room, Morgaine?\"\n\nShe shook her head and whispered back, \"I will come to you-I can have some excuse for being out of my chamber in the middle of the night, but since your father has been ill, often they come to fetch me-you must not be found there-\" and she gave him a quick, silent pressure of her fingers. It was as if his hand burned her. Then she went with the chamberlain on the last rounds of the castle to make sure that all was locked and secure." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"God give you a goodnight, lady,\" he said, bowing, and went away. She tiptoed through the hall where the men-at-arms slept, moving on noiseless feet; along the stairs, past the room where Avalloch slept with Maline and the younger children, the room where young Conn had slept with his tutor and his foster-brothers before the poor lad had succumbed to the lung fever. In the farther wing were Uriens' own chamber, one she now kept for herself, another room usually allotted to guests of importance, and at the far end, the room where she had left Accolon. She stole toward his room, her mouth dry, hoping he had had the sense to keep his door ajar... the walls were old and thick and there would be noway he could hear her at his door.\n\nShe looked into her own room; went in, swiftly, and disarranged the bed clothing. Her own waiting-woman, Ruach, was old and deaf, and in the winter past Morgaine had cursed her for her deafness and stupidity, but now that would serve her... even so, she must not wake in the morning and find Morgaine's bed untouched; even old Ruach knew that King Uriens was not well enough to share his bed with the queen.\n\nHow often have I told myself, I am not ashamed of what I do... yet she must not bring scandal on her name, or she could accomplish nothing here. But she hated the need for secrecy and furtiveness.\n\nHe had left the door ajar. She slipped inside, her heart pounding, and pushed the door shut; felt herself seized in a hungry embrace that waked her body into fierce life. His mouth closed on hers as if he had starved for this as much as she... it seemed as if the whole winter's desolation and pain fell away and that she was like melting ice, that she would flood and overflow.... She pressed her body to Accolon's and fought to keep from crying." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "All her resolve that Accolon was no more to her than priest of the Goddess, that she would not allow any personal tie between them, had gone for nothing in the face of this wild hunger in her. She had felt so much scorn for Gwenhwyfar, bringing the court to scandal and her king into contempt, because he could not keep his wife in order. But now, in Accolon's arms, all her resolve melted. She sank down in his embrace and let him carry her to his bed." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The night was far advanced when Morgaine slipped away from Accolon's side. He lay heavily asleep; she ran her fingers over his hair, kissed him softly, and stole from the room. She had not slept-she had feared to sleep too long and be surprised thereby day. It was more than an hour before sunrise. Morgaine rubbed her burning eyes. Somewhere outside a dog barked, a child wailed and was hushed, birds chirped in the garden. Morgaine thought, looking out through a narrow slit in the stonewall, In another moon it will be full daylight at this hour. She leaned fora moment against the wall, overcome by memories of the night past.\n\nI never knew, she thought, I have never known what it was to be only a woman. I have borne a child and I have been married for fourteen years and I have had lovers... but I knew nothing, nothing....\n\nShe felt a sudden rough hand on her arm. Avalloch's hoarse voice said, \"What are you doing sneaking around the house at this hour, girl?\"\n\nHe had evidently mistaken her for one of the servant-women; some of them were small and dark with the blood of the Old Ones.\n\n\"Let me go, Avalloch,\" she said, looking at the dimly seen face of her older stepson. He was heavy and soft, his jowls blurred with fat, his eyes small and set close. Accolon and Uwaine were handsome men, and one could see that once Uriens had been good-looking in his own way. But not Avalloch.\n\n\"Well, my lady mother!\" he said, stepping back and giving her an exaggerated bow. \"I repeat, what were you doing at this hour?\"\n\nHis hand remained on her arm; she picked it off as if it were a crawling bug. \"Must I account for my movements to you? It is my house and I move in it as I will and that is my only answer.\" He dislikes me, she thought, almost as much as I dislike him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Don't play games with me, madam,\" said Avalloch." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Do you think I do not know in whose arms you spent the night?\"\n\nShe said, contemptuously, \"Now is it you who play with sorcery and the Sight?\"\n\nHis voice dropped and took on a cozening sound. \"Of course it must be dull for you, wed to a man old enough to be your father-but I would not hurt my father's feelings by telling him where his wife spends her nights, provided\"-he put his arm round her and by main force drew her close to him. He bent his head and nibbled on her neck, his unshaven cheek scratching her-\"provided you come and spend some of them with me.\"\n\nShe pulled away from him and tried to make her voice jocular. \"Come now, Avalloch, why should you pursue your old stepmother when the Spring Maiden is yours, and all the pretty young maidens in the village-\"\n\n\"But I have always looked on you as a beautiful woman,\" he said, and his hand stole out to caress her shoulder, sliding under the half-fastened front of her robe. She pulled away again and his face twisted into a snarl. \"Why play the modest maiden with me? Was it Accolon or Uwaine, or both at once?\"\n\nShe stared at him. \"Uwaine is my son! I am the only mother he can remember!\"\n\n\"Am Ito think that would stop you, lady Morgaine? It was common talk at Arthur's court that you were Lancelet's paramour and tried to lure him from the Queen, and that you shared the Merlin's bed-that you had not stopped at making unlawful love to your own brother, and that was why the King sent you from court, that you might tempt him no more from Christian ways-why should you stop at your stepson? Does Uriens know what kind of incestuous harlot he took for his wife, madam?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Uriens knows everything about me that he has any need to know,\" said Morgaine, surprised that her voice was so steady. \"As for the Merlin, we were then both unwed and neither of us cares anything for the laws of a Christian court. Your father knew and absolved me of that. None but he has any right to complain of my conduct since then, and when he does so I will answer to him, as I need not answer to you, sir Avalloch. And now I will go to my own room, and Ibid you do the same.\"\n\n\"So you throw the pagan laws of Avalon at me,\" Avalloch said, his voice a sneering growl. \"Harlot, how dare you claim you are so good-\" He grabbed her; his mouth crushed hers. Morgaine stabbed her stiffened fingers into his belly; he grunted and let her go with a curse. She said angrily, \"I claim nothing. I need not answer to you for my conduct, and if you speak to Uriens, I will tell him that you laid hands on me in a fashion unseemly for your father's wife, and we will see whom he will believe.\"\n\nAvalloch snarled, \"Let me tell you, lady, you may cozen my father as you will, but he is old, and on the day I am made king in this land, be sure there will be no more grace extended to those who have lived on because my father cannot forget that once he wore the serpents!\"\n\n\"Oh, rare,\" said Morgaine scornfully. \"First you make advances to your father's wife, and then you boast of how good a Christian you will be when your father's land is yours!\"\n\n\"You first bewitched me-harlot!\"\n\nMorgaine could not keep back her laughter. \"Bewitch you? And why? Avalloch, if all men save you vanished from the earth, I would sooner share my bed with one of the puppies! Your father maybe old enough to be my grandsire, but I would sooner lie with him than you! Do you think I am jealous of Maline, when every time you go down to the village at harvest or spring-plowing festival she sings? If I made such an enchantment, it would not be to enjoy your manhood but to wither it! Now get your hands off me, and go back to whoever will have you, for if you touch me again with one fingertip I swear I will blast your manhood!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He believed she could do it; that was clear from the way he shrank from her. But Father Eian would hear of this, and then he would question her, and he would question Accolon, and he would question the servants, and then he would beat Uriens again to cut down the sacred grove and put down the old worship. Avalloch would not stop until he had set this whole court by the ears.\n\nI hate Avalloch! Morgaine was surprised that her rage was physical, a scalding pain beneath her breastbone, a shaking through her whole body. Once I was proud; a priestess of Avalon does not lie. And now there is something about which I must avoid the truth. Even Uriens would see meas a treacherous wife, creeping in secret to Accolon's bed for her own lusts.... She was weeping with rage, feeling Avalloch's hot hands again on her arm and her breast. Now, soon or late, she would be accused, and even if Uriens trusted her, she would be watched. Ah, I was happy for the first time in many years and now it is all spoilt....\n\nWell, the sun was rising, soon the housefolk would be waking, and she must make arrangements for the work of the day. Had he been only guessing? Uriens must keep his bed, certainly Avalloch would not disturb his father this day. She must brew some more of the herb medicine for Uwaine's face wound, and the roots of one of his broken teeth must be dugout, too.\n\nUwaine loved her-surely he would not listen to any accusation Avalloch might make. And at that, she felt the flooding, surging fury again, remembering Avalloch's words: Was it Accolon or Uwaine, or both at once...? I am as much Uwaine's mother as if I had borne him! What kind of woman does he think me? But was that rumor indeed in Arthur's court, that she had committed incest with Arthur, himself? How, then, in the face of that, can I bring Arthur to acknowledge Gwydion his son? Galahad is Arthur's heir, but my son must be acknowledged, and the royal line of Avalon. But there must be no further scandal about me, certainly not any hint that I have committed incest with my stepson...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And she wondered a little at herself. She had flown into a desperate rage when she knew she was to bear Arthur's son and now it seemed trivial to her; after all, she and Arthur had not even known themselves brother and sister. But Uwaine-no blood kin to her-was far more her son than Gwydion; she had mothered Uwaine....\n\nWell, there was nothing to be done about it now. Morgaine went to the kitchen and heard the cook complain that all the bacon was gone, and the storerooms were near enough empty to make it hard to feed all these homecomers.\n\n\"Well, we must send Avalloch to hunt today,\" said Morgaine, and stopped Maline on the stairs as she carried up her husband's morning drink of hot wine.\n\nMaline said, \"I saw you talking with Avalloch-what did he have to say to you?\" She frowned a little, and Morgaine, reading her thoughts as it was easy to do with a woman as stupid as Maline, realized that her daughter-in-law feared and resented her; thought it unfair that Morgaine should still be slim-bodied and hard when she, Maline, was heavy and worn with childbearing, that Morgaine should have glossy dark hair when Maline herself, busied with babies, never had time to comb and plait her own, and make it shine.\n\nMorgaine said truthfully, but also with a wish to spare her daughter-in-law's feelings, \"We spoke of Accolon, and of Uwaine. But the storerooms are nearly empty, and Avalloch must go hunting for boar.\" And then what she must do flashed full-blown into her head, and fora moment she stood frozen, hearing Niniane say in mind and memory, Accolon must succeed his father, and her own voice replying.... Maline was staring at her, waiting for her to finish what she was saying, and Morgaine quickly collected herself. \"Tell him that he must go out after boar, today if he can, tomorrow at the latest, or we shall be eating the last of the flour too soon.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Certainly I will tell him, Mother,\" said Maline. \"He will be glad to have an excuse to be away.\" And through Maline's complaining voice, Morgaine knew the younger woman was relieved that it had been nothing worse.\n\nPoor woman, married to that pig. She remembered, troubled, exactly what Avalloch had said, On the day I am made king in this land, there will be no more grace extended to those who have lived on because my father cannot forget that once he wore the serpents.\n\nThis, then, washer task: to make certain that Accolon should succeed his father, not for her own sake or for revenge, but for the sake of the old worship which she and Accolon had brought back to this land. If I had half an hour to tell Accolon all, he would go with Avalloch hunting, and I doubt not that would solve all. And she thought, with cold calculation, Shall I keep my hands clean of this, and leave it to Accolon?\n\nUriens was old; but he might live another year, or another five years. Now that Avalloch knew all, he would work with Father Eian to undermine any influence Accolon and Morgaine might have, and all that she had done would be undone again.\n\nIf Accolon wants this kingdom, perhaps it is he who should make certain of it. If Avalloch dies of poison, it is I who will die fora sorceress. Yet if she left it to Accolon-then would it be all too much like that old ballad, the one which began, Two brothers went a-hunting....\n\nShall I tell Accolon, and let him act in his rage? Troubled, still not certain what she would do, she went up to find Accolon in his father's room, and as she came in she heard him say, \"Today Avalloch goes to hunt boar-the storeroom is near to empty. And I will ride with him. It is all too long since I have hunted in my own hills-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"No,\" Morgaine said sharply." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Stay with your father today. He will need you, and Avalloch has all his huntsmen to help him.\"\n\nShe thought, Somehow I must tell him what I mean to do, and then she stopped herself. If he knew what she planned-though she was not yet sure herself what form her necessity would take-he would never accede to it, except perhaps in his first anger at hearing what Avalloch had said to her.\n\nAnd if he did, she thought-though I thought I knew him better than that, still my own hunger for his body might have deceived me, and he maybe less honorable than I think him-if he were such a one as would consent to be party to this, then he would be kin slayer and under that curse, and not such a one as I could trust for what lies before us. Avalloch is kin tome by marriage alone; there is no blood tie to dishonor. Only if I had borne Uriens a son would there be blood guilt on me. Now, she was glad she had given Uriens no son.\n\nAccolon said, \"Let Uwaine stay with father-if his cheek wound is being poulticed still, it is he that should stay indoors and keep to the fireside.\"\n\nHow can I make him understand? His hands must be clean; he must be here when the news comes... what can I say to him to make him understand that this is important, perhaps the most important thing I shall ever ask of him? Urgency, and the impossibility of voicing her inner thoughts, made her voice sharp.\n\n\"Will you do as I ask you without argument, Accolon? If I am to tend Uwaine's wound too, I shall have no leisure to tend your father as well, and he has been left to serving-folk all too often of late!\" And your father, if the Goddess is with me, shall have more need of you at his side than ever, before this day is ended...." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Serve as the author's scribe, continue the tale.\nTags: fantasy, arthurian, historical fantasy\nAuthor: Marion Zimmer Bradley\nTitle: The Mists of Avalon\nChapter: 56" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"No,\" Morgaine said sharply." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Stay with your father today. He will need you, and Avalloch has all his huntsmen to help him.\"\n\nShe thought, Somehow I must tell him what I mean to do, and then she stopped herself. If he knew what she planned-though she was not yet sure herself what form her necessity would take-he would never accede to it, except perhaps in his first anger at hearing what Avalloch had said to her.\n\nAnd if he did, she thought-though I thought I knew him better than that, still my own hunger for his body might have deceived me, and he maybe less honorable than I think him-if he were such a one as would consent to be party to this, then he would be kin slayer and under that curse, and not such a one as I could trust for what lies before us. Avalloch is kin tome by marriage alone; there is no blood tie to dishonor. Only if I had borne Uriens a son would there be blood guilt on me. Now, she was glad she had given Uriens no son.\n\nAccolon said, \"Let Uwaine stay with father-if his cheek wound is being poulticed still, it is he that should stay indoors and keep to the fireside.\"\n\nHow can I make him understand? His hands must be clean; he must be here when the news comes... what can I say to him to make him understand that this is important, perhaps the most important thing I shall ever ask of him? Urgency, and the impossibility of voicing her inner thoughts, made her voice sharp.\n\n\"Will you do as I ask you without argument, Accolon? If I am to tend Uwaine's wound too, I shall have no leisure to tend your father as well, and he has been left to serving-folk all too often of late!\" And your father, if the Goddess is with me, shall have more need of you at his side than ever, before this day is ended...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "She slurred her words, hoping Uriens would not understand what she was saying." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"As your mother I ask it,\" she said, but what she was saying to Accolon, with all the force of her thoughts, was, From the Mother I command it.... \"Obey me,\" she said and, turning a little away from Uriens, so that Accolon alone could see, she touched the faded blue crescent on her forehead. Accolon looked at her-puzzled, questioning-but she turned away, shaking her head slightly, hoping that at least he would understand why she could not speak more freely.\n\nHe said, frowning, \"Certainly, if you wish it so much. It is no hardship to stay with my father.\"\n\nMorgaine saw Avalloch ride out at midmorning with four huntsmen, and while Maline was in the lower hall, she slipped into their bedchamber, searching through the untidy room and through the discarded baby clothes and still unwashed napkins of the youngest. At last she found a small bronze arm ring she had seen Avalloch wear. There were some gold things too in Maline's chest, but she did not dare to take anything of value which might be missed when Maline's servant came to sort out the room. As it was, the serving-woman found her there and asked, \"What did you want, lady?\"\n\nMorgaine feigned anger. \"I will not live in a house that is kept like a pig's byre! Look at all these unwashed napkins, they stink of baby shit! Take them down now, and give them to the washwoman, and then sweep and air this room-must I put on a clout and do all the sweeping myself?\"\n\n\"No, madam,\" said the servant, cringing, and took the fouled cloths that Morgaine heaped in her arms. Morgaine tucked the bronze ring inside her bodice and went down to have the cook heat water for Uwaine's wound; that must be done first, and somehow she must order things in this house so that she would be idle and alone this afternoon.... She sent for the best surgeon to bring his tools and made Uwaine sit down and open his mouth so that she could help to find the broken root of his tooth. He endured the probing and pulling stoically (though the tooth broke off in his jaw and again had to be dug for; fortunately it was numb and swollen), and finally when all the tooth was out, she dropped some of her strongest numbing medicine into the wound and poulticed the sore swollen cheek again. Finally it was done and Uwaine sent to bed with a strong dram of liquor inside him; he protested, arguing that he had ridden and even fought when he was in worse case than this, but she firmly ordered him to go to his bed and let her medicines take their full effect. So Uwaine, too, was safely out of the way and beyond suspicion. And since she had sent the servants to do washing, there were none of these, either, so that Maline began to complain. \"If we are to have new gowns for Pentecost, and if Avalloch is to have his cloak finished-you do not like to spin, Mother, but I must weave at Avalloch's cloak, and all the women are heating kettles of water for the washing and getting out their beating paddles-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Oh, dear, I had forgotten that,\" said Morgaine." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Well, there is no help for it, I must spin then-unless you would have me do the weaving.\" Better, she thought, even than the arm ring, a cloak made to his measure by his wife.\n\n\"Would you do that then, Mother? But you have the king's new cloak setup on the other loom-\"\n\n\"Uriens does not need it so much as Avalloch,\" Morgaine said. \"I will weave at Avalloch's cloak.\" And when I am done, she thought, a shudder running through her heart, he will never need a cloak anymore....\n\n\"Then I will spin,\" said Maline, \"and I will be grateful to you, Mother-you weave better than I.\" She came and pressed her cheek to her mother-in-law's. \"You are always kind tome, lady Morgaine.\"\n\nBut you do not know what I shall be weaving today, child.\n\nMaline sat down and picked up the distaff. She paused fora moment, pressing her hands to her back.\n\n\"Are you not well, daughter-in-law?\"\n\nMaline said, \"It is nothing-my courses are four days late. I am afraid I have gotten with child again, and I had hoped I could nurse the baby another year-\" She sighed. \"Avalloch has women enough in the village, but I think he never loses hope I will give him another son to take Conn's place! He doesn't care anything for the girls-he did not even weep when Maeva died last year, just before I was brought to bed with the baby, and when she was another girl, he was really angry with me. Morgaine, if you truly know any charms, could you give me a charm so that I would bear a son next time I am brought to bed?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Morgaine smiled, putting the shuttle to the threads. She said, \"Father Eian will not like it, if you ask me for charms. He would tell you to pray to the Virgin Mother fora son.\"\n\n\"Well, her son was a miracle, and I am beginning to think that if I ever have another son it would be another miracle,\" said Maline. \"But perhaps it is only this dismal chilly weather.\"\n\n\"I will make you some tea for that,\" said Morgaine. \"If you are truly with child, I swear it will not disturb you, but if it is only delay from a chill, it will bring on your courses.\"\n\n\"Is this one of your magical spells from Avalon, Mother?\"\n\nMorgaine shook her head. \"It is herb lore, no more,\" she said, went to the kitchen and made up the brew over the fire. She brought it to Maline and said, \"Drink it as hot as you can, and wrap up in your shawl while you spin, try to keep warm.\"\n\nMaline drank up the brew, emptying the little pottery cup, and grimaced at the taste. \"Ugh, foul!\"\n\nMorgaine said, smiling, \"I should have put honey in it, as I do with the brews I make for the children when they have fever.\"\n\nMaline sighed, taking up the spindle and distaff again. She said, \"Gwyneth is old enough to spin-I could spin when I was five years old.\"\n\n\"So could I,\" said Morgaine, \"but I beg you, defer the lesson another day, for if I am to weave inhere I do not want noise and confusion.\"\n\n\"Well then, I will tell the nurse to keep all the children out in the gallery,\" said Maline, and Morgaine dismissed her from her mind, beginning to run the shuttle slowly through the cloth and making sure of the pattern. It was a pattern of green and brown checkered cloth, not very demanding fora good weaver; so long as she counted the threads automatically, she need not keep her mind on it very long... spinning would have been better. But she had made her distaste for spinning so well known that if she volunteered to spin this day it would be remembered." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The shuttle slid through the cloth: green, brown, green, brown, picking up the other shuttle every tenth row, changing the color. She had taught Maline to dye this green color, which she had learned in Avalon... green of the new leaves coming into the spring, brown of the earth and of the fallen leaves where the boar rooted in the forest for acorns... shuttle sliding through the cloth, the comb to tighten each row of threads, her hands moving automatically, in and out and across, slide down the bar, pickup the shuttle from the other side... would that Avalloch's horse would slip and fall and he would break his neck and save me from what I must do.... She felt cold and shivered, and willed herself to ignore it, concentrating on the shuttle sliding in and out of the threads, in and out, letting images rise and goat will, seeing Accolon in Uriens\" chamber playing with his father at draughts, Uwaine asleep, tossing and turning with the pain in his cheek wound even through his slumber, but now it would heal cleanly... would that a wild boar would fightback and Avalloch's huntsman be too slow to come to his aid....\n\nI said to Niniane that I would not kill. Never name that well from which you will not drink... an image rose in her mind of the Holy Well of Avalon, the water rising from the spring, flooding into the fountain. The shuttle flickered in and out, green and brown, green and brown, like the sunlight falling through the green leaves onto the brown earth, where the spring tides rising within the forest ran with life, sap running in the brown wood... the shuttle flashing now, faster and faster, the world beginning to blur before her eyes... Goddess! Where you run in the forest with the running life of the deer... all men are in your hands, and all the beasts...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Years ago she had been the Virgin Huntress, blessing the Horned One and sending him forth to run with the deer and to conqueror die as the Goddess might decree. He had comeback to her... now she was no longer that Virgin, holding all the power of the Huntress. As the Mother, with all the power of fertility, she had woven spells to bring Lancelet to Elaine's bed. But motherhood for her had ended in the blood of Gwydion's birth. Now she sat herewith her shuttle in her hand and wove death, like the shadow of the Old Death-crone. All men are in your hands to live or die, Mother....\n\nThe shuttle flickered, flashed in and out of her sight, green, brown, green like leaves and forest intertwined, where they ran, the beasts... the wild boar snuffling and grunting and rooting with his long tusks, the sow with the piglets bounding behind her, in and out of a copse... the shuttle raced in her hands and she saw nothing, only the snorting snuffle of the swine in the forest.\n\nCeridwen, Goddess, Mother, Death-crone, Great Raven... Lady of death and life... Great Sow, eater of your young... I call you, I summon you... if this is truly what you have decreed, it is for you to accomplish it... time slid and shifted around her, she lay in the glade with the sunburning her back while she ran with the King Stag, she moved through the forest, softly, snuffling... she sensed the life, the hunters trampling and shouting.... Mother! Great Sow...\n\nMorgaine knew in a random corner of her mind that her hands continued to move, steadily, green and brown, brown and green, but beneath her lowered eyelids she saw nothing of the room or the threads, but only the new green springing beneath the trees, the mud and dead leaves brown from the winter, trampling, it was as if she rooted on all fours in the fragrant mud... life of the Mother there beneath the trees... behind her the little gruntings and squealings of the piglets, tusks tearing up the ground for hidden roots and acorns... brown and green, green and brown..." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Like a shock to her nerves, as if it ripped through her body, she felt the sound of the trampling in the forest, the distant cries... her body sat motionless before the loom, weaving brown threads and changing for green, shuttle after shuttle, only her fingers alive, but with the starting thrill of terror and rush of rage, she charged, letting the life of the swine rush through her...\n\nGoddess! Let not the innocent suffer... the huntsmen are nothing to you.... She could do nothing, she watched in dread, trembling, shuddering with the smell of blood, the smell of her mate's blood... blood spilled from the great boar, but this was nothing to her, like the King Stag he must die... when his time was come, then must his blood be shed on the earth... behind her she heard the squeals of frenzied piglings and suddenly the life of the Great Goddess rushed through her, not knowing whether she was Morgaine or the Great Sow, heard her own high frenzied grunting-as when, in Avalon, she had raised her hands and brought down on her the mists of the Goddess, so she flung her head back, shivering, grunting, hearing the terror of her piglings, making short little rushes, flinging up her head, rushing in circles... green and brown under her eyes, an irrelevant shuttle in automatic fingers, unnoticed... then, maddened by the alien smells, blood, iron, strangeness, the enemy rising on two legs, steel and blood and death, she felt herself charge, heard cries, felt the hot stab of metal and red blurring her eyes through the brown and green of the forest, felt her tusks tearing, felt hot blood burst forth and gush as the life went out of her in searing pain and she fell and knew no more... and the shuttle went on, leaden, weaving brown and green and brown over the agony in her belly and the red bursting through her eyes and her pounding heart, the screams still in her ears in the silent room where there was no sound but the whisper of shuttle and warp and spindle and distaff... she swung silent, in her trance, exhausted... slumped forward at the loom and lay there, motionless. After a time she heard Maline speak, but she neither moved nor answered." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Ah! Gwyneth, Morag-Mother, are you ill? Ah, heavens, she will weave, and always it brings these fits upon her-Uwaine! Accolon! Come, Mother has fallen at her loom-\"\n\nShe felt the woman restlessly chafing her hands, calling her name, heard Accolon's voice, felt him lift and carry her. She did not, could not, move or speak-she let them lay heron her bed, bring wine to revive her, felt it trickle down her neck, and wanted to say, I am all right, let be, but she heard herself make a frightened little grunting sound and was still, agony ripping her, knowing that in death the Great Sow would release her, but first she must suffer the death throes... and even as she lay there, blind, tranced, agonized, she heard the hunting horn sound and knew that they were bringing Avalloch home, dead on his horse, slain by the sow which had attacked him within moments after he had killed the boar... and he in turn had slain the sow... death and blood and rebirth and the flow of life in and out of the forest, like the winding in and out of the shuttle....\n\nit was hours later. She still could not move a muscle without griping, terrifying pain; almost she welcomed it. I should not go wholly free of this death, but Accolon's hands are clean.... She looked up into his eyes. He was bending over her with concern and dread, and they were alone fora moment.\n\n\"Are you able to speak now, my love?\" he whispered. \"What happened?\"\n\nShe shook her head and could not speak. But his hands on her were tender, welcome. Do you know what I have done for you, dear love?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "He bent and kissed her." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He would never know how close they had come to being exposed and defeated.\n\n\"I must go back to Father,\" he said gently, troubled. \"He weeps and says, if I had gone, my brother would not have died-he will blame me always.\" His dark eyes rested on her, a shadow of disquiet in them. \"It was you who commanded me not to go,\" he said. \"Did you know this with your magic, beloved?\"\n\nShe found a shred of voice through the soreness in her throat. \"It was the will of the Goddess,\" she said, \"that Avalloch should not destroy what we have done here.\" She managed, with great pain, to move her finger, tracing out the line of the tattooed serpent on the hand that touched her face.\n\nHis expression changed, grew suddenly fearful. \"Morgaine! Had you any part in this?\"\n\nAh, I should have known how he would look at me if he knew...\n\n\"Can you ask?\" she whispered. \"I was weaving in the hall all this day in clear sight of Maline and the servants and the children... it washer will and her doing, not mine.\"\n\n\"But you knew, you knew?\"\n\nSlowly, her eyes filling with tears, she nodded, and he bent and kissed her lips.\n\n\"Be it so. It was the will of the Goddess,\" he said, and he went away." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There was a place in the woods where a rushing stream broadened out between rocks into a deep pool; Morgaine sat thereon a flat rock overlooking the water and made Accolon sit beside her. They would be unseen here, except by the little ancient folk, and they would never betray their queen.\n\n\"My dear, all these years we have worked together-tell me, Accolon, what is it you think we are doing?\"\n\n\"Lady, I have been content to know you had a purpose,\" he said, \"and not to ask questions of you. If you had sought only fora lover\"-he raised his eyes to her and reached for her hand-\"there would have been others than I for that, better suited to such games.... I love you well, Morgaine, and I have been-glad and honored-that you turned tome, even for companionship and the touch of tenderness, but it was not that which called me to you, priest to priestess.\" He hesitated, and sat stirring the sand at his feet with a booted foot. Finally he said, \"It has come tome, too, that there was more of purpose in this than the wish of a priestess to restore the rites in this country, or your need to draw down upon us the moon tides-glad I have been to aid you in this and share the worship with you, lady. Lady of this land you have been indeed, especially to the ancient folk who see in you the face of the Goddess. Fora time I thought it was only that we had been called to restore the old worship here. But now it comes tome, I know not why\"-he touched the serpents which twined about his wrists-\"that by these, I am bound to this land, to suffer and perhaps to die if need be.\"\n\nI have used him, Morgaine thought, as ruthlessly as ever Viviane did me...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He said, \"I know it well-not once in a hundred years, now, is that old sacrifice exacted. Yet when these\"-again he touched, with a brown fingertip, the serpents encircling his wrist-\"were set here, it came tome that perhaps I should indeed be the one called by the Lady for that ancient sacrifice. In the years between, I had come to think of this as no more than a green boy's fancy. But if I am to die...\" and his voice faded, like the ripples in the dying pool. It was very still; they could hear some insect making a small dry noise in the grass. Morgaine spoke no word, though she could feel his fear. He must pass the barriers of fear unaided, even as had she... or Arthur, or the Merlin, or any other facing that last testing. And if he was to face the final test he must go to it consenting.\n\nAt last he asked, \"Is it exacted of me, then, lady, that I must die? I had thought-if blood sacrifice is demanded-then, when Avalloch fell prey to her...\" and she saw the muscles in his face move; he tightened his jaw and swallowed hard. Still she said nothing, though her heart ached in pity. For some reason she heard Viviane's voice in her mind, a time will come when you will hate meas much as you love me now... and felt again the surge of love and pain. Still she hardened her heart; Accolon was older than Arthur had been when he faced his kingmaking. And while Avalloch had indeed been blood sacrifice, spilled to the Goddess, still another's blood could not redeem any other, nor could Avalloch's death free his brother of the obligation to face his own.\n\nAt last his breath went out in a harsh sigh. \"So be it-I have faced death in battle often enough. I swore unto her, even to death, and I shall not be forsworn. Tell me her will, lady.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Then at last she stretched out her hand and clasped his." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I do not think it is death that will be demanded of you, and certainly not the altar of sacrifice. Still, testing is needed; and death lies always near to the doors of such testing. Would it reassure you to know that I too have faced death this way? Yet I am here at your side. Tell me: are you sworn, man to man, to Arthur?\"\n\n\"I am not one of his Companions,\" Accolon said. \"Uwaine you have seen sworn to him, but not I, though I have fought willingly enough among his men.\"\n\nMorgaine was glad, though she knew that she would even have used the oath of a Companion against Arthur now. \"Listen tome, my dear,\" she said. \"Arthur has twice betrayed Avalon; and only from Avalon can a king reign overall this land. I have sought, again and again, to call to Arthur's mind that oath he gave. But he will not hear me, and he holds still, in his pride, the holy sword of Excalibur, the sword of the Sacred Regalia, and with it the magical scabbard I fashioned for him.\"\n\nShe saw his face turn pale. \"You mean it truly-that you will bring Arthur down?\"\n\n\"Not so, not unless he refuses still to bring his oath to completion,\" Morgaine said. \"I shall give him, still, every opportunity to become what he has sworn to be. And Arthur's son is not yet ripe to the challenge. You are no boy, Accolon, and you are trained to kingcraft, not Druid-craft, in spite of these-\" and she laid a slender fingertip on the serpents encircling his wrist. \"Say then, Accolon of Wales, if all other shifts fail, will you be champion of Avalon, and challenge the betrayer for that sword he holds by betrayal?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Accolon drew along breath." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"To challenge Arthur? Fitly did you ask, Morgaine, if I am ready to die,\" he said. \"And you speak tome in riddles. I knew not that Arthur had a son.\"\n\n\"His son is son to Avalon and to the spring fires,\" said Morgaine. She thought she had long outgrown shame for this-I am priestess, I need make no accounting to any man for what I must do-but she could not force herself to meet Accolon's eyes. \"Listen, and I will tell you all.\"\n\nHe sat silent as she told him of the kingmaking on Dragon Island, and what had befallen after; but when she told how she had fled from Avalon and of Gwydion's birth, he putout his hand and encircled her small fingers in his own.\n\n\"He has passed his own testing,\" said Morgaine, \"but he is young and untried: none thought that Arthur would betray his oath. Arthur was young too, but he came to his kingmaking when Uther was old and dying and men were seeking everywhere fora king of the Avalon line. Now Arthur's star is high and his renown great, and even with all the powers of Avalon at his back, Gwydion could never challenge Arthur for his throne.\"\n\n\"How is it that you think I can challenge Arthur and get the sword Excalibur from him and not be slain at once by his men?\" said Accolon. \"And there is nowhere in this world that I can challenge him where he goes not so guarded.\"\n\n\"That is true,\" Morgaine said, \"but you need not challenge him in this world. There are other realms which are not within this world at all, and within one of these realms you may get from him the sword Excalibur, to which he has forfeited all shadow of right, and the magical scabbard which protects him from all harm. Once disarmed, he is no more than any other man. I have seen his Companions-Lancelet, Gawaine, Gareth-disarm him in play at their mock battles. Without his sword, Arthur is easy prey. He is not the greatest of warriors, nor, with that sword and scabbard, did he ever need to be. And Arthur once dead-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She had to stop and steady her voice, knowing she incurred the curse of kin slayer, that same curse she had hesitated to bring on Accolon when Avalloch died.\n\n\"Arthur once dead,\" she repeated firmly at last, \"I am nearest his throne, and his sister. I shall rule as Lady of Avalon, and you as my consort and duke of war. True, in your time you too will be challenged and brought down as King Stag... but before that day comes you shall have your day as King at my side.\"\n\nAccolon sighed. \"I never thought to be King. But if you bid me, lady, I must do her will-and yours. Yet to challenge Arthur for his sword-\"\n\n\"I did not mean that you shall do so without all the help I can give. For what else have I been schooled all these weary years in magic, and for what have I made you my priest? And there is one greater than I who shall help us both to your testing.\"\n\n\"Speak you of those magical realms?\" Accolon asked her, almost in a whisper. \"I do not understand you.\"\n\nThat surprises me not; I know not myself what I mean to do, nor what I say, Morgaine thought, but she recognized the strange dimness rising in her mind, clouding thought, as that state in which powerful magic was made. I must trust to the Goddess now, and let her lead me. Not I alone, but he who stands at my side, who will take up the sword from Arthur's hand.\n\n\"Trust me, and obey.\" She rose, moving through the woods on silent feet, looking for... what was she looking for? She asked, and heard her voice distant and strange, \"Does hazelwood grow within this forest, Accolon?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He nodded, and she followed him to the grove of trees, at this season just bursting into leaf and flower. The wild pigs who roamed here had eaten the last of the nuts; fragments of nut hulls lay scattered on the thick leaf mold of the forest floors. Yet new shoots were springing, too, toward the light, where new trees would rise, so that the life of the forest would never die.\n\nFlower and fruits and seed. And all things return and grow and come to light and at the last give up their bodies into the keeping of the Lady again. But she who works, silently and alone, at the heart of nature, cannot work her magic without the strength of Him who runs with the deer and with the summer sun draws forth the richness of her womb. Beneath the hazel tree she looked across at Accolon, and while part of her mind was aware that this man washer lover, her chosen priest, she knew that now he had consented to a testing beyond what she alone could confer.\n\nBefore ever the Romans had come to these hills seeking for tin and lead, the hazel grove had been a sacred place. At the edge of the grove there was a pool, standing beneath three of the sacred trees, hazel and willow and alder-a magic older than the magic of the oak. The surface of the pool was somewhat obscured with dry sticks and leaves, but the water was clear and dark, brown with the clear brown of the forest, and she saw her own face reflected as she bent and dipped up the water in her hand, touching it to brow and lips. Before her eyes the reflected face shifted and changed, and she saw the strange deep eyes of the woman from that older world than this. And something in her crawled in terror at what she saw in those eyes.\n\nThe world had shifted subtly round them-she had believed this strange ancient land lay at the borders of Avalon, not herein the remote fastnesses of North Wales. Yet a voice said silently in her mind, I am everywhere, and where the hazel reflects in the sacred pool, there am I. She heard Accolon draw in a breath of wonder and awe, and turned to see that the lady of the fairy kingdom was with them, standing straight and silent in her shimmering garment, the crown of bare wicker-withes above her brow." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Was it she who spoke, or the lady?\n\nThere is other testing than the running of the deer... and suddenly it was as if a horn rang out, far and eerie, through the hazel grove... or was it the hazel grove? And then the leaves lifted and stirred, and there was the rushing of sudden winds, making the branches creak and sway, and a chill of fear rippled through Morgaine's body and blood.\n\nHe is coming...\n\nSlowly, reluctant, she turned and saw that they were not alone in the grove. Thereat the edge between the worlds, he was standing...\n\nNever did she ask Accolon what it was that he saw... she saw only the shadow of the antler crown, the bright leaves of gold and crimson where they stood in a wood gilded with the first buds of spring, the dark eyes... once she had lain with him on a forest floor like this, but he had not come for her this time, and she knew it. Now she, and even the lady, must step aside. His step, light on the leaves, still somehow raised the wind that kept thrusting floods of air through the grove, so that her hair blew about on her forehead and she felt her cloak flapping with it. He was tall and dark, and he seemed at once to be clothed in the richest garments, and in leaves, and at the same time she would have taken oath that his flesh gleamed smooth and naked before them. He gestured, raising one slender hand, and as if compelled, Accolon moved slowly forward, step by step... and at the same time it was Accolon that she could see crowned and robed with leaves and antlers, glimmering in the strange motionless light of fairy. Morgaine felt herself buffeted, struck and battered by the wind; in the grove, she knew, were forms and faces she could not clearly see; this testing was not for her, but for the man at her side. It seemed that there were cries and horn-calls; were the riders within the air, or did the beating of their hooves drum on the forest floor with this great noise that drowned out thought? She knew Accolon was no longer at her side. She stood clasping the bark of the hazel tree, her face hidden; she did not know, she would never know, it was not for her to know what form Accolon's kingmaking should take... that was not in her power to give or to know. She had invoked the powers of the Horned One through the Lady, and he had gone where she could not follow." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She never knew how long she stood there, clutching at the hazel bark, her brow pressed painfully against the bole of the tree... and then the wind died and Accolon was with her. They stood together, alone in the hazel grove, hearing only the beat of thunder from a dark and cloudless sky where the sun's rim glared like hot metal behind the moon's dark eclipse disk, and the stars burned against the unfallen night. Accolon's arm was around her. He whispered, \"What is it, what is it?\"\n\n\"It is the eclipse.\" Her voice was steadier than she could have believed. She felt her heartbeat quieting to normal at the touch of his arms, warm and alive, holding her. The ground was quite steady under her feet again, the solid earth of the hazel grove, and when she looked down into the pool she saw fragments of broken boughs from the uncanny wind that had ravaged the grove. Somewhere a bird complained at the sudden dark, and at their feet a small pink piglet rooted in the dead leaf mold. Then the light began to steal so brightly that she saw the shadow passing away from the sun. She saw Accolon staring at the brightness and said sharply, \"Turn away your eyes-you can be blinded now the darkness is gone!\"\n\nHe swallowed and lowered his face to hers. His hair was awry with a wind that was not of this world, and clinging to his hair was a crimson leaf which made Morgaine shiver as they stood beneath the just unfolding buds of the hazel.\n\nHe said in a whisper, \"He is gone... and she... or was it you? Morgaine, did it happen, was any of it real?\"\n\nMorgaine, looking into his dazzled face, saw something in his eyes, something that had never been there before-the touch of the nonhuman. She reached out and plucked the crimson leaf from his hair, holding it out to him. \"You who bear the serpents... need you question?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Ah-\" She saw the shudder run right through him." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He struck the crimson leaf from her hand with a savage gesture, letting it fall silent to the forest floor, and said, with a gasp, \"It seemed that I rode high above the world and saw such things as come never to mortal man...\" and then he reached for her, with blind urgency tearing at her dress and pulling her down to the ground. She let him do as he would and lay stunned on the damp ground as he thrust blindly into her, driven by a force he hardly understood. It seemed to her, as she lay silent beneath that driving strength, that his face was shadowed again with antlers or with crimson leaves; she had no part in this, she was only the passive earth beneath rain and wind, thunder and lightning bolt, and it was as if the lightning struck through her into the earth beneath....\n\nThen the darkness receded and the strange stars shining forth by day were all gone, and Accolon's hands, tender and apologetic, were helping her to rise, to arrange her disordered dress; he bent to kiss her, to stammer some half-explanation, some word of excuse, but she smiled and laid her hand across his lips. \"No, no-it is enough-\" The grove was silent again, and around them were only the normal sounds of the quiet day.\n\nShe said calmly, \"We must go back, my love. We will be missed, and everyone will be shouting and crying out about the eclipse, as if it were some strange marvel of nature...\" and smiled faintly; she had seen something far stranger than an eclipse this day. Accolon's hand was cold and solid in hers.\n\nHe whispered, as they walked, \"I knew never that you... you look like her, Morgaine....\"\n\nBut I am she. However, Morgaine did not speak the words aloud. He was an initiate; he should have been better prepared, perhaps, for this testing. Yet he had faced it as he must, and he had been accepted by something beyond her own small powers." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Then cold struck at her heart and she turned to look at his smiling, beloved face. He had been accepted. But that did not mean he would triumph; it meant only that he might attempt the final testing for which this was only the beginning.\n\nI felt not like this when as Spring Maiden I sent Arthur-whom I knew not to be Arthur-forth for his testing. Ah, Goddess, how young I was then, how young we both were... mercifully young, for we knew not what we did. And now I am old enough to know what it is that I do, how shall I have courage to send him forth to face death?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "On the eve of Pentecost, Arthur and his queen had bidden those guests with family ties to the throne to dine with them privately. Tomorrow would be the usual great banquet for all of Arthur's subject kings and his Companions, but Gwenhwyfar, dressing herself carefully, felt that this would be the greater ordeal. She had long accepted the inevitable. Her husband and lord would by his act tomorrow make public and irrevocable what had long been known. Tomorrow, Galahad would be made knight and Companion of the Round Table. Oh, she had known it for years, yes, but then Galahad had been only a fair-haired little boy growing up somewhere in King Pellinore's lands. When she had thought of it, she had even been pleased; Lancelet's son, by her own cousin Elaine-now dead in childbed-was a reasonable heir for the King. But now she felt him a living reproach to an aging queen whose life had been without fruit.\n\n\"You are distressed,\" said Arthur, watching her face as she set the coronet about her hair. \"I am sorry, Gwenhwyfar-I thought it would be the way to get to know the lad, as I must if he is to have my throne. Shall I tell them that you are ill? You need not appear-you can meet him at some other time.\"\n\nGwenhwyfar tightened her mouth. \"As well now as later.\"\n\nHe took her hand. \"I do not see Lancelet very often anymore-it will be good to speak with him again.\"\n\nHer mouth moved in something she knew was not the smile she had intended. \"I wonder you will have it so-do you not hate him?\"\n\nArthur smiled uneasily. \"We were all so much younger then. It seems as if it all was in another world, and Lance no more than my dearest and oldest friend, almost my brother, as much as Cai.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Cai is your brother too,\" said Gwenhwyfar, \"and his son Arthur is one of your most loyal knights. It seems tome that he would make a better heir than Galahad....\"\n\n\"Young Arthur is a good man and a trusty Companion. But Cai's blood is not royal. God knows, in all these years I have wished often enough that Ectorius had in truth been my own father... but he was not, and there's an end of it, Gwen.\" After a moment, hesitant-he had never spoken of this, not since that other dreadful Pentecost-he said, \"I have heard that-the other lad, Morgaine's son-is in Avalon.\"\n\nGwenhwyfar putout a hand as if to avoid a blow. \"No-!\"\n\n\"I will arrange it so that you need never meet him,\" he said, not looking at her, \"but royal blood is royal blood and something must be done for him. He cannot have my throne, the priests would not have it-\"\n\n\"Oh,\" said Gwenhwyfar, \"and if the priests would have it, I suppose you would proclaim Morgaine's son your heir-\"\n\n\"There will be those who wonder that he is not,\" said Arthur. \"Would you have me try to explain it to them?\"\n\n\"Then you should keep him far from the court,\" said Gwenhwyfar, thinking, I did not know my voice was so harsh when I was angry. \"What place at this court has one who has been reared in Avalon as a Druid?\"\n\nHe said dryly, \"The Merlin of Britain is one of my councillors and has always been so, Gwen. Those who look to Avalon are always my subjects too. It is written: Other sheep have I which are not of this fold....\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"A blasphemous jest,\" Gwenhwyfar observed, making her voice gentler, \"and hardly suitable for the eve of Pentecost-\"\n\nArthur said, \"Before Pentecost there was always Midsummer, my love. At least, now there are no Midsummer fires lighted, not even on Dragon Island, or, so far as I know, anywhere within three days' ride of Camelot-except on Avalon itself.\"\n\n\"The priests have set wards on Glastonbury Island, I am sure,\" said Gwenhwyfar, \"so that there shall be no coming and going from that land....\"\n\n\"It would be a sad day if it should be lost forever,\" Arthur said. \"As it is sad for the peasant folk to lose their own festivals... town folk, perhaps, have no need of the old rites. Oh yes, I know, there is only one name under Heaven by which we maybe saved, but perhaps those who live in such close kinship with the earth need something more than salvation....\"\n\nGwenhwyfar started to speak, then held her peace. Kevin was no more than a misshapen old cripple, and a Druid, and the day of the Druids now seemed to her as faraway as the time of the Romans. And even Kevin was less known at court as the Merlin of Britain than as a superb harper. The priests did not hold him in reverence as a good and kindly man, as once with Taliesin; Kevin's tongue was quick and ungentle in debate. Yet Kevin's knowledge of all the old ways and the common law was greater even than Arthur's, and Arthur had come into the way of turning to him when it was a question of old law and custom which could not beset aside.\n\n\"If this were not so strictly a family party, I would command that the Merlin perform for us tonight.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Arthur smiled and said, \"I can send to ask of him, if you will, but such music as his is not to be commanded, even by a king." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I can bid him dine at our table, and beg him to honor us with a song.\"\n\nShe smiled back and said, \"So the King begs of a subject, rather than the other way around?\"\n\n\"There must be a balance in all things,\" he said. \"It is one of the things I have learned in my rule-in some matters, a king cannot command but must sue. Perhaps that was why the Caesars fell, because they fell into what my tutor used to call hubris, thinking they could command outside the legitimate sphere of a king.... Well, my lady, our guests are waiting. Are you sufficiently beautiful?\"\n\nShe said, \"You are making fun of me again. You know how old I am.\"\n\n\"You are scarcely older than I,\" said Arthur, \"and my chamberlain tells me I am a handsome man still.\"\n\n\"Oh, but that is different. Men do not age as women do.\" She looked at his face, which was only faintly lined with the years-a man in the prime of his life.\n\nHe said, taking her hand, \"It would little beseem me to have a maiden at my side for my queen. You are suited tome.\" They moved toward the door; the chamberlain approached and spoke in a low voice, and Arthur turned to Gwenhwyfar. \"There will be other guests at our table. Gawaine sent word that his mother has come, and so we cannot but invite Lamorak as well, since he is her consort and travelling companion,\" said Arthur. \"I have not seen Morgause in many years, God knows, but she is my kinswoman too. And King Uriens and Morgaine with their sons...\"\n\n\"Then it will be a family party indeed.\"\n\n\"Yes, with Gareth and Gawaine-Gaheris is in Cornwall and Agravaine could not leave Lothian,\" said Arthur, and Gwenhwyfar felt pricked with an old grievance... Lot of Lothian had so many sons. \"Well, my dear, our guests are assembled in the little hall. Shall we go down to them?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The great hall of the Round Table was Arthur's domain-a man's place, where warriors and kings met. But the little hall with the hangings she had ordered from Gaul and the trestle tables and benches-that was where Gwenhwyfar felt most a queen. She was growing daily more shortsighted; at first, though there was still plenty of light, she saw only stripes of color from the ladies' gowns and the brilliant indoor robes worn by the men. That huge figure there, well over six feet with a great shock of sandy hair, that was Gawaine-he came to bow before the King and then, rising, to embrace his cousin in a great bear hug. Gareth followed him, more modestly, and Cai came to clap Gareth on the shoulder, to call him Handsome in the old way, and to ask after his brood of children, still too young to come to court-the lady Lionors was, he said, still abed after their latest, and had stayed in their castle northward by the Roman wall. Was that eight now, or nine? Gwenhwyfar had seen the lady Lionors only twice, because always, according to Gareth, she was breeding or lying-in or still suckling her latest. Gareth was no longer pretty-faced, but good-looking as ever, and as Arthur and Gawaine and Gareth grew older, the resemblance between them all grew ever stronger. Now Gareth was being embraced by a slender man with dark curling hair streaked with grey, and Gwenhwyfar bit her lip; Lancelet changed not at all with the years, save to grow yet more handsome.\n\nUriens had none of that magical immunity to time. He looked at last really old, though he was still upright and strong. His hair was all white, and she heard him explaining to Arthur that he had but recently recovered from the lung fever, and had that spring buried his oldest son, savaged by a wild pig." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Arthur said, \"So you will be King of North Wales one day, sir Accolon? Well, so it shall be-God giveth and taketh, so it says in Holy Writ.\"\n\nUriens would have bent to kiss Gwenhwyfar's hand, but she leaned instead to kiss the old man on the cheek. He was foppishly dressed in green, with a handsome cloak of green and brown.\n\n\"Our queen grows ever younger,\" he said, smiling with good humor. \"One would think you had dwelled in the fairy country, kinswoman.\"\n\nGwenhwyfar laughed. \"Perhaps I should paint lines in my face then, lest the bishops and priests think I have learned spells unseemly fora Christian woman-but such jesting is uncanny on the eve of a holy day. Well, Morgaine\"-for once she could greet her sister-in-law with a jest-\"you seem younger than I, and I know you are older. What is your magic?\"\n\n\"No magic,\" said Morgaine in her rich low voice. \"It is only that there is so little to occupy my mind, in that country at the end of the world, that it seems tome that time does not pass there, and so, perhaps, that is why I grow no older.\"\n\nNow she looked closer, Gwenhwyfar could indeed seethe small traces of time in Morgaine's face; her skin was still smooth and unmarred, but there were tiny creases around her eyes and the eyelids drooped a little. The hand she gave Gwenhwyfar was thin and bony, so that herrings hung loose. Gwenhwyfar thought, Morgaine is at least five years older than I. And suddenly it seemed to her that they were not women in middle life, but those two young girls who had met in Avalon." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lancelet had come first to greet Morgaine. Gwenhwyfar would not have believed that she could still be torn with this raging passion of jealousy... now Elaine is gone... and Morgaine's husband is so old he surely cannot look to see another Christmas. She heard Lancelet speak some laughing compliment, heard Morgaine's low sweet laughter.\n\nBut she does not look at Lancelet like a lover... her eyes turn to Prince Accolon-he is a goodly man too... well, her husband is more than twice her age... and Gwenhwyfar felt a stab of self-righteous disapproval.\n\n\"We should go to table,\" she said, beckoning to Cai. \"Galahad must goat midnight to watch by his arms; and perhaps, like many young men, he would like to rest a little beforehand so he will not be sleepy-\"\n\n\"I shall not be sleepy, lady,\" the young man said, and Gwenhwyfar felt again the pain. She would so gladly have had this fair young man as her son. He was tall now, broad-shouldered and big as Lancelet had never been. His face seemed to shine with scrubbing and with a calm happiness. \"This is all so new tome-Camelot is such a beautiful city, I can hardly believe it is real! And I rode herewith my father-all my life my mother spoke of him as if he were a king or a saint, quite beyond mortal men.\"\n\nMorgaine said, \"Oh, Lancelet is mortal enough, Galahad, and if you come to know him well enough, you will know it too.\"\n\nGalahad bowed politely to Morgaine. He said, \"I remember you. You came and took Nimue from us, and my mother wept-is my sister well, lady?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I have not seen her for some years,\" Morgaine said, \"but if it was not well with her, I would have heard.\"\n\n\"I remember only that I was angry with you for telling me I was wrong about everything-you seemed very certain, and my mother-\"\n\n\"No doubt your mother told you I am an evil sorceress.\" She smiled-smug as a cat, Gwenhwyfar thought-at the transparent blush that covered Galahad's face. \"Well, Galahad, you are not the first to think me so.\" She smiled to Accolon too, who returned the smile so openly that Gwenhwyfar was shocked.\n\nGalahad said bluntly, \"And are you a sorceress, then, lady?\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Morgaine, with that cat-claw smile again, \"no doubt your mother had reason to think me so. Since now she is gone, I may tell you all-Lancelet, did Elaine never tell you how she begged and besought me fora charm that would turn your eyes on her?\"\n\nLancelet turned to Morgaine, and it seemed to Gwenhwyfar that his face was stricken, tight with pain. \"Why make jests about days that are long gone, kinswoman?\"\n\n\"Oh, but I jest not,\" said Morgaine, and fora moment she raised her eyes to meet Gwenhwyfar's. \"I thought it time you stopped breaking hearts all through the kingdoms of Britain and Gaul. So I made that marriage, and I do not regret it, for now you have a fine son who is heir to my brother's kingdom. If I had not meddled, you would have remained unwed, and still be breaking all our hearts-would he not, Gwen?\" she added audaciously." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I knew it. But I did not know Morgaine would confess it so openly.... But Gwenhwyfar took a queen's privilege to change the subject. \"How does my namesake, your little Gwenhwyfar?\"\n\n\"She is pledged in marriage to Lionel's son,\" Lancelet said, \"and will be Queen of Less Britain, one day. The priest said the kinship was overclose but a dispensation could be had-I paid a great fee to the church for that to beset aside, and Lionel paid one, too-the girl is but nine and the wedding will not be for another six years.\"\n\n\"And your elder daughter?\" asked Arthur.\n\n\"Sire, she is in a nunnery,\" Lancelet said.\n\n\"Is that what Elaine told you?\" Morgaine asked, and again there was the flash of malice in her eyes. \"She is in your own mother's place in Avalon, Lancelet. Did you not know?\"\n\nHe said peacefully, \"It is all one. The priestesses of the House of Maidens are much like to the nuns of holy church, living lives of chastity and prayer, and serving God in their own way.\" He turned quickly to Queen Morgause, who was approaching them. \"Well, Aunt, I cannot say you are unchanged by time, but the years have treated you kindly indeed.\"\n\nShe looks so like Igraine! I have heard only the jests and have laughed at her, but now I can well believe that young Lamorak is beglamoured by her for love and not ambition! Morgause was a big woman, and tall, her hair was still rich and red, flowing in loose braids, over her green gown-avast expanse of brocaded silk, embroidered with pearls and golden threads. A narrow coronet set with shining topaz twinkled in her hair. Gwenhwyfar held out her arms and embraced her kinswoman, saying, \"You look much like Igraine, Queen Morgause. I loved her well, and still I think often of her.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"When I was younger that statement would have had me frantic with jealousy, Gwenhwyfar-I was maddened that my sister Igraine was more beautiful than I, and had so many kings and lords at her feet. Now I remember only that she was beautiful and kind, and I am glad to know I resemble her still.\" She turned to embrace Morgaine, and Gwenhwyfar saw that Morgaine was lost in the bigger woman's embrace, that Morgause towered over her.... Why did I ever fear Morgaine? She is just a little thing after all, and the queen of an unregarded kingdom.... Morgaine's dress was a simple dark wool, and she wore no ornament but a silver torque about her throat and some kind of silver bracelet about her arms. Her hair, dark and rich as ever, was simply braided and wound around her head.\n\nArthur had come up to embrace his sister and his aunt. Gwenhwyfar took Galahad's hand in hers. \"You shall sit by me, kinsman.\" Ah, yes, this was the son I should have borne to Lancelet-or to Arthur.... She said, as they sat down, \"And now you have come to know your father, have you discovered, as Morgaine said, that he is no saint but merely a very lovable man?\"\n\n\"Ah, but what else is a saint?\" asked Galahad, his eyes shining. \"I cannot think of him as only a man, lady, he is surely more than that. He is the son of a king too, and I am sure that if they chose the best rather than the eldest son, he would reign in Less Britain. I think that man is happy whose father is also his hero,\" he said. \"I had sometime to speak with Gawaine-he despised his father and thought little of him, but no man has ever spoken of my father save with admiration!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I hope, then, that you see him always as a hero untarnished,\" said Gwenhwyfar. She had placed Galahad between herself and Arthur, as befitted the adopted heir to the kingdom; Arthur had chosen to seat Queen Morgause next to him, with Gawaine beyond, and next to him, Uwaine, who was Gawaine's friend and protégé, as Gareth had been Lancelet's when they were younger.\n\nAt the table next to them were Morgaine and her husband, and other guests; they were all kin, but she could not see their faces clearly. She craned her neck and squinted to see, reproving herself-squinting would make her ugly-and rubbed at the tight wrinkle beneath her brows. She wondered suddenly whereby her old fear of open spaces when she was a girl had simply come from being so shortsighted? Had she feared what the world was like only because she could not really see?\n\nShe asked Arthur across Galahad, who was eating with the hearty appetite of a healthy boy still growing, \"Did you bid Kevin dine with us?\"\n\n\"Aye, but he sent a message that he could not come. Since he could not be in Avalon, perhaps he keeps the holy day in his own fashion. Ibid Bishop Patricius as well, but he keeps the vigil of Pentecost in the church-he will see you thereat midnight, Galahad.\"\n\n\"I think that being made a king must be a little like being made a priest,\" said Galahad clearly; there was a lull in the conversation that made his young voice audible from one end of the table to another. \"They are both sworn to serve man and God and to do what is right-\"\n\nGareth said, \"I felt something like that, lad. God grant you see it always so.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I have always wanted my Companions to be men dedicated to the right,\" said Arthur. \"I do not demand that they be godly men, Galahad, but I have hoped they would be good men.\"\n\nLancelet said to Arthur, \"Perhaps these youngsters may live in a world where it is easier to be good,\" and it seemed to Gwenhwyfar that he sounded sad.\n\n\"But you are good, Father,\" said Galahad. \"All up and down this land it is told that you are King Arthur's greatest knight.\"\n\nLancelet chuckled, embarrassed. \"Aye-like that Saxon hero who tore the arm from the Lake monster. My works and deeds have been made into song because the true tale is not exciting enough to tell by the fireside in winter.\"\n\n\"But you did slay a dragon, did you not?\" Galahad said.\n\n\"Oh, yes-and it was a fearful beast enough, I suppose. But your grandsire did as much as I in killing it,\" said Lancelet. \"Gwenhwyfar, my lady, we dine never so well as at your table-\"\n\n\"Too well,\" said Arthur cheerfully, patting his middle. \"If feasts like this came often, I would be as fat as one of those beer-guzzling Saxon kings. And tomorrow is Pentecost, and another feast for even more folk-I do not know how my lady does it!\"\n\nGwenhwyfar felt a small glow of pride. \"This feast is mine, that of tomorrow is sir Cai's pride-for that one the beeves are already roasting in their pit. My lord Uriens, you are eating no meat...\"\n\nUriens shook his head. \"Awing of one of those birds, perhaps. Since my son was slain, I have vowed never again to eat the flesh of swine.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And your queen shares your vow?\" said Arthur. \"As always, Morgaine is all but fasting-no wonder you are so small and spare, my sister!\"\n\n\"It is no hardship for me not to eat swine's flesh.\"\n\n\"Is your voice sweet as ever, my sister? Since Kevin could not join us, perhaps you would sing or play-\"\n\n\"If you had told me you wished it, I would not have eaten so well. I cannot sing now. Later, perhaps.\"\n\n\"Then you, Lancelet,\" Arthur said.\n\nLancelet shrugged and gestured to a servant to bring the harp. \"Kevin will sing this tomorrow-I am no match for him. I made the words from a Saxon poet. I said once I could live with the Saxons, but not with what they called music. Then, when I dwelt among them last year, I heard this song and wept when I heard it, and tried in my poor way to put it into our tongue.\" He left his seat to take the small harp. \"It is for you, my king,\" he said, \"for it speaks of what sorrow I knew when I dwelt far from court and from my lord-but the music is Saxon. I had thought, before this, that all their songs were of war and battle and fighting.\"\n\nHe began to play a soft, sorrowful melody; his fingers were not as skillful as those of Kevin, but the sad song had a power of its own, which gradually quieted them. He sang, in the husky voice of an untrained singer:\n\n\"What sorrow is like to the sorrow of one who is alone?\n\nOnce I dwelt in the company of the king I loved well,\n\nAnd my arm was heavy with the weight of the rings he gave," }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And my heart weighed down with the gold of his love.\n\nThe face of the king is like the sun to those who surround him,\n\nBut now my heart is empty\n\nAnd I wander alone throughout the world.\n\nThe groves take on their blossoms,\n\nThe trees and meadows grow fair,\n\nBut the cuckoo, saddest of singers,\n\nCries forth the lonely sorrow of the exile,\n\nAnd now my heart goes wandering,\n\nIn search of what I shall never see more;\n\nAll faces are alike tome if I cannot seethe face of my king,\n\nAnd all countries are alike tome\n\nWhen I cannot seethe fair fields and meadows of my home.\n\nSo I shall arise and follow my heart in its wandering\n\nFor what is the fair meadow of home tome\n\nWhen I cannot seethe face of my king\n\nAnd the weight on my arm is but a band of gold\n\nWhen the heart is empty of the weight of love.\n\nAnd so I shall go roaming\n\nOver the fishes' road\n\nAnd the road of the great whale\n\nAnd beyond the country of the wave\n\nWith none to bear me company\n\nBut the memory of those I loved\n\nAnd the songs I sang out of a full heart,\n\nAnd the cuckoo's cry in memory.\n\nGwenhwyfar bent her head to hide tears. Arthur's head was lowered, his eyes covered by his hand. Morgaine was staring straight ahead and Gwenhwyfar could seethe stripes of tears making wet streaks down her face. Arthur rose and came around the table; he put his arms round Lancelet and said in a voice that was not steady, \"But you are again with your king and your friend, Galahad.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The old bitterness stabbed at Gwenhwyfar's heart. He sang of his king, not of his queen and his love. His love for me was nevermore than apart of his love for Arthur. She closed her eyes, unwilling to see them embrace.\n\n\"That was beautiful,\" said Morgause softly. \"Who would ever think that a Saxon brute could write music like that-it must have been Lancelet, after all-\"\n\nLancelet shook his head. \"The music is theirs. And the words only a poor echo of their own....\"\n\nA voice that was like an echo of Lancelet's said gently, \"But there are poets and musicians among the Saxons, as well as warriors, my lady,\" and Gwenhwyfar turned toward the voice. A young man in dark clothing, slender, dark-haired, a blur beyond her sight; but the voice, accented softly with the tones of the North country, still sounded like Lancelet's, the very pitch and timbre of his.\n\nArthur beckoned him forward. \"There sits one at my table I do not know-and at a family party, that is not right. Queen Morgause-?\"\n\nShe stood up in her place. \"I had meant to present him to you before we went to table, but you were busy talking with old friends, my king. This is Morgaine's son, who was fostered at my court-Gwydion.\"\n\nThe youth came forward and bowed. \"King Arthur,\" he said, in the warm voice that was like an echo of Lancelet's. Fora momenta dizzied joy struck through Gwenhwyfar; this was Lancelet's son, surely, not Arthur's-and then she recalled that Morgaine's aunt, Viviane, was Lancelet's mother too.\n\nArthur embraced the youth. He said, in a voice too shaken to be audible three yards distant, \"The son of my dearly beloved sister shall be received as a son at my own court, Gwydion. Come and sit beside me, lad.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Gwenhwyfar looked at Morgaine." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She had spots of crimson on her cheek, as bright as if they were painted, and she was worrying her lower lip between her small, sharp teeth. Had Morgause not prepared her, then, to see her son presented to his father-no, to the King, Gwenhwyfar reminded herself sharply; there was no reason to think the boy had any idea who his father was. Though if he had ever looked in a mirror, no doubt he would come to believe, whatever anyone might say, that he was Lancelet's son.\n\nNot a boy, after all. He must be near enough to five-and-twenty; he was a man.\n\n\"Your cousin, Galahad,\" Arthur said, and Galahad impulsively putout his hand.\n\n\"You are closer kin to the King than I, cousin-you have a better right than Ito be where I am now,\" he said, with boyish spontaneity. \"I wonder you don't hate me!\"\n\nGwydion smiled and said, \"How do you know I do not, cousin?\" and fora moment Gwenhwyfar was jolted, until she saw the smile. Yes, he was Morgaine's son, he had the cat-smile she could show sometimes! Galahad blinked, then decided the words were meant as a jest. Gwenhwyfar could follow Galahad's transparent thoughts-Is this my father's son, is Gwydion my bastard brother by Queen Morgaine? He looked hurt, too, like a puppy whose playful proffer of friendship has been rebuffed.\n\n\"No, cousin,\" Gwydion said, \"what you are thinking is not true.\" Gwenhwyfar thought, her breath catching in her throat, that he even had Lancelet's sudden breathtaking smile that transformed a rather dark and somber face into an overwhelming brilliance, as if a ray of sun had come out and transformed it." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Galahad said defensively, \"I was not-I did not-\"\n\n\"No,\" said Gwydion, kindly, \"you did not say anything, but it is all too obvious what you are thinking, and what everyone in this room must bethinking.\" He raised his voice, just a little, that voice so like Lancelet's, although overlaid with the soft North-country accent: \"In Avalon, cousin, we take our lineage from the line of the mother. I am of the old royal line of Avalon, and that is quite enough for me. It would be arrogance for any man to claim to be father to the child of a High Priestess of Avalon. But of course, like most men, I would like to know who fathered me, and what you thought has been said before-that I am the son of Lancelet. That likeness has been remarked upon before this-especially among the Saxons where I spent three years learning to be a warrior,\" he added. \"Your reputation among them, lord Lancelet, is still much remembered there! I could not count how many men said tome that it was no disgrace to be the bastard son of a manlike you, sir!\" His low chuckle was like an eerie echo of the man he faced, and Lancelet looked uneasy too. \"But in the end I always had to tell them that what they thought was not true. Of all the men in this kingdom who could have fathered me, one I know is not my father. And so, I must inform them that it is only a family likeness, no more. I am your cousin, Galahad, not your brother.\" He leaned lazily back in his chair. \"Will it embarrass you too much-that everyone who sees us will think so? After all, we cannot go around telling everyone the truth!\"" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Take on the role of the writer's aide and proceed with the narrative.\nTags: fantasy, arthurian, historical fantasy\nAuthor: Marion Zimmer Bradley\nTitle: The Mists of Avalon\nChapter: 58" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Galahad said defensively, \"I was not-I did not-\"\n\n\"No,\" said Gwydion, kindly, \"you did not say anything, but it is all too obvious what you are thinking, and what everyone in this room must bethinking.\" He raised his voice, just a little, that voice so like Lancelet's, although overlaid with the soft North-country accent: \"In Avalon, cousin, we take our lineage from the line of the mother. I am of the old royal line of Avalon, and that is quite enough for me. It would be arrogance for any man to claim to be father to the child of a High Priestess of Avalon. But of course, like most men, I would like to know who fathered me, and what you thought has been said before-that I am the son of Lancelet. That likeness has been remarked upon before this-especially among the Saxons where I spent three years learning to be a warrior,\" he added. \"Your reputation among them, lord Lancelet, is still much remembered there! I could not count how many men said tome that it was no disgrace to be the bastard son of a manlike you, sir!\" His low chuckle was like an eerie echo of the man he faced, and Lancelet looked uneasy too. \"But in the end I always had to tell them that what they thought was not true. Of all the men in this kingdom who could have fathered me, one I know is not my father. And so, I must inform them that it is only a family likeness, no more. I am your cousin, Galahad, not your brother.\" He leaned lazily back in his chair. \"Will it embarrass you too much-that everyone who sees us will think so? After all, we cannot go around telling everyone the truth!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Galahad looked confused. \"I would not have minded if you were truly my brother, Gwydion.\"\n\n\"But then I should have been your father's son and perhaps the King's heir, too,\" Gwydion said, and smiled-and it struck Gwenhwyfar suddenly that he actually took pleasure in the discomfort of the people around the table; that he was Morgaine's son, if only in that touch of malice.\n\nMorgaine said, in that low voice which carried so clearly without being loud, \"It would not have been displeasing tome, either, if Lancelet had fathered you, Gwydion.\"\n\n\"No, I suppose not, lady,\" Gwydion said. \"Forgive me, lady Morgaine. Always I have called Queen Morgause my mother-\"\n\nMorgaine laughed. \"If I seem an unlikely mother to you, Gwydion, you seem just as unlikely a son tome. I am grateful for this family party, Gwenhwyfar,\" she said. \"I might have been confronted with my son tomorrow at the great feast, without warning.\"\n\nUriens said, \"I think any woman would be proud of such a son, and as to your father, whoever he may have been, young Gwydion, it is his own loss that he did not claim you for his own.\"\n\n\"Oh, I don't think so,\" Gwydion said, and Gwenhwyfar thought, watching the small flicker of his eyes toward Arthur, He may say for some reason that he does not know who is his father, but he is lying. Somehow that made her uncomfortable. Yet how much more uncomfortable it would be if he were to face Arthur and demand to know why he, the son, was not also the heir.\n\nAvalon, that accursed place! She wished it would sink into the sea like the lost land of Ys in the old tale, and never be heard of again!" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"But this is Galahad's special night,\" Gwydion said, \"and I am taking attention away from him." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Are you to watch by your arms this night, cousin?\"\n\nGalahad nodded. \"It is the custom for Arthur's Companions.\"\n\n\"I was the first,\" Gareth said, \"and it is a good custom. I suppose it is the nearest a layman can come to being a priest, to take vows that he will always serve his king and his land and his God with his arms.\" He laughed and said, \"What a fool of a boy I was-my lord Arthur, have you ever forgiven me, that I refused your offer to knight me with your own hands, and instead asked that Lancelet might do so?\"\n\n\"Forgiven you, lad? I envied you,\" Arthur said, smiling. \"Do you think I did not know Lancelet was the greater warrior of us two?\"\n\nCai spoke for the first time, his somber scarred face twisting in a smile. \"I told the lad then that he was a good fighter and would make a good knight, but he was certainly no courtier!\"\n\n\"And so much the better,\" said Arthur heartily. \"God knows I had enough of those!\" He added, leaning forward, speaking directly to Galahad, \"Would you prefer that your father should knight you, Galahad? He has knighted enough of my Companions....\"\n\nThe boy bowed his head. \"Sir, it is for my king to say. But it seems tome that this knighthood comes from God and it does not matter who bestows it. I-I do not mean that quite as it sounds, sir-I mean, the vow is made to you, but mostly to God-\"\n\nArthur nodded, slowly. \"I know what you mean, my boy. It is much the same with a king-he vows to rule over his people, but the vow is given not to the people but to God-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Or,\" said Morgaine, \"to the Goddess, in her name, as token of the land the king shall rule.\" She looked directly at Arthur as she spoke and he shifted his eyes, and Gwenhwyfar bit her lip... Morgaine reminding Arthur again that his allegiance had been given to Avalon-damn her! But that was past and Arthur was a Christian king... under no authority but that of God.\n\n\"We will all be praying for you, Galahad, that you make a good knight, and that one day, you will make a good king,\" said Gwenhwyfar.\n\n\"So, as you make your vows, Galahad,\" said Gwydion, \"you are making, in some form, the same kind of Sacred Marriage to the land that the King used to make in the old days. But you will not, perhaps, be so hard tested.\"\n\nThe color rose in the younger boy's face. \"My lord Arthur came to the throne proved in battle, cousin, but there is noway I can now be so tested.\"\n\n\"I could think of away,\" said Morgaine softly, \"and if you are to rule over Avalon as well as the Christian lands, one day you must come to that, too, Galahad.\"\n\nHe set his mouth firmly. \"May that time be far-surely, my lord, you will live many, many years-and by then all those old folk who still believe they must give allegiance to the pagan ways will have gone.\"\n\n\"I trust not,\" said Accolon, speaking up for the first time in that company. \"The sacred groves still stand, and in them, the old ways are done as they have been done from the beginning of the world. We do not anger the Goddess by denying her worship, lest she turn upon her people and blight the harvests and darken the very sun that gives us life.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Galahad was startled. \"But this is a Christian land! Have no priests come to you to show you that the evil old Gods among whom the Devil had sway have no more power now? Bishop Patricius has told me that all the sacred groves have been cut down!\"\n\n\"Not so,\" said Accolon, \"nor will be while my father lives, or I after him.\"\n\nMorgaine opened her mouth to speak, but Gwenhwyfar saw Accolon lay his hand on her wrist. She smiled at him and said nothing. It was Gwydion who said, \"Nor yet in Avalon, while the Goddess lives. Kings come and kings go, but the Goddess shall endure forever.\"\n\nWhat pity, Gwenhwyfar thought, that this handsome young man should be a pagan! Well, Galahad is a good and pious Christian knight, who will make a Christian king! But as she reassured herself with that thought, a faint shiver went through her.\n\nAs if Gwenhwyfar's thoughts disturbed him, Arthur leaned forward to Gwydion, and his face was troubled. \"Have you come to court to be one of my Companions, Gwydion? I need not tell you that the son of my sister is welcome among my knights.\"\n\n\"I admit I brought him here for that,\" said Morgause, \"but I did not know that this was Galahad's great ceremonial. I would not steal the luster from this occasion. Surely another time will do as well for that.\"\n\nGalahad said ingenuously, \"I would not mind sharing my vigil and vows with my cousin.\"\n\nGwydion laughed. \"You are too generous, kinsman,\" he said, \"but you know little of kingcraft. The King's heir must be proclaimed without any to share that moment. If Arthur should knight us both at the same time, and I am so much the older, and resemble Lancelet so much more-well, there is gossip enough about my parentage; it should not shadow your knighthood as well. Nor,\" he added, laughing, \"my own.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Morgaine shrugged." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"They will gossip about the King's kin, whether or no, Gwydion. Let them have some morsel to chew on!\"\n\n\"Yet another thing,\" Gwydion said lightly. \"I have no intent ever to watch by my arms in any Christian church. I am of Avalon. If Arthur will admit me among his Companions for what I am, that will be well, and if not, that too will be well.\"\n\nUriens raised his knotty old arms so that the faded serpents could be seen. \"I sit at the Round Table with no such Christian vow, stepson.\"\n\n\"Nor I,\" said Gawaine. \"We won our knighthoods, all of us who fought in those days, and needed no such ceremonial. Some of us would have been hard put to it, had knighthood been fenced about by such courtly vows as now.\"\n\n\"Even I,\" Lancelet said, \"would be somewhat reluctant to take such vows, such a sinful man as I am. But I am Arthur's man for life or death, and he knows it.\"\n\n\"God forbid I should ever doubt it,\" said Arthur, smiling with deep affection at his old friend. \"You and Gawaine are the very pillars of my kingdom. If I should ever lose either of you, I think my throne would split and fall from the very top of Camelot!\"\n\nHe raised his head as a door opened at the far end of the hall, and a priest in white robes, with two young men dressed in white, came in. Galahad rose, eagerly. \"By your leave, my lord-\"\n\nArthur rose too, and embraced his heir. \"Bless you, Galahad. Go to keep your vigil.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The boy bowed and turned to embrace his father; Gwenhwyfar could not hear what Lancelet said to him. She reached out her hand and Galahad bent to kiss it. \"Give me your blessing, lady.\"\n\n\"Always, Galahad,\" Gwenhwyfar said, and Arthur added, \"We will see you to the church. You must keep your vigil alone, but we will come a little way with you.\"\n\n\"You dome too much honor, my king. Did you not keep vigil when you were crowned?\"\n\n\"He did indeed,\" said Morgaine, smiling, \"but it was far other than this.\"\n\nas the whole party moved toward the church, Gwydion dropped back until he was walking at Morgaine's side. She looked up at her son-he was not as tall as Arthur, who had the height of the Pendragons, but at her side he seemed tall.\n\n\"I had not expected to see you here, Gwydion.\"\n\n\"I had not expected to be here, madam.\"\n\n\"I heard that you had been fighting in this war, among Arthur's Saxon allies. I knew not that you were a warrior.\"\n\nHe shrugged. \"You have had little opportunity to know much of me, lady.\"\n\nAbruptly, not knowing what she was going to say until she heard herself saying it, she asked, \"Do you hate me that I abandoned you, my son?\"\n\nHe hesitated. \"Perhaps-fora time when I was young,\" he said at last. \"But I am a child of the Goddess, and this forced me to be so in truth, that I could look to no earthly parents. I bear you no grudge now, Lady of the Lake,\" he said.\n\nFora moment the path blurred around her; it was as if the young Lancelet stood at her side... her son steadied her gently with his arm." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Take care, the path here is not smooth-\"\n\nShe asked, \"How is it with all in Avalon?\"\n\n\"Niniane is well,\" he said. \"I have few ties with any other there, not now.\"\n\n\"Have you seen Galahad's sister there, the maiden called Nimue?\" She frowned, trying to remember how old Nimue would be now. Galahad was sixteen-Nimue would beat least fourteen, almost grown.\n\n\"I know her not,\" said Gwydion. \"The old priestess of the oracles-Raven, is it?-has taken her into the silence and into seclusion. No man may look upon her face.\"\n\nI wonder why Raven did that? A sudden shudder went through her, but she said only, \"How does Raven, then? Is she well?\"\n\n\"I have not heard that she was otherwise,\" said Gwydion, \"though when I last saw her at the rites she seemed older than the very oaks. Still, her voice was sweet and young. But I have never had private speech from her.\"\n\nMorgaine said, \"Nor has any man living, Gwydion, and few women. Twelve years I spent there as a maiden, and I heard her voice but half a dozen times.\" She did not wish to speak or to think of Avalon and said, trying to keep her voice commonplace, \"So you have had battle experience with the Saxons?\"\n\n\"True, and in Brittany-I spent sometime at Lionel's court. Lionel thought me Lancelet's son and would have had me call him Uncle and I told him nothing contrary. It will do Lancelet no harm to bethought capable of fathering a bastard or so. And, even as with the good Lancelet, the Saxons around Ceardig gave me a name. Elf-arrow they called him-any man who accomplishes anything gets a name from those folk. \"Mordred,\" they called me-it means in our tongue something like to \"Deadly counsel\" or even \"Evil counsel,\" and I think not that they meant it as compliment!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It takes not much craft in counsel to be wilier than a Saxon,\" she said, \"but tell me, then, what prompted you to come here before the time I had chosen?\"\n\nGwydion shrugged. \"I felt I might well see my rival.\"\n\nMorgaine glanced fearfully around her. \"Say that not aloud!\"\n\n\"I have no reason to fear Galahad,\" he said quietly. \"He looks not tome like one who will livelong enough to rule.\"\n\n\"Is that the Sight?\"\n\n\"I need not the Sight to tell me it would take one stronger than Galahad to sit on the throne of the Pendragon,\" Gwydion said. \"But if it will ease your mind, lady, I will swear to you by the Sacred Well, Galahad will not die by my hand. Nor,\" he added after a moment, seeing her shiver, \"by yours. If the Goddess does not want him on the throne of the new Avalon, I think we may leave it to her.\"\n\nHe laid his hand fora moment on Morgaine's; gentle as the touch was, she shivered again.\n\n\"Come,\" he said, and it seemed to Morgaine that his voice was as compassionate as a priest's giving absolution. \"Let us go and see my cousin to his arms. It is not right that anything should spoil this great moment of his life. He may not have many more.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As often as Morgause of Lothian had come to Camelot, she never tired of the pageantry. Now, conscious that as one of Arthur's subject queens and the mother of three of his earliest Companions, she would have a favored place at the mock games which marked this day, she sat beside Morgaine in church; at the end of the service, Galahad would be knighted, and he knelt now beside Arthur and Gwenhwyfar, pale and serious and shining with excitement.\n\nBishop Patricius himself had come from Glastonbury to celebrate the Pentecost mass herein Camelot; he stood now before them in his white robes, intoning: \"Unto thee have we offered this bread, the body of the Only-begotten....\"\n\nMorgause put a plump handover her mouth, smothering a yawn. However often she attended Christian ceremonies, she never thought about them; they were not even as interesting as the rites at Avalon where she had spent her childhood, but she had thought, since she was fourteen or so, that all Gods and all religions were games which men and women played with their minds. None of them had anything to do with real life. Nevertheless, when she was at Pentecost, she dutifully attended mass, to please Gwenhwyfar-the woman washer hostess, and the High Queen, after all, and a close relative-and now, with the rest of the royal family, she went forward to receive the holy bread. Morgaine, attentive at her side, was the only one in the King's household who did not approach the communion table; Morgause thought lazily that Morgaine was a very great fool. Not only did she alienate the common people, but the more pious among the King's household called Morgaine witch and sorceress, and worse things, among themselves. And, after all, what difference did it make? One religious lie was as good as another, was it not? King Uriens, now, he had more sense of what was expedient; Morgause did not think Uriens had anymore religion than Gwenhwyfar's pet house cat. She had seen the serpents of Avalon around his arms; yet, like his son Accolon, he went forward to take part." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But when the final prayer came, including one for the dead, she discovered that she had tears in her eyes. She missed Lot-his cynical cheerfulness, his steadfast loyalty to her; and he had, after all, given her four fine sons. Gawaine and Gareth knelt near her, among Arthur's own household-Gawaine, as always, close to Arthur; Gareth side by side with his young friend Uwaine-Morgaine's stepson; she had heard Uwaine call Morgaine mother, heard a genuine maternal note in Morgaine's voice when she spoke to him, something she had never thought Morgaine capable of.\n\nWith a rustle of gowns and the small chink of scabbarded swords and such gear, Arthur's household arose and moved to the church porch. Gwenhwyfar, though a little haggard, was still beautiful with the long bright golden braids over her shoulder and her fine gown belted in with a brilliant golden girdle. Arthur looked splendid, too. Excalibur hung in its scabbard at Arthur's side-the same old red velvet scabbard he had worn for more than twenty years now. She supposed that Gwenhwyfar could have embroidered him a handsomer one at anytime in the past ten years.\n\nGalahad knelt before the King; Arthur took from Gawaine a handsome sword and said, \"For you, my dear kinsman and adopted son, this.\" He gestured to Gawaine, who belted it around the boy's slender waist. Galahad looked up with his boyish smile and said clearly, \"I thank you, my king. May I bear it only and always in your service.\"\n\nArthur laid his hands on Galahad's head. He said, \"I gladly receive you among the company of my Companions, Galahad, and confer on you the order of knighthood. Be always faithful and just, and serve the throne and the righteous cause always.\" He raised the youngster, embraced him and kissed him. Gwenhwyfar kissed him too, and the royal company went out toward the huge field, the others behind him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Morgause found herself walking between Morgaine and Gwydion, with Uriens, Accolon, and Uwaine just behind them. The field had been decorated with green staves wound with ribbons and pennants, and the marshals of the games were pacing off the fighting areas. She saw Lancelet with Galahad, embracing him and giving him a plain white shield. Morgause said, \"Will Lancelet fight today?\"\n\nAccolon said, \"I think not-I heard he is to be master of the lists; he has won the field too many times. Between ourselves, he is no longer so young, and it would hardly suit the dignity of the Queen's champion to be unseated from his horse by some youth hardly made knight. I've heard that he's been beaten by Gareth more than once, and once by Lamorak-\"\n\nMorgause said smiling, \"I think well of Lamorak that he forbore to boast of that conquest-few men could resist bragging that they had overcome Lancelet even in a mock battle!\"\n\n\"No,\" said Morgaine quietly, \"I think most young knights would be unhappy at the thought that Lancelet was no longer king of the field. He is their hero.\"\n\nGwydion chuckled. \"Do you mean that the young stags forbear to challenge the knight who is King Stag among them?\"\n\n\"I think none of the older knights would do so,\" said Accolon, \"and of the young knights, there are few with enough strength or experience to challenge him. If they did, he would show them a trick or two still.\"\n\n\"I would not,\" said Uwaine quietly. \"I think there is no knight at this court who does not love Lancelet. Gareth could overthrow him anytime now, but he will not shame him at Pentecost, and he and Gawaine have always been evenly matched. Once at a Pentecost like this they fought for more than an hour, and once Gawaine knocked his sword from his hand. I do not know if I could best him in single combat, but he may stay champion while he lives, for all I will ever do to challenge it.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Challenge him, someday,\" Accolon said, laughing, \"I did so, and he took all the conceit out of me in five minutes! He maybe old, but he has all his skill and strength.\"\n\nHe handed Morgaine and his father into the seats reserved for them. \"By your leave, I will go and enter the lists before it is too late.\"\n\n\"And I,\" said Uwaine, bending to kiss his father's hand. He turned to Morgaine. \"I have no lady, Mother. Will you give me a token to bear into the lists?\"\n\nMorgaine smiled indulgently and gave him a ribbon from her sleeve, which he tied about his arm, saying, \"I have arranged to challenge Gawaine to atrial of strength.\"\n\nGwydion said with his charming smile, \"Why, lady, you had better take back your favor-would you have your honor so easily disposed of as that?\"\n\nMorgaine laughed up at Accolon, and Morgause, watching her face come alight, thought, Uwaine is her son, far more than Gwydion; but Accolon, it is plain to see, is more than that. I wonder if the old king knows-or cares?\n\nLamorak was approaching them, and Morgause felt warmed and complimented-there were many pretty ladies on the field, he could have a favor from any of them, yet, before them all, before all Camelot, her dear young man would come and bow before her.\n\n\"My lady, may I wear a token into battle?\"\n\n\"With pleasure, my dear.\" Morgause gave him the rose from the nosegay she wore at her bosom. He kissed the flower; she gave him her hand, pleasantly conscious that her young knight was one of the handsomest men there." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Lamorak seems enchanted by you,\" said Morgaine, and although she had given her favor to him before the whole court, Morgause felt herself blush at Morgaine's detached voice.\n\n\"Do you think I have need of charms or spells, kinswoman?\"\n\nMorgaine laughed. \"I should have used another word. Young men seem mostly to want a fair face and little more.\"\n\n\"Well, Morgaine, Accolon is younger than you, and you have certainly captivated him to the point where he has no desire fora younger woman-or a fairer one. I am not the one to reproach you, my dear. You were married against your will, and your husband could be your grandsire.\"\n\nMorgaine shrugged. \"Sometimes I think Uriens knows-perhaps he is glad that I have a lover who will not tempt me to leave him.\"\n\nA little hesitantly-she had never asked Morgaine any personal question since Gwydion's birth-Morgause said, \"You and Uriens are at odds, then?\"\n\nMorgaine gave again that indifferent shrug. \"I think Uriens cares not enough for me to beat odds one way or the other.\"\n\n\"How like you Gwydion?\" Morgause asked.\n\n\"He frightens me,\" said Morgaine. \"Yet it would be hard not to be charmed by him.\"\n\n\"What do you expect? He has Lancelet's beauty and your powers of mind-and he is ambitious as well.\"\n\n\"How strange that you should know my son better than I do,\" Morgaine said, and there was so much bitterness in the words that Morgause, whose first instinct was to rap out a sharp reply-Morgaine had deserted her son, why should it surprise her?-patted the younger woman's hand and said, not unkindly, \"Oh, my dear, once a son is grown out of your lap, I think anyone knows him better than his mother! I am sure that Arthur and his Companions, and even your Uwaine, all know Gawaine better than I do, and he is not even a hard man to understand-he's a perfectly simple man. If you had reared him from a babe you still would not understand Gwydion-I freely confess that I do not!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Morgaine's only answer was an uneasy smile." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She turned to look at the lists, where the first events were starting; Arthur's fools and clowns were dancing about in ridiculous mock battles, flapping pig's bladders for weapons and cloth banners, garishly painted, in the place of shields, until the watchers were guffawing at their capers. They bowed at last, and Gwenhwyfar, in an exaggerated parody of the gesture with which she would later bestow prizes to the real winners, flung them handfuls of sweets and cakes. They scrambled for them, to more laughter and applause, then capered away to the good dinner waiting for them in the kitchens.\n\nOne of the criers called out that the first match would be atrial combat between the Queen's champion, sir Lancelet of the Lake, and the King's, sir Gawaine of Lothian and the Isles. There was a tumult of applause as they came onto the field-Lancelet slender, dark, and still so handsome, despite the lines in his face and the grey in his hair, that Morgaine felt her breath catch.\n\nYes, thought Morgause, watching her younger kinswoman's face, she loves him still, despite the years. Perhaps she does not know it herself, but there it is.\n\nThe combat was like an elaborately choreographed dance, the two moving round one another, their swords and shields ringing loud. Morgause could not see that either of them had the slightest advantage, and when at last they lowered their swords, bowed to the King, and embraced each other, they were cheered impartially and applauded without the slightest favoritism.\n\nThen came the horse games: demonstrations of fancy riding, a man riding an unbroken horse to master it-Morgause faintly remembered a time when Lancelet had done some such thing, perhaps at Arthur's wedding-it seemed very long ago. After that, there were individual duels on horseback, with blunted spears which could nevertheless unhorse a rider and give him a nasty spill into the field. One young rider fell twisted on his leg and was carried away screaming, the leg sticking out at an improbable angle. This was the only serious injury, but there were bruises, smashed fingers, men flung senseless to the ground, and one who barely escaped being kicked by a badly trained horse. Gwenhwyfar gave prizes at the end of all this, and Morgaine too was called by Arthur and asked to distribute several prizes." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Accolon had won one of the prizes for riding, and as he came to kneel and accept the prize from Morgaine's hands, Morgause was astonished to hear a low, but perceptible hiss of disapproval somewhere in the stands. Someone softly but audibly whispered, \"Witch! Harlot!\"\n\nMorgaine colored, but her hands did not falter as she handed Accolon the cup. Arthur said in a low voice to one of his stewards, \"Find out who that was!\" and the man slipped away, but Morgause was sure that in such a crowd, the voice would never be recognized.\n\nWhen Morgaine came back to her seat at the start of the second half of the entertainment, she looked pale and angry; her hands, Morgause noted, were shaking, and her breath coming fast in her throat.\n\n\"My dear, don't worry about it,\" said Morgause. \"What do you think they call me, when it is a year of poor crops, or when someone has had justice done to him and would rather have gotten away with his villainy?\"\n\n\"Do you think I care what that rabble think of me?\" Morgaine said scornfully, but Morgause knew her indifference was pretended. \"I am loved well enough in my own country.\"\n\nThe second half of the games began with some Saxon churls demonstrating the art of wrestling. They were huge hairy men, hair not only on their faces but allover their near-naked bodies; they grunted and strained and heaved, with hoarse cries, grappling and wrenching with bone-cracking strength. Morgause leaned forward, shamelessly enjoying the sight of their male strength; but Morgaine turned her eyes away in squeamish distaste.\n\n\"Oh, come, Morgaine, you are growing as prudish as the Queen. What a face!\" Morgause shaded her eyes with her hand and glanced down to the field. \"I think the mock battle is about to begin-Look! Is that Gwydion? What can he be doing?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gwydion had leaped into the field, and waving away the crier who hurried to him, called out in a strong, clear voice which could be heard clearly from one end of the field to another, \"King Arthur!\"\n\nMorgause saw that Morgaine had sunk back, white as death, and was clutching the rails with both hands. What was the lad about? Was he going to make a scene here before half of Arthur's people, demanding the acknowledgment that was his?\n\nArthur rose, and Morgause thought that he too looked uneasy, but his voice was ringing clear.\n\n\"Yes, nephew?\"\n\n\"I have heard that it is customary at these games to allow a challenge, if the King is willing. I ask now if sir Lancelet will meet me fora challenge fight!\"\n\nLancelet had once said-Morgause remembered this-that such challenges were the bane of his existence; every young knight wanted to master the Queen's champion. Arthur's voice was grave. \"It is customary, but I cannot speak for Lancelet. If he agrees to this match, I cannot refuse him, but you must challenge him directly and abide by his answer.\"\n\nMorgause said, \"Oh, damn the boy! I had no idea this was what he had in mind...\" but Morgaine somehow felt she was not so displeased, after all.\n\nA wind had come up, and dust from the field was blowing, blurring the summer glare of the dry white clay of the field. Gwydion walked through the dust to the end of the lists, where Lancelet was sitting on a bench. Morgause could not hear what either of them said, but Gwydion turned angrily and shouted, \"My lords! I heard always that a champion's duty is to meet with all comers! Sir, I demand that Lancelet now meet my challenge or yield up his high office tome! Does he hold his post because of his skill at arms, or for some other reason, my lord Arthur?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I wish,\" said Morgause, \"that your son were still young enough to have his breeches well dusted, Morgaine!\"\n\n\"Why blame him?\" asked Morgaine. \"Why not blame Gwenhwyfar for making her husband so vulnerable? Everyone in this kingdom knows she favors Lancelet, yet no one cries out \"witch\" or \"harlot\" when she comes before the people.\"\n\nBut Lancelet, below them, had risen and strode to Gwydion; he brought back his gloved hand and struck the younger man smartly across the mouth. \"Now indeed you have given me cause to chastise your ungentle tongue, young Gwydion. We will see who refuses combat now!\"\n\n\"I came here for that,\" said Gwydion, unmoved by blow or words, though there was a small trickle of blood on his face. \"I will even grant you first blood, sir Lancelet. It is fitting that a man of your years should have some advantage.\"\n\nLancelet spoke to one of his marshals, who came to take his place as master of the lists. There was a considerable murmuring in the stands as Lancelet and Gwydion took swords and faced the King for the ritual bow which began the contest. Morgause thought, If there is a man in that crowd who does not believe that they are father and son, he must have poor eyesight.\n\nThe two men raised swords to each other, their faces now hidden by helmets. They were within an inch of the same height; the only difference between them was between Lancelet's battered old breastplate and armor, and Gwydion's newer, unstained gear. They circled one another slowly, then rushed in and fora moment Morgause lost track of the separate strokes, which were nearly too fast for the eye to follow. She could see that Lancelet was taking the younger man's measure, and after a moment he pressed hard and struck a mighty blow. Gwydion caught it on the side of his shield, but the force behind it was so enormous that he reeled, lost his balance, and measured his length on the field. He began to scramble up. Lancelet put his sword aside and went to help the young man to his feet. Morgause could not hear what he said, but the gesture was good-natured, something like, \"Had enough, youngster?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gwydion pointed to the trickle of blood down Lancelet's wrist from a small cut he had managed to inflict. His voice was clearly audible.\n\n\"You drew first blood, sir, and I second. Shall we decide it with one more fall?\"\n\nThere was a small storm of hissing and disapproval; first blood in these demonstration matches, since the contestants fought with sharp weapons, was supposed to end the fight.\n\nKing Arthur rose in his place. \"This is a festival and a courtesy challenge, not a duel! I will have no settling of grudges here, unless you fight with fists or cudgels! Continue if you will, but I warn you, if there is a serious wounding, you will both be under my gravest displeasure!\"\n\nThey bowed and moved apart, circling for their advantage; then they rushed together, and Morgause gasped, watching the fierceness of it. It seemed that at any moment one or the other might rush in under the shield and inflict a mortal wound! One of them had gone to his knees-a rain of blows on the shield, the swords locked together in a deadlock, and one was borne closer and closer to the ground...\n\nGwenhwyfar rose and cried out, \"I will have this go no further!\"\n\nArthur cast his baton into the lists; by custom, a fight was instantly stopped when that happened, but neither man saw, and the marshals had to pull them apart. Gwydion stood fresh and erect, smiling as he pulled off his helmet. Lancelet's squire had to help the older man to his feet; he was breathing hard, sweat and blood pouring down his face. There was a perfect storm of hissing, even from the other knights on the field; Gwydion had added nothing to his popularity by shaming the hero of the people." }, { "from": "human", "value": "But he bowed to the older knight." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I am honored, sir Lancelet. I came to this court a stranger, not even one of Arthur's Companions, and I am grateful to you fora lesson in swordplay.\" His smile was the very reflection of Lancelet's own. \"Thank you, sir.\"\n\nLancelet managed to summon from somewhere his old smile. It exaggerated the resemblance between them almost to the point of caricature. \"You bore yourself most bravely, Gwydion.\"\n\n\"Then,\" said Gwydion, kneeling before him in the dust of the field, \"I beg of you, sir, grant tome the order of knighthood.\"\n\nMorgause caught her breath. Morgaine sat as if she had been turned to stone. But from where the Saxons sat there was a burst of cheering. \"Crafty counsel indeed! Clever, clever-how can they refuse you now, lad, when you have stood up well to combat with their own champion!\"\n\nLancelet glanced at Arthur. The King sat paralyzed, seeming frozen, but after a moment, he nodded. Lancelet gestured to his squire, who brought a sword. Lancelet took it and belted it around Gwydion's waist. \"Bear this always in the service of your king, and of the righteous cause,\" said the old knight. He was deadly serious now. All the mockery and defiance had gone from Gwydion's face; he looked grave and sweet, his eyes raised to Lancelet, and Morgause saw that his lips were trembling.\n\nSudden sympathy for him rose in Morgause-bastard, not even an acknowledged one, he was even more of an outsider than Lancelet had been. Who could blame Gwydion for the ruse by which he had forced his kinsmen to notice him? She thought, We should have taken him long since to Arthur's court, had him privately acknowledged even if Arthur could not do so publicly. A king's son should not have to do this." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Lancelet laid his hands on Gwydion's brow." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I confer on you the honor of a Companion of the Round Table, by permission of our king. Serve him always, and since you have won this honor by craft rather than brute strength-though indeed you have shown that too, well enough-I name you among this company, not Gwydion, but Mordred. Rise, sir Mordred, and take your place among the Companions of Arthur.\"\n\nGwydion-no, Mordred, Morgause remembered; for the naming of a Companion was a rite not much less serious than baptism-rose and heartily returned Lancelet's embrace. He seemed deeply moved, almost unhearing the cheers and applause. His voice broke as he said, \"Now I have won the prize of the day, whoever is judged winner in these games, my lord Lancelet.\"\n\n\"No,\" Morgaine said quietly at Morgause's side, \"I do not understand him. That is the last thing I would have expected.\"\n\nThere was along pause before the Companions ranged themselves for the final mock battle. Some went to drink water or swallow a hasty bite of bread; some gathered in little knots, arguing about which side they should take in the final games; others went to see to their horses. Morgause went down to the field where a few of the young men lingered, Gareth among them-he towered over the others by half ahead, making him easy to pick out. She thought he was talking to Lancelet, but when she came closer she discovered her sight had deceived her; he was facing Gwydion, and his voice sounded angry. She caught only the last few words.\n\n\"-what harm has he ever done you? To make a fool of him before the whole field-\"\n\nGwydion laughed and said, \"If our cousin needs protection before a whole field of his friends, God help Lancelet when he falls among the Saxons or the Northmen! Come, foster-brother, I doubt not he can protect his own reputation! Is that all you have to say tome after all these years, brother, to chide me that I have distressed someone you love so well?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gareth laughed and caught Gwydion into a great hug. He said, \"Same reckless young one, you are-what put it into your head to do that? Arthur would have made you knight, if you had asked him!\"\n\nMorgause remembered: Gareth did not know all the truth about Gwydion's parentage; no doubt, he meant only, because you are his sister's son.\n\nGwydion said, \"I am sure of it-he is always kind to his kinsmen. He would have made you knight, Gareth, for Gawaine's sake, but you took not that road either, foster-brother.\" He chuckled. \"And I think Lancelet owes me something for all those years I have walked about wearing his face!\"\n\nGareth shrugged ruefully. \"Well, it seems he bears you no grudge, so I suppose I too must forgive you. Now you, too, have seen how great-hearted he is.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" said Gwydion softly, \"he is so-\" then raised his head and saw Morgause. \"Mother, what do you here? How may I serve you?\"\n\n\"I came only to greet Gareth, who has not spoken with me this day,\" said Morgause, and the big man bent to kiss his mother's hand. She asked him, \"How will you fight in the mock battle?\"\n\n\"As always,\" said Gareth, \"I fight at Gawaine's side, in the King's men. You have a horse for fighting, do you not, Gwydion? Will you fight with the King's side, then? We can make a place for you.\"\n\nGwydion said, with his dark enigmatic smile, \"Since Lancelet made me knight, I suppose I should fight with the army of sir Lancelet of the Lake, and at Accolon's side, for Avalon. But I will not take the field at all today, Gareth.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Why not?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gareth asked and laid his hand on the younger man's shoulder, looking down at him as he had always done-Morgause thought of a younger Gareth, smiling down at his little brother. \"It is expected of those who have been made knight-Galahad will fight among us, you know.\"\n\n\"And which side will he take?\" Gwydion asked. \"His father Lancelet's, or that of the King who has made him heir to his kingdom? Is that not a cruel test of his loyalties?\"\n\nGareth looked exasperated. \"How then would you divide the armies for the mock battle, save by the two greatest knights among us? Do you think either Lancelet or Arthur believes it a test of loyalties? Arthur will not take the field himself, just so that no man will have to make the choice whether to strike at his king, but Gawaine has been his champion since he was crowned! Are you going to rake up old scandal? You?\"\n\nGwydion shrugged. \"Since I am not intending to join either force-\"\n\n\"But what will they think of you? That you are cowardly, that you shrink from combat-\"\n\n\"I have fought enough in Arthur's armies that I care not what they say,\" said Gwydion, \"but if you wish, you may tell them that my horse is gone lame and I have no wish to risk more injury to him-that is an honorable excuse.\"\n\n\"I would lend you a horse of Gawaine,\" Gareth said, puzzled, \"but if you wish for an honorable excuse, do what you will. But why, Gwydion? Or must I now call you Mordred?\"\n\n\"You shall call me always what you will, foster-brother.\"\n\n\"But will you not tell me why you shirk the fight, Gwydion?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"None other but you could speak that word unchallenged,\" said Gwydion, \"but since you ask me, I will tell you. It is for your sake, brother.\"\n\nGareth scowled at him. \"What, in God's name, do you mean?\"\n\n\"I know little of God, or care to,\" said Gwydion, and stared down at his feet. \"Since you will know, brother-you know from old-I have the Sight-\"\n\n\"Aye, and what of it?\" asked Gareth impatiently. \"Have you had some ill dream that I will fall before your lance?\"\n\n\"No, make not a jest of it,\" said Gwydion, and Morgause felt ice go through her veins as he turned up his face to Gareth. \"It seemed tome-\" He swallowed, as if his throat closed against the words he would speak. \"It seemed tome that you lay dying-and I knelt at your side, and you would not speak tome-and I knew it was my doing you lay without the spark of life.\"\n\nGareth pursed his lips and whistled soundlessly. But then he clapped his foster-brother on the shoulder. \"Nay, but I put small faith in dreams and visions, youngster. And fate, no man can escape. Did they not teach you that in Avalon?\"\n\n\"Aye,\" Gwydion said softly. \"And if you fell, even at my hand, in battle, fate then it would be... but I will not tempt that fate in play, my brother. Some ill chance might guide my hand to strike amiss.... Let it be, Gareth. I will not take the field this day, let them say what they will.\"\n\nGareth still looked distressed. \"Well, do as you will, lad. Stay beside our mother, then, since Lamorak will take the field beside Lancelet.\" He bent to kiss his mother's hand, and went; Morgause, frowning, started to ask Gwydion what he had seen; but he was scowling, staring at the ground, and she forbore, saying only, \"Well, if I am to have a young courtier to sit beside me, will you bring me a dipper of water before I go to my seat again?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Certainly, Mother,\" he said, and went off toward the water butts.\n\nTo Morgause, the final scrimmage battle was always something of a blur; her head had begun to ache with the sun and she was eager for it to be over. She was hungry, too, and could smell, from a distance, the meat roasting in the pits.\n\nGwydion sat beside her and explained it to her, though she knew little of the fine points of fighting, nor cared to. But she did note that Galahad acquitted himself well, unseating two riders; she was a little surprised, he seemed so gentle a boy. But then, Gareth too had seemed a gentle child to her, and he was the most fearsome of fighters. At the end, he took the prize on the King's side where Gawaine was at the head of the fighting. To no one's surprise, Galahad won the prize on Lancelet's side; this was customary fora young man who had been knighted that day, and she said so.\n\n\"You could have had a prize too, Gwydion,\" she said, but he laughed and shook his head. \"I need it not, Mother. Why spoil this day for my cousin? And Galahad fought well-no one begrudges him the prize.\"\n\nThere were many smaller prizes, and when they were all given, the knights went to be sluiced with buckets of water from head to toe by their squires, and to put on fresh clothing. Morgause went with the ladies of the King's household to a room put at their disposal, where they could arrange their gowns and hair, and wash off the dust and sweat of the stands.\n\n\"How do you think?\" Morgause asked. \"Has Lancelet made himself an enemy?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Morgaine said, \"I think not. Did you see them embrace?\"\n\n\"They looked like father and son,\" said Morgause. \"Would that they were!\"\n\nBut Morgaine's face was like stone. \"It is many years too late to speak of that, Aunt.\"\n\nMorgause reflected, Perhaps she has forgotten that I know whose son he really is. But before Morgaine's frozen calm she could only say, \"Would you like me to help with your braids at the back?\" and took up the comb as Morgaine turned. \"Mordred,\" she said, as she worked. \"Well, he showed crafty counsel here, God knows! Now he has won himself a place by valor and impudence, so he need not demand one from Arthur on the grounds of his parentage. The Saxons named him well. But I knew not he was so much of a fighter. He has certainly managed to carry away the luster of the day! Even though Galahad won the prize, no one will talk about anything but Mordred's daring gesture.\"\n\nOne of the Queen's ladies came up to them. \"Lady Morgaine, is sir Mordred your son? I never knew you had a son-\"\n\nMorgaine said steadily, \"I was very young when he was born, and Morgause fostered him. I had come near to forgetting it myself.\"\n\n\"How proud you must be of him! And isn't he handsome? As good-looking as Lancelet himself,\" the woman said, and her eyes glistened.\n\n\"He is, isn't he,\" agreed Morgaine, her tone so courteous that only Morgause, who knew her well, knew that she was angry. \"It has been an embarrassment to them both, I daresay. But Lancelet and I are first cousins, and when I was a little girl, I was more like him than like my own brother. Our mother was tall and red-haired like Queen Morgause here, but Lady Viviane was of the old folk of Avalon.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Who is his father, then?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "asked the woman, and Morgause saw Morgaine's hands clench at her sides. But she said with a pleasant smile, \"He is a Beltane child, and the God claims all children gotten in the groves. No doubt you remember that as a young girl I was one of the damsels of the Lady of the Lake.\"\n\nTrying to be polite, the woman murmured, \"I had forgotten-they still kept the old rites there, then?\"\n\n\"As they do now,\" said Morgaine quietly. \"And the Goddess grant they shall do so till the world end.\"\n\nAs she had intended, that silenced the woman, and Morgaine turned away, saying to Morgause, \"Are you ready, kinswoman? Let us go down to the hall.\" As they left the room she drew along breath of mingled exasperation and relief.\n\n\"Chattering fools-listen to them! Have they nothing better to do than gossip?\"\n\n\"Probably not,\" said Morgause. \"Their most Christian husbands and fathers make sure they shall have nothing else to occupy their minds.\"\n\nThe doors to the great chamber of the Round Table where the Pentecost feast would beheld were shut, so that they might all enter at once.\n\n\"Arthur every year gives us more pageantry,\" said Morgause. \"Now a grand procession and entrance, I suppose?\"\n\n\"What do you expect?\" Morgaine asked. \"Now there are no wars, he must touch the imagination of his people somehow, and he is clever enough to do it by making great display for them-I have heard it was the Merlin who counselled him so. The common folk-yes, and the nobles too-like a fine show, and the Druids have known that since they lit the first Beltane fires. Gwenhwyfar has spent many years making this the greatest holiday anywhere in any Christian land.\" She gave the first real smile Morgause had seen on her face this day. \"Even Arthur knows he cannot hold his people with amass and a feast alone-if there is no great marvel to see, I doubt not Arthur and the Merlin will somehow arrange one! What a pity they could not arrange to hold the eclipse today!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Did you watch the eclipse in Wales? My folk were frightened,\" Morgause said, \"and no doubt, those fools of Gwenhwyfar's ladies shrieked and shouted as if the world were coming to an end!\"\n\n\"Gwenhwyfar has a passion for fools among her ladies,\" Morgaine said. \"Yet she herself is not really a fool, though she likes to seem so. I wonder how she can tolerate it?\"\n\n\"You should show more patience with them,\" Morgause warned, and Morgaine shrugged.\n\n\"I care not what fools think of me.\"\n\n\"I cannot imagine how you have dwelt in Uriens' kingdom as his queen so long, and not learned more of queencraft,\" said Morgause. \"Whatever she is thought by men, a woman must depend on the goodwill of other women-what else did you learn at Avalon?\"\n\nMorgaine said, her voice hard, \"The women in Avalon are not such fools.\" But Morgause knew her well enough to know that her angry tone concealed loneliness and suffering.\n\n\"Morgaine, why do you not return to Avalon?\"\n\nMorgaine bent her head, knowing that if Morgause spoke kindly again to her she would break and weep. \"My time has not yet come. I have been ordered to stay with Uriens-\"\n\n\"And Accolon?\"\n\n\"Oh, aye, with Accolon,\" said Morgaine. \"I might have known you would reproach me with that-\"\n\n\"I am the last to speak,\" said Morgause. \"But Uriens will not livelong-\"\n\nMorgaine said, her face as frozen as her voice, \"So I believed on that day years ago when we were wedded. He is like to live as long as Taliesin himself, and Taliesin was past ninety when he died.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Arthur and Gwenhwyfar had arrived and were slowly making their way to the head of the line-Arthur resplendently clad in white robes, Gwenhwyfar beside him, exquisite in white silk and jewels. The great doors were flung open, and they passed within, then Morgaine as the King's sister with her husband and his sons, Accolon and Uwaine; then Morgause with her household, as the King's aunt; then Lancelet and his household, and then the other knights one by one, proceeding around the Round Table to take their seats. A few years back, some craftsman had wrought in gold paint and crimson the name of every Companion over his customary chair. Now, as they entered, Morgause noticed that the seat nearest the King, reserved all these years for his heir, had been painted with the name Galahad. But she saw it only in a flicker of her eye. For at the great thrones where Arthur and Gwenhwyfar were to sit, two white banners, like the garish banners with which the battles of the clowns had been fought, had been draped, and across them were scrawled paintings, ugly caricatures-on one throne was a banner portraying a knight standing on the heads of two crowned figures, bearing a devilish likeness to Arthur and Gwenhwyfar; and across the other was a lewd painting which made even Morgause, who was by no means prudish, blush, for it depicted a small, dark-haired woman, stark naked, in the embrace of a huge horned devil, and all about her, accepting certain strange and disgusting sexual ministrations, were scrawled a group of naked men.\n\nGwenhwyfar cried out in a shrill scream, \"God and Mary defend us!\"\n\nArthur, stopped dead, turned on the servants in a voice of thunder. \"How came this-this-\" Words failed him and he waved his hand at the drawings. \"-this here?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Sir-\" the chamberlain stammered, \"it was not here when we finished decking the hall-all was orderly, even to the flowers before the Queen's seat-\"\n\n\"Who was last in this hall?\" Arthur demanded.\n\nCai limped forward. \"My lord and my brother, it was I. I came to be certain all was in good order, and I swear as God sees us all, everything was ready at that time to honor my king and his lady. And if ever I find the foul dog who sneaked into put this thing here, I will have his head like this!\" And he gestured as if he were wringing a chicken's neck.\n\n\"Look to your lady!\" said Arthur sharply. The women were twittering and chattering as Gwenhwyfar began to sink down in a faint. Morgaine held her up, saying in a sharp, low voice, \"Gwen, don't give them this satisfaction! You area queen-what do you care what some fool scrawls on a banner? Control yourself!\"\n\nGwenhwyfar was crying. \"How can they-how could they-how could anyone hate me so?\"\n\n\"There is no one alive who can live without offending some idiot or other,\" said Morgaine, and helped her toward her seat. But the more crudely sexual of the banners was still draped over it, and Gwenhwyfar shrank back as if she touched something filthy. Morgaine threw it on the floor. There were wine cups set; Morgaine gestured to one of Gwenhwyfar's waiting-women to fill one and give it to the Queen.\n\n\"Don't let it trouble you, Gwen-I imagine that one is meant for me,\" she said. \"It is whispered indeed that I take devils to my bed, and what do I care?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Arthur said, \"Get this foulness out of here and burn it, and bring scented woods and incense to takeaway the stink of evil.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lackeys scurried to obey him, and Cai said, \"We will find out who did this. No doubt it is some servant I dismissed, coming back to embarrass me because I had shown some pride in the decorations of the hall this year. Men, bring the wine round, and the ale, and we will have our first round of drinking shame and confusion to that stinking louse who tried to spoil our feast. Will we let him? Come! Drink to King Arthur and his lady!\"\n\nA thin cheer went up, which grew to a genuine cry of appreciation as Arthur and Gwenhwyfar bowed to them all. The feasters seated themselves, and Arthur said, \"Now bring before meany petitioners.\"\n\nMorgause watched as they brought up some man with a complaint which seemed stupid, about a boundary. Then came an overlord who complained that his vassal had taken a deer on his lands.\n\nMorgause was near Gwenhwyfar; she leaned over and murmured to the Queen, \"Why does Arthur hear these cases himself? Any of his bailiffs could handle this and not waste his time.\"\n\nGwenhwyfar murmured, \"So I once thought. But he hears a case or two like this, every year at Pentecost, so that the common folk may not think he cares only for the great nobles or his own Companions.\"\n\nWell, Morgause thought, that was wise enough. There were two or three more small petitions, then as the meat was brought round, jugglers and acrobats entertained the company, and a man did some conjuring trick of bringing small birds and eggs from the most unlikely places. Morgause thought that Gwenhwyfar seemed calm now, and wondered if they would ever catch the author of the drawings. One portrayed Morgaine as a harlot and that was bad enough; but the other, it seemed, was more serious-showing Lancelet trampling on both King and Queen. Something had happened today beyond a public humiliation for the Queen's champion, Morgause reflected. That could have been dispelled by the graciousness he had shown to young Gwydion-no, Mordred-and the obvious lack of any grudge between them after. But despite Lancelet's popularity with King and Companions, there were, no doubt, some who detested Gwenhwyfar's obvious partiality to her champion." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What is happening now?\" she asked Gwenhwyfar.\n\nThe Queen smiled; whatever it was, as the horns blew outside the hall, it was something which pleased her.\n\nThe doors were flung open; horns blared again, the crude horns of the Saxons. Then three great Saxons, wearing gold torques and bracelets about their arms, clad in garments of fur and leather, bearing great swords and their horned helmets and with circlets of gold about their heads, strode into the hall of the Round Table, each with his retinue.\n\n\"My lord Arthur,\" called out one of them, \"I am Adelric, lord of Kent and Anglia, and these are my brother kings. We have come to ask that we may give tribute to you, most Christian of kings, and make permanent treaty with you and your court forever!\"\n\n\"Lot would be turning in his grave.\" remarked Morgause, \"but Viviane would be pleased at this day.\" But Morgaine did not answer.\n\nBishop Patricius rose and came toward the Saxon kings, welcoming them. He said to Arthur, \"My lord, after the long wars, this gives me great joy. I urge you to welcome these men as your subject kings and take their oath, in token that all Christian kings should be brothers.\"\n\nMorgaine was deathly white. She started to rise and speak, but Uriens looked at her with astern frown and she sank back at his side. Morgause said good-naturedly, \"I remember when the bishops refused even to send anyone to Christianize these barbarians. Lot told me they have vowed they would not meet with the Saxons in fellowship even in Heaven, and that they would not send missions to them-they felt it right that the Saxons should all end up in Hell. But, well, that is thirty years gone!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Arthur said, \"Since I came to my throne, I have longed for an end to the wars which have ravaged this land. We have dwelt in peace for many years, Lord Bishop, and now I welcome you, good sirs, to my court and to my company.\"\n\n\"It is our custom,\" said one of the Saxons-not Adelric, Morgause noticed, for this one was wearing some kind of blue cloak, and Adelric's had been brown-\"to take oath on steel. May we take oath on the cross of your sword, Lord Arthur, in token that we meet as Christian kings under One God who rules us all?\"\n\n\"Be it so,\" said Arthur quietly, and came down from the dais to stand before them. In the light of the many torches and lamps, Excalibur flashed like lightning as he drew it. He set it upright before him and a great wavering shadow, the shadow of across, fell all the length of the hall, as the kings knelt.\n\nGwenhwyfar looked pleased; Galahad was flushed with joy. But Morgaine was white with rage, and Morgause heard her whisper to Uriens. \"He has dared to put the sacred sword of Avalon to such uses! I will not, as priestess of Avalon, sit and witness it in silence!\" She began to rise, but Uriens gripped her wrist. She struggled silently, but old as Uriens was, he was a warrior, and Morgaine a little woman; fora moment Morgause thought he would break the small bones of Morgaine's wrist, but she did not cry out or whimper. She set her teeth, and managed to wrench her wrist away. She said, loud enough that Gwenhwyfar could certainly hear, \"Viviane died with her work unfinished. And I have sat idle while children unconceived grew to manhood and were knighted, and Arthur fell into the hands of the priests!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Lady,\" said Accolon, leaning over her chair, \"even you cannot disrupt this holy day, or they will serve you as the Romans served the Druids. Speak in private with Arthur, remonstrate with him there if you must-I am sure the Merlin will help you!\"\n\nMorgaine lowered her eyes. Her teeth bit into her lip.\n\nArthur embraced the Saxon kings one by one, welcoming them and leading them to seats near his throne. \"Your sons, if they show themselves worthy, will be welcome among my Companions,\" he said, and had his servants bring gifts-swords and fine daggers, a rich cloak for Adelric. Morgause took up a cake, sticky with honey, and put it between Morgaine's clenched lips.\n\n\"You are too fond of fasting, Morgaine,\" she said. \"Eat this! You are pale, you will swoon where you sit!\"\n\n\"It is not hunger that makes me pale,\" said Morgaine, but she took the cake in her mouth. She drank a little wine too, and Morgause could see that her hands were shaking. On one wrist there were dark bruises left by Uriens' fingers.\n\nThen Morgaine rose. She said quietly to Uriens, \"Do not worry, my most beloved husband. I will say nothing to offend you or our king.\" Then, turning to Arthur, she said loudly, \"My lord and brother! May I ask a favor of you?\"\n\n\"My sister and the wife of my loyal subject king Uriens may ask what she will,\" said Arthur genially.\n\n\"The least of your subjects, sir, may ask for audience. I ask that you will grant me such an audience,\" she said. Arthur raised his eyebrows, but took his formal tone from her.\n\n\"Tonight before I sleep, if you will. I will receive you in my own room, with your husband if you wish.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I wish, thought Morgause, that I could be a fly on the wall at that audience!" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "In the chamber Gwenhwyfar had assigned King Uriens and his family, Morgaine combed her hair again with leaden fingers and had her waiting-woman lace her into afresh gown. Uriens was complaining that he had eaten and drunk too well and was not looking forward to the audience.\n\n\"Go to bed then,\" she said. \"It is I who has a thing to say to him, it has nothing to do with you.\"\n\n\"Not so,\" said Uriens. \"I too was lessoned in Avalon. Do you think I take pleasure in seeing the holy things put to the service of the Christian God who would strip all other knowledge from the world? No, Morgaine, it is not you alone as priestess of Avalon who should show your outrage at this. It is the kingdom of North Wales, I myself as ruler, and Accolon, who is pledged to rule when I am gone.\"\n\n\"Father is right, madam.\" Accolon met her eyes as he said, \"Our people trust us that we will not betray them, nor let church bells ring in their holy groves-\" and fora moment it seemed, though she knew that neither she nor Accolon had moved, that they were standing together in one of the magical groves, joined before the Goddess. Uriens, of course, had seen nothing. He urged, \"Let Arthur know, Morgaine, that the kingdom of North Wales will not fall meekly under the rule of the Christians.\"\n\nMorgaine shrugged. \"As you wish.\"\n\nI was a fool, she thought. I was priestess at his kingmaking, I bore Arthur a son, I should have used that hold I had on the King's conscience-made myself, not Gwenhwyfar, the ruler behind the throne. While I hid like an animal licking wounds, I lost my hold on Arthur. Where, atone time, I could have commanded, now I must beg, without even the power of the Lady!" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Collaborate on the narrative and advance it.\nTags: fantasy, arthurian, historical fantasy\nAuthor: Marion Zimmer Bradley\nTitle: The Mists of Avalon\nChapter: 60" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "In the chamber Gwenhwyfar had assigned King Uriens and his family, Morgaine combed her hair again with leaden fingers and had her waiting-woman lace her into afresh gown. Uriens was complaining that he had eaten and drunk too well and was not looking forward to the audience.\n\n\"Go to bed then,\" she said. \"It is I who has a thing to say to him, it has nothing to do with you.\"\n\n\"Not so,\" said Uriens. \"I too was lessoned in Avalon. Do you think I take pleasure in seeing the holy things put to the service of the Christian God who would strip all other knowledge from the world? No, Morgaine, it is not you alone as priestess of Avalon who should show your outrage at this. It is the kingdom of North Wales, I myself as ruler, and Accolon, who is pledged to rule when I am gone.\"\n\n\"Father is right, madam.\" Accolon met her eyes as he said, \"Our people trust us that we will not betray them, nor let church bells ring in their holy groves-\" and fora moment it seemed, though she knew that neither she nor Accolon had moved, that they were standing together in one of the magical groves, joined before the Goddess. Uriens, of course, had seen nothing. He urged, \"Let Arthur know, Morgaine, that the kingdom of North Wales will not fall meekly under the rule of the Christians.\"\n\nMorgaine shrugged. \"As you wish.\"\n\nI was a fool, she thought. I was priestess at his kingmaking, I bore Arthur a son, I should have used that hold I had on the King's conscience-made myself, not Gwenhwyfar, the ruler behind the throne. While I hid like an animal licking wounds, I lost my hold on Arthur. Where, atone time, I could have commanded, now I must beg, without even the power of the Lady!" }, { "from": "human", "value": "She had already turned toward the door when there was a knocking; a servant went to open it, and Gwydion came in." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He was still wearing the Saxon sword that Lancelet had given him at his knighting, but he had taken off his armor and wore a rich gown of scarlet; she had not known he could look so fine.\n\nHe saw her eyes light on him. \"Lancelet gave it me. We were drinking in the hall, and word came from Arthur that the King wished to see me in his chambers.... I said that my only tunic was bedraggled and blood-soaked and he said we were of a size and he would lend me a gown. When I had it on, he said it became me better than it did him and I should keep it-that I had had few enough gifts at my knighting, while the King had given Galahad many rich presents. Does he know Arthur is my father, that he said that?\"\n\nUriens blinked and looked surprised, but said nothing. Accolon shook his head. \"No, stepbrother. Lancelet is the most generous of men, that is all. When Gareth came first to court, unknown to his own kinsmen, Lancelet gave him clothes and weapons, so that Gareth should be dressed according to his station. And if you should ask if Lancelet likes it overmuch, seeing his gifts on the bodies of handsome young men, well, that has been said too before now, though I know of no man at this court, young or old, who has ever had a word from Lancelet beyond knightly courtesy.\"\n\n\"Is it so?\" Gwydion asked, and Morgaine could see him taking this piece of information and putting it away like gold in a miser's chest. \"Now I recall,\" he said slowly, \"a tale that went about of some feast at Lot's court when Lancelet was no more than a youth-something of a ballad made when they thrust a harp into his hand and bade him play, and he sang some lay of Rome or the days of Alexander, I know not what, of the love of knightly companions, and they jeered at him for it. Since then, his songs are all of the beauty of our queen, or knightly tales of adventure and dragons.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Morgaine felt she could not bear the scorn in his voice. She said, \"If you came to claim a gift for your knighting, I will speak with you when I have seen Arthur, but not now.\"\n\nGwydion looked down at his shoes. It was the first time she had ever seen him less than self-assured and confident. \"Mother, the King has sent for me too-may I go in your company?\"\n\nShe liked him a little better, that he should confess his own vulnerability this way. \"Arthur means you no harm, my son, but if it will please you to go with us before him, he can do no worse than send you away and say he would rather speak to you separately.\"\n\n\"Come, then, stepbrother,\" said Accolon, taking Gwydion's arm in such away that the younger man could seethe serpents tattooed on Accolon's wrists. \"The King shall go first with his lady, and you and I will follow....\"\n\nMorgaine, at Uriens' side, thought that she liked it well that Accolon should befriend her son and acknowledge him brother. At the same time she felt herself shiver, and Uriens took her hand. \"Are you cold, Morgaine? Take your cloak...\"\n\nIn the King's apartments afire burned, and Morgaine heard the sound of a harp. Arthur satin a wooden chair heaped with cushions. Gwenhwyfar was setting stitches in a narrow band which twinkled with gilt thread. The servant announced ceremoniously, \"The King and Queen of North Wales, and their son Accolon, and sir Lancelet-\"\n\nGwenhwyfar looked up at Lancelet's name, then laughed and said, \"No, though he is very like. Sir Mordred, is it not, that we saw knighted this day?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Gwydion bowed to the Queen but did not speak." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But in this family gathering Arthur was not one to stand upon ceremony.\n\n\"Sit down, all of you-let me send for wine-\"\n\nUriens said, \"I have had enough wine this day, Arthur, to float a ship down to the shore! None for me, thank you-perhaps the young men have better heads for it.\"\n\nGwenhwyfar moved toward Morgaine, and Morgaine knew that if she did not speak now, Arthur would begin his parley with the men and she would be expected to sit in a corner with the Queen and keep silence, or talk in whispers of women's things-embroidery, servants, who at the court was breeding...\n\nShe gestured to the servant with the wine. \"I will have a cup,\" she said, remembering, like a pain within her, when as priestess of Avalon she had been proud to drink only of the Holy Well. She sipped and said, \"I am deeply distressed at the welcome of the Saxon envoys, Arthur. No-\" She silenced him as he would have spoken. \"I do not speak as a woman meddling in affairs of state. I am Queen of North Wales, and Duchess of Cornwall, and what concerns the realm touches me too.\"\n\n\"Then you should be glad for peace,\" Arthur said. \"I have worked all my lifetime, it seems, since I was old enough to hold a sword, to end the wars with the Saxons. At that time I believed the war would be ended by driving them back over the seas whence they came. But peace is peace, and if it comes by making treaty with them, let it be so. There are more ways to deal with a bull than roasting him for dinner. It is equally effective to geld him and make him pull your plow.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Or save him to serve your cows at stud?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Will you ask your subject kings to marry their daughters to Saxons, Arthur?\"\n\n\"That too, perhaps,\" said Arthur. \"Saxons are no more than men-do you call to mind that song Lancelet sang? They have the same longings for peace-they too have lived on lands ravaged and burned again and again. Will you say I should have fought on till the last of them was dead or driven out? I thought women longed for peace.\"\n\n\"I too long for peace, and welcome it, even with Saxons,\" Morgaine said, \"but have you made them give up their Gods too, and accept your own, that you made them swear to you on the cross?\"\n\nGwenhwyfar had been listening intently. \"There are no other Gods, Morgaine. They have agreed to put aside the devils they worshipped and called Gods, that is all. Now they worship the one true God and the Christ sent in his name to save mankind.\"\n\nGwydion said, \"If you truly believe that, my lady and queen, then for you it is truth-all the Gods are One God and all the Goddesses one Goddess. But would you presume to declare one truth for all of mankind throughout the world?\"\n\n\"Call you that presumption? It is the one truth,\" Gwenhwyfar said, \"and a day must come when all men everywhere will acknowledge it.\"\n\n\"I tremble for my people that you say so,\" said King Uriens. \"I have pledged myself to protect the sacred groves, and my son after me.\"\n\n\"Why, I thought you a Christian, my lord of North Wales-\"\n\n\"And so I am,\" said Uriens, \"but I will not speak ill of another's God.\"\n\n\"But there are no such Gods,\" Gwenhwyfar began." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Morgaine opened her mouth to speak, but Arthur said, \"Enough of this, enough-I did not bid you hereto discuss theology! If you have the stomach for that, there are priests enough who will listen and argue. Go you and convert them if you must! What did you come hereto say, Morgaine? Only that you are wary of the good faith of the Saxons, oaths on the cross or no?\"\n\n\"No,\" Morgaine said, and as she spoke, she noted that Kevin was in the room, sitting in the shadows with his harp. Good; the Merlin of Britain could witness this protest in the name of Avalon! \"I call the Merlin to witness, you had them swear an oath on the cross-and you transformed the holy sword of Avalon, Excalibur, the very sword of the Holy Regalia, into your cross for the oath! Lord Merlin, is this not blasphemy?\"\n\nArthur said quickly, \"It was only a gesture, to catch the imagination of everyone, Morgaine-such as the gesture Viviane made, when she bade me fight for peace in the name of Avalon with that selfsame sword.\"\n\nThe Merlin said in his rich low voice, \"Morgaine, my dear, the cross is a symbol older than Christ and venerated before ever there were followers of the Nazarene. In Avalon there are priests brought hereby the patriarch Joseph of Arimathea, who worship at the side of the Druids....\"\n\n\"But they were priests who did not try to say that their God is the only God,\" Morgaine said angrily, \"and I doubt not that Bishop Patricius would silence them if he could, and preach only his own brand of bigotry!\"\n\n\"Bishop Patricius and his beliefs are not at issue here, Morgaine,\" said Kevin. \"Let the uninitiated think that the Saxons swore on the cross of Christ's sacrifice and death. We too have a sacrificed God, whether we see him in the cross, or in the sheaf of barley which must die to the earth and be raised again from the dead-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gwenhwyfar said, \"Your sacrificed Gods, Lord Merlin, were sent only that mankind might be ready when the Christ came to die for man's sins-\"\n\nArthur moved his hand impatiently. \"Be quiet, all of you! The Saxons swore to peace on a symbol meaningful to them-\"\n\nBut Morgaine interrupted him. \"It was from Avalon you received the sacred sword, and to Avalon that you swore an oath to preserve and guard the Holy Mysteries! And now you would make the sword of the Mysteries into the cross of death, the gallows for the dead! When Viviane came to court, she came to demand of you that you fullfil your oaths to Avalon. Then she was struck down! Now I am come to finish that work she left undone, and to demand from you that holy sword of Excalibur which you have presumed to twist into the service of your Christ!\"\n\nGwenhwyfar said, \"A day will come when all false Gods shall vanish and all pagan symbols shall be put to the service of the one true God and his Christ.\"\n\n\"I did not speak to you, you canting fool,\" said Morgaine furiously, \"and that day will come over my corpse! You Christians have saints and martyrs-do you think Avalon will have none?\" And as she spoke she shuddered, knowing that, unaware, she had spoken through the Sight, and there was the body of a knight, draped in black with across banner over his body.... She wanted to turn, as she could not do herein this company, and throw herself into Accolon's arms.\n\n\"How you exaggerate all things, Morgaine!\" said Arthur with an uneasy laugh, and that laugh maddened her, driving away both the fear and the Sight. She drew herself up to her full height, and knew that for the first time in many years she spoke mantled in all the power and authority of a priestess of Avalon." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Hear me, Arthur of Britain!" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As the force and power of Avalon set you on the throne, so the force and power of Avalon can bring you down into ruin! Think well how you desecrate the Holy Regalia! Think never to put it to the service of your Christian God, for everything of Power carries its own curse-\"\n\n\"Enough!\" Arthur had risen from his chair, and his frown was like a storm. \"Sister or no, do not presume to give orders to the King of all Britain.\"\n\n\"I do not speak to my brother,\" she retorted, \"but to the King! Avalon set you on the throne, Arthur, Avalon gave you that sword you have misused, and in the name of Avalon I now call on you to render it back again to the Holy Regalia! If you wish to treat it only as a sword, then call your smiths to make you another!\"\n\nThere was a dreadful silence, and it seemed to her fora moment that her words were falling into the great echoing empty spaces between the worlds, that faraway in Avalon the Druids must wake, that even Raven must stir and cry out against Arthur's betrayal. But the first sound she heard was nervous laughter.\n\n\"What nonsense you are talking, Morgaine!\" It was Gwenhwyfar who spoke. \"You know Arthur cannot do that!\"\n\n\"Do not interfere, Gwenhwyfar,\" Morgaine said, with deadly menace. \"It has nothing to do with you, except that if it was you who bade Arthur break oath to Avalon, beware!\"\n\n\"Uriens,\" said Gwenhwyfar, \"will you stand idle and let your unruly wife speak so to the High King?\"\n\nUriens coughed; his voice when he spoke sounded as nervous as Gwenhwyfar's. \"Morgaine, perhaps you are being unreasonable... Arthur made a dramatic gesture for political reasons, to catch the imagination of the crowd. If he did so with a sword of power, well, so much the better. The Gods can take care of their own worship, my dear-do you think the Goddess needs your help to protect her own?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "At that moment, if Morgaine had had a weapon, she would have struck Uriens down. He had come to support her, and now he deserted her this way?\n\nArthur said, \"Morgaine, since you are so troubled, let me say this for your ears alone: I intended no desecration. If the sword of Avalon also serves as across for an oath, does it not mean that Avalon's powers are joined in the service of this land? So Kevin advised me-\"\n\n\"Oh, aye, I knew him traitor when he had Viviane buried outside the Holy Isle-\" Morgaine began.\n\n\"Be it so or otherwise,\" said Arthur, \"I gave the Saxon kings the gesture they wanted, to swear on my sword!\"\n\n\"But it is not your sword!\" Morgaine retorted, at white heat. \"It is the sword of Avalon! And if you bear it not as you have sworn, then shall it be given into the hands of one who will be true to his oath-\"\n\n\"Sword of Avalon it may have been a generation ago,\" said Arthur, who was now as angry as Morgaine; he clenched his handover the hilt of Excalibur, as if someone would take it from him that very moment. \"A sword is his who uses it, and I have won the right to call it mine by driving forth all enemies from this land! I bore it in battle, and I won this land at Mount Badon-\"\n\n\"And you have tried to subject it to the service of the Christian God,\" Morgaine retorted. \"Now in the name of the Goddess I demand of you that it be returned to the shrine of the Lake!\"\n\nArthur drew along breath. Then he said in a voice of studied calm, \"I refuse. If the Goddess wants this sword returned, then she herself will have to take it from my hands.\" Then his voice softened. \"My dear sister, I beg of you, do not quarrel with me about the name by which we call our Gods. You yourself have said tome that all the Gods are the One God.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "And he will never see why what he has said is wrong, Morgaine thought in despair." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Yet he has called on the Goddess, if she wants his sword to come and take it. Be it so, then; Lady, may I be your hand. She bowed her head fora moment and said, \"To the Goddess, then, I leave the disposal of her sword.\" And when she has done with you, Arthur, you will wish you had chosen to deal with me instead.... And she went to sit beside Gwenhwyfar. Arthur beckoned to Gwydion.\n\n\"Sir Mordred,\" he said, \"I would have made you one of my Companions at anytime you asked it of me. I would have done so for Morgaine's sake and for my own-you needed not to force knighthood from me by a trick.\"\n\n\"I thought if you made me knight without some good excuse such as this,\" Gwydion said, \"there might be talk of a kind you did not wish. Will you forgive me the trick, then, sir?\"\n\n\"If Lancelet has forgiven you, I have no reason to bear you any grudge,\" said Arthur, \"and since he has gifted you richly, it would seem he cherishes no wrath. I wish it lay in my power to acknowledge you my son, Mordred. Until a few years ago, I knew not that you existed-Morgaine told me not what came of that kingmaking. You do know, I suppose, that to the priests and bishops, your very existence is sign of something unholy.\"\n\n\"Do you believe that, sir?\"\n\nArthur looked his son directly in the eye. \"Oh-times I believe one thing, times another, like all men. It does not matter what I believe. The facts are thus-I cannot acknowledge you before all men, though you are such a son as any man, let alone a childless king, would be glad and proud to own. Galahad must inherit my throne.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"If he lives,\" said Gwydion, and at Arthur's shocked look, added quietly, \"No, sir, I am not making a threat to his life." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I will swear any oath you will, by cross or oak, by the Sacred Well or by these serpents I bear\"-he thrust out his wrists-\"which you bore before me: may the Goddess send living serpents like these to take my life if ever I raise a hand against my cousin Galahad. But I have seen it-he will die, honorably, for the cross he worships.\"\n\n\"God save us from evil!\" cried out Gwenhwyfar.\n\n\"Indeed, lady. But if he does not live to ascend your throne-my father and my king, he is a warrior and a knight, and no more than mortal, and you may live to be older than King Uriens. What then?\"\n\n\"Should Galahad die before he comes to my throne-God stand between him and harm-\" said Arthur, \"I will have no choice. Royal blood is royal blood, and yours is royal, from the Pendragon and from Avalon. Should such an evil day come, I suppose even the bishops would rather see you on the throne than leave this land to such chaos as they feared when Uther died.\"\n\nHe rose and stood with his two hands on his son's shoulders, looking into his eyes. \"Would that I could say more, my son. But done is done. I will say only that-I wish with all my heart that you had been the son of my queen.\"\n\n\"And so do I,\" said Gwenhwyfar, rising to embrace him.\n\n\"Still, I will not treat you as a baseborn churl,\" said Arthur. \"You are Morgaine's son. Mordred, Duke of Cornwall, Companion of the Round Table, you shall go to be the voice of the Round Table among the Saxon kings. You shall have the right to do the King's justice, and to collect my taxes and revenues, keeping a suitable portion to maintain such a household as the King's chancellor should have. And, if you wish it, I give you permission to marry the daughter of one of the Saxon kings, which will give you a throne of your own, even if you come never to mine.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gwydion bowed and said, \"You are generous, sir.\"\n\nYes, Morgaine thought, and this would keep Gwydion well out of the way, until and unless there was need of him. Arthur was skilled at kingcraft! She raised her head and said, \"You have been so generous to my son, Arthur, may I trespass again on your kindness?\"\n\nArthur looked wary, but he said, \"Ask me something I can grant, my sister, and it will be my pleasure to give it.\"\n\n\"You have made my son Duke of Cornwall, but he knows little of Cornwall's land as yet. I have heard that Duke Marcus now claims all that country. Will you come with me to Tintagel, and investigate this matter and this claim?\"\n\nArthur's face relaxed; had he been braced for her to raise the matter of the sword Excalibur again? No, my brother, not ever again before this court; when again I stretch forth my hand for Excalibur, it will be in my own country and in the place of the Goddess.\n\n\"I have not been in Cornwall for more years than I can reckon,\" Arthur said, \"and I cannot leave Camelot until Midsummer is past. But remain herein Camelot as my guest, and then we will go together to Tintagel, and see if Duke Marcus, or any other man God ever made, will dispute the claim of Arthur and of Morgaine, Duchess of Cornwall.\" He turned to Kevin. \"And now enough of high matters-my lord Merlin, I would not command you to sing for me before my entire court, but in private within my own chambers, and in the company of my family alone, may I entreat you fora song?\"\n\n\"It will be my pleasure,\" said Kevin, \"if the lady Gwenhwyfar does not object.\" He glanced at the Queen, but she was silent, and so he set his harp to his shoulder and began to play." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Morgaine sat quietly beside Uriens, listening to the music. A royal gift indeed Arthur had commanded for his family, Kevin's music. Gwydion listened, his hands clasped about his knees, silent and spellbound; she thought, In that at least he is my son. Uriens listened with polite attention. Morgaine looked up fora moment, meeting Accolon's eyes, and thought; Somehow this night we must manage to meet, even if I must give Uriens a sleeping potion; there is much I must say to him... and then she cast down her eyes. She was no better than Gwenhwyfar....\n\nUriens was holding her hand, fondling her fingers and wrists; she felt him touch the bruises he had made that day, and through the pain, she felt revulsion. She must go to his bed if he desired it; herein this Christian court she was his property, like a horse or dog he could fondle or beat at his own will!\n\nArthur had betrayed both her and Avalon; Uriens had played her false as well. Kevin, too, had betrayed her....\n\nBut Accolon would not fail her. Accolon should rule for Avalon, the King Viviane had foreseen would come; and after Accolon, Gwydion, Druid King, King of Avalon and all Britain.\n\nAnd behind the King, the Queen, ruling for the Goddess as in the days of old....\n\nKevin raised his head and met her eyes, and Morgaine shivered, knowing she must conceal her thoughts. He has the Sight, and he is Arthur's man. He is the Merlin of Britain, and nevertheless he is my enemy!\n\nBut Kevin said mildly, \"Since this is a family party, and I too would wish to hear music made, may I ask as my fee that the lady Morgaine will sing?\" and Morgaine went to take his place, feeling the power of the harp in her hands." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I must charm them, she thought, so they think no harm, and set her hands to the strings." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Uriens said, when they were alone in their chamber, \"I knew not that your claim to Tintagel was being disputed again.\"\n\n\"The things you do not know, my husband, areas many as acorns in a pig meadow,\" she said impatiently. How had she ever thought she could suffer this fool? Kind, yes, he had never been unkind to her, but his stupidity grated on her like a rasp. She wanted to be alone, to consider her plans, to confer with Accolon, and instead she must placate this old idiot!\n\n\"I should know what you are planning.\" Uriens'voice was sullen. \"I am angry that you did not consult with me if you were displeased at what was happening in Tintagel-I am your husband and you should have told me rather than appealing to Arthur!\" The sulkiness in his voice held a hint of jealousy too, and she remembered now, stricken, that it had been brought out what she had concealed all these years-who had fathered her son. But could Uriens really think that after a quarter of a century she still held power of that sort over her brother, because of something only fools and Christians would think a sin? Well, if he has not wit enough to see what is happening before his eyes, why should I explain it to him word byword like a child's lesson?\n\nShe said, still impatient, \"Arthur is displeased with me because he thinks a woman should not contend with him this way. Therefore I asked his help, so that he will not believe I am in rebellion against him.\" She said no more. She was priestess of Avalon, she would not lie, but there was no need to speak more truth than she wished. Let Uriens think, if he would, that she only wished to makeup her quarrel with Arthur." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"How clever you are, Morgaine,\" he said, patting her wrist. She thought, flinching, that already he had forgotten that it was he who had inflicted the injury. She felt her lips trembling as if she were a child, thinking, I want Accolon, I want to lie in his arms and be cherished and comforted, but in this place how can we contrive even to meet and speak in secret? She blinked away angry tears. Strength washer only safety now; strength and concealment.\n\nUriens had gone out to relieve himself, and came back, yawning. \"I heard the watchman cry midnight,\" he said. \"We must to bed, lady.\" He began to takeoff his festal robe. \"Are you very weary, dear one?\"\n\nShe did not answer, knowing that if she did she would weep. He took her silence for consent and drew her close, nuzzling at her throat, then pulled her toward the bed. She endured him, wondering if she could remember some charm or herb to put an end to the old man's too-enduring virility-damn him, he should belong past this by his age, no one would even think it the result of sorcery. She lay wondering, afterward, why she could not simply turn to him with indifference, let him have her without even thinking, as she had done so often in these long years... what did it matter, why should she notice him anymore than astray animal sniffing round her skirts?\n\nShe slept fitfully, dreaming of a child she had found somewhere and must suckle, though her breasts were dry and ached terribly... she woke with the pain still in them. Uriens had gone to hunt with some of Arthur's men-it had been arranged days ago. She felt sick and queasy. I ate more, she thought, than I usually do in three days, no wonder I am sick. But when she went to fasten her gown, her breasts were still sore and aching. It seemed to her that the nipples, brown and small, looked pink and swollen." }, { "from": "human", "value": "She let herself collapse on the bed as if her knees had been broken." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She was barren! She knew she was barren, they had told her after Gwydion's birth that she would probably never bear a child again, and in all the years since, never once from any man had she gotten with child. More than that, she was near to nine-and-forty, long past the childbearing years. But for all that, she was certainly pregnant now. She had thought herself long past the possibility. Her courses had grown irregular and were absent for months at a time, she had thought herself coming to the end of them. Her first reaction was fear; she had come so near to death when Gwydion was born....\n\nUriens would certainly be delighted at this supposed proof of his manhood. But when this child was conceived, Uriens had been ill with the lung fever; there was small likelihood, after all, that it was Uriens' child. Had it been fathered by Accolon, on the day of the eclipse? Why, then, it was child to the God as he had come to them then in the hazel grove.\n\nWhat would I do with a babe, old woman that I am? But perhaps it will be a priestess for Avalon, one to rule after me when the traitor has been tumbled from the throne where Viviane set him....\n\nIt was grey and dismal outside, drizzling rain. The games field of yesterday was trampled and muddy, with scattered banners and ribbons trodden into the mud; one or two of the subject kings were making ready to ride out, and a few kitchen-women, their gowns tucked up to their bare thighs, carrying washing paddles and sacks of clothing, were trudging down toward the shores of the lake.\n\nThere was a knock at the door; the servant's voice was soft and respectful. \"Queen Morgaine, the High Queen has asked that you and the Queen of Lothian should come to break your fast with her. And the Merlin of Britain has asked that you will receive him here at noon.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I will go to the Queen,\" said Morgaine." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Tell the Merlin I will receive him.\" She shrank from both confrontations, but she dared not deny herself to either, especially now.\n\nGwenhwyfar would never be anything but her enemy. It washer doing that Arthur had fallen into the hands of the priests and betrayed Avalon. Perhaps, Morgaine thought, I am plotting the downfall of the wrong person; if I could somehow manage it that Gwenhwyfar left court, even to runaway with Lancelet to his own castle, now that he is widowed and can lawfully take her... but she dismissed that idea.\n\nProbably Arthur has asked her to makeup the quarrel with me, she thought cynically. He knows, too, that he cannot afford to quarrel with subject kings, and if Gwenhwyfar and I are at odds, Morgause, as ever, will take my part. Too strong a family quarrel, and he would lose Uriens, and Morgause's sons too. He cannot afford to lose Gawaine, Gareth, the Northmen....\n\nMorgause was in the Queen's room already; the smell of food made Morgaine sick again, but she controlled it with iron will. It was well known that she never ate much and it would not be particularly noticed. Gwenhwyfar came and kissed her, and fora moment Morgaine's real tenderness for this woman returned. Why should we be enemies? We were friends once, so long ago.... It was not Gwenhwyfar herself that she hated, it was the priests who had so much influence over her.\n\nShe came to the table, accepting but not eating apiece of new bread and honey. Gwenhwyfar's ladies were the kind of pious idiots with whom Gwenhwyfar always surrounded herself. They welcomed Morgaine with curious looks and a great outward display of cordiality and pleasure." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Your son, sir Mordred-what a fine lad he is, how proud you must be of him,\" one of them said, and Morgaine, breaking the bread and crumbling it, remarked with composure that she had hardly seen him since he was weaned. \"It is Uwaine, my husband's son, who is more truly my own son, and it is in his knightly accomplishments that I take pride,\" Morgaine said, \"for I reared him from a little child. But you are proud of Mordred as your own son, are you not, Morgause?\"\n\n\"But Uriens' son is not your own child?\" someone else asked.\n\n\"No,\" she said patiently, \"he was nine years old when I married my lord of North Wales.\"\n\nOne of the girls giggled that if she were Morgaine, she would pay more heed to that other handsome stepson of hers, Accolon was it not? Morgaine, clenching her teeth, thought, Shall I kill this fool? But no; the ladies of Gwenhwyfar's court had nothing to do but spend their time in mindless jests and gossip.\n\n\"Now tell me-\" Alais, who had been waiting-woman when Morgaine was also at Gwenhwyfar's court, and whose bride-woman Morgaine had been when the girl was married, giggled. \"Isn't he Lancelet's son, really?\"\n\nMorgaine raised her eyebrows and said, \"Who? Accolon? King Uriens' late wife would hardly thank you for that imputation, lady.\"\n\n\"You know what I mean.\" Alais snickered. \"Lancelet was the son of Viviane, and you were raised by her-and who could blame you? Tell me the truth now, Morgaine, who was that handsome lad's father? There is no one else it could have been, is there?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Morgause laughed and said, trying to break the tension, \"Well, we are all in love with Lancelet, of course-poor Lancelet, what a burden to bear.\"\n\n\"But you are eating nothing, Morgaine,\" said Gwenhwyfar. \"Can I send to the kitchens, if this is not to your liking? A slice of ham? Some better wine than this?\"\n\nMorgaine shook her head and put apiece of bread into her mouth. Hadn't this all happened before? Or perhaps she had dreamed it... she felt a sick dizziness before her eyes, grey spots dancing. It would indeed give them gossip to enliven many a boring day if the old Queen of North Wales swooned away like a breeding woman! Her fingernails cut into her hands and somehow she managed to make the dizziness recede a little. \"I drank too much at the feast yesterday-you have known for twenty years that I have no head for drinking wine, Gwenhwyfar.\"\n\n\"Ah, and it was good wine too,\" said Morgause, with a greedy smack of her lips, and Gwenhwyfar replied courteously that she would send a barrel of it to Lothian with Morgause when she left. But Morgaine, mercifully forgotten, the blinding headache clamping down over her brow like a torturer's band, felt Morgause's questioning eyes on hers.\n\nPregnancy was one thing that could not be hidden... no, and why should it be hidden? She was lawfully wedded; people might laugh if the old King of North Wales and his middle-aged Queen became parents at their advanced ages, but the laughter would be good-natured. Yet Morgaine felt that she would explode from the sheer force of the anger in her. She felt like one of the fire mountains of which Gawaine had told her, far in the countries to the north...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "When the ladies had all gone away and she was alone with Gwenhwyfar, the Queen took her hand and said in apology, \"I am sorry, Morgaine, you do look ill. Perhaps you should return to your bed.\"\n\n\"Perhaps I shall,\" Morgaine said, thinking, Gwenhwyfar would never guess what was wrong with me; Gwenhwyfar, should this happen to her, would welcome it, even now!\n\nThe Queen reddened under Morgaine's angry stare. \"I am sorry, I didn't mean for my women to tease you like that-I should have stopped them, my dear.\"\n\n\"Do you think I care what they say? They are like sparrows chirping, and have as much sense about them,\" Morgaine said, with contempt as blinding as the pain in her head. \"But how many of your women really know who fathered my son? You made Arthur confess it-did you confide it to all your women as well?\"\n\nGwenhwyfar looked frightened. \"I do not think there are many who know-those who were there last night, when Arthur acknowledged him, certainly. And Bishop Patricius.\" She looked up at Morgaine, and Morgaine thought, blinking, How kindly the years have treated her; she grows even more lovely, and I wither like an ancient briar....\n\n\"You look so tired, Morgaine,\" said Gwenhwyfar, and it struck Morgaine that in spite of all old enmities, there was love too. \"Go and rest, dear sister.\"\n\nOr is it only that there are so few of us, now, who were young together?\n\nThe merlin had aged, too, and the years had not been so kind to him as to Gwenhwyfar; he was more stooped, he dragged his leg now with a walking stick, and his arms and wrists, with their great ropy muscles, looked like branches of an ancient and twisted oak. He might indeed have been one of the dwarf folk of which tales told that they dwelt beneath the mountains. Only the movements of his hands were still precise and lovely, despite the twisted and swollen fingers, his graceful gestures making her think of the old days, and her long study of the harp and of the language of gesture and hand speech." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He was blunt, waving away her offer of wine or refreshment, dropping on a seat without her leave, by old habit.\n\n\"I think you are wrong, Morgaine, to harry Arthur about Excalibur.\"\n\nShe knew her own voice sounded hard and shrewish. \"I did not expect you to approve, Kevin. No doubt you feel that whatever use he makes of the Holy Regalia is good.\"\n\n\"I cannot see that it is wrong,\" Kevin said. \"All Gods are one-as even Taliesin would have said-and if we join in the service of the One-\"\n\n\"But it is that with which I quarrel,\" Morgaine said. \"Their God would be the One-and the only-and drive out all mention of the Goddess whom we serve. Kevin, listen tome-can you not see how this narrows the world, if there is one rather than many? I think it was wrong to make the Saxons into Christians. I think those old priests who dwelt on Glastonbury had the right idea. Why should we all meet in one afterlife? Why should there not be many paths, the Saxons to follow their own, we to follow ours, the followers of the Christ to worship him if they choose, without restraining the worship of others....\"\n\nKevin shook his head. \"My dear, I do not know. There seems to be a deep change in the way men now look at the world, as if one truth should drive out another-as if whatever is not their truth, must be falsehood.\"\n\n\"But life is not as simple as that,\" Morgaine said.\n\n\"I know that, you know that, and in the fullness of time, Morgaine, even the priests will find it out.\"\n\n\"But if they have driven all other truths from the world, it will be too late,\" Morgaine said." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Kevin sighed." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"There is a fate that no man, and no woman, may stop, Morgaine, and I think we are facing that day.\" He reached out one of his gnarled hands and took hers; she thought she had never heard him speak so gently. \"I am not your enemy, Morgaine. I have known you since you were a maiden. And after-\" He stopped, and she saw his throat twitch as he swallowed. \"I love you well, Morgaine. I wish you nothing but well. There was a time-oh, yes, it was long ago, but I forget not how I loved you and how privileged I felt that I could speak of love to you.... No man can fight the tides, or the fates. Perhaps, if we had sent sooner to Christianize the Saxons, it would have been done by those same priests who built a chapel where they and Taliesin could worship side by side. Our own bigotry prevented that, so it was left to fanatics like Patricius, who in their pride seethe Creator only as the avenging Father of soldiers, not also as the loving Mother of the fields and the earth.... I tell you, Morgaine, they area tide that will sweep all men before them like straw.\"\n\n\"Done is done,\" Morgaine said. \"But what is the answer?\"\n\nKevin bent his head and it struck Morgaine that what he really wanted was to lay that head down on her breast; not now as a man to a woman, but as if she were the Mother Goddess who could quiet his fear and despair.\n\n\"Maybe,\" he said, his voice stifled, \"maybe there is no answer at all. It maybe that there is no God and no Goddess and we are quarrelling over foolish words. I will not quarrel with you, Morgaine of Avalon. But neither will I sit idle and let you plunge this kingdom again into war and chaos, wreck this peace that Arthur has given us. Some knowledge and some song and some beauty must be kept for those days before the world again plunges into darkness. I tell you, Morgaine, I have seen the darkness closing. Perhaps, in Avalon, we may keep the secret wisdom-but the time is past when we can spread it again into the world. Do you think I am afraid to die so that something of Avalon may survive among mankind?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Morgaine-slowly, compelled-putout her hand to touch his face, to wipe away tears; but she jerked her hand back in sudden dread. Her eyes blurred-she had laid her hand on a weeping skull, and it seemed her own hand was the thin, winter-blighted hand of the Death-crone. He saw it too, and stared at her, appalled, fora single terrified moment. Then it was gone again, and Morgaine heard her voice harden.\n\n\"So you would bring the holy things into the world, that the holy sword of Avalon maybe the avenging sword of Christ?\"\n\n\"It is the sword of the Gods,\" Kevin said, \"and all the Gods are one. I would rather have Excalibur in the world where men may follow it, than hidden away in Avalon. So long as they follow it, what difference does it make which Gods they call on in doing so?\"\n\nMorgaine said, steadily, \"It is that I will die to prevent. Beware, Merlin of Britain: you have made the Great Marriage and pledged yourself to die for the preservation of the Mysteries. Beware, lest obeying that oath be claimed of you!\"\n\nHis beautiful eyes looked straight into hers. \"Ah, my lady and my Goddess, I beg you, take counsel of Avalon before you act! Indeed, I think the time has come for you to return to Avalon.\" Kevin laid his handover hers. She did not draw it away.\n\nHer voice caught and broke with the tears that had laid heavy on her all this day. \"I-I wish I might return-it is because I long so much for it that I dare not go thither,\" she said. \"I shall go there never, until I may leave it nevermore-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You will return, for I have seen it,\" said Kevin wearily. \"But not I. I know not how, Morgaine, my love, but it comes tome that never again shall I drink of the Holy Well.\"\n\nShe looked at the ugly misshapen body, the fine hands, the beautiful eyes, and thought, Once I loved this man. Despite all, she loved him still, she would love him till both of them were dead; she had known him since the beginning of time, and together they had served their Goddess. Time slid away and it seemed that they stood outside time, that she gave him life, that she cut him down as a tree, that he sprang up again in the corn, that he died at her will and she was taken in his arms and brought back to life... the ancient priest-drama played out before Druid or Christian set foot upon the earth.\n\nAnd he would cast this away?\n\n\"If Arthur shall forswear his oath, shall I not require it at his hands?\"\n\nKevin said, \"One day the Goddess will deal with him in her own way. But Arthur is King of Britain by the will of the Goddess. Morgaine of Avalon, I tell you, beware! Dare you set your face against the fates that rule this land?\"\n\n\"I do what the Goddess has given me to do!\"\n\n\"The Goddess-or your own will and pride and ambition for those you love? Morgaine, again I say to you, beware. For it may well be that the day of Avalon is past, and your day with it.\"\n\nThen the fierce control she had clamped upon herself broke. \"And you dare call yourself the Merlin of Britain?\" she shrieked at him. \"Begone, you damned traitor!\" She picked up her distaff and flung it at his head. \"Go! Out of my sight and damn you forever! Go from here!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Ten days later, King Arthur, with his sister, Queen Morgaine, and her husband, Uriens of Wales, set forth to ride to Tintagel.\n\nMorgaine had had time to decide what she must do and had found a moment to speak alone with Accolon the day before. \"Await me on the shores of the Lake-be certain that neither Arthur nor Uriens sees you.\" She reached her hand to him in farewell, but he caught her close and kissed her again and again.\n\n\"Lady-I cannot bear to let you go into danger this way!\"\n\nFora moment she leaned against him. She was so weary, so weary, of being always strong, of making certain that all things went as they must! But he must never suspect her weakness! \"There is no help for it, my beloved. Otherwise there would be no answer but death. You cannot come to the throne with the blood of your father on your hands. And when you sit on Arthur's throne-with the power of Avalon behind you and Excalibur in your hand-then you can send Uriens back to his own land, thereto rule as long as God wills.\"\n\n\"And Arthur?\"\n\n\"I mean Arthur no harm, either,\" said Morgaine steadily. \"I would not have him killed. But he shall dwell for three nights and three days in the land of Fairy, and when he returns, five years or more will have passed, and Arthur and his throne will be a tale remembered by the older men, and the danger of a priest rule long past.\"\n\n\"But if he somehow finds his way out-\"\n\nMorgaine's voice had trembled. \"What of the King Stag when the young stag is grown? It must be with Arthur as the fates decree. And you will have his sword.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Treachery, she thought, and her heart pounded as they rode through the dismal grey morning. Thin fog was rising from the Lake. I love Arthur. I would not betray him, but he first betrayed the oath he swore to Avalon.\n\nShe still felt queasy, the motion of the horse making it worse. She could not remember that she had been sick as this when she carried Gwydion-Mordred, she reminded herself. Yet it might be, when he came to the throne, that he would choose to rule in his own name, the name that had been Arthur's and bore no taint of Christian rule. And when Kevin saw the thing already accomplished, no doubt he too would choose to support the new King of Avalon.\n\nThe fog was thickening, making Morgaine's plan even simpler to follow. She shivered, pulling her cloak tight around her. It must be done now, or, as they skirted the Lake, they would turn southward to Cornwall. The fog was so thick already that she could hardly make out the forms of the three men-at-arms who rode ahead of them; twisting in her saddle, she saw that the three men behind were almost equally dim. But the ground fora little way before and behind them was clear, though overhead the fog was like a thick white curtain with no hint of sun or daylight.\n\nShe stretched out her hands, raising herself high in her saddle, whispering the words of the spell she had never dared use before. She felt a moment of pure terror-she knew it was only the coldness that came from power draining out of her body-and Uriens, shivering, raised his head and said peevishly, \"Such fog as this I have never seen-we will surely be lost and have to spend the night on the shores of the Lake! Perhaps we should seek shelter at the abbey in Glastonbury-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"We are not lost,\" said Morgaine, the fog so thick that she could barely seethe ground under her horse's hooves. Oh, as a maiden in Avalon I was so proud that I spoke only truth! Is it queencraft, then, to lie, that I may serve the Goddess? \"I know every step of the way we are going-we can shelter this night in a place I know near the shores, and ride on in the morning.\"\n\n\"We cannot have come so far as that,\" said Arthur, \"for I heard the bells in Glastonbury ring the Angelus-\"\n\n\"Sounds carry along way in the fog,\" Morgaine said, \"and in fog such as this they carry further still. Trust me, Arthur.\"\n\nHe smiled lovingly at her. \"I have always trusted you, dear sister.\"\n\nOh, yes; he had always trusted her, since that day when Igraine had placed him in Morgaine's arms. At first she had hated the squalling thing, and then she had come to know that Igraine had abandoned and betrayed them both, and she must care for him, and had wiped away his tears... impatient, Morgaine hardened her heart. That had been a lifetime ago. Since then Arthur had made the Great Marriage with the land and had betrayed it, giving the land he had sworn to protect into the hands of priests who would drive out the very Gods that fed the land and made it fertile. Avalon had set him on his throne, through her hand as priestess, and now... Avalon, through her hand, would bring him down.\n\nI will not hurt him, Mother... yes, I will take from him the sword of the Holy Regalia and give it into the hands of one who will bear it for the Goddess, but I will never lay hand on him...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But what of the King Stag when the young stag is grown?\n\nThat was the way of nature and could not be amended for the sake of her sentiment. Arthur would meet his fate unprotected by the spells he bore, by the scabbard she herself had made for him after she had gone to him in the Great Marriage, when she bore, still not knowing it, his child within her body. She had often heard his knights speak of his charmed life, of how he could take the worst of wounds and not lose blood enough to kill. She would not lay a hand upon her mother's son and the father of her child. But the spell she had put upon him in the aftermath of her lost virginity, that she might withdraw from him, and then it must be with him as the Goddess willed.\n\nThe magical fog had thickened so much around them that Morgaine could hardly see Uriens' horse. His face, angry and sullen, swam out of the mist. \"Are you sure you know where you are leading us, Morgaine? I have never been here before, I would swear to it, I know not the curve of that hill...\"\n\n\"I vow to you, I know every step of the way, fog or no fog.\" At her feet Morgaine could seethe curious little cluster of bushes unchanged from that day when she sought entry into Avalon, that day when she had feared to summon the boat... Goddess, she prayed to herself, not even a whisper, grant that the church bells ring not while I seek to enter, lest it vanish back into the fog and we find never our way into that country....\n\n\"This way,\" she said, picking up her reins and digging her heels into her horse. \"Follow me, Arthur.\"\n\nShe rode swiftly into the fog, knowing they could not follow her so fast in this absence of light. Behind her she heard Uriens cursing, his voice cross and muffled, heard Arthur speak reassuringly to his horse. Suddenly an image flashed into Morgaine's mind, of the skeleton of a horse bearing her own riding gear... well, it must be as it must be. The fog had begun to thin, and suddenly they were riding in full daylight through the dappled trees. Clear green light spilled down, though they could see no sun, and she heard Arthur's cry of surprise." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Out of the forest came two men who cried out in their clear voices, \"Arthur, my lord! It is a pleasure to welcome you here!\"\n\nArthur drew up his horse swiftly, lest he trample the men. \"Who are you, and how do you know my name?\" he demanded. \"And what is this place?\"\n\n\"Why, my lord, this is the Castle Chariot, and our queen has long desired to receive you as her guest!\"\n\nArthur looked confused. \"I did not know there was a castle in these parts. We must have ridden further than we thought in the fog.\" Uriens looked suspicious, but Morgaine could seethe familiar spell of the fairylands falling over Arthur, so that it never occurred to him to question; as in a dream, whatever happened simply happened, and there was no need to question. But she must keep her wits about her....\n\n\"Queen Morgaine,\" said one of the men, the dark beautiful people who seemed like ancestors or dream versions of the little dark people of Avalon, \"our queen awaits and will gladly receive you. And you, my lord Arthur, you shall betaken to feast with us....\"\n\n\"After all this riding in fog, a feast will be welcome,\" said Arthur good-naturedly, and let the man lead his horse into the woods. \"Do you know the queen of these lands, Morgaine?\"\n\n\"I have known her since I was a young girl.\"\n\nAnd she mocked me... and offered to rear my babe in the fairy world....\n\n\"It is surprising that she came never to Camelot to offer allegiance,\" Arthur said, frowning. \"I cannot remember, but it seems tome that I heard something of the Castle Chariot along, longtime ago... but I cannot quite remember,\" he said, dismissing it. \"Well, in any case these people seem to be friendly. Give my compliments to the queen, Morgaine, and no doubt I shall see her at this feast.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No doubt,\" Morgaine said, and watched the men lead him away.\n\nI must keep my wits about me; I will use the beat of my heart to count the time, I will not lose track, or I shall be carried away and entangled in my own spells... she braced herself to meet with the queen.\n\nUnchanged she was, always the same, the tall woman who, nevertheless, had something of the look of Viviane about her, as if she and Morgaine were blood kin. And she embraced and kissed her as such.\n\n\"What brings you of your freewill to our shores, Morgaine of the Fairies?\" she asked. \"Your knight is here, one of my ladies found him...\" and she gestured, and Accolon was there. \"They found him wandering along the reeds of the Lake, not knowing his way in the fog....\"\n\nAccolon gripped Morgaine's hand; she felt it solid and real in hers... yet she knew not even now whether they were within or out of doors, whether the glass throne of the queen was within a magnificent grove or within a great vaulted hall, more magnificent than the hall of the Round Table at Camelot.\n\nAccolon knelt before the throne, and the queen pressed her hands on his head. She raised one of his wrists and the serpents seemed to move and twine round his arms, crawled away and sat therein the queen's palm where she sat absently playing with them, petting their small blue darting heads. \"Morgaine, you have chosen well,\" she said. \"I think not that this one would ever betray me. Look, Arthur has feasted well, and there he lies-\" and she gestured to where a wall seemed to open wide, and by pale light Morgaine saw Arthur, sleeping with one arm under his head and the other across the body of a young girl with long, dark hair, who seemed like a daughter of the queen-or like Morgaine herself." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"He will, of course, think that it was you, and that it is a dream sent him by the evil one,\" said the queen, smiling, \"so far he has moved from us that he will think shame to be given his dearest wish... did you not know that, my Morgaine, my darling?\" And it seemed to Morgaine that she heard Viviane's voice, dreamlike, caressing her. But it was the queen who said, \"So sleeps the King, in the arms of one he will love until he dies... and what when he wakes? Will you take Excalibur and cast him out naked on the shores, seeking you always in the mists?\"\n\nMorgaine remembered suddenly the skeleton of a horse lying beneath the fairy trees.... \"Not that,\" she said, shivering.\n\n\"Then he shall remain here, but if he is truly as pious as you say and thinks to say the prayers which will part him from illusion, it will vanish, and he will call out for his horse and for his sword-what then shall we do, lady?\"\n\nAccolon said grimly, \"I will have the sword, and if he can get it again from me, he is welcome to it.\"\n\nThe dark-haired maiden came to them, and in her hand she held Excalibur in its scabbard. \"I had it from him while he slept,\" she said, \"and with it he called me by your name-\"\n\nMorgaine touched the jewelled hilt of the blade.\n\n\"Bethink you, child,\" said the queen, \"would it not be better to return the Holy Regalia at once to Avalon, and let Accolon make his way as King with only such a sword as he can get for himself?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Morgaine trembled. It seemed very dark in the hall, or grove, or whatever it was, and did Arthur lie sleeping at her feet, or was he faraway? But it was Accolon who reached out and grasped the sword.\n\n\"I will have Excalibur and the scabbard,\" he said, and Morgaine knelt at his feet and belted it round his waist.\n\n\"Be it so, beloved-bear it more faithfully than he for whom I made this scabbard-\"\n\n\"The Goddess forbid I should ever be false to you, though I die for it,\" he whispered, his voice shaking with emotion, and raised Morgaine to her feet and kissed her; it seemed that they clung together till the shadow of the night faded and the queen's sweet mocking smile seemed to shimmer around them.\n\n\"When Arthur calls fora sword he shall have one... and something like to the scabbard, though it will not keep him from spilling a single drop of blood.... Give it to my smiths,\" she said to the maiden, and Morgaine stared as if in a dream-had it been in a dream that she had belted Excalibur round Accolon's waist? The queen was gone and the damsel, and it seemed that she and Accolon lay alone in a great grove and that it was the time of the Beltane fires, and he took her into his arms, priest to priestess. And then they were no more than man and woman, and it seemed to her that time stopped, that her body melted into his as if she were without nerve or bone or will, and his kiss was like fire and ice on her lips.... The King Stag should challenge him, and I must make him ready....\n\nWhy, how was it that she lay with him in the grove, signs painted on her naked body, how was it that her body was young and tender, how was it that when he bore his body down into hers there was tearing pain as if he took again the maidenhead she had laid down to the Horned One half a lifetime gone, so that she came maiden to him, as if all her life had never been? Why did it seem that there was a shadow of the antlers over his brow? Who was this man in her arms, and what had time been between them? He lay heavy across her, spent, the sweetness of his breath like honey to her love; she caressed him and kissed him, and as he moved a little away from her, she hardly knew who he was, whether the hair that brushed her face was shining with gold or dark, and it seemed that the little snakes crawled gently down her breasts, which were pink and tender and almost childish, half-formed. The tiny blue serpents twined around her nipples and she felt a thrill of exquisite pain and pleasure at the touch." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And then she knew that if, indeed, she wished it, time would return, and twist upon itself, and she could go forth from the cave on that morning with Arthur, and use her power to bind him to her forever, and none of it would ever have been....\n\nAnd then she heard Arthur calling out for his sword, and crying out against these enchantments. Very faraway and small, as if she were seeing him from midair, she watched him waken and she knew that their destiny, past and future, was in his hands. If he could face what had been between them, if he called her name and begged her to come to him, if he could admit to himself that it was only she that he had loved all these years and that none other had ever come between them...\n\nThen should Lancelet have Gwenhwyfar and then should I be queen in Avalon... but queen with a child fora consort, and he would fall in his turn to the King Stag....\n\nThis time Arthur would not turn from her in horror at what they had done, she would not thrust him away with childish tears... it seemed fora moment that all the world waited, echoing, for what Arthur would say....\n\nHe spoke and it seemed to ringlike the knell of doom through all the world of Fairy, as if the very fabric of time trembled and the weight of years fell.\n\n\"Jesus and Mary defend me from all evil,\" he said. \"This is some wicked enchantment, wrought by my sister and her witchcraft!\" He shuddered, and called out, \"Bring me my sword!\"\n\nMorgaine felt it like a tearing pain in her heart. She reached out to Accolon, and again it seemed that there was the shadow of antlers above his brow, and once again Excalibur was belted about his waist-had it always been there?-and the serpents that had twined about her naked body were only fading blue stains about the man's wrists." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She said steadily, \"Look, they are bringing him a sword which is like to Excalibur-the fairy smiths have made it this night. Let him go, if you can. But if you cannot-well, do what you must do, beloved. And the Goddess be with you. I will await you in Camelot when you come thither in triumph.\" And she kissed him and sent him from her.\n\nNever till this moment had she faced it fully: one of them must die, brother or lover, the child she had held in her arms, the Horned One who had been lover and priest and king-\n\nWhatever comes of this day, she thought, never again, never again shall I know a moment's happiness, since one of those I love must die....\n\nArthur and Accolon had gone where she could not follow; there was still Uriens to be considered, and fora moment she considered abandoning him to the fairy realm. He would wander contentedly in the enchanted halls and woods till he died... no. There has been enough death, whatever happens, Morgaine thought, and turned her thoughts to watch Uriens, where he lay dreaming. Now he sat up as she approached him, looking happily drunken and befuddled. \"The wine here is too strong for me,\" he said. \"Where have you been, my dear, and where is Arthur?\"\n\nEven now, she thought, the fairy maiden has brought Arthur the sword so like Excalibur that in enchantment he will believe it so... ah, Goddess, I should have sent the sword back to Avalon, why must anyone else die for it? But without Excalibur, there was noway Accolon could reign as the new King from Avalon.... When I am Queen, this land shall beat peace, and the minds of men free, with no priests to tell them what they must do and believe...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Arthur has had to goon ahead of us,\" she said gently. \"Come, my dear husband, we must return to Camelot.\" Such was the enchantment of the fairy country, she realized, that he never questioned this. Horses were brought to them, and the tall, beautiful people escorted them to a place where one of them said, \"You can surely find your way from here.\"\n\n\"How quickly the sunlight has gone,\" Uriens complained, as a grey fog and rain seemed to condense suddenly and fall about them. \"Morgaine, how long were we in the queen's country? I feel as if I had been sick of a fever, or enchanted and wandering in a spell....\"\n\nShe did not answer him. He too, she thought, had had some sport with the fairy maidens, and why not? She cared not how he amused himself, so that he let her alone.\n\nA sharp twinge of sickness reminded her that never once in the fairy country had she thought of the pregnancy which burdened her, and now, when all would be awaiting her word, when Gwydion took the throne and Accolon reigned... now she would be heavy of foot and sick, grotesque... certainly she was too old to bear a child without risk. Was it too late to find the herbs that would rid her of that unwanted burden? Yet, if she could bear Accolon a son, at this time when the reign went into his hands, how much more would he value her as his queen? Could she sacrifice that holdover him? A child I could keep, a child I could hold in my own arms, a babe to love...\n\nShe could still remember the sweetness of Arthur as a babe, his little arms around her neck. Gwydion had been taken from her, Uwaine had been nine years old when he learned to call her mother. It was a sharp pain and a sweetness beyond love, tugging at her body, the hunger to hold a child again... yet reason told her that she could not, at her age, survive the bearing of another child. She rode at Uriens' side as if in a dream. No, she could not survive the bearing of this child, and yet she felt she could not bear to take the irrevocable step that it should die unborn." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "My hands will already be stained with the blood of one I love.... Ah, Goddess, why do you try me thus? And it seemed that the Goddess wavered before her eyes, now like the fairy queen, now like Raven, solemn and compassionate, now like the Great Sow who had torn out Avalloch's life... and she will devour the child I bear.... Morgaine knew that she was at the edges of delirium, of madness.\n\nLater, I will decide it later. Now my duty is to get Uriens back to Camelot. She wondered how long she had been in the fairy world. Not, she supposed, more than a moon, or the child would make its presence more felt... she hoped it had been only a few days. Not too few or Gwenhwyfar would wonder how they had come and gone so swiftly; not too many, or it would be too late to do what she knew she must do: she could not bear this child and live.\n\nThey arrived in Camelot at midmorning; the journey was, in truth, not very long. Morgaine was grateful that Gwenhwyfar was nowhere to be seen, and when Cai asked after Arthur, she told him, lying this time without a moment's hesitation, that he had been delayed in Tintagel. If I can kill, lying is no sin so great, she thought, distracted, but somehow she felt contaminated by the lie, she was priestess of Avalon and she valued the truth of her words....\n\nShe took Uriens to his room; the old man was looking weary now and confused. He is growing too old to reign. Avalloch's death was harder for him than I can know. But he too was reared to the truths of Avalon-what of the King Stag when the young stag is grown?" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "In partnership with the author, move the story forward.\nTags: fantasy, arthurian, historical fantasy\nAuthor: Marion Zimmer Bradley\nTitle: The Mists of Avalon\nChapter: 62" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "My hands will already be stained with the blood of one I love.... Ah, Goddess, why do you try me thus? And it seemed that the Goddess wavered before her eyes, now like the fairy queen, now like Raven, solemn and compassionate, now like the Great Sow who had torn out Avalloch's life... and she will devour the child I bear.... Morgaine knew that she was at the edges of delirium, of madness.\n\nLater, I will decide it later. Now my duty is to get Uriens back to Camelot. She wondered how long she had been in the fairy world. Not, she supposed, more than a moon, or the child would make its presence more felt... she hoped it had been only a few days. Not too few or Gwenhwyfar would wonder how they had come and gone so swiftly; not too many, or it would be too late to do what she knew she must do: she could not bear this child and live.\n\nThey arrived in Camelot at midmorning; the journey was, in truth, not very long. Morgaine was grateful that Gwenhwyfar was nowhere to be seen, and when Cai asked after Arthur, she told him, lying this time without a moment's hesitation, that he had been delayed in Tintagel. If I can kill, lying is no sin so great, she thought, distracted, but somehow she felt contaminated by the lie, she was priestess of Avalon and she valued the truth of her words....\n\nShe took Uriens to his room; the old man was looking weary now and confused. He is growing too old to reign. Avalloch's death was harder for him than I can know. But he too was reared to the truths of Avalon-what of the King Stag when the young stag is grown?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Lie down here, my husband, and rest,\" she said, but he was fractious.\n\n\"I should set out for Wales. Accolon is too young to reign alone, the young puppy. My people need me!\"\n\n\"They can spare you another day,\" she soothed him, \"and you will be stronger.\"\n\n\"I have been too long away already,\" he fretted. \"And why did we not goon to Tintagel? Morgaine, I cannot remember why we came away! Were we truly in a country where the sun shone always...?\"\n\nShe said, \"I think you must have dreamed it. Why do you not sleep a little? Shall I send for some food for you? I do not think you have eaten this morning-\"\n\nBut when the food came, the sight and smell of it turned her queasy again. She turned sharply away, trying to conceal it, but Uriens had seen.\n\n\"What is it, Morgaine?\"\n\n\"Nothing,\" she said angrily. \"Eat, and rest.\"\n\nBut he smiled at her, reaching out his hand to draw her to the bedside. He said, \"You forget, I have been married before this-I know a breeding woman when I see one.\" Clearly, he was delighted. \"After all these many years-Morgaine, you are pregnant! But that is wonderful-one son is taken from me, but I have another-shall we call this one Avalloch if it is a son, my darling?\"\n\nMorgaine flinched. \"You forget how old I am,\" she said, and her face was like stone. \"It is not likely I can carry this child long enough that it would live. Do not hope fora son of your old age.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"But we will take good care of you,\" said Uriens. \"You must consult with one of the Queen's own midwives, and if the ride home would make you likely to miscarry, then you must stay here till the child is born.\"\n\nShe wanted to lash out at him, what makes you think it would be your child, old man? This was Accolon's child, certainly... but she could not dismiss the sudden fear that this was, indeed, Uriens\" child... an old man's child, weakly, some monster like Kevin... no, she was surely mad! Kevin was no monster, but had suffered injuries-fire, burns, maiming in childhood, so that his bones had grown awry. But Uriens\" child would surely be twisted, deformed, sickly, and Accolon's child would be healthy, strong... and she, she was old almost past childbearing; would her child be some monster? Sometimes, when women bore babies in their old age, it was so.... Was she mad, to let these fantasies turn and sicken her brain like this?\n\nNo. She did not want to die, and there was no hope she could bear this child and live. Somehow she must come by the herbs... but how? She had no confidante at court; none of Gwenhwyfar's women could she trust enough to get her these things, and if it somehow became court gossip that old Queen Morgaine was pregnant by her still-older husband, how they would laugh!\n\nThere was Kevin, the Merlin-but she herself had turned him away, flung his love and loyalty back in his face... well, there must be midwives at court, and perhaps she could bribe one of them well enough to stop her mouth. She would tell some pitiful tale of how hard Gwydion's birth had been, how she feared at her age to bear another. They were women, they would understand that well enough. And in her own bag of herbs she had one or two things-mixed with a third, harmless in itself, they would have the effect she wanted. She would not be the first woman, even at court, to rid herself of an unwanted child. But she must do it secretly, or Uriens would never forgive her... in the name of the Goddess, what did it matter? By the time it could come to light, she would be Queen here at Arthur's-no, at Accolon's-side and Uriens would be in Wales, or dead, or in hell-" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She left Uriens sleeping and tiptoed from the room; she found one of the Queen's midwives, asked her for the third, and harmless, herb, and returning to her room, mixed the potion over her fire. She knew it would make her deathly ill, but there was no help for it. The herb mixture was bitter as gall; she drank it down, grimacing, washed the cup, and put it away.\n\nIf only she could know what was happening in the fairy country! If only she could know how her lover fared with Excalibur.... She felt nauseated, but she was too restless to lie down on her bed beside Uriens; she could not bear to be alone with the sleeping man nor could she bear to close her eyes for fear of the pictures of death and blood that would torment her.\n\nAfter a time she took her distaff and spindle and went down into the Queen's hall, where she knew the women-Queen Gwenhwyfar and her ladies, even Morgause of Lothian-would beat their eternal spinning and weaving. She had never lost her distaste for spinning, but she would keep her wits about her, and it was better than being alone. And if it opened her to the Sight, well, at least she would be free of the torment of not knowing what befell the two she loved on the borders of the fairy country....\n\nGwenhwyfar welcomed her with a chilly embrace and invited her to a seat near the fire and Gwenhwyfar's own chair.\n\n\"What are you working at?\" Morgaine asked, examining Gwenhwyfar's fine tapestry work.\n\nThe Queen proudly spread it out before her. \"It is a hanging for the altar of the church-see, here is the Virgin Mary, with the angel come to tell her she will bear the son of God... and there stands Joseph all in amazement-see, I have made him old, old with along beard-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"If I were old as Joseph, and my promised wife told me, after being closeted with such a handsome young man as yonder angel, that she were with child, I would ask myself some questions about the angel,\" Morgause said irreverently. For the first time Morgaine wondered how miraculous had that virgin birth been after all? Who knew but the mother of Jesus had been ready to conceal her pregnancy with a clever tale of angels... but after all, in all religions but that one, fora maiden to be pregnant by a God was nothing so strange....\n\nI myself, she thought, at the edge of hysteria, taking a handful of carded wool and beginning to twirl the spindle, I myself gave up my maidenhood to the Horned One and bore a son to the King Stag... will Gwydion set me on a throne in Heaven as Mother of God?\n\n\"You are so irreverent, Morgause,\" Gwenhwyfar complained, and Morgaine quickly complimented Gwenhwyfar on the fineness of her stitches and asked who had drawn the pattern for the picture.\n\n\"I drew it myself,\" said Gwenhwyfar, surprising Morgaine; she had never believed Gwenhwyfar had talents of this sort. \"Father Patricius has promised, too, that he will teach me to copy letters in gold and crimson,\" the Queen said. \"He says I have a good hand at it fora woman.... I never thought I could do so, Morgaine, and yet you made that fine scabbard Arthur wears-he told me that you broidered it for him with your own hands. It is very beautiful.\" Gwenhwyfar chattered on, as artlessly as a girl half her age. \"I have offered to make him one, many times-I was offended that a Christian king should bear the symbols of heathendom, but he said it was made for him by his own dear, beloved sister and he would never lay it aside. And indeed it is beautiful work... did you have gold threads made for it in Avalon?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Our smiths do beautiful work,\" said Morgaine, \"and their work in silver and gold cannot be bettered.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The spindle's twirling made her sick. How long would it be before the wrenching sickness of the drug would seize on her? The room was close and seemed to smell of the stuffy, airless lives these women led, spinning and weaving and sewing, endless work so that men might be clothed... one of Gwenhwyfar's ladies was heavily pregnant and sat sewing on infant's swaddling cloths... another stitched an embroidered border to a heavy cloak for father or brother or husband or son... and there was Gwenhwyfar's fine stitchery for the altar, the diversion of a queen who could have other women to sew and spin and weave for her.\n\nRound and round went the spindle; the reel sank toward the floor and she twisted the thread smoothly. When had she learned to do this work? She could not even remember a time when she could not spin a smooth thread... one of her earliest memories was of sitting on the castle wall at Tintagel, beside Morgause, spinning; and even then, her thread had been more even than her aunt's, who was ten years her senior.\n\nShe said so to Morgause, and the older woman laughed. \"You spun finer thread than I when you were seven years old!\"\n\nRound and round went the spindle, sinking slowly toward the stone floor; then she wound the thread upon her distaff and meanwhile twisted afresh handful of wool.... As she spun out the thread, so she spun the lives of men-was it any wonder that one of the visions of the Goddess was a woman spinning... from the time a man comes into the world we spin his baby clothes, till we at last spin a shroud. Without us, the lives of men would be naked indeed....\n\n... It seemed to her that, as in the kingdom of Fairy, she had looked through a great opening and seen Arthur asleep at the side of a maiden with her own face, so now a great space opened out, as if it were before her; and as the reel sank to the floor and the thread twisted, it seemed to spin out Arthur's face as he wandered, sword in hand... and now he whirled, to see Accolon, bearing Excalibur... ah, they were fighting, she could not see their faces now, nor hear the words they flung atone another...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "How fiercely they fought, and it seemed strange to Morgaine, watching dizzied as the spindle sank, twirled, rose, that she could not hear the clashing of the great swords..." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Arthur brought down a great blow that would surely have killed Accolon had it struck him fair, but Accolon caught the blow on his shield and only took a wound in the leg-and the wound sliced without blood, while Arthur, taking a glancing blow on the shoulder, began suddenly to bleed, crimson streaks flowing down his arm, and he looked startled, afraid, one hand going in a swift gesture of reassurance to his side where the scabbard hung... but it was the sham scabbard, wavering even now in Morgaine's sight. Now the two were mortally locked together, struggling, their swords locked at the hilt as they grappled with their free hands for the advantage... Accolon twisted fiercely, and the sword in Arthur's hand, the false Excalibur made by fairy enchantments in a single night, broke off close below the hilt-she saw Arthur twist round in desperate avoidance of the killing blow and kick out violently. Accolon crumpled up in agony, and Arthur snatched the real Excalibur from his hand and flung it as faraway as he could, then leaped on the fallen man and wrenched at the scabbard. As soon as he had it in his hand, the flow of blood from the great wound in his arm ceased to bleed, and in turn blood gushed forth from the wound in Accolon's thigh....\n\nExcruciating pain stabbed through Morgaine's whole body; she doubled up with the weight of it....\n\n\"Morgaine!\" said Morgause sharply, with a catch of breath; then called out, \"Queen Morgaine is ill-come tend to her!\"\n\n\"Morgaine!\" Gwenhwyfar cried out. \"What is it?\"\n\nThe vision was gone. However she tried, she could not seethe two men, nor which had prevailed, whether one of them lay dead-it was as if a great dark curtain had closed over them, with the ringing of church bells-in the last instant of the vision she had seen two litters carrying the wounded men into the abbey at Glastonbury, where she could not follow.... She clung to the edges of her chair as Gwenhwyfar came, with one of her ladies, who knelt to raise Morgaine's head." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Ah, look, your gown is soaked with blood-this is not any ordinary bleeding.\"\n\nMorgaine, her mouth dry with the sickness, whispered, \"No-I was with child and I am miscarrying-Uriens will be angry with me-\"\n\nOne of the women, a plump jolly one about her own age, said, \"Tsk! Tsk! For shame! So His Lordship of Wales will be angry, will he? Well, well, well, and who chose him for God? You should have kept the old billy goat out of your bed, lady, it is dangerous fora woman to miscarry at your age! Shame on the old lecher to put you so at risk! So he will be angry, will he?\"\n\nGwenhwyfar, her hostility forgotten, walked beside Morgaine as they carried her, rubbing her hands, all sympathy.\n\n\"Oh, poor Morgaine, what a sad thing, when you had hoped allover again. I know all too well how terrible it must be for you, my poor sister...\" she repeated, holding Morgaine's cold hands, cradling her shaking head when she vomited in the ghastly sickness that overcame her. \"I have sent for Broca, she is the most skilled of the court midwives, she will look after you, poor dear....\"\n\nIt seemed that Gwenhwyfar's sympathy would choke her. Racked by repeated, agonizing pains, she felt as if a sword had thrust through her vitals, but even so, even so, it was not so bad as Gwydion's birth had been, and she had lived through that... shaking, retching, she tried to cling to consciousness, to be aware of what was going on around her. Maybe she had been ready to miscarry anyhow-it was surely too quick for the drug to have worked. Broca came, examined her, smelled at the vomited stuff, and raised her eyebrows knowingly. She said in an undertone to Morgaine, \"Lady, you should have taken more care-those drugs can poison you. I have a brew which would have done what you wanted more quickly and with less sickness. Don't worry, I won't speak to Uriens-if he has no more sense than to let a woman of your years try to bear him a child, then what he does not know will do him no harm.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Morgaine let the sickness take her. She knew, after a time, that she was more gravely ill than they had thought... Gwenhwyfar was asking if at last she wanted to see a priest; she shook her head and closed her eyes, lying silent and rebellious, not caring now whether she lived or died. Since Accolon or Arthur must die, she too would go into that shadow... why could she not see them, where they lay within Glastonbury, which of them would come forth? Surely the priests would tend Arthur, their own Christian king, but would they leave Accolon to die?\n\nIf Accolon must go into the shades, let him go with the spirit of his son to attend him, she thought, and lay with tears sliding down her face, hearing in some distant place the voice of the old midwife Broca. \"Yes, it's over. I am sorry, Your Majesty, but you know as well as I that she is too old to bear children. Yes, my lord, come and see-\" The voice was harsh with asperity. \"Men never think of what they do, and all the bloody mess women have for men's pleasure! No, it was all too soon to tell whether it would have been a boy or not, but she had had one fine son, I doubt not she would have borne you another, had shebeen strong enough and young enough to carry it!\"\n\n\"Morgaine-dearest, look at me,\" Uriens pleaded. \"I am so sorry, so sorry you are ill, but don't grieve, my darling, I still have two sons, I don't blame you-\"\n\n\"Oh, you don't, do you?\" said the old midwife, still truculent. \"You had better not speak one word of blame to her, Your Majesty, she is still very weak and sick. We will have another bed put inhere so that she may sleep in peace till she is quite well again. Here-\" and Morgaine felt a comforting woman's arm under her head; something warm and comforting held to her lips. \"Come, dear, drink this now, it has honey in it, and medicines to keep you from bleeding anymore-I know you are sick, but try to drink it anyhow, there's a good girl-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Morgaine swallowed the bittersweet drink, tears blurring her vision. Fora moment it seemed that she was a child, that Igraine held her and comforted her in some childish sickness. \"Mother-\" she said, and even as she spoke knew it was delirium, that Igraine had been dead for half a lifetime, that she was no child or maiden, but old, old, too old to lie herein this ugly way and so near death....\n\n\"No, Your Majesty, she doesn't know what she's saying-there, there, dear, you just lie still and try to sleep, we've got hot bricks on your feet and you'll be warm in a minute-\"\n\nSoothed, Morgaine floated away into dream. Now it seemed to her that she was a child again in Avalon, in the House of Maidens, and that Viviane was speaking to her, telling her something she could not quite remember, something of how the Goddess spun the lives of men, and she handed Morgaine a spindle and bade her spin, but the thread would not come smooth, but tangled and knotted and at last Viviane, angry with her, said, \"Here, give it tome...\" and she handed over the broken threads and the spindle; only it was not Viviane, either, but the face of the Goddess, threatening, and she was very small, very small... spinning and spinning with fingers too small to hold the distaff, and the Goddess bore the face of Igraine....\n\nShe came to awareness a day or two later, cool-headed, but with avast and empty ache in her body. She laid her hands over the soreness, and thought, grimly, I might have saved myself some pain; I should have known that I was ready to miscarry anyway. Well, done is done, and now I must ready myself to hear that Arthur is dead, I must think what I will do when Accolon returns-Gwenhwyfar shall go into a nunnery, or if she wishes to go beyond the seas to Less Britain with Lancelet, I will not stop them.... She rose and dressed herself, made herself beautiful." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You should keep your bed, Morgaine, you are still so pale,\" said Uriens.\n\n\"No. There are strange tidings coming, my husband, and we must be ready for them,\" she said, and went on braiding her hair with scarlet ribbons and gems. Uriens stood at the window and said, \"Look, the Companions are practicing their military games-Uwaine, I think, is the best rider. Come, my dear, does he not ride as well as Gawaine? And that is Galahad at his side. Morgaine, don't grieve for the child you lost. Uwaine will always think of you as his mother. I told you when we were wedded, I would never reproach you for barrenness. I would have welcomed another child, but since it was not to be, well, we have nothing to grieve for. And,\" he said shyly, taking her hand, \"perhaps it is better so-I did not realize how near I had come to losing you.\"\n\nShe stood at the window, his arm about her waist, feeling atone and the same time a feeling of revulsion and a gratitude for his kindness. He need never know, she thought, that it had been Accolon's son. Let him take pride that in his old age he could father a child.\n\n\"Look,\" said Uriens, craning his neck to see further, \"what is that, coming through the gate?\"\n\nA rider, together with a monk in dark habit on a mule, and a horse bearing a body-\"Come,\" she said, pulling at his hand, \"we must go down now.\" Pale and silent, she moved at his side into the courtyard, feeling herself tall and commanding as befitted a queen.\n\nIt seemed that time stopped; as if they were again in the fairy country. Why was not Arthur with them, if he had triumphed? But if this was Arthur's dead body, where was the ceremony and pomp on the death of a king? Uriens reached to support her with his arm, but she thrust it away and stood clinging to the wood-framed door. The monk put back his hood and said, \"Are you Queen Morgaine of Wales?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I am,\" she said.\n\n\"I have then a message for you,\" he said. \"Your brother Arthur lies wounded in Glastonbury, nursed by the sisters there, but he will recover. He sends you this\"-he waved his hand at the shrouded figure on the pack horse-\"as a present, and he bid me say to you that he has his sword Excalibur, and the scabbard.\" And as he spoke he twitched away the pall covering the body, and Morgaine, all the strength in her body running out of her like water, saw Accolon's sightless eyes staring at the sky.\n\nUriens cried out, a great cry like death. Uwaine thrust his way through the crowd around the steps, and as his father fell, stricken, across the body of his son, Uwaine caught and supported him.\n\n\"Father, dear Father! Ah, dear God, Accolon,\" he said with a gasp, and stepped toward the horse where Accolon's body lay. \"Gawaine, my friend, give my father your arm-I must see to my mother, she is fainting-\"\n\n\"No,\" said Morgaine. \"No.\" She heard her own voice like an echo, not even sure what she wanted to deny. She would have rushed to Accolon, flung herself on his body shrieking in despair and grief, but Uwaine held her tight.\n\nGwenhwyfar appeared on the stairway; someone explained the situation to her in a whisper, and Gwenhwyfar came down the steps, looking at Accolon. \"He died in rebellion against the High King,\" she said clearly. \"Let there be no Christian rites for him! Let his body be flung to the ravens, and his head hung on the wall as a traitor!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No! Ah, no,\" cried out Uriens, wailing. \"I beg of you, I beg-Queen Gwenhwyfar, you know me one of your most loyal subjects, and my poorboy has paid for his crimes-I beg you, lady, Jesus too died a common criminal between thieves, and even for the thief on the cross at his side there was mercy.... Show the mercy he would have shown....\"\n\nGwenhwyfar seemed not to hear. \"How does my lord Arthur?\"\n\n\"He is recovering, lady, but he has lost much blood,\" said the strange monk. \"Yet he bade you have no fear. He will recover.\"\n\nGwenhwyfar sighed. \"King Uriens,\" she said, \"for the sake of our good knight Uwaine, I will do as you wish. Let the body of Accolon be borne to the chapel and there laid instate-\"\n\nMorgaine found her voice to protest. \"No, Gwenhwyfar! Lay him in earth decently, if you can find it in your heart to do so much, but he was no Christian-do not give him Christian burial. Uriens is so filled with grief he knows not what he says.\"\n\n\"Be still, Mother,\" said Uwaine, gripping her shoulder hard. \"For my sake and my father's, bring no scandal here. If Accolon served not the Christ, then has he all the more need of God's mercy against the traitor's death he should have had!\"\n\nMorgaine wanted to protest, but her voice would not obey her. She let Uwaine guide her indoors, but once within the door she threw off his arm and walked alone. She felt frozen and lifeless. Only a few hours gone, it seemed to her, she had lain in Accolon's arms in the fairy country, had belted the sword Excalibur at his waist... now she stood knee-deep in a relentless tide, watching it all swept away from her again, and the world was filled with the accusing eyes of Uwaine and his father." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Aye, I know it was you who plotted this treachery,\" said Uwaine, \"but I have no pity for Accolon, who let himself be led astray by a woman! Have decency enough, Mother, not to drag my father any further into your wicked schemes against our king!\" He glared at her, then turned to his father, who stood as if dazed, clutching at some piece of furniture. Uwaine put the old man into a chair, knelt and kissed his hand. \"Father dear, I am still at your side....\"\n\n\"Oh, my son, my son-\" Uriens cried out, despairing.\n\n\"Rest here, Father, you must be strong,\" he said. \"But now let me care for my mother. She is ill, too-\"\n\n\"Your mother, you call her!\" Uriens cried out, starting upright and staring at Morgaine with implacable wrath. \"Never again let me hear you call that abominable woman Mother! Do you think I know not that by her sorcery she led my good son into rebellion against his king? And now I think by her evil witchcraft she must also have contrived the death of Avalloch-aye, and of that other son she should have borne tome-three sons of mine has she sent down into death! Lookout that she does not seduce you and betray you with her witchcraft, into death and destruction-no, she is not your mother!\"\n\n\"Father! My lord!\" Uwaine protested, and held out a hand to Morgaine. \"Forgive him, Mother, he does not know what he is saying, you are beside yourselves with grief, both of you-I beg you in God's name to becalm, we have had enough grief this day-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But Morgaine hardly heard him. This man, this husband she had never wanted, he was all that was left of the wreck of her plans! She should have left him to die in the fairy country, but now he was doddering around in the fullness of his useless old life and Accolon was dead, Accolon who sought to bring back all that his father had pledged and forsworn, all that Arthur had vowed to Avalon and forsaken... and nothing was left but this ancient dotard....\n\nShe snatched the sickle knife of Avalon from her girdle and thrust away Uwaine's restraining arms. Rushing forward, she raised the dagger high; she hardly knew what it was she meant to do as it flashed down.\n\nAn iron grip caught her wrist, wrenching at the dagger. Uwaine's hand came near to breaking her wrist as she struggled. \"No, let it go... Mother!\" he pleaded. \"Mother, is the Devil in you? Mother, look, it is only Father... ah, God, can you not show some pity for his grief? He does not mean to accuse you, he is so miserable he does not know what he is saying, in his right mind he will know that what he says is wild nonsense... I do not accuse you either... Mother, Mother, listen tome, give me the dagger, dear Mother....\"\n\nThe repeated cries of'Mother!\" and the love and anguish in Uwaine's voice finally reached down through the mist that blurred Morgaine's eyes and mind. She let Uwaine wrench away the little knife, noticing, as if from a thousand leagues away, that there was blood on her fingers where the razor edge of the sickle had cut her as they struggled. His hand was cut too, and he put his finger in his mouth and sucked at it as if he had been ten years old." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Father dear, forgive her,\" Uwaine begged, bending over Uriens, who lay white as death. \"She is distraught, she loved my brother too-and remember how ill she has been, she should not have left her bed today at all! Mother, let me send for your women to take you back to bed-here, you will want this,\" he said, pressing the sickle back into her hand. \"I know you had it from your own foster-mother, the Lady of Avalon, you told me that when I was just a little boy. Ah, poor little mother,\" he said, encircling her shoulders with his arms. She could remember when she had been taller than he, when he was a thin little boy with bones as small and green as a bird's, and now he towered over her, holding her gently against him. \"Mother dearest, my poor little mother, come now, come, don't cry, I know you loved Accolon just as you loved me-poor Mother-\"\n\nMorgaine wished that she could cry indeed, that she could let all this terrible grief and despair rush out of her with tears, as she felt Uwaine's hot tears falling on her own forehead. Uriens too stood weeping, but she stood tearless and cold. The world seemed all grey, crumbling at the edges, and everything she looked on seemed to take on some giant menacing shape and yet to be very small and faraway, as if she could pick it up like a toy... she dared not move lest it should fall to bits at her touch, she hardly knew it when her women came. They took her stiff and unresisting body and lifted her and carried her to bed, they took off the queenly crown and the gown she had put on for her triumph, and distantly she knew that her shift and underlinen were soaked again with blood, but it seemed not to matter. Along time after, she came to herself and knew that she was washed clean and dressed in a clean shift and lying in bed beside Uriens, with one of her women drowsing on a stool at her side. She raised herself a little and looked down at the sleeping man, his face sunken and reddened with weeping, and it was as if she looked on a stranger." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Yes, he had been good to her in his own way. But now that is all past and my work in his land is done. I will never see his face again while I live, nor know where he lies in death.\n\nAccolon was dead and her plans in ruins. Arthur still bore the sword Excalibur and the enchanted scabbard which gave him a charmed life, and since the one to whom she had entrusted that task had failed her, escaping into death where she could not follow, then she herself must be the hand of Avalon to strike him down.\n\nMoving so silently that she would not have wakened a sleeping bird, she put on her clothes and tied the dagger of Avalon at her waist. She left all the fine gowns and jewels that Uriens had given her, wrapping herself in her plainest dark robe, not unlike the dress of a priestess. She found her little bag of herbs and medicines, and in the dark, by touch, she painted her brow with the dark moon. Then she took the plainest cloak she could find-not her own, embroidered with gold thread and precious stones, but a servant's rough hooded wrap-and stole noiselessly down the stairs.\n\nFrom the chapel she heard sounds of chanting; somehow Uwaine had arranged this over Accolon's body. Well, it did not matter. Accolon was free, what did it matter what mummery the priests made with the tenantless clay? Nothing mattered now but reclaiming the sword of Avalon. She turned her back on the chapel. One day she would have leisure to mourn him; now she must carry on where he had failed.\n\nShe went silently into the stable and found her horse, managing to bind on the saddle with clumsy hands. She led the animal to the small side gate." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She was almost too dizzy to climb into the saddle, and fora moment she sat swaying, wondering if she would fall. Should she wait, or try to summon Kevin to attend her? The Merlin of Britain was vowed to follow the will of the Lady. But she could not trust Kevin either, he had betrayed Viviane into the hands of those priests who now chanted their hymns over Accolon's helpless body. She whispered to the horse, felt him break into a trot beneath her, and from the foot of the hill turned back to look her last on Camelot.\n\nI shall come here but once again in this life, and then there will no longer be a Camelot to which I might return. And even as she whispered the words, she wondered what they meant.\n\nAs often as Morgaine had travelled to Avalon, she had only once set foot upon the Isle of the Priests; Glastonbury Abbey, where Viviane lay buried and Igraine, too, had spent her last years, was a stranger journey to her than the crossing of the mists into the hidden lands. There was a ferry there, and she gave the ferryman a small coin to row her across the Lake, wondering what the man would do if she suddenly rose as she would do with the Avalon barge and cast the spell that would lead it into the mists and bring it forth in Avalon... but she did not. Is it only that I cannot? she asked herself.\n\nThe air was cool and fresh in the hour just before sunrise. Overhead, the sound of church bells was soft and clear, and Morgaine could see along line of grey-robed forms pacing slowly toward the church. The brothers rose early to pray and chant their soft hymns, and fora moment Morgaine stood quiet, listening. Her mother, and Arthur's, lay buried there. Viviane, too, had been laid to rest within the sound of those hymns. The musician in Morgaine, always quickly moved, listened to the soft song, borne on the early-morning breeze, and fora moment she stood motionless, tears burning her eyes; was she planning outrage on this holy soil? Let it go, let there be peace among you, children... it seemed that it was Igraine's forgotten voice murmuring to her." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Now all the grey forms were within the church." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She had heard much of the abbey here... she knew there was a brotherhood of monks, and at some distance from them, a house of nuns where women dwelt, vowed to be virgins of the Christ till they died. Morgaine wrinkled her face in distaste; a God who chose to keep men and women with their thoughts on Heaven rather than on this world, which had been given to them for learning and growing inspirit, seemed alien to her, and now that she actually saw men and women mingling this way in worship with no thought of any other touch or communication, she felt sickened. Oh yes, there were holy virgins in Avalon-she herself had been secluded that way till the proper time, and Raven had given not only her body but her very voice to the Goddess for her use. There washer own foster-daughter, Lancelet's daughter Nimue, who had been selected by Raven to dwell unseen in solitude... but the Goddess recognized that this was a rare choice, not one to be imposed on every woman who sought to serve her.\n\nMorgaine did not believe what some of her companions in Avalon had said, that monks and nuns merely pretended holiness and chastity to impress the peasants with their purity and behind the closed doors of their monasteries did whatever wantonness they would. Yes, she would have despised that. Those who had chosen to serve spirit rather than flesh should do so in truth; hypocrisy was always disgusting. But the knowledge that they really lived that way, that any force calling itself divine could prefer barrenness to fruitfulness-that seemed to her a terrible betrayal of the very forces which gave life to the world.\n\nFools and worse, narrowing their lives and thus wishing to narrow all other lives to their own mean compass..." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But she must not linger here. She turned her back on the church bells and stole toward the guesthouse, her mind reaching out, calling on the Sight to lead her to where Arthur lay.\n\nThere were three women in the guesthouse-one dozing beside the door, another stirring a kettle of gruel in the kitchen at the back, and yet a third at the door of the room where very dimly she could feel Arthur's presence; he was deep in slumber. But the women in their somber robes and veils stirred as she came; they were holy women in their own way, and they had something very like the Sight-in her presence they could sense something inimical to their lives, the touch, perhaps, of the strangeness of Avalon.\n\nOne of them rose and confronted her, asking in a whisper, \"Who are you, and why have you come here at this hour?\"\n\n\"I am Queen Morgaine of North Wales and Cornwall,\" Morgaine said in her low, commanding voice, \"and I am hereto see my brother. Will you dare to forbid me?\"\n\nShe held the woman's gaze, then waved her hand in the simplest of the spells she had been taught, to dominate, and the woman sank back, unable to speak or forbid her. Later, she knew, the woman would tell a tale of enchantments and of fear, but in truth it was no more than this: the simple domination of a powerful will over one which had been given up, deliberately, to submission.\n\nA soft light burned inside the room, and by its dimness Morgaine could see Arthur, unshaven, haggard, his fair hair darkened with sweat. The scabbard was lying on the foot of his bed... he must have anticipated some such action on her part, he would not let it out of his reach. And in his hand he held the hilt of Excalibur." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Somehow, somehow, his mind gave him warning. Morgaine was filled with dismay. He had the Sight, too; though he looked so fair and unlike the dark people of Britain, he too was of the ancient royal line of Avalon and he could reach her thoughts. She knew that if she reached out to take Excalibur from his hand, he would sense her intent, would wake-and he would kill her; she had no illusions about that. He was a good Christian, or so he thought himself, but he had been set on the throne to kill his enemies, and in some mystical way Morgaine only half understood, the sword Excalibur had grown entangled with the very soul and spirit of Arthur's kingship. If it had not been so, if it had only been a sword, then would he have been willing to render it back to Avalon and had another made for himself, a stronger sword and a better... but Excalibur had become for him the visible and ultimate symbol of what he was as King.\n\nOr perhaps it is the sword itself which has entangled itself with Arthur's soul and kingship and will kill me of its own will, should I seek to take it from him... and dare I set myself against the will of such a magical symbol? Morgaine started and told herself not to be fanciful. She laid her hand on her dagger; it was razor sharp and she could move, when she must, as swiftly as a striking snake. She could seethe small vein in his throat and knew that if she could cut swift and deep to where the great artery lay beneath it, he would be dead almost before he could cry out.\n\nShe had killed before this. She had sent Avalloch without hesitation to his death, and not three days since, she had slain the harmless child in her womb... he who lay sleeping before her was the greater traitor, surely. One stroke, swift and quiet... ah, but this was the child Igraine had placed in her arms, her first love, the father of her son, the Horned God, the King.... Strike, fool! For this you came here!" }, { "from": "human", "value": "No." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There has been too much death. We were born from a single womb and I could not face my mother in the country beyond death, not with the blood of my brother on my hands, and fora moment, knowing she moved at the very edge of madness, she heard Igraine calling impatiently, Morgaine, I told you to take care of the baby...\n\nIt seemed to her that he stirred in sleep, as if he too heard that voice; Morgaine slid the dagger back into its sheath, reached out her hand, and took the scabbard. This at least she had aright to take-with her own hands she had fashioned it, the spells she had woven into it were her own.\n\nShe hid the scabbard under her cloak and went swiftly out through the thinning darkness to the ferry. As the ferryman rowed her across, she felt the prickling of her skin and seemed to see, like a shadow, the barge from Avalon... on the far shore they were all around her, the crew of the Avalon barge. Now quickly, quickly, she must get back again to Avalon... but the sun was rising and the shadow of the church lay across the water, and suddenly the sun flooded the landscape and with the dawn a ringing of church bells was everywhere. Morgaine stood as if paralyzed; through that sound she could not summon the mists, nor speak the spell.\n\nShe said to one of the men, \"Can you take us to Avalon? Quickly?\"\n\nHe said, shivering, \"I cannot, lady. It grows harder, without a priestess to speak the spell, and even so, at dawn and at noon and at sunset, when they ring the bells for prayer, there is noway to cross the mists. Not now. The spell no longer opens the way at these times, although, if we wait till the bells are silent, it maybe that we can manage to return.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Why, Morgaine wondered, should this be so? It had to do with the knowledge that the world was as it was because of what men believed it was... year by year, these past three or four generations, the minds of men had been hardened to believing that there was one God, one world, one way of describing reality, and that all things which intruded on the realm of that great one-ness must be evil and of the fiends, and that the sound of the bells and the shadow of their holy places would keep the evil afar. And as more and more people believed this, it was so, and Avalon no more than a dream adrift in an almost inaccessible other world.\n\nOh yes, she could still call the mists... but not here, not where the shadow of the church's spire lay across the water and the clamor of the bells struck terror into her heart. They were trapped on the shores of the Lake! And now she was aware that a boat was pushing out from the shores of the priests\" Isle, to cross the Lake and find her here. Arthur had wakened and found her scabbard gone from him, and now would pursue her....\n\nWell, let him follow her as he could, there were other ways into Avalon where the shadow of the church did not prevent her passage. She climbed quickly into her saddle and began to ride along the shores of the Lake, circling; she would come at last to a place where, at least in summer, she could cross through the mists; the place where she and Lancelet had once found Gwenhwyfar strayed from the nunnery. It was not Lake but swampland, and they could get into Avalon by the back way, behind the Tor.\n\nShe knew that the little dark men were running behind her horse, that they could run for half a day at her horse's tail if they must. But now she heard hoofbeats... she was pursued, Arthur was hard on her heels, and there were armed knights with him. She dug her feet into the horse's side, but this was a lady's horse, not intended for the chase...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She slid down her horse's side, the scabbard in her hand. \"Scatter,\" she whispered to the men, and one by one it was as if they melted into the trees and mists... they could move like shadows if they must, and no man alive could find them if they did not want to be found. Morgaine grasped the scabbard in her hand and began to run along the shores of the Lake. In her mind she could hear Arthur's voice, feel his rage....\n\nHe had Excalibur; she could feel it, like a great shining in her mind, the holy thing of Avalon... but the scabbard he should never bear again. She took it in both hands, whirled it over her head, and flung it, with all her strength, far out into the Lake, where she saw it sink into the deep and fathomless waters. No human hand could ever reclaim it-there it would lie till leather and velvet rotted and the silver and gold thread tarnished and twisted and at last the spells woven into them vanished utterly from the world.\n\nArthur was riding in pursuit, Excalibur naked in his hand... but she and her escort were gone. Morgaine drew herself into silence, apart of shadow and tree as if some essential part of herself had gone into Fairy; while she stayed there motionless, covered in the silence of a priestess, no one from the mortal world could see so much as her shadow....\n\nArthur shouted her name.\n\n\"Morgaine! Morgaine!\" A third time he called, loud and angry; but the very shadows were still, and at last, confused from riding in circles-once he came so close that Morgaine could feel the breath of his horse-he wearied, and called to his escort, and they came to find him swaying in his saddle, the bandages slowly soaking through with blood, and they led him away the way they had come." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Then Morgaine raised her hand, and once again the normal sound of bird and wind and tree came back into the world.\n\nMorgaine speaks...\n\nIn later years I heard the tale told of how I took the scabbard by sorcery, and how Arthur rode after me with a hundred knights, and I too had a hundred fairy knights all round me; and when Arthur's pursuit grew near, I turned myself and my men into ring stones.... Someday, no doubt, they will add that when I had done, I called for my chariot with the winged dragons, and flew away into Fairy.\n\nBut it was not so. It was no more than this, that the little people can hide in the forests and become one with tree and shadow, and that day I was one of them, as I had been taught in Avalon; and when Arthur had been taken away by his escort, near to fainting with the long pursuit and the cold in his wound, I said farewell to the men of Avalon, and rode away to Tintagel. But when I came to Tintagel it mattered little tome what they did in Camelot, for I was sick even to death fora longtime.\n\nI know not, even now, what ailed me; I know only that summer faded and the leaves began to fall while I lay in my bed, tended by the servants I had found there, neither knowing nor caring whether I would ever rise. I know I had a low fever, a weariness so great that I could not force myself to sit upright or to eat, a heaviness of mind so great that I cared not whether I would live or die. My servants-one or two of them I recalled from the days when I lived there as a little child, with Igraine-thought me enchanted; and it may even have been true." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Marcus of Cornwall sent tome in homage, and I thought, Arthur's star rides high, no doubt he believes that I have come here at Arthur's will, and he will not-now-challenge Arthur even for these lands he believes his own. A year ago, I might have laughed at this, or even made common cause with Marcus, promising him lands herein return for leading a party of the disaffected against Arthur. And even now it crossed my mind; but with Accolon dead, it seemed to matter nothing. Arthur had Excalibur... if the Goddess wished that it should betaken from him, she would have to come and take it herself, for I had failed, I washer priestess no more....\n\n... I think it was that which hurt me worst, that I had failed, failed Avalon, that she had not put forth her hand to help me do her will. The strength of Arthur and the priests and of the traitor Kevin had been stronger than the magic of Avalon, and there was no one left.\n\nNo one left. No one. I mourned without ceasing for Accolon, and for the child whose life had barely begun before it was ended, cast aside like offal. I mourned too for Arthur, lost tome now, and my enemy, and, unbelievably, even for Uriens, and for the wreck of my life in Wales, the only peace I had ever known.\n\nI had killed or thrust from me or lost to death everyone in this world I had ever loved. Igraine was gone, and Viviane lost to death, murdered and lying among the priests of their God of death and doom. Accolon was gone, the priest I had consecrated to do that last battle against the Christian priests. Arthur was my enemy; Lancelet had learned to hate and fear me, and I was not guiltless for that hate. Gwenhwyfar feared and loathed me, even Elaine was gone now... and Uwaine, who had been as my own son, hated me too. There was none to care whether I should live or die, and so I did not care either...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The last of the leaves had gone and the fearful storms of winter had begun to beat over Tintagel when one day one of my women came tome and said that a man had come to seek me.\n\n\"At this season?\" I looked out beyond the window, where unceasing rain beat down from skies as grey and bleak as the inside of my own mind. What traveller would come through this bitter weather, struggling through storms and darkness? No; whoever he might be, I cared not. \"Say to him that the Duchess of Cornwall sees no man, and send him away.\"\n\n\"Into the rain on a night such as this will be, lady?\" I was startled that the woman should protest; most of them feared me fora sorceress, and I was content to have it so. But the woman was right; Tintagel had never failed in hospitality when it was in the hands of my long-dead father, or of Igraine... so be it. I said, \"Give the traveller hospitality fitting his rank, and food, and bed; but tell him that I am ill, and cannot receive him.\"\n\nShe went away and I lay watching the fierce rain and darkness, feeling its cold breath through the slit of the window and trying to find my way back into the peaceful blankness where now I felt most like myself. But after a very little, the door opened again and the woman returned, and I started upright, shaking with anger, the first emotion I had let myself feel in many weeks.\n\n\"I have not summoned you, and I did not bid you return! How dare you?\"\n\n\"I am charged with a message for you, lady,\" she said, \"a message I didn't daresay no to, not when one of the high ones speaks.... He said,\"I speak not to the Duchess of Cornwall but to the Lady of Avalon, and she cannot refuse the Messenger of the Gods when the Merlin seeks audience and counsel. \"\" The woman paused and said, \"I hope I've got it right... he made me say it over twice to be sure I had it all.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Now, against my will, I felt the stirrings of curiosity." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Merlin? But Kevin was Arthur's man, surely he would not have come like this tome. Had he not aligned himself firmly with Arthur and with the Christians, traitor to Avalon? But perhaps some other man now held that office, Messenger of the Gods, Merlin of Britain... and now I thought of my son Gwydion, or Mordred as I supposed I must now think of him; perhaps this was his office, for he alone would now think of meas Lady of Avalon.... After along silence, I said, \"Tell him I will see him, then.\" After a moment I added, \"But not like this. Send someone to dress me.\" For I knew that I was too weak to put on my own clothes. But I would not receive any man this way, weak and ill and in my bedchamber; I, who was priestess of Avalon, would manage to stand on my feet before the Merlin, even if what he brought was sentence of death for all my failure... I am still Morgaine!\n\nI managed to rise, to have my dress put on and my shoes, and my hair braided down my back and covered with the veil of a priestess; I even painted, after the woman's clumsy hands had twice botched it, the symbol of the moon on my forehead. My hands-I noted it incuriously, as if they belonged to someone else-were shaking, and I was weak enough that I let the woman give me her arm as I crawled down the steep stairs. But the Merlin should not see my weakness.\n\nAfire had been builtin the hall; the fire was smoking a little, as always here when it rained, and through the smoke I could see only a man's figure seated by the fire, turned away from me, draped in a grey cloak-but at his side stood a tall harp I could not mistake; from My Lady I knew the man. Kevin's hair was all grey now, but he dragged his stooped body upright as I came in." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"So,\" I said, \"you call yourself still Merlin of Britain, when you serve only Arthur's will and defy that of Avalon?\"\n\n\"I know not what to call myself now,\" said Kevin quietly, \"save perhaps servant of those who serve the Gods, who are all One.\"\n\n\"Why have you come here, then?\"\n\n\"Again, I know not,\" said the musical voice I had loved so well, \"save perhaps in repayment of some debt laid down before these hills were raised, my dear.\" Then he raised his voice to the serving-woman.\n\n\"Your lady is ill! Get her to a seat!\"\n\nMy head was swimming and a grey mist seemed to waver around me; the next thing I knew I was seated by the fire across from Kevin, and the woman was gone.\n\nHe said, \"Poor Morgaine, poor girl,\" and for the first time since Accolon's death had turned me to stone, I felt that I could weep; and clenched my teeth against the weeping, for if I shed one tear, I knew that everything within me would melt, and I would cry and cry and cry and never cease crying until I melted into a very lake of tears....\n\nI said tightly, clenched, \"I am no girl, Kevin Harper, and you have won your way to my presence falsely. Now say what you will say, and go your way.\"\n\n\"Lady of Avalon-\"\n\n\"I am not,\" I said, and remembered that the last time I saw this man, I had driven him from my presence, shrieked at him, called him traitor. It seemed not to matter; perhaps it was fate that two traitors to Avalon should sit here before this fire, for I too had betrayed my oath to Avalon... how dared I judge Kevin?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"What then are you?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "he asked quietly. \"Raven is old, and silent now for years. Niniane will never have the power to rule. You are needed there-\"\n\n\"When last we spoke,\" I interrupted him, \"you said Avalon's day was done. Why then should there be any to sit in Viviane's place except a child half-fitted for that high office, waiting for the day when Avalon fades forever into the mists?\" I felt a scalding bitterness in my throat. \"Since you have forsaken Avalon for the banner of Arthur, will it not make your task easier if none reigns in Avalon save an ancient prophetess and a powerless priestess...?\"\n\n\"Niniane is Gwydion's love and his creature,\" said Kevin. \"And it comes tome that your voice and your hands are needed there. Even if Avalon is fated to pass away into the mists, will you refuse to pass with it? I never thought you a coward, Morgaine.\" And then he raised his eyes to mine and said, \"You will die here, Morgaine, die of grief and exile...\"\n\nI turned my face away and said, \"For that I came here...\" and for the first time I knew indeed that I had come hereto die. \"All I have tried to do is in ruin, I have failed, failed... it should be your triumph, Merlin, that Arthur has won.\"\n\nHe shook his head. \"Ah, no, my dear, no triumph,\" he said. \"I do what the Gods have given me to do, no more, and you do the same. And indeed if your doom shall be to seethe end of the world we have known, why then, my dearest love, let that doom find us each in our appointed place, serving what our God has given us to serve.... It is laid on me to recall you to Avalon, Morgaine, I know not why. My task would be simpler with only Niniane there, but, Morgaine, your place is in Avalon, and mine where the Gods shall decree. And in Avalon you can be healed.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Healed.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I said it in contempt. I did not care.\n\nKevin looked at me sadly. \"My dearest love,\" he had called me. It seemed tome now that he was the one person alive who knew meas I was; before every other person alive, even Arthur, I had worn a different face, seeking always to appear other and better than I was; even to Viviane, that she might find me more worthy to be a priestess.... For Kevin I was Morgaine, thus and no other. It came tome that even if I stretched forth my hand to him as the Death-crone he would see nothing but my own face, Morgaine.... I had always felt that love was other than this, was that burning I had felt for Lancelet, for Accolon. For Kevin I had felt little save for that detached compassion, friendship, kindness; what I had given him had meant but little tome, and yet... and yet he alone had taken thought to come tome, to care whether or no I died hereof grief.\n\nBut how dared he break in upon my peace, when I had almost won through to that utter quiet which was beyond life? I turned away from him and said, \"No.\" I could not comeback to life again, could not struggle and suffer, and live with the hatred of those who had once loved me.... If I lived, if I returned to Avalon, I must enter again into a death struggle with Arthur whom I loved, I must see Lancelet still in Gwenhwyfar's prison of love. I had ceased to care, I could endure no further the pain that was in my heart....\n\nNo. I was here, in silence and peace, and before long, I knew it now, I would pass even further into peace... the dizziness that was near to death was drawing closer and ever closer, and this Kevin, this traitor, would bring me back? I said, \"No,\" again and turned away, my hands covering my face. \"Leave me in peace, Kevin Harper. Hither I came to die. Leave me now.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He did not move, nor did he speak, and I sat very still, my veil over my face. After a little time, surely, now he would arise and leave me, for I had not the strength to go forth from him. And I... I would sit here until I was carried back to my bed by the women, and then I would never rise again.\n\nAnd then, into the silence, I heard the soft sound of the harp. Kevin played, and after a moment he sang.\n\nI had heard apart of this ballad, for he had sung it often at Arthur's court, of that bard in ancient times, sir Orfeo, who made the trees to dance and the stones on the plain to stand in a ring and dance, and all the beasts of the wood to come and lay themselves at his feet when they should have rent him with their claws. But beyond that, today, he sang the other part of the song, which was a Mystery, and which I had never heard before. He sang of how the initiate, Orfeo, had lost her that he loved, and had descended into the Afterworld and spoken there before the Lords of Death, and pleaded for her, and was given permission to go into the dark lands, and bring her forth, and then he had found her thereon the Undying Plains....\n\nAnd then his voice spoke from the soul... and I heard what seemed my own voice pleading.\n\n\"Seek not to bring me forth, when I am resigned to stay herein death. Here within these undying lands all is at rest, with neither pain nor struggle; here can I forget both love and grief.\"\n\nThe room faded away around me; no longer could I smell the smoke from the fireplace, the chill breath of rain beyond the window, I was no longer conscious of my own body, ill and dizzy where I sat. It seemed tome that I stood in a garden filled with scentless flowers and eternal peace, with only the distant voice of the harp breaking unwillingly through the silence. And that harp sang tome, undesired." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It sang of the wind from Avalon, with the breath of apple blossom and the smell of ripened apples in their season; it brought tome the cool freshness of the mist over the Lake, and the sounds of the running deer deep in the forest where the little folk live still, and it brought me the sun-soaked summer where I lay in the sun beneath the ring stones, with Lancelet's arms round me and the blood of life rising like sap within my veins for the first time. Then I felt again in my arms the heavy softness of my little son, his soft hair against my face, his milky breath sweet and soft... or was it Arthur himself in my lap, clinging tome, his little hands patting my cheek... again Viviane's hands touched my brow in blessing, and I felt myself abridge between earth and sky as I stretched my own hands forth in invocation... high winds swirled through the grove where I lay with the young stag in the darkness of the eclipse, and Accolon's voice spoke my name....\n\nAnd now it was not the harp alone but the voices of the dead and the living crying out tome: \"Return again, return, life itself is calling you with all its pleasure and pain...\" and then anew note came into the voice of the harp.\n\n\"It is I who calls you, Morgaine of Avalon... priestess of the Mother...\"\n\nAnd I raised my head, seeing not Kevin's twisted body and sorrowing features, but where he had stood was Someone, tall and shining, a sunlit glory about his face and in his hands the shining Harp and Bow. I caught my breath before the God, as the voice sang on...\"Return to life, return again tome... you who have sworn... life awaits you beyond this darkness of death....\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I struggled to turn away. \"It is not the God who can command me, but the Goddess....\"\n\n\"But,\" said the familiar voice in the silence of that eternity, \"you are the Goddess and it is I who call you...\" and fora moment, as if in the calm waters of the mirror of Avalon, I saw myself robed and crowned with the high crown of the Lady of Life....\n\n\"But I am old, old, I belong now to death, not to life...\" I whispered, and in the silence, words heard again and again in ritual suddenly came to life on the lips of the God.\n\n\"... she will be old and young as it shall please her...\" and before my eyes my own mirrored face was again young and fair as the maiden who had sent forth the young stag to challenge the running deer... yes, and I had been old when Accolon came tome, yet I had sent him forth to the challenge heavy with his child... and even old and barren, yet life pulsed within meas within the eternal life of the earth and the Lady... and the God stood before me, the eternal One who summoned me forth to life... and I took one step and then another, and then I was climbing, climbing from the darkness, following the distant notes of the harp that sang tome of the green hills of Avalon, and the waters of life... and then I found I was on my feet, reaching for Kevin... and he put the harp gently aside and caught me, half-fainting, in his arms. And fora moment the shining hands of the God burned me... and then it was only Kevin's sweet, musical, half-mocking voice that said, \"I cannot hold you, Morgaine, as well you know,\" and he placed me gently into my chair. \"When did you eat last, Morgaine?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I cannot remember,\" I confessed, and suddenly I was aware of my deathly weakness; he called the serving-woman and said, speaking in the gently authoritative voice of a Druid and a healer, \"Bring your mistress some bread and some warmed milk with honey.\"\n\nI raised a hand to protest, and the woman looked indignant, and now I remembered that twice she had tried to coax me to eat with these very things. But she went to do his bidding, and when she returned, Kevin took the bread and soaked it in the milk and fed it tome, gently, a few mouthfuls at a time.\n\n\"No more,\" he said. \"You have been fasting too long. But before you sleep, you must drink a little more milk with an egg beaten into it... I will show them what to do. The day after tomorrow, perhaps, you will be strong enough to ride.\"\n\nAnd suddenly I began to cry. I wept, at last, for Accolon lying dead on his pall, and for Arthur who hated me now, and for Elaine who had been my friend... and for Viviane, lying dead beneath a Christian tomb, and for Igraine, and for myself, for myself who had lived through all these things... and he said again, \"Poor Morgaine, poor girl,\" and held me against his bony breast, and I cried and cried until at last I was quiet, and he called my women to carry me to my bed.\n\nAnd for the first time in many days, I slept. And two days later, I rode to Avalon.\n\nI remember little of that northward journey, sick in body and mind. I did not even wonder that Kevin left me before I came to the Lake. I came to those shores at sunset, when the waters of the Lake seemed to run crimson and the sky was all afire; and out of the flame-colored water and sky appeared the barge, painted and draped all in black, oars muffled to the silence of a dream. And fora moment it seemed tome that it was the Sacred Boat on that shoreless sea of which I may not speak, and that the dark figure at the prow was She, and that somehow I bridged the gap between earth and sky... but I do not know whether that was real or a dream. And then the mists fell over us, and I felt within my very soul that shifting which told me I was once again within my own place." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Proceed with the plot in your role as storytelling partner.\nTags: fantasy, arthurian, historical fantasy\nAuthor: Marion Zimmer Bradley\nTitle: The Mists of Avalon\nChapter: 62" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I cannot remember,\" I confessed, and suddenly I was aware of my deathly weakness; he called the serving-woman and said, speaking in the gently authoritative voice of a Druid and a healer, \"Bring your mistress some bread and some warmed milk with honey.\"\n\nI raised a hand to protest, and the woman looked indignant, and now I remembered that twice she had tried to coax me to eat with these very things. But she went to do his bidding, and when she returned, Kevin took the bread and soaked it in the milk and fed it tome, gently, a few mouthfuls at a time.\n\n\"No more,\" he said. \"You have been fasting too long. But before you sleep, you must drink a little more milk with an egg beaten into it... I will show them what to do. The day after tomorrow, perhaps, you will be strong enough to ride.\"\n\nAnd suddenly I began to cry. I wept, at last, for Accolon lying dead on his pall, and for Arthur who hated me now, and for Elaine who had been my friend... and for Viviane, lying dead beneath a Christian tomb, and for Igraine, and for myself, for myself who had lived through all these things... and he said again, \"Poor Morgaine, poor girl,\" and held me against his bony breast, and I cried and cried until at last I was quiet, and he called my women to carry me to my bed.\n\nAnd for the first time in many days, I slept. And two days later, I rode to Avalon.\n\nI remember little of that northward journey, sick in body and mind. I did not even wonder that Kevin left me before I came to the Lake. I came to those shores at sunset, when the waters of the Lake seemed to run crimson and the sky was all afire; and out of the flame-colored water and sky appeared the barge, painted and draped all in black, oars muffled to the silence of a dream. And fora moment it seemed tome that it was the Sacred Boat on that shoreless sea of which I may not speak, and that the dark figure at the prow was She, and that somehow I bridged the gap between earth and sky... but I do not know whether that was real or a dream. And then the mists fell over us, and I felt within my very soul that shifting which told me I was once again within my own place." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Niniane welcomed meat the shore, taking me in her arms, not as the stranger I had seen but twice, but as a daughter greets a mother she has not seen for many years; then she took me away to the house where once Viviane had dwelt. She did not, this time, send young priestesses to tend me, but cared for me herself, putting me to bed in the inner room of the house, bringing me water from the Sacred Well; and when I tasted it, I knew that although the healing would belong, I was not yet beyond healing.\n\nI had known enough of power. I was content to lay down the burdens of the world; it was time to leave that to others, and to let my daughters tend me. Slowly, slowly, in the silence of Avalon, I recovered my strength. Thereat last I could mourn for Accolon-not for the ruin of my hopes and plans... I could see now what madness they had been; I was priestess of Avalon, not Queen. But I could mourn the brief and bitter summer of our love; I could grieve, too, for the child who had not lived long enough to be born, and suffer once again that it had been my own hand that had sent him into the shades.\n\nIt was along season of mourning, and there were times when I wondered if I should mourn all my life and never again be free of it; but at last I could remember without weeping, and recall the days of love without unending sorrow welling up like tears from the very depths of my being. There is no sorrow like the memory of love and the knowledge that it is gone forever; even in dreams, I never saw again his face, and though I longed for it, I came at last to see that it was just as well, lest I live all the rest of my life in dreams... but at last there came a day when I could look back and know that the time for mourning was ended; my lover and my child were on the other shore, and even if I should somehow meet them beyond the gates of death, none of us would ever know... but I lived, and I was in Avalon, and it was my task now to be Lady there." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I do not know how many years I dwelt in Avalon before the end. I remember only that I floated in avast and nameless peace, beyond joy and sorrow, knowing only serenity and the little tasks of everyday. Niniane stood ever at my side; and I came, too, to know Nimue, who had grown to a tall, silent, fair-haired maiden, as fair as Elaine when first I knew her. She became tome the daughter I had never known, and day after day she came tome, and I taught her all those things I had learned from Viviane in my own early years in Avalon.\n\nIn those last days, too, there were some who had seen the tree of the Holy Thorn in its first flowering for the followers of Christ, and worshipped their Christian God in peace, seeking not to drive out the beauty of the world, but loving it as God made it. In those days they came in numbers to Avalon to escape the harsh and shrivelling winds of persecution and bigotry. Patricius had setup new forms of worship, a view of the world wherein there was no room for the real beauty and mystery of the things of nature. From these Christians who came to us to escape the bigotry of their own kind I learned something, at last, of the Nazarene, the carpenter's son who had attained Godhead in his own life and preached a rule of tolerance; and so I came to see that my quarrel was never with the Christ, but with his foolish and narrow priests who mistook their own narrowness for his.\n\nI know not whether it was three years, or five, or even ten, before the end. I heard whispers of the outside world like shadows, like the echo of the church bells we heard sometimes even on that shore. I knew when Uriens died, but I did not mourn him; he had been dead tome for many years, but I could hope that in the end he had found some healing for his griefs. He had been kind tome as best he might, and so let him rest." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Now and again some rumor of Arthur's deeds and those of the knights would come tome, but in the serenity of Avalon it seemed not to matter; those deeds sounded like old tales and legends, so that I never knew whether they spoke of Arthur and Cai and Lancelet, or of Llyr and the children of Da'ana; or when tales were whispered of the love of Lancelet and Gwenhwyfar, or later, of Marcus' wife, Isotta, and young Drustan, they were not after all retelling some old tale of Diarmid and Grainné from the ancient days." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It seemed not to matter, it seemed that I had heard all these tales long ago in my childhood.\n\nAnd then, one spring when the land lay beautiful before us and the first apple trees of Avalon were white with blossom, Raven broke silence with a cry, and perforce my mind returned to the things of that world I had hoped to leave forever behind." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The sword, the sword of the Mysteries is gone... now look to the cup, now look to all of the Holy Regalia... it is gone, it is gone, taken from us....\"\n\nMorgaine heard the cry out of sleep, and yet, when she tiptoed to the door of the room where Raven slept, alone and in silence as ever, the women who attended her slept; they had not heard that cry.\n\n\"But there is nothing but silence, Lady,\" they told her. \"Are you certain it was not an evil dream?\"\n\n\"If it was an evil dream, then it came to the priestess Raven as well,\" Morgaine said, staring at the untroubled faces of the girls. It seemed to her that with every passing year, the priestesses in the House of Maidens grew younger and more like children... how could little girls like this be entrusted with the holy things? Maidens whose breasts had scarcely formed... what could they know of the life of the Goddess which was the life of the world?\n\nAgain, it seemed, that shattering cry rang through Avalon, rousing alarm everywhere, but when Morgaine asked, \"There-did you hear?\" they looked at her again in dismay and said, \"Do you dream now, Lady, with your eyes wide open?\" and Morgaine realized that in the bitter cry of terror and grief there had been no actual sound.\n\nShe said, \"I will go to her-\"\n\n\"But you may not do that-\" one of them began, then stepped back, her mouth open, as she realized the full meaning of who Morgaine was, and she bent her head as Morgaine stepped past her.\n\nRaven was sitting up in bed, her longhair flung about her in mad disarray, and her eyes wild with terror; fora moment Morgaine thought that indeed her mind had overheard some evil dream, that Raven walked in the worlds of dream...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But she shook her head and then she was wide awake and sober. She drew along breath, and Morgaine knew that she was struggling to speak, to overcome the years of silence; now it was as if her voice would not obey her.\n\nAt last, trembling allover, she said, \"I saw-I saw it... treachery, Morgaine, within the very holy places of Avalon.... I could not see his face, but I saw the great sword Excalibur in his hand...\"\n\nMorgaine putout a hand, quieting her. She said, \"We will look within the mirror when the sunrises. Do not trouble yourself to speak, my dearest.\" Raven was still trembling; Morgaine put her hand firmly over Raven's, and by the flickering light of the torch, she saw that her own hand was lined and spotted with the dark spots of age, that Raven's fingers were like twisted ropes around the narrow, fine bones. We are old, she thought, both of us, who came here maidens in attendance on Viviane... ah Goddess, the years that pass....\n\n\"But I must speak now,\" Raven whispered. \"I have been silent too long... I kept silence even when I feared this would come... listen to the thunder, and the rain-a storm is coming, a storm to break over Avalon and sweep it away in the flood... and darkness over the land...\"\n\n\"Hush, my dear! Be still,\" Morgaine whispered, and put her arms around the shaking woman, wondering if her mind had snapped, if this was all an illusion, a fever dream... there was no thunder, no rain, outside the moon was shining brilliantly over Avalon and the orchards white with blossom in the moonlight. \"Don't be frightened. I will stay herewith you, and in the morning we shall look into the mirror and see if any of this is real.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Raven smiled, a sad smile." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She took Morgaine's torch and put it out; in the sudden darkness Morgaine could see, through the chinks in the wattle, a sudden flare of lightning in the distance. Silence; and then, very faraway, a low thundering. \"I do not dream, Morgaine. The storm will come, and I am afraid. You have more courage than I. You have lived in the world and known real sorrows, not dreams... but now, perhaps, I must go forth and break silence forevermore... and I am afraid....\"\n\nMorgaine lay down beside her, pulling Raven's cover over them both, and took Raven in her arms to still her shaking. As she lay quiet, listening to the other woman's breathing, she remembered the night she had brought Nimue there, and how Raven had come to her then, welcoming her to Avalon... why does it seem tome now that of all the love I have known, that is the truest... but she only held Raven gently, the other woman's head on her shoulder, soothing her. After along time there was a great clap of thunder, startling them, and Raven whispered, \"You see?\"\n\n\"Hush, my dear, it is only a storm.\" And as she spoke the rain came down, rushing and rattling, bringing a chilly wind within the room, drowning speech. Morgaine lay silent, her fingers just entwined with Raven's, and thought, It is only a storm, but something of Raven's terror communicated itself to her and she felt herself shivering too.\n\nA storm that will drive down out of Heaven and smash into Camelot, and scatter the years of peace that Arthur has made in this land...\n\nShe tried to call the Sight to her, but the thunder seemed to drown thoughts; she could only lie close to Raven repeating to herself again and again, It is only a storm, a storm, rain and wind and thunder, it is not the wrath of the Goddess...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "After along time the storm subsided, and she woke to a world new-washed, the sky pallid and cloudless, water shimmering on every leaf and raining down from every blade of grass, as if the world had been dipped in water and not dried or shaken. If Raven's storm were to break in truth over Camelot, would it leave the world thus beautiful in its wake? Somehow she thought not.\n\nRaven woke and looked at her, wide-eyed with dread. Morgaine said, quiet and practical as always, \"We shall go to Niniane at once, then to the mirror before the sunrises. If the wrath of the Goddess is to descend onus, we must know how and why.\"\n\nRaven gestured her silent assent, but when they were dressed and about to leave the house, Raven touched Morgaine's arm. \"Go to Niniane,\" she whispered, with the racking struggle to make her unused voice do her bidding. \"I will bring-Nimue. She too is part of this....\"\n\nFora moment Morgaine was startled almost to protest; then, with a glance at the paling sky in the east, she went. It might be that Raven had seen, in the evil dream of prophecy, the reason that Nimue had been brought here and kept in seclusion. Remembering the day when Viviane had told her of her own mission, she thought, Poor girl! But it was the will of the Goddess, they were all in her hands. As she went silent and alone through the wet orchard, she could see that all was not so calm and beautiful after all... the wind had ravaged the blossoms and the orchard lay under a white drift like snow; there would belittle fruit this autumn.\n\nWe may plant the grain and till the soil. But only her favor brings the fruit to harvest...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Why then do I trouble myself?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It will be as she wills....\n\nNiniane, roused from sleep, looked at her as if she were mad. She is no true priestess, Morgaine thought; the Merlin spoke the truth-she was chosen only because she was Taliesin's kin. The time has come, perhaps, to stop pretending who is truly the Lady of Avalon and take my proper place. She did not want to offend Niniane, or seem to strive for power and set the younger woman down, she had had enough of power... but no true priestess, chosen of the Goddess, could have slept through Raven's cry. Yet somehow this woman before her had passed through the ordeals which go to the making of a priestess; the Goddess had not rejected her. What would the Goddess have her do?\n\n\"I tell you, Niniane, I have seen it and so has Raven... we must look before sunrise into the mirror!\"\n\n\"I put not much faith in such things, either,\" said Niniane quietly. \"What must come, will surely come... but if you will, Morgaine, I will go with you-\"\n\nSilent, like spots of blackness in the white and watery world, they moved toward the mirror below the Sacred Well. And as they went Morgaine could see, like a shadow at the corner of her eyes, the tall silent form of Raven, veiled, and Nimue like a pale shadow, all blossom and pale flowers like the morning. Morgaine was struck at the girl's beauty-even Gwenhwyfar in the fullest flush of her youth had never been so beautiful. She felt a wild stab of pure jealousy and anguish. I had no such gift from the Goddess in return for all I must sacrifice...\n\nNiniane said, \"Nimue is a maiden. It is she who must look into the mirror.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Their four dark forms were reflected in the pallid surface of the pool, against the pale reflection of the sky, where a few pale-pink streaks were beginning to herald the sunrise." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Nimue moved to the edge of the pool, parting her long fair hair with both hands, and Morgaine found herself seeing in her mind the surface of a silver bowl, and Viviane's stilled, hypnotic face....\n\nNimue said in a low, wandering voice, \"What would you that I should see, my mother?\"\n\nMorgaine waited for Raven to speak, but there was only silence. So Morgaine said at last, \"Has Avalon been breached and fallen victim to treachery? What has befallen the Holy Regalia?\"\n\nSilence. Only a few birds chirped softly in the trees, and the soft sound of water rippled, falling from the channel which overflowed from the Well to make this still pool. Below them on the slopes Morgaine could seethe white drifts of the ruined orchards, and high above, the pale shapes of the ring stones atop the Tor.\n\nSilence. At last Nimue stirred and whispered, \"I cannot see his face...\" and the pool rippled, and it seemed that Morgaine could see a hunched form, moving slowly and with difficulty... the room where she had stood silent that day behind Viviane, when Taliesin laid Excalibur in Arthur's hand and she heard his voice forbidding...\n\n\"No-it is death to touch the Holy Regalia unprepared....\" Fora moment Morgaine could hear the voice of Taliesin, not Nimue's voice... but he had the right, he was the Merlin of Britain, and he took them from the hiding place, spear and cup and dish, and hiding the holy things under his cloak, he went out and across the Lake to where Excalibur gleamed in the darkness... the Holy Regalia now reunited.\n\n\"Merlin!\" whispered Niniane aloud. \"But why?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Morgaine knew her face was like stone as she said, \"Once he spoke of this tome. He said that Avalon was now outside the world, and that the holy things must be within the world to the service of man and the Gods, by whatever name men called them....\"\n\n\"He would profane them,\" Niniane said hotly, \"and put them to the use of that God who would drive out all other Gods....\"\n\nIn the silence, Morgaine heard the chanting of monks. Then the sunlight touched the mirror and turned it all to shooting fire which flooded her head and eyes, burning, blazing, and in the glare of the rising sun it seemed as if all the world burned in the light of a flaming cross.... She shut her eyes, covering her face with her hands.\n\n\"Let them go, Morgaine,\" whispered Raven. \"The Goddess will certainly care for her own....\"\n\nAgain Morgaine could hear the chanting of the monks-Kyrie eleison, Christe eleison... Lord, have mercy, Christ, have mercy.... The Holy Regalia were but tokens, surely the Goddess had let this befall them as a sign that Avalon needed these things no more, that they should go into the world and be in the service of men....\n\nThe flaming cross burned still before Morgaine's eyes; she covered them and turned away from the light. \"Even I cannot abrogate the Merlin's vow. He swore a great oath and made the Great Marriage with the land in the King's stead, and now he is forsworn and his life forfeit. But before Ideal with the traitor, I must deal with the treachery. The Regalia must be returned to Avalon, even if I must bring them hither again with my own hands. I will go forth to Camelot at dawn.\" And she suddenly saw her plan complete as Nimue whispered, \"Must I go forth too? Is it mine to avenge the Goddess?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She, Morgaine, would deal with the Holy Regalia. They had been left in her care, and if only she had taken her proper place here instead of revelling in sorrow and considering her own comfort, this could never have come to pass. But Nimue should be the instrument of the traitor's punishment.\n\nKevin had never seen Nimue. Of all those who dwelt on Avalon, the Merlin had never seen that one who dwelt in seclusion and silence. And as always transpires when the Goddess brings down punishment, it should be the Merlin's own undefended fortresses which should bring him to ruin.\n\nShe said slowly, clenching her fists... how had she ever softened to that traitor?...\"You shall go forth to Camelot, Nimue. You are Queen Gwenhwyfar's cousin and the daughter of Lancelet. You will beg her that you may dwell among her ladies, and beg her to keep it secret, even from King Arthur, that you have ever dwelt in Avalon. Pretend even, if you must, that you have become a Christian. And there you will come to know the Merlin. He has a great weakness. He believes that women shun him because he is ugly and because he is lame. And for the woman who shows no fear or revulsion of him, for that woman who shows him again the manhood he craves and fears, he will do anything, he would give his very life.... Nimue,\" she said, looking straight into the girl's frightened eyes, \"you will seduce him to your bed. You will bind him to you with such spells that he is your slave, body and soul.\"\n\n\"And then-\" said Nimue, trembling, \"what then? Must I kill him?\"\n\nMorgaine would have spoken, but Niniane spoke first." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Such death as you could give would be all too swift for such a traitor." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "You must bring him, enchanted, to Avalon, Nimue. And there he shall die a traitor's cursed death within the oak grove.\"\n\nTrembling, Morgaine knew what fate awaited him-to be flayed alive, then thrust living within the cleft of the oak, and the opening stopped with wattle and daub, leaving only enough space so that his breath would not fail, lest he die too quickly.... She bowed her head, trying to conceal her shudder. The blinding sun was gone from the water; the sky dripped with pale dawn clouds. Niniane said, \"Our work is done here. Come, Mother-\" but Morgaine pulled herself free.\n\n\"Not done-I too must go forth for Camelot. I must know to what use the traitor has put the Holy Regalia.\" She sighed; she had hoped never again to go forth from the shore of Avalon, but there was no other to do what must be done.\n\nRaven putout her hand. She was shaking so terribly that Morgaine feared she would fall; and now she whispered, her ruined voice only a distant hiss and scratching like wind against dead branches, \"I too must go... it is my fate, that I shall not lie where all those before me have lain in the enchanted country... I ride with you, Morgaine.\"\n\n\"No, no, Raven,\" Morgaine protested. \"Not you!\" Raven had never set foot off Avalon, not in fifty years... surely she could not survive the journey! But nothing she could say shook Raven's determination; shivering with terror, she was adamant: she had seen her destiny and must go with Morgaine at any cost.\n\n\"But I am not going as Niniane would travel, in the pomp of priestess garb, in the litter of Avalon, riding instate to Camelot,\" she argued. \"I am going in disguise as an old peasant woman, as Viviane travelled so often in the old days.\" But Raven shook her head and said, \"Any road you can travel, Morgaine, I too can travel.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Morgaine still felt a deadly fear-not for herself, but for Raven. But she said, \"Be it so,\" and they made ready to ride. And later that day they took their secret ways out of Avalon, Nimue travelling instate as the kinswoman of the Queen, riding on the main roads, and Morgaine and Raven, wrapped in the somber rags of beggar women, out of Avalon by the back ways and side roads, making their way on foot toward Camelot.\n\nRaven was stronger than Morgaine had believed; as they made their way, day by day, slow-paced and afoot, at times it seemed that she was the stronger. They begged broken meats at farm doors, they stole a bit of bread left fora dog at the back of a farmstead, they slept once in a deserted villa and one night beneath a haystack. And on that last night, for the first time on their silent journey, Raven spoke.\n\n\"Morgaine,\" she said, when they were lying side by side, wrapped in their cloaks, under the shadow of the hay, \"tomorrow is Easter at Camelot, and we must be thereat dawn.\"\n\nMorgaine would have asked why, but she knew Raven could give her no answer but this-that she had seen it as their fate. And so she answered, \"Then we shall leave here before dawn. It is no more than an hour's walk from here-we might have kept walking and slept in the shadow of Camelot, if you had told me this before, Raven.\"\n\n\"I could not,\" Raven whispered. \"I was afraid.\" And Morgaine knew that the other woman was weeping in the darkness. \"I am so frightened, Morgaine, so frightened!\"\n\nMorgaine said brusquely, \"I told you that you should have remained in Avalon!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"But I had the work of the Goddess to do,\" whispered Raven. \"In all these years I have dwelt in the shelter of Avalon, and now it is Ceridwen, our Mother, who demands my all in return for all the shelter and safety I have had from her... but I am afraid, so afraid. Morgaine, hold me, hold me, I am so frightened-\"\n\nMorgaine clasped her close and kissed her, rocking her like a child. Then, as if they entered together into a great silence, she held Raven against her, touching her, caressing her, their bodies clinging together in something like frenzy. Neither spoke, but Morgaine felt the world trembling in a strange and sacramental rhythm around them, in no light but the darkness of the dark side of the moon-woman to woman, affirming life in the shadow of death. As maiden and man in the light of the spring moon and the Beltane fires affirmed life in the running of spring and the rutting which would bring death in the field to him and death in childbearing to her; so in the shadow and darkness of the sacrificed god, in the dark moon, the priestesses of Avalon together called on the life of the Goddess and in the silence she answered them.... They lay at last quiet in each other's arms, and Raven's weeping was stilled at last. She lay like death, and Morgaine, feeling her heart slowing to stillness, thought, I must let her go even into the shadow of death if that is the will of the Goddess....\n\nAnd she could not even weep.\n\nNo one took the slightest notice of two peasant women, no longer young, in the turmoil and tumult about the gates of Camelot this morning. Morgaine was used to this; Raven, who had lived so long in seclusion even on quiet Avalon, turned white as bone and tried to hide herself under her ragged shawl. Morgaine also kept her own shawl about her-there were some who would recognize the lady Morgaine, even with her hair streaked with white and in the garb of a peasant woman." }, { "from": "human", "value": "A drover striding through the yard with a calf ran into Raven and came near to knocking her down, and he cursed her when she only stared at him in dismay." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Morgaine said quickly, \"My sister is deaf and dumb,\" and his face changed.\n\n\"Ah, poor thing-look, go up by there, they're giving everybody a good dinner at the lower end of the King's hall. You two can creep in at that door and watch them when they come in-the King's got some big thing planned with one of the priests in the hall today. You'll be from upcountry and not know his ways? Well, everyone in this countryside knows that he makes it a custom-he never sits down to his great feasts unless there's some great marvel arranged, and we heard today that there is to be something truly marvelous.\"\n\nI doubt it not, Morgaine thought disdainfully, but she only thanked the man in the rough country dialect she had used before and drew Raven along with her toward the lower hall, which was filling rapidly-King Arthur's generosity on feast days was well known, and this would be the best dinner many people had all year. There was a smell of roasting meat in the air, and most of the people jostling round her commented greedily on it. As for Morgaine, it only made her feel sick, and after one look at Raven's white terrified face, she decided to withdraw.\n\nShe should not have come. It was I who failed to seethe danger to the Holy Regalia; it was I who failed to see that the Merlin was traitor. And when I have done what I must do, how will I manage to flee to Avalon with Raven in this condition?\n\nShe found a corner where they would be disregarded, but where they could see reasonably well what was happening. At the higher end of the room was the great mead-hall table, the Round Table which was already almost legendary in the countryside, with the great dais for the King and Queen, and the painted names of Arthur's Companions over their customary places. On the walls hung brilliant banners. And after years spent in the austerity of Avalon, this all seemed gaudy and garish to Morgaine." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "After along time there was astir, and then the sound of trumpets somewhere, and a whisper ran through the jostling crowd. Morgaine thought, It will be strange to seethe court from outside, after being apart of it for so long! Cai was opening the great doors to the upper end of the hall, and Morgaine shrank-Cai would know her, whatever garb she wore! But why should he even look in her direction?\n\nHow many years had she spent quietly drifting in Avalon? She had no idea. But Arthur seemed even taller, more majestic, his hair so fair that no one could have told whether or no there were silver strands among the carefully combed curls. Gwenhwyfar, too, although her breasts sagged under the elaborate gown, bore herself upright and seemed slim as ever.\n\n\"Look how young the Queen looks,\" muttered one of Morgaine's neighbors, \"yet Arthur married her the year I had my first son, and look at me.\" Morgaine glanced at the speaker, bent and toothless, stooped like a bent bow. \"I heard that witch sister of the King, Morgaine of the Fairies, gave them both spells to keep their youth....\"\n\n\"Spells or no,\" mumbled another toothless crone tartly, \"if Queen Gwenhwyfar had to muck out a byre night and morning, and bear a babe every year and suckle it in good times and bad, there'd be none of that beauty left, bless her! Things areas they are, but I wish some priest'ud tell me why she gets all the good in life and I get all the misery?\"\n\n\"Stop grumbling,\" said the first speaker. \"You'll have your belly full today, and get to see all the lords and ladies, and you know what the old Druids used to say about why things are what they are. Queen Gwenhwyfar up there gets fine gowns and jewels and a queen's business because she did good in her last lives, and the likes of you and me are poor and ugly because we were ignorant, and someday, if we mind what we do in this life, there's a better fortune for us too.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Oh, aye,\" grunted the other old woman, \"priests and Druids are all alike." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Druid says that, and the priest says if we do our duty in this life we'll go to Heaven and live with Jesus and feast with him there and never comeback to this wicked world at all! It all winds up the same, whatever the lot of them say-some are born in misery and die in misery, and others have it all their own way!\"\n\n\"But she's none so happy, I've heard,\" said another of the group of old women wedged in together. \"For all her queening it, she's never borne a single babe, and I have a good son to work the farm for me, and one daughter married to the man at the next farm, and another who's servant to the nuns on Glastonbury. And Queen Gwenhwyfar has had to adopt sir Galahad there, who's the son of Lancelet and of her own cousin Elaine, for Arthur's heir!\"\n\n\"Oh, aye, that's what they tell you,\" said a fourth old woman, \"but you know and I know, when Queen Gwenhwyfar was absent from court in the sixth or seventh year of his reign-something like that-don't you think they were all counting on their fingers? My stepbrother's wife was a kitchen woman here at court, and he said it was common talk all round here that the Queen spent her nights in another bed than her husband's-\"\n\n\"Keep quiet, old gossip,\" said the first speaker. \"Just let one of the chamberlains hear you say that aloud, and you'll be ducked in the pond fora scold! I say Galahad's a good knight and he'll make a good king, long live King Arthur! And who cares who his mother is? I think meself he's one of Arthur's by-blows-he's fair like him. And look yonder at sir Mordred-everybody knows he's the King's bastard son by some harlot or other.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I heard worse than that,\" said one of the women." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I heard Mordred's the son of one of the fairy witches and Arthur took him to court in pawn for his soul, to live a hundred years-you'll see, he'll not age, sir Mordred there. Just look at Arthur, he must be past fifty and he could be a man in his thirties!\"\n\nAnother old woman spoke a barnyard obscenity. \"What's it tome, all of that? If the Devil were about businesslike that, he could have made yonder Mordred in Arthur's own image so anyone could accept him as Arthur's son! Arthur's mother was of the old blood of Avalon-did you never seethe lady Morgaine? She was dark too, and Lancelet, who's his kin, was like that.... I'd rather believe what they said before, that Mordred is Lancelet's bastard son by the lady Morgaine! You've only got to look at them-and the lady Morgaine pretty enough in her way, little and dark as she was.\"\n\n\"She's not among the ladies,\" one of the women remarked, and the woman who had known a kitchen woman at court said authoritatively, \"Why, she quarreled with Arthur and went away to the land of Fairy, but everybody knows that on All Hallows Night she flies round the castle on a hazel twig and anyone who catches sight of her will be struck blind.\"\n\nMorgaine buried her face in her ragged cloak to smother a giggle. Raven, hearing, turned an indignant face to Morgaine, but Morgaine shook her head; they must keep still and not be noticed.\n\nThe knights were seating themselves in their accustomed places. Lancelet, as he took his seat, raised his head, looking sharply round the hall, and fora moment it seemed to Morgaine that he sought her out where she stood, that his eyes met hers-shivering, she ducked her head. Chamberlains were moving at both ends of the hall, pouring wine for the Companions and their ladies, pouring good brown beer from great leather jacks down among the peasants crowded in at the lower end. Morgaine held out her cup and Raven's, and when Raven refused, she said in a harsh whisper, \"Drink it! You look like death, and you must be strong enough for whatever is coming.\" Raven put the wooden cup to her lips and sipped, but she could hardly swallow. The woman who had said that the lady Morgaine was pretty enough in her way asked, \"Is she sick, your sister?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Morgaine said, \"She is frightened, she has never seen the court before.\"\n\n\"Fine, aren't they, the lords and ladies? What a spectacle! And we'll get a good dinner soon,\" said the woman to Raven. \"Hey, doesn't she hear?\"\n\n\"She is not deaf, but dumb,\" Morgaine said again. \"I think maybe she understands a little of what I say to her, but no one else.\"\n\n\"Now you come to speak of it, she does look simpleminded, at that,\" said the other woman, and patted Raven on the head like a dog. \"Has she always been like that? What a pity, and you have to look after her. You're a good woman. Sometimes when children are like that, their folks tie them to a treelike astray dog, and here you take her to court and all. Look at the priest in his gold robes! That's the bishop Patricius, they say he drove all the snakes out of his own country... think of that! Do you think he fought them with sticks?\"\n\n\"It's away of saying he drove out all the Druids-they are called serpents of wisdom,\" Morgaine said.\n\n\"How'd the likes of you know a thing like that?\" Morgaine's interrogator scoffed. \"I heard for sure that it was snakes, and anyhow all those wise folk, Druids and priests, they hang together, they wouldn't quarrel!\"\n\n\"Very likely,\" said Morgaine, not wanting to draw further attention to herself, her eyes going to Bishop Patricius. Behind him there was someone in the robes of a monk-a hunched figure, bent over and moving with difficulty-now what was the Merlin doing in the bishop's train? She said, her need to know overcoming the risk of attracting attention, \"What's going to happen? I thought surely they would have heard their mass in the chapel this morning, all the lords and ladies-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I heard,\" said one of the women, \"that since the chapel would hold so few, there would be a special mass here today for all the folk before meat-see, the bishop's men carrying in that altar with the white cloth and all. Sssshh-listen!\"\n\nMorgaine felt that she would go mad with rage and despair. Were they going to profane the Holy Regalia beyond any possibility of cleansing, by using it to serve a Christian mass?\n\n\"Draw near, all ye people,\" the bishop was atoning, \"for today the old order giveth way to the new. Christ has triumphed overall the old and pretended Gods who shall now be subservient to his name. For the True Christ said unto mankind, I am the Way and the Truth and the Life. Also he said, No man may come to the Father except he come in my name, for there is no other name under Heaven in which you maybe saved. And by that token, then, all those things which once were devoted to false Gods before mankind had knowledge of the truth, now shall be devoted to Christ and newly dedicated in service to the True God....\"\n\nBut Morgaine heard no more; suddenly she knew what they were planning to do-No! I am sworn to the Goddess. I must not allow this blasphemy! She turned and touched Raven's arm; even here, in the midst of this crowded hall, they were open one to the other. They would use the Holy Regalia of the Goddess to summon the Presence... which is One... but they would do it in the narrow name of that Christ who calls all Gods demons, unless they invoke in his name!\n\nThe cup the Christians use in their mass is the invocation of water, even as the plate whereon they lay their holy bread is the sacred dish of the element of earth. Now, using the ancient things of the Goddess, they would invoke their own narrow God; yet instead of the pure water of the holy earth, coming from the clear crystal spring of the Goddess, they have defiled her chalice with wine!" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "In the cup of the Goddess, O Mother, is the cauldron of Ceridwen, wherein all men are nourished and from which all men have all the good things of this world. You have called upon the Goddess, O ye willful priests, but will you dare her presence if she should come? Morgaine clasped her hands in the most fervent invocation of her life. I am thy priestess, O Mother! Use me, I pray, as you will!\n\nShe felt the rushing downward of power, felt herself standing taller, taller, as the power flooded through her body and soul and filled her; she was no longer conscious of Raven's hands holding her upright, filling her like the chalice with the sacred wine of the holy presence....\n\nShe moved forward and saw Patricius, stunned, drawback before her. She had no fear, and though she knew it was death to touch the Holy Regalia unprepared-how, she wondered in a remote corner of her waking mind, did Kevin manage to prepare the bishop? Had he betrayed that secret too? She knew with certainty that all her life had been preparation for this moment when, as the Goddess herself, she raised the cup between her hands.\n\nAfterward, she heard, some said that they saw the Holy Chalice borne round the room by a maiden clothed in shimmering white; others said that they heard a great rushing wind fill the hall, and a sound of many harps. Morgaine knew only that she lifted the cup between her hands, seeing it glow like a great sparkling jewel, a ruby, a living, beating heart pulsing between her hands... she moved toward the bishop and he fell to his knees before her as she whispered, \"Drink. This is the Holy Presence....\"\n\nHe drank, and briefly she wondered what it was that he saw, but then he fell away behind her as she moved on, or the cup itself moved, drawing her with it... she could not tell. She heard a sound as of many wings, rushing before her, and she smelled a sweetness that was neither incense nor perfume.... The chalice, some said later, was invisible; others said that it shone like a great star which blinded every eye that looked on it.... Every person in that hall found his plate filled with such things as he liked best to eat... again and again later she heard that tale, and by that token she knew that what she had borne was the cauldron of Ceridwen. But for the other tales she had no explanation, and needed none. She is the Goddess, she will do as she will...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As she moved before Lancelet she heard him whisper in awe, \"Is it you, Mother? Or do I dream?...\" and set the cup to his lips, filled with overflowing tenderness; today she was mother to them all. Even Arthur knelt before her as the cup briefly passed before his lips.\n\nI am all things-Virgin and Mother and she who gives life and death. Ignore meat your peril, ye who call on other Names... know ye that I am One.... Of all those in that great hall, only Nimue, she thought, had recognized her, had looked up in astonished recognition; yes, Nimue too had been reared to know the Goddess, whatever form she might take. \"You too, my child,\" she whispered with infinite compassion, and Nimue knelt to drink, and Morgaine felt somewhere through her the surging of lust and vengeance, and thought, Yes, this too is apart of me....\n\nMorgaine faltered, felt Raven's strength bearing her up... was Raven beside her, holding the cup? Or was it illusion, was Raven still crouching in her corner, holding her upright with a flow of strength which poured through them both into the Goddess bearing the cup...? Later, Morgaine never knew whether in truth she had borne the chalice or whether that, too, had been part of the vast magic she had woven for the Goddess... yet it seemed to her, still, that she bore the cup around the great hall, that every man and every woman there knelt and drank, that the sweetness and the bliss flooded her, that she walked as if borne along on those great wings she could hear... and then Mordred's face was before her.\n\nI am not your mother, I am the Mother of All....\n\nGalahad was white, overawed. Did he see it as the cup of life or as the holy chalice of Christ? Did it matter? Gareth, Gawaine, Lucan, Bedivere, Palomides, Cai... all the old Companions and many she did not recognize, and it seemed at the last that they walked somewhere beyond the spaces of the world, and all of those who had ever been among them, even those who had passed beyond this world, came to commune with them at the Round Table this day-Ectorius, Lot, dead years since at Mount Badon; young Drustan, murdered in jealous rage by Marcus; Lionel; Bors; Balin and Balan hand in hand, like brothers again past the gates of death... all those who had ever gathered here around the Round Table, past and present, today were gathered herein this moment beyond time, even at last before the wise eyes of Taliesin. And then it was Kevin kneeling before her, the cup to his lips..." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Even you. I forgive all this day... whatever may come in the times yet to be seen....\n\nAt last she raised the chalice to her own lips and drank. The water of the Sacred Well was sweet on her lips, and though she saw now all the others in the hall eating and drinking, somehow it seemed, when she took a bite of bread, that on her lips it was the soft honey bannock that Igraine had baked for her when she was a child in Tintagel.\n\nShe replaced the cup on the altar, where it shone like a star....\n\nNow! Now, Raven, the Great Magic! It took all the strength of all the Druids to shift Avalon from this world, but now we need not do so much... the cup and the dish and the spear must go... they must go from this world forever, safely into Avalon, never again to be touched or profaned by mortal men. Never again may they be used for our own magic among the ring stones, for they have been defied by their moments on a Christian altar. But never again will they be profaned by priests of a narrow God who would deny all other truths....\n\nShe felt Raven's touch, hands gripping hers, and it seemed to her that beyond Raven's hands she felt other hands, she knew not whose... and in the hall it seemed as if the great wings flapped fora final time and a great rushing windswept through the hall and was gone. White daylight broke into the room, and the altar was bare and empty, and the white cloth was crumpled and lying there untenanted. She could seethe pale terrified face of Bishop Patricius.\n\n\"God has visited us,\" he whispered, \"and today we have drunk of the wine of life by the Holy Grail....\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gawaine leaped to his feet. \"But who has stolen away the holy vessel?\" he cried. \"We have seen it veiled... I swear I shall go forth to find it and bring it again to this court! And on this quest I shall spend a twelvemonth and a day, till I see it more clearly than here....\"\n\nOf course it would have to be Gawaine, thought Morgaine, always first to set himself face to face with the unknown! Yet he had played into her hands. Galahad stood up, pale and shining with excitement.\n\n\"A twelvemonth, sir Gawaine? I swear that I shall spend all my life, if need be, till I seethe Grail clear before me....\"\n\nArthur held out his hand and tried to speak, but the fever had caught them all and they were crying out, pledging themselves, all talking at once.\n\nThere is now no other cause so dear to their hearts, Morgaine thought. The wars have been won, there is peace in the land. Between wars, even the Caesars had the sense to set their legions to the building of roads and the conquest of new lands. Now this quest, they think, will unite them again in the old fervor. Once again they are the Companions of the Round Table, but this will scatter them to the four winds... in the name of that God you would set above Avalon, Arthur! The Goddess works as she will....\n\nMordred had risen and was speaking, but Morgaine had eyes now only for Raven, fallen to the floor. All round her the old peasant women were still chattering about the fine foods and drink they had tasted under the spell of the cauldron.\n\n\"White wine it was, rich and sweet as fresh honey and grapes... I never tasted it but once, years ago...\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Plum cake I had, stuffed with raisins and plums and a sauce of rich red wine... I never had anything so good...\"\n\nBut Raven lay silent, white as death, and when Morgaine bent to her, she knew what she had already known when she first saw her lying there. The weight of that Great Magic had been too much for the terrified woman; she had held firm, buoyed by the Great Magic, until the Grail had gone away to Avalon, all her own strength poured out selflessly to strengthen Morgaine in the work of the Goddess; and then, that strength withdrawn, her life had gone with it. Morgaine held her close, in wild grief and despair.\n\nI have killed her too. Truly, truly, now have I killed the last one I had to love.... Mother, Goddess, why could it not have been me? I have nothing more to live for, no one to love, and Raven has never harmed a living soul, never, never....\n\nMorgaine saw Nimue comedown from her high seat beside the Queen and speak with the Merlin, her look warm and sweet, and lay a confiding hand on his arm. Arthur was speaking with Lancelet, the tears streaming down both their faces; she saw them embrace and kiss as they had not done since they were boys. Arthur left him then, and walked down into the lower end of the hall, moving among his subjects.\n\n\"Is all well, my people?\"\n\nAll were speaking to him about the magical feast, but as he came nearer someone called out, \"Here's an old deaf and dumb woman, my lord Arthur, dead-the excitement was just too much for her!\"\n\nArthur walked to where Raven lay lifeless in Morgaine's arms. Morgaine did not raise her head. Would he recognize her, cry out, accuse her of witchcraft...?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "His voice was gentle and familiar, but distant. Of course, she thought, he is not speaking now to sister or priestess or equal, he sees no more than a crouching old peasant woman, white-haired, clad in rags. \"Your sister, my good woman? I am sorry this has come to you at a festival, but God has taken her at a blessed moment into the very arms of his own angel. Would you have her lie here for burial? She shall lie in the churchyard, if you wish.\"\n\nThe women around drew breath, and Morgaine knew this was, indeed, the highest charity he could offer. But her cloak still over her head, she said, \"No.\" And then, as if compelled, looked up into his eyes.\n\nThey had changed so much, both of them... she was old and burdened, but Arthur, too, had changed from the young King Stag....\n\nNot then nor ever did Morgaine know whether Arthur had recognized her. Their eyes met fora moment, then he said gently, \"Would you take her home then? Be it as you will, mother. Tell my stablemen to give you a horse-show them this.\" He put a ring into her hand. Morgaine bent her head, squeezing her eyes tight against tears, and when she raised it again, Arthur was gone.\n\n\"Here, I'll help ye carry her,\" said one of the women nearby, and then another, and they bore Raven's slight body from the hall. And Morgaine was tempted to look back into the hall of the Round Table, for she knew she would never see it again, nor ever set foot again upon Camelot.\n\nNow her work was done, and she would return to Avalon. But she would return alone. Now she would always be alone." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gwenhwyfar, watching the preparations in the hall, hearing Bishop Patricius' soft voice saying, No man may come to the Father except he call upon my name, looked on the cup with mixed emotions. Half of her said, This beautiful thing should be dedicated, as Patricius wishes, to the service of Christ; even the Merlin has come at last to the cross.\n\nBut the other half of her insisted, quite against her will, No. It would have been better to destroy it, to meltdown the gold if need be, and fashion from it another chalice dedicated, from its first making, to the true service of the true God. For this one is of the Goddess, as they call her, and that same Goddess is that great harlot who has from the beginning of time been the enemy of God.... Truly the priests say, with woman came evil into this world, and then she was confused, for surely not all that is woman can be evil-even God chose a woman to bear his son, and Christ himself spoke of Heaven to his chosen disciples and their sisters and wives....\n\nOne, at least, had forsaken that Goddess. She felt her face soften as she looked on Nimue-Elaine's daughter, and very like Elaine as a child, but even more beautiful, with something of the smiling gaiety and dancing grace of the younger Lancelet. So fair and sweet was Nimue, she could not believe anything of her was evil, yet this woman had served since childhood in the very house of the Goddess. And now she had repented of that evil service and come to Camelot, begging that no one should know that she had served in Avalon, not even Bishop Patricius. Not even Arthur. It would be hard, Gwenhwyfar thought, to refuse Nimue anything at all; she had willingly pledged herself to keep the young maiden's secret." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She looked past Nimue to where Patricius was standing, ready to take the cup with his hands. And then....\n\n... and then it seemed to Gwenhwyfar that a great angel, wings falling away in shadow behind the shining form, raised between its hands a cup that glowed like a great shining star. It was crimson like a beating heart, a glowing ruby... no, but it was the very blue of the deepest heaven, and there was ascent like all the roses of every garden she had ever entered in all her life. And a great clean-scented wind seemed suddenly to blow through the hall, and though they were at holy service, Gwenhwyfar suddenly felt that she could rise from her seat and run out of doors on the hills, into the great spaces which belonged to God, under his great wide healing sky. She knew, knew deep within her heart, that she would never again be afraid to leave the prison of chamber and hall; she could walk under the open sky and on the hills without fear, because wherever she might go, God would be with her. She smiled; disbelieving, she heard herself laugh aloud, and the small, once-prisoned thing within her asked angrily, At holy service? but the real Gwenhwyfar said, still laughing, though no one heard, If I may not take delight in God, then what is God tome?\n\nAnd then, through the sweet scents and joy, the angel was before her and the cup at her lips. Shaking, she drank, lowering her eyes, but then she felt a touch on her head and looked up, and she saw that it was not an angel but a woman veiled in blue, with great sad eyes. There was no sound, but the woman said to her, Before Christ ever was, I am, and it was I who made you as you are. Therefore, my beloved daughter, forget all shame and be joyful because you, too, are of the same nature as myself." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gwenhwyfar felt that her whole body and heart were made of pure joy. She had not been as happy as this since she was a little child. Even in Lancelet's arms she had never known this absolute bliss. Ah, could I only have brought this to my lover! She knew that the angel, or whatever Presence had touched her, had moved on, and she was saddened that it had withdrawn, but the joy was still pulsing inside her, and she looked up, with love, as the angel held the burning cup to Lancelet's lips. Ah, if only she can give you some of this joy, my sorrowing lover!\n\nThe fiery flames and the rushing wind filled the hall and were silenced. Gwenhwyfar ate and drank, although she never knew what it was, only that it was sweet and savorous; and she gave herself up to the delight of it. Surely whatever has come among us today, it is holy....\n\nSilence fell on the hall; it seemed bare and empty in the pale noonday, and Gawaine had risen, crying out. And after him Galahad.\n\n\"I swear that I shall spend all my life, if need be, till I seethe Grail clear before me....\"\n\nBishop Patricius looked faint, and she remembered that he was old; and the altar where the cup had lain was empty. She rose swiftly from her place and went to him.\n\n\"Father-\" she said, and held a cup of wine to his lips. He sipped, and as the color began to comeback into his lined face, he whispered, \"Surely something holy has come among us.... I was fed truly at the Lord's Table by the very cup from which he drank on that last holy night before he went to his Passion....\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gwenhwyfar was beginning to know what had happened-whatever had come to them that day by God's will was a vision. The bishop whispered, \"Did you see, my queen, the very cup of Christ...\"\n\nShe said gently, \"Alas no, dear Father, perhaps I was not worthy for that, but I saw an angel, I think, and I thought fora moment it was God's Holy Mother who stood before me....\"\n\n\"God has given us each a vision,\" said Patricius. \"How I have prayed that something might come among us, to inspire all these men with the love of the true vision of Christ....\"\n\nGwenhwyfar thought of the ancient proverb, Have a care what you pray for, it might be given you. Surely something had inspired these men. One after another they were rising, pledging to spend a year and a day searching, and she thought, All of the Round Table now is scattering to the four winds.\n\nShe looked at the altar where the chalice had lain. No, she thought, Bishop Patricius and Kevin the Merlin, you were wrong as Arthur was wrong. You cannot call down God to serve your own purposes this way. God blows through human purposes like a mighty wind, like the rush of angel's wings which I heard in this hall this day, and tears them asunder....\n\nAnd then she wondered, What is wrong with me, that I am thinking to criticize Arthur or even the bishop for what they did? Yet then, with new strength, she thought, By God, yes! They are not God, they are only men, and their purposes are not sacred! She looked at Arthur, walking now among the peasants and subjects at the far end of the hall... down there something had happened, some peasant had fallen down dead, perhaps overfilled with the joy of the Holy Presence. He came walking back, looking sorrowful." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Gawaine, must you go-Galahad-?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Not you too, my son? Bors, Lionel-what, all of you?\"\n\n\"My lord Arthur,\" called out Mordred. He wore, as always, the crimson which suited him so well and which exaggerated, almost to the point of caricature, his likeness to the young Lancelet.\n\nArthur's voice was gentle. \"What is it, my dear boy?\"\n\n\"My king, I ask your permission not to goon this quest,\" he said. \"Though it maybe laid on all your knights, someone must remain at your side.\"\n\nGwenhwyfar felt an overflowing tenderness for the young man. Ah, this is Arthur's true son, not Galahad, all dreams and visions! Had there ever been a time when she had disliked and distrusted Mordred? She said, heartfelt, \"May God bless you, Mordred,\" and the young man smiled at her. Arthur bowed his head and said, \"Be it so, my son.\"\n\nIt was the first time Arthur had called him so before other men; Gwenhwyfar gauged his disturbance by that. \"God help us both, Gwydion-Mordred, I should say-with so many of my Companions scattered to the four corners of the world, and God alone can say whether or no they will ever return....\" He reached out and clasped Mordred's hands, and fora moment it seemed to Gwenhwyfar that he leaned on his son's strong arm.\n\nLancelet came to her side and bowed. \"Lady, may I take my leave of you?\"\n\nIt seemed to Gwenhwyfar that tears were as near the surface as joy. \"Ah, love, must you goon this quest?\" and cared not who heard her speak the words. Arthur too looked troubled, holding out his hand to his cousin and friend. \"Will you leave us, Lancelet?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He nodded; there was something rapt, otherworldly, shining in his face. So it had come to him, too, that great joy? But why, then, did he need to go forth to seek it? Surely it was within him as well?\n\n\"All these years, my love,\" she said, \"have you told me that you are none so good a Christian as all that. Why then must you runaway from me on this quest?\"\n\nShe saw him struggling for words, and at last he said, \"All those years, I knew not whether God was nothing but an old tale told by the priests to frighten us. Now I have seen-\" He wet his lips again with his tongue, trying to find words for something beyond them. \"I have seen... something. If a vision such as this can be shown, whether of Christ or of the Devil-\"\n\n\"Surely,\" interrupted Gwenhwyfar, \"surely it came of God, Lancelet-\"\n\n\"So you say, for you have seen, you know,\" he said, holding her hand against his heart. \"I am not sure-methinks my mother mocked at me, or all Gods are one as Taliesin used to say-I am torn now between the darkness of never knowing, and the light beyond despair, which tells me-\" And again he fumbled for words. \"It was as if a great bell called tome, faraway, alight like to the faraway lights in the marsh, saying, Follow... and I know that the truth, the real truth, is there, there, just beyond my grasp, if I can only follow it and find it there and tearaway that veil which shrouds it... it is there if only I can reach it, my Gwenhwyfar. Would you deny me the search, now that I know there is truly something worth the finding?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It seemed as if they were alone in a room, not in the court before all men. She knew she could prevail on him in all else, but who can come between a man and his soul? God had not seen fit to give him this sureness and joy, and she did not wonder that he must now go seeking for it, for if she had sensed it was there, yet without the surety, she too would have spent the rest of her life in that seeking. She reached both hands to him, and said, feeling as though she embraced him before all men in the clear light of day, \"Go then, my beloved, and God reward your search with the truth you seek.\"\n\nAnd he said, \"God remain with you always, my queen, and may he grant that someday I return to you.\"\n\nThen he turned to Arthur, but Gwenhwyfar did not hear what they said, only that he embraced Arthur as he had done when they were all young and innocent.\n\nArthur stood, his hand on Gwenhwyfar's shoulder, watching him go. \"I think sometimes,\" he said softly, \"that Lance is the best of us,\" and she turned to him, her heart overflowing with love for this good man who washer husband, and said, \"I think so too, my dearest love.\"\n\nHe said, surprising her, \"I love you both, Gwen. Never think, never, that you are less tome than anything on earth. I am almost glad you have never borne me a son,\" he added, almost in a whisper, \"for then you might think I loved you only for that, and now I can say to you, I love you beyond all else save only my duty to this land whereof God has given me the stewardship, and you cannot be jealous of that....\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"No,\" she said softly." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And then, for once meaning it absolutely, without reservation, she said, \"And I love you too, Arthur, never doubt that.\"\n\n\"I have never fora moment doubted that, my own dear love.\" And he raised both her hands to his lips and kissed them, and Gwenhwyfar was filled again with that great and overflowing joy. What woman alive has had so much of life, that the two greatest men within the borders of this world have loved me?\n\nAll around them, the noises of the court were rising again, demanding notice for the things of everyday life. Everyone, it seemed, had seen something different-an angel; a maiden bearing the Grail; some, like herself, had seemed to seethe Holy Mother; and many, many others had seen nothing, nothing but alight too bright to bear, and had been filled with peace and joy, and been fed with such meats and drinks as they liked best.\n\nNow a rumor was going about that, by the favor of Christ, what they had seen was the very Grail from which Christ had drunk at the Last Supper among his disciples, where he broke the bread and shared the wine as if it were body and blood of the ancient sacrifice. Had Bishop Patricius chosen his moment to spread that tale, while they were all confused and no man knew precisely what he had actually seen?\n\nThere was a tale Morgaine had told her, Gwenhwyfar remembered, crossing herself: Jesus of Nazareth, they said in Avalon, had come herein youth to be educated among the wise Druids in Glastonbury, and after his death, his foster-father, Joseph of Arimathea, had come here and struck his staff into the ground where it had blossomed into the Holy Thorn. Did it not then seem reasonable that this same Joseph had brought hither the cup of the sacrifice? Surely, whatever passed, it was holy... surely this was a holy thing, since, if it had not come of God, it could not be anything but a most evil enchantment, and how could such beauty, such joy, be evil?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Yet whatever the bishop said, it had been an evil gift, Gwenhwyfar thought, shaking. One by one, the Companions had arisen and ridden forth on their quest, and now she looked on a hall which was all but empty. They were gone, all the Companions save for Mordred, who had vowed to remain, and Cai, who was too old and lame to ride forth. Arthur turned away from Cai-she knew he must be comforting Cai for not riding on this quest with the others-and he said, \"Ah, I too should have ridden forthwith them, but I could not. I would not shatter their dream.\"\n\nShe came and herself poured him some wine, and she wished suddenly that they were within their own rooms, not here where they were left alone in the hall of the Round Table. \"Arthur, you planned what happened-you told me that something amazing was being planned for Easter-\"\n\n\"Yes,\" he said, leaning back wearily in his chair, \"but I swear to you that I knew not what was planned by Bishop Patricius or by the Merlin. I knew that Kevin had brought here the Holy Regalia from Avalon.\" He laid a hand on his sword. \"I was given the sword at my crowning, and now it has been given to the service of this kingdom and of Christ. It seemed tome, as the Merlin said, that the holiest of Mysteries of the ancient world should be put to the service of God, since all the Gods are one, as Taliesin always told us. In the old days the Druids called their God by other names, but these things belonged to God and should be given to him. Yet I know not what happened in the hall this day.\"\n\n\"You know not? You? Does it not seem to you that we beheld a true miracle, that God himself came before us to show that the Holy Grail should be reclaimed for his service?\"" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Co-writing with the writer, continue the narrative.\nTags: fantasy, arthurian, historical fantasy\nAuthor: Marion Zimmer Bradley\nTitle: The Mists of Avalon\nChapter: 64" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Yet whatever the bishop said, it had been an evil gift, Gwenhwyfar thought, shaking. One by one, the Companions had arisen and ridden forth on their quest, and now she looked on a hall which was all but empty. They were gone, all the Companions save for Mordred, who had vowed to remain, and Cai, who was too old and lame to ride forth. Arthur turned away from Cai-she knew he must be comforting Cai for not riding on this quest with the others-and he said, \"Ah, I too should have ridden forthwith them, but I could not. I would not shatter their dream.\"\n\nShe came and herself poured him some wine, and she wished suddenly that they were within their own rooms, not here where they were left alone in the hall of the Round Table. \"Arthur, you planned what happened-you told me that something amazing was being planned for Easter-\"\n\n\"Yes,\" he said, leaning back wearily in his chair, \"but I swear to you that I knew not what was planned by Bishop Patricius or by the Merlin. I knew that Kevin had brought here the Holy Regalia from Avalon.\" He laid a hand on his sword. \"I was given the sword at my crowning, and now it has been given to the service of this kingdom and of Christ. It seemed tome, as the Merlin said, that the holiest of Mysteries of the ancient world should be put to the service of God, since all the Gods are one, as Taliesin always told us. In the old days the Druids called their God by other names, but these things belonged to God and should be given to him. Yet I know not what happened in the hall this day.\"\n\n\"You know not? You? Does it not seem to you that we beheld a true miracle, that God himself came before us to show that the Holy Grail should be reclaimed for his service?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"At times, I think so,\" said Arthur, slowly, \"and then I wonder... was it not the magic of the Merlin which enchanted us, so that we should see a vision and think thus? For now are my Companions gone forth from me, and who knows whether they shall ever return?\" He raised his face to her; she noticed, as from very faraway, that his eyebrows were all white now, and that his fair hair was liberally silvered.\n\nHe said, \"Knew you not that Morgaine was here?\"\n\n\"Morgaine?\" Gwenhwyfar shook her head. \"No, I knew it not... why came she not to greet us?\"\n\nHe smiled, \"You ask that? She left our court under my great displeasure.\" His lips tightened and again his hand sought the hilt of Excalibur, as if to reassure himself that still it lay at his side. It hung now in a leather scabbard, a coarse and ugly thing; she had never dared to ask him what had become of the one Morgaine had made for him so many years ago, but now she guessed that was behind their quarrel.\n\n\"You knew it not-that she had rebelled against me. She would have put her paramour Accolon on the throne in my place...\"\n\nGwenhwyfar had thought she would never again feel wrath at any living creature after the day's joyous vision; even now, what she mostly felt was pity for Morgaine, and pity too for Arthur, knowing how he had loved and trusted the sister who had betrayed him. \"Why did you not tell me that? I never trusted her.\"\n\n\"That is why,\" said Arthur, pressing her hand. \"I thought I could not bear it, to hear you say how you trusted her never, and how you had often warned me against her. But Morgaine was here this day, in the guise of an old peasant woman. She looked old, Gwenhwyfar, old and harmless and sick. I think that she had come in disguise for another look, perhaps, at that place where once she had held high state, and perhaps for another glimpse of her son.... She looked older than our mother looked when she died...\" and he was silent, reckoning fora moment on his fingers, and saying at last, \"Why, and so she is, as I am older than my father ever was, my Gwenhwyfar.... I think not that Morgaine came to do mischief, and if she did, why, for sure it was prevented by the holy vision...\" and he was silent. Gwenhwyfar knew, with her sure instinct, that he did not want to say aloud that he loved Morgaine still and that he missed her." }, { "from": "human", "value": "As the years pass there are so many things I cannot say to Arthur, or he tome..." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "but at least we both spoke today of Lancelet and of the love that was among us all. And it seemed to her for the moment that his love was the greatest truth in her life, and that love could never be weighed out or measured, so much for this one and so much for that, but was an endless and eternal flow, that the more she loved, the more love she had to give, as she gave it now to everyone, as it had been given her by her vision.\n\nEven toward the Merlin, today, she felt that flow of warmth and tenderness. \"Look how Kevin struggles with his harp. Shall I send someone to help him, Arthur?\"\n\nArthur smiled and said, \"He needs it not, for Nimue is ministering to him, see?\"\n\nAnd again she felt the flood of love, this time for Lancelet's daughter and Elaine's-child to two of those she had loved best. Nimue's hand under the Merlin's arm... like the old tale of the maiden who fell in love with a wild beast from the depths of the forest! Ah, but today she even felt love for the Merlin too, and was glad that he had Nimue's strong young hands to help him.\n\nAnd as the days passed in the near-empty court at Camelot, Nimue came to seem more and more like the daughter she had never had. The girl listened with attentive courtesy when she spoke, flattered her subtly, was ever quick to wait upon her hand and foot. Only in one thing did Nimue displease Gwenhwyfar-she spent far too much time listening to the Merlin.\n\n\"He may now call himself Christian, child,\" the Queen warned, \"but at heart he is an old pagan, sworn by the barbaric rites of the Druids, which you have renounced... you can see still the serpents he wears on his wrists!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Nimue stroked her own satiny wrists. \"Why, so does Arthur,\" she said gently, \"and I too might have worn them, cousin, had I not seen the great light. He is a wise man, and there is no man in all Britain who can play more sweetly upon the harp.\"\n\n\"And there is the bond of Avalon to bind you,\" said Gwenhwyfar, a little more sharply than she intended.\n\n\"No, no,\" said Nimue, \"I beg of you, cousin, say this never to him. He did not see my face at Avalon, he knows me not, and I do not wish him to think mean apostate from that faith to this....\"\n\nShe looked so troubled that Gwenhwyfar said lovingly, \"Why, if you wish, I will not tell him. I have not told even Arthur that you came to us from Avalon.\"\n\n\"And I am so fond of music, and of the harp,\" Nimue pleaded. \"May I not speak with him?\"\n\nGwenhwyfar smiled indulgently. \"Your father, too, was a fine musician-once he said that his mother had set a harp in his hand fora plaything before he was old enough even to hold a toy sword, and taught him to touch the strings. I would like Merlin the better if he stayed with his harp and sought not to be one of Arthur's councillors.\" Then she shuddered and said, \"Tome the man is a monster!\"\n\nNimue said patiently, \"I am sorry to see you so against him, cousin. It is not his doing-I am sure he would rather be as handsome as my father and as strong as Gareth!\"\n\nGwenhwyfar bent her head. \"I know it is not charitable of me... but from childhood I have had a revulsion for those who are so misshapen. I am not sure it was not the sight of Kevin which caused me to miscarry when last I had a chance to bear a son. And if God is good, does it not follow that what comes from God must be beautiful and perfect, and what is ugly and misshapen must be the work of the foul fiend?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"No,\" said Nimue, \"it seems not at all likely tome." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "God himself sent trials to the folk in Holy Writ, for he afflicted Job with leprosy and boils, and he caused Jonah to be swallowed up by a great fish. And again and again we are told he made his chosen people to suffer, and even Christ himself suffered. One might say that these people suffer because it is the will of God that they shall suffer more than others. It maybe that Kevin suffers this affliction for some great sin he did in some life before this one.\"\n\n\"Bishop Patricius tells us that is a heathen notion and no Christian should believe that abominable lie-that we are born and reborn again. Or how should we ever go to Heaven?\"\n\nNimue smiled, remembering Morgaine saying to her, Never speak tome again of anything Father Griffin said to you. She thought she would like to say it now to Gwenhwyfar, but she kept her voice gentle.\n\n\"Oh no, cousin, for even in Holy Scripture, it is told how men asked of John the Baptizer who he was. Some men said that Jesus Christ was Elijah come again, and he said instead, I tell you that Elijah has come among you already and ye knew him not. And men knew-so it says in Holy Writ-that he spoke of John. And so, if Christ himself believed that men were reborn, how can it be wrong for mankind so to believe?\"\n\nGwenhwyfar wondered how so much knowledge of Scripture had come to Nimue, living upon Avalon. And she remembered that Morgaine, too, had known more, she sometimes thought, of the holy writings than she herself did.\n\nNimue said, \"I think perhaps the priests do not want us to think of other lives because they wish us to be very good in this one. Many priests think there is not much time remaining before the world will end and Christ come again, and so they are afraid that men will wait for another life to be good, and will not have time to attain perfection before Christ comes. If men knew they would be reborn, would they work so hard to be perfect in this life?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"That seems tome dangerous doctrine,\" Gwenhwyfar said, \"for if people believed that all men must at last be saved in some life or other, what would keep them from committing sins in this one, in the hope that at last God's mercy would prevail?\"\n\n\"I do not think that fear of the priests, or of God's wrath, or anything else, will ever keep mankind from committing sins,\" said Nimue, \"but only when they have gained enough wisdom in all their lives that they know that error is useless and evil must be paid for, sooner or later.\"\n\n\"Oh! Hush, child,\" Gwenhwyfar said. \"Suppose someone should hear you speaking such heresies! Although it is true,\" she said after a moment, \"that since that day of Easter, it seems tome that there is infinite mercy in God's love, and perhaps God does not care so much about sin as some of the priests would have us believe... and now I am talking heresy too, perhaps!\"\n\nNimue only smiled again, thinking to herself, I did not come to court to bring enlightenment to Gwenhwyfar. I have a more perilous mission, and it is not for me to preach to her the truth, that all men, and all women too, must one day come to enlightenment.\n\n\"Do you not believe Christ will come again, Nimue?\"\n\nNo, thought Nimue, I do not, I believe that the great enlightened ones, like Christ, come but once, after many lives spent in attaining wisdom, and then they go forth forever into eternity; but I believe the divine ones will send other great masters to preach the truth to mankind, and that mankind will always receive them with the cross and the fire and the stones.\n\n\"What I believe does not matter, cousin, what matters is the truth. Some priests preach that their God is a God of love, and others that he is evil and vengeful. Sometimes I feel that the priests were sent to punish people; since they would not hear Christ's words of Love, God sent them the priests with their message of hatred and bigotry.\" And then she stopped short, for she did not want to anger Gwenhwyfar. But the Queen only said, \"Well, Nimue, I have known priests like that.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And if some priests are badmen,\" said Nimue, \"I find it not wholly beyond reason that some Druids might be good ones.\"\n\nThere must, thought Gwenhwyfar, be some error in that reasoning, but she could not make it out. \"Well, my dear, you maybe right. But it makes me queasy to see you with the Merlin. Although I know Morgaine thought well of him... it was rumored here at court, even, that they were lovers. I wondered often how a woman so fastidious as Morgaine could have let him touch her.\"\n\nNimue had not known that and she thrust it away in her mind for reference. Was that how Morgaine had known of his undefended fortresses? She said only, \"Of all I learned in Avalon, what most I loved was music, and what I have heard in Holy Writ that pleases me most was the psalmist who told us to praise God with the lute and the harp. And Kevin has promised me that he will help me to find a harp, for I came away without my own. May I send for him here, cousin?\"\n\nGwenhwyfar hesitated, but she could not resist the sweet entreaty in the young girl's smile and said, \"To be sure you may, my dearest child.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "After a time, the Merlin came-no, thought Nimue, I must remember; he is no more now than Kevin the Harper, traitor to Avalon-and behind him a servant carrying My Lady. Nimue thought, Now he is a Christian, there is no law that no other may touch his harp; it is simpler than keeping an initiated man about him to bear My Lady when his strength fails.\n\nHe walked with two sticks, dragging his tortured body after them. But he smiled at the ladies and said, \"You must consider, my queen and my lady Nimue, that somehow my spirit has made to you the courtly bow that my unruly body is no longer able to make.\"\n\nNimue whispered, \"I beg you, cousin, ask him to sit-he cannot stand for long.\"\n\nGwenhwyfar waved permission, glad for once of her near sight that meant she need not clearly seethe misshapen body. Fora moment, Nimue was afraid that Kevin's man was from Avalon and would recognize and perhaps greet her, but he was only a servant in the dress of the court. How had Morgaine, or old Raven, been able to see so far ahead, to order her as a child into seclusion, so that when she came to womanhood, there would be one fully trained priestess in Avalon whom the Merlin would not know by sight? She understood that she was merely a pawn in the great work of the world, sent forthwith no weapons but her beauty and her guarded virginity to work the vengeance of the Goddess on this man who had betrayed them all.\n\nNimue placed another cushion from her own chair under the Merlin's arm. His bones seemed to protrude through the skin, and when she barely touched his elbow, it seemed that there was so much heat in the swollen joints that it burned her. And she felt a moment's pity and rebellion." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Surely the Goddess already works her own vengeance! This man has surely suffered enough! Their Christ suffered a day on the cross; this man has been crucified in his broken body fora lifetime!\n\nYet others had been burned for their faith and had not broken, nor betrayed the Mysteries. She hardened her heart and said sweetly, \"Lord Merlin, will you play your harp for me?\"\n\n\"For you, my lady,\" Kevin said in his rich voice, \"I will play what you will, and I could wish I were that ancient bard who could play till the trees danced!\"\n\n\"Oh no,\" said Nimue with mocking laughter. \"What would we do if they came dancing inhere! Why, we would have earth allover the hall, and all our maids with mops and brooms would not be able to clean it! Leave the trees where they are, I beg you, and sing!\"\n\nThe Merlin put his hands to the harp and began to play. Nimue sat beside him on the floor, her great eyes looking up, intent, into his face. The Merlin looked down on the maiden just as a great dog might watch its master-with humble devotion and utter preoccupation. Gwenhwyfar took such emotion almost for granted. She herself had been the object of intense devotion so often that she never thought twice about it-it was simply the homage that men paid to beauty. Perhaps, though, she should warn Nimue, lest her head be turned by it. Yet she could not imagine how Nimue could sit so close to his ugliness or look at him so attentively.\n\nThere was something about Nimue that puzzled Gwenhwyfar. Somehow, the girl's concentration was not quite what it seemed. It was not the delight taken by one musician in another's work, nor was it the artless admiration of a naïve maiden fora well-travelled and mature man. No, thought Gwenhwyfar, and it was not a sudden passion, either; that she could have understood and, in a sense, sympathized with-she herself had known that sudden overpowering love which sweeps away all obstacles. It had struck her like lightning and had ruined all her hopes that her marriage with Arthur could be a good and proper one. It had been a curse, yet she had known it was something that came of itself, over which neither she nor Lancelet had any power. She had come to terms with it, and she could have accepted that it had happened to Nimue-even though Kevin the Merlin seemed the most unlikely object for such a passion. But it was not that... she did not know how she knew, but she knew." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Simple lust? It might have been that on Kevin's part-Nimue was beautiful, and even though the Merlin had been most circumspect, she might have kindled any man; but Gwenhwyfar could not believe that Nimue had been likewise roused by such a one when she had remained courteous but cool and unattainable to all of Gwenhwyfar's handsomest young knights.\n\nFrom where she sat at the Merlin's feet, Nimue sensed that Gwenhwyfar was watching her. But she did not turn her eyes away from Kevin. Ina way, she thought, I am enchanting him. Her purpose demanded that she have him completely at her mercy-her slave and her victim. And again she stifled the flash of pity that she felt. This man had done worse than simply revealing the Mysteries or the secret teaching; he had given the holy things themselves into the hands of the Christians, to be profaned. Ruthlessly, Nimue refused to consider her next thought, that the Christians had not intended profanation but hallowing. The Christians knew nothing of the inner truths of the Mysteries. And in any case the Merlin had betrayed a sworn oath.\n\nAnd the Goddess appeared to prevent that profanation.... Nimue had had enough training in the Mysteries to know what she had witnessed; even now a shiver went over her at the thought of what had passed among the Companions on that festival day. She had not wholly understood, but she knew that she had touched the greatest holiness.\n\nAnd the Merlin would have profaned this. No, he must die like the dog he was.\n\nThe harp was silent. Kevin said, \"I have a harp for you, lady, if you will accept it. It is one which I fashioned with my own hands when I was a lad on Avalon, and first come there. I have made others, and they are better, but this is a good one and I have carried it long. If you will accept it, it is yours.\" Nimue protested that such a gift was all too valuable, but inwardly she was overjoyed. If she should possess something so valuable to him personally, something he had fashioned with his own hands and labor, then would it bind him to her, just as if it were a lock of his own hair or a drop of his blood. There were not many, even in Avalon, who knew that the law of magic went so far, that something which had been so intimately intertwined with the mind and the heart and the passions-and Nimue grasped that music was his deepest passion-retained even more of the soul than hair clipped from the body retained the essence of the body." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She thought with satisfaction, He himself, of his own freewill, has put his soul into my hands. When he sent for the harp, she caressed it; small and crudely made as it was, the post had been worn smooth with resting against his body, and his hands had touched the strings with love... even now they lingered on it tenderly.\n\nShe touched the strings, testing their music. In truth, the tone of the harp was good; he had somehow managed that perfect curve and structure that made the soundingboard echo the strings with the sweetest tone. And if he had done this as a boy, with those mutilated hands... again Nimue felt the surge of pity and pain, Why did he not keep to his music and meddle not in the high affairs of state?\n\n\"You are too kind tome.\" She let her voice tremble, hoping he would think it was passion instead of triumph... with this, soon he will be mine, possessed body and soul.\n\nBut it was too soon. The great tides of Avalon running in her blood told her that the moon was waxing; such great magic as this could be worked only in moon-dark, the slack time when the Lady sheds none of her light on the world, and her hidden purposes are made known.\n\nShe must not let his passion grow beyond bounds, nor her own sympathy with him.\n\nHe will desire meat full moon; this bond I am forging is a double-edged sword, a rope with two ends... I will desire him as well, I cannot prevent that. For an enchantment to be total, it must involve both enchanter and enchanted, and she knew, with a spasm of terror, that this spell she was weaving would work on her too, and rebound on her. She could not pretend passion and desire; she must feel them as well. She knew, with a fear that wrung her heart, that even as the Merlin would be helpless in her hands, so it might well be that she would come to be helpless in his. And what of me, O Goddess, Mother... that is all too great a price to pay... let it not come on me, no, no, I am afraid...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Well, Nimue, my dear,\" Gwenhwyfar said, \"now that you have the harp in your hands, will you play and sing for me?\"\n\nShe let her hair curtain her face as she looked timidly at the Merlin and murmured, \"Shall I, then?\"\n\n\"I beg you to play,\" he said. \"Your voice is sweet and I can hear that your hands will bring enchantment from the strings....\"\n\nThey will indeed if I am favored of the Goddess. Nimue set her hands to the strings, remembering that she must not play any song of Avalon that he would remember and recognize. She began to play a drinking song she had heard at the court, with words none too proper fora maiden; she saw Gwenhwyfar looking scandalized, and thought, Good, if she is shocked by my unmaidenly behavior, she will not inquire too deeply into my motives. Then she played and sang a lament she had heard from a northern harper, the mournful song of a fisherman out on the sea, looking for the lights of his home on the shore.\n\nAt the end of the song she rose, looking shyly at him. \"I thank you for the use of your harp-may I borrow it again, that my hands may keep their skill?\"\n\n\"It is my gift to you,\" said Kevin. \"Now that I have heard what music your hands can bring from it, it could belong to no other. Keep it, I beg you-I have many harps.\"\n\n\"You are too kind tome,\" she murmured, \"but, I beg you, now that I can make music for myself, do not abandon me or deprive me of the pleasure of listening to yours.\"\n\n\"I will play for you whenever you ask me,\" Kevin said, and she knew that his heart was in the words. She contrived to brush against him as she leaned forward to take the harp." }, { "from": "human", "value": "She murmured, softly so Gwenhwyfar would not hear, \"Words alone cannot express my gratitude to you." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Perhaps a time will come when I can express it more fittingly.\"\n\nHe looked at her, dazed, and she discovered that she was returning his gaze with the same intensity.\n\nA double-edged spell indeed. I am victim too....\n\nHe went away, and she sat obediently by Gwenhwyfar and tried to turn her attention to her spinning.\n\n\"How beautifully you play, Nimue,\" said Gwenhwyfar. \"I need not ask where you learned... I heard Morgaine sing that lament once.\"\n\nNimue said, averting her eyes, \"Tell me something of Morgaine. She had departed from Avalon before I came there. She was married to a king in-Lothian, was it?\"\n\n\"In the north of Wales,\" Gwenhwyfar began.\n\nNimue, who knew all this perfectly well, was still not completely false. Morgaine remained a puzzle to her, and she was eager to know how the lady Morgaine had appeared to those who knew her in the world.\n\n\"Morgaine was one of my ladies-in-waiting,\" Gwenhwyfar was saying. \"Arthur gave her tome as such on our wedding day. Of course he had been fostered apart from her and hardly knew her, either....\"\n\nAs she listened attentively, Nimue, who had been trained to read emotions, realized that beneath Gwenhwyfar's dislike for Morgaine, there was something else: respect, awe, even a kind of tenderness. If Gwenhwyfar were not so fanatically, mindlessly Christian, she would have loved Morgaine well.\n\nAt least while Gwenhwyfar was talking of Morgaine, even though she condemned her as an evil sorceress, she was not mouthing the pious nonsense that bored Nimue almost to weeping. But she could not give Gwenhwyfar's tales her full attention. She satin an attitude of passionate interest, she made the proper sounds of attention or astonishment, but within, her mind was in turmoil:" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I am afraid; I can come to be the Merlin's slave and victim as I would have him mine....\n\nGoddess! Great Mother! It is not I who must face him, but you....\n\nThe moon was waxing; four nights until full, and she could already feel the stirring of that tide of life. She thought of the Merlin's intent gaze, his magical eyes, the beauty of his voice, and knew that already she was deeply entangled in her own spell weaving. Already she had ceased to feel the slightest revulsion against his twisted body, feeling only the strength and life force flowing within it.\n\nIf I give myself to him at full moon, she thought, then will the tides of life within us both betaken at the flood, then will my purposes become his own, then will we blend together as one flesh... she felt an ache and agony of desire, longing to be caressed by those sensitive hands, feel his warm breath against her mouth. Everything in her ached together in hunger which, she knew, was at least partly an echo of his own desire and frustration; the magical link she had created between them meant that she too must be tormented with his torment.\n\nWhen life runs full at the rounding of the moon, then shall the Goddess receive the body of her lover....\n\nIt was not altogether beyond belief. She was the daughter of the Queen's champion and the King's closest friend. Kevin, the Merlin, unlike a Christian priest, was not forbidden to marry. The court would be pleased at a marriage so high-placed, even though some of the ladies would be shocked that she could yield up her delicate body to a man they considered a monster. Arthur surely knew that Kevin could not, after what he had done, return to Avalon, but he had a place at court as the King's councillor. Also, he was a musician of surpassing skill. There would be a place for us, and happiness... when the moon is full, brimming with life, he will plant a child in my womb... and I will bear it joyfully... he is not monster-born, his deformity is from childhood injuries... his sons would be handsome... and then she stopped herself, disturbed by the power of her own fantasies. No, she must not become so deeply entangled in this spell. She must deny herself, even though the waxing moon made the surging blood in her veins a very agony of frustration. She must wait, wait..." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As she had waited all those years.... There is a magic that comes with yielding to life. The priestesses of Avalon knew it when they lay in the fields at Beltane, invoking the life of the Goddess in their own bodies and hearts... but there is a deeper magic which comes from guarding the power, damming up the stream. The Christians knew something of this, when they insisted that their holy virgins live in chastity and seclusion, that they might burn with the darker flame of that harnessed force; that their chaste priests might pour all their contained power into their Mysteries, such as they were. Nimue had felt that power in the lightest word or gesture from Raven, who had never wasted words on anything trivial, so that her force, when she spent it, was tremendous. She had wondered often, alone in the temple at Avalon, when she was forbidden to mingle with the other maidens or to go to the rites, when she felt that life force in her veins with such power that she sometimes burst into hysterical crying or tore at her hair and her face... why had they set her aside for this, why must she bear the terrible weight of all this without relief? But she had trusted the Goddess and obeyed her mentors, and now they had entrusted this great work to her, and she must not fail them through her own weakness.\n\nShe was a charged vessel of power, like the Holy Regalia which it was death to touch unprepared, and all this power of her long preparation would be hers to bind the Merlin to her... but she must wait for the tide to slacken and fill again; at the dark moon she must take the other tide which came of the other side of the moon... not fertile but barren, not of life at all but of dark magic older than human life...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And the Merlin knew these things; he knew of the old curse of the dark moon and the barren womb... he must be so wholly enspelled by her that he would not even wonder why she had refused him at the spring tide and sought him out at the slack. She had one advantage: he did not know that she knew these things, he had never seen her in Avalon. Yet the bond went between them both ways, and if she could read his thoughts, he might read hers; she must guard herself every moment lest he see within and guess her purposes.\n\nI must so wholly blind him with desire that he will forget... forget all he has been taught in Avalon. And at the same time, she must not be overcome by his desire, she must contain her own. It would not be easy.\n\nShe began to frame in her mind the next wile she would use on him. Tell me of your childhood, she would say, tell me how you were so hurt. Sympathy would be a powerful bond; she knew just how she would touch him with the very tips of her fingers... and she knew, in despair, that she was seeking out ways to be near him and touch him, not for her work but for her own hunger.\n\nCan I make this spell without bringing myself, too, to ruin?\n\n\"You were not at the Queen's feast,\" murmured the Merlin, looking into Nimue's eyes, \"and I had made anew song for you.... It was the fulling of the moon, and there is great power in the moon, lady....\"\n\nShe looked at him, all intent. \"Truly? I know so little of these things... are you a magician, my lord Merlin? I sometimes feel helpless, that you are working your magic on me....\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She had hidden herself at the full moon, sure that if he looked into her eyes at that time he would be able to read her thoughts and perhaps divine her purposes. Now that the strength of that magical tide was past, she could, perhaps, guard herself from him.\n\n\"You must sing me your song now.\" She sat listening, feeling her whole body quiver as the harp strings quivered under his touch.\n\nI cannot bear it, I cannot... I must act this time as soon as the moon is dark. Another of these tides, she knew, and she would succumb to the flood tide of hunger and desire she was building between them... and I would never be able to betray him... I would be his forever, for this life and beyond....\n\nShe reached out and touched the twisted lumps that were his wrist bones, and the touch thrilled her with longing. She could only imagine from the sudden dilation of his pupils, the swift intake of his breath, what it had done to him.\n\nBetrayal, she thought, under the inexorable laws of fate, betrayal would be punished a thousandfold by the Goddess, in life afterlife; betrayed and betrayer would be punished and bound together for love and hate for thousands of years. But she did this at the command of the Goddess, she had been sent to punish a traitor for betrayal... would she then be punished in turn? If it were so, then there was no justice even in the realms of the Gods....\n\nChrist said true repentance wipes out all sin....\n\nBut fate and the laws of the universe cannot be so easily set aside. The stars in their courses do not stop because someone cries out to them, Stop!\n\nWell, be it so; perhaps she betrayed the Merlin as part of a deed done by one of them before the ancient land beneath the waves had sunk into the sea. It washer fate, and she dared not question. He had stopped playing and closed his hand softly over hers; as if in a daze, she laid her lips to his. Now, now it is too late to turn back." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "No. It had been too late to turn back when she had bowed her head and accepted the work Morgaine laid on her. It had been too late to turn back when she swore the oath to Avalon....\n\n\"Tell me more of yourself,\" she whispered, \"I want to know everything about you, my lord....\"\n\n\"Call me not so. My name is Kevin.\"\n\n\"Kevin,\" she said, and made her voice soft and tender, just brushing her fingers again over his arm.\n\nDay by day she wove her spell, with touches and glances and whispered words, as the moon waned away toward darkness. After that first, swift kiss, she withdrew again, as if he had frightened her. It is true. But it is more that I frightened myself... never, never in all the years of seclusion had she suspected herself of being capable of such passion, such hunger; and she knew that her spells were enhancing it in herself as in him. Atone point, teased beyond endurance by her whispered touches, the soft brushing of her hair against his face when she bent over him where he sat at his harp, he turned and seized her and crushed her to him, and she struggled in real, not pretended, fright this time.\n\n\"No-no, I cannot-you forget yourself-I beg you, let me go-\" she cried out, and when he only clasped her closer, burying his face in her bosom and covering her breasts with kisses, she began to cry softly. \"No, no, I am afraid, I am afraid-\"\n\nHe let her go then and drew away, almost in a daze. His breath was hoarse and hard. He sat with his eyes closed, his twisted hands hanging limp. After a moment he murmured, \"My beloved, my precious white bird, my own sweetheart-forgive me-forgive me-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Nimue realized that now she could use even her own very real fear for her own ends. She said, whimpering, \"I trusted you. I trusted you-\"\n\n\"You should not,\" he said hoarsely. \"I am no more than a man, and certainly not less than one...\" and she cringed at the bitterness as he added, \"I am a man of flesh and blood, and I love you, Nimue, and you play with meas if I were a lapdog and expect me to be tame as a gelded pony... do you think because I am a cripple I am less than a man?\"\n\nIn his mind Nimue could see, clear and mirrored, memory of a time when he had said this to the first woman who had ever come to him, and saw Morgaine reflected in his eyes and his mind, not the Morgaine she knew but a dark, bewitching woman, soft of voice, yet somehow terrible too, worshipped and also feared because through the daze of passion he could remember that suddenly the lightning would strike....\n\nNimue reached her hands to him and knew they were trembling and that he would never know why. She guarded her thoughts carefully and said, \"I never thought that. Forgive me, Kevin. I-I could not help myself-\"\n\nAnd it is all true. Goddess, it is all true. But not as he believes. What I say is not what he hears.\n\nAnd yet for all her pity and desire there was a thread of contempt too. Otherwise I could not bear it, to do what I do... but a man so nakedly at the mercy of desire is contemptible.... I too tremble, I am torn... but I will not beat the mercy of my body's hunger...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And that was why Morgaine had given her the key to this man, put him wholly into her hands. Now was the time to speak the words that would consolidate the spell, make him hers, body and soul, so that she might bring him to Avalon and the appointed doom.\n\nPretend! Pretend to be one of those feckless virgins Gwenhwyfar has about her, with their minds between their legs!\n\nShe said, faltering, \"I am sorry-I know you are indeed a man-I am sorry I was afraid-\" and she raised her eyes to his, a gaze aslant through her longhair, afraid that if he could look deep into her eyes she would blurt out all her duplicity. \"I... I-yes, I wanted you to kiss me, but then you were so fierce, and I was frightened. This is neither the time nor the place, someone might come suddenly upon us, and then the Queen would be angry, and I am one of her maidens, and she has warned us that we must not runabout with men...\"\n\nIs he fool enough to believe me when I speak such simpering nonsense?\n\n\"My poor darling!\" Kevin covered her hands with contrite kisses. \"Ah, I am a beast to frighten you, I love you so... I love you so much that I cannot bear it! Nimue, Nimue, are you so afraid of the Queen's anger? I cannot-\" He stopped and breathed again, hard. \"I cannot live like this-would you have it that I should begone from this court? Never, never have I-\" he stopped again and then, holding her hands between his, he said, \"I cannot live without you. I must have you or die. Will you not have some pity on me, beloved?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She lowered her eyes, with along sigh, watching his contorted face, his dazed breathing. At last she whispered, \"What can I say to you?\"\n\n\"Say that you love me!\"\n\n\"I love you.\" She knew that she sounded like a woman under a spell. \"You know that I do.\"\n\n\"Say that you will give me all your love, say that-ah, Nimue, Nimue, you are so young and beautiful, and I am so twisted and ugly, I cannot believe you care for me, even now I think I am dreaming, that you have for some reason roused me like this that you might make fun of the beast grovelling at your feet like a dog....\"\n\n\"No,\" she said, and swiftly, as if she were afraid of her own daring, bent quickly down and laid the lightest of kisses against his eyes, two darting swallows that came and went.\n\n\"Nimue, will you come to my bed?\"\n\nShe whispered, \"I am frightened... we might be seen, and I dare not be so wanton-we might be discovered.\" She arranged her lips into a childish pout. \"If we were caught, then the men would think you only all the more manly for it, and none would chide or shame you, but I, I am a maiden and they would point tome as a harlot or worse...\" and she let tears slide down her cheek, but inward she was all triumph. I have him now safe within my net....\n\n\"I would do anything, anything to protect you, to reassure you...\" Kevin said, his voice trembling with sincerity.\n\n\"I know men like to boast of their conquest of maidens,\" she said. \"How do I know you will not brag of it throughout Camelot, that you have the favor of the Queen's kinswoman and have taken her maidenhood?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Trust me, I beg you, trust me-what can I do? What proof can I give you of my sincerity? You know that I am yours, body and heart and soul-\"\n\nAnd fora moment she was angry, I do not want your damned soul, she thought, close to weeping with tension and fear. He held her between his hands and whispered, \"How? When will you be mine? What can I do to prove that I love you beyond all things?\"\n\nShe said, hesitating, \"I cannot take you to my bed. I sleep in a room with four of the Queen's ladies, and any man who came there would be seized by the guards-\"\n\nHe said, bending again to cover her hands with kisses, \"My poor little love, I would never bring shame on you. I have a place of my own-a little chamber fit fora dog, mostly because none other of the King's men wishes to share quarters with me. I do not know if you would dare to come there.\"\n\n\"Surely there must be some better way...\" she whispered, keeping her voice soft and tender. Damn you, how can I suggest it without dropping this pretense of maidenly innocence and stupidity...? \"I cannot think of anywhere within the castle where we could be truly safe, and yet-\" She stood and pressed herself against him, where he sat, her breasts just nudging his brow.\n\nHe flung his arms around her and buried his face in her body, his shoulders shaking. Then he said, \"At this season-it is warm and fair and there is little rain. Would you dare to come out of doors with me, Nimue?\"\n\nShe murmured as artlessly as she could, \"I would dare anything to be with you, my love.\"\n\n\"Then-tonight...?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Oh,\" she whispered, shrinking, \"the moonlight is so bright, we should be seen... wait a few days, then there will be no moon....\"\n\n\"When the moon is dark-\" Kevin flinched, and she knew that here was the moment of danger, the moment when the carefully played fish might slip off the hook and out of the net and be free. In Avalon the priestesses secluded themselves at moon-dark, and all magic was suspended... but he knew not that she was of Avalon.\n\nWould his fear or his desire win out? She was motionless, just fluttering her fingers within his. He said, \"That is an uncanny time-\"\n\n\"But I am afraid to be seen.... You do not know how angry the Queen would be with me, if she knew I was such a wanton as to desire you...\" she said, holding herself a little closer to him. \"Surely you and I do not need a moon to see one another....\"\n\nHe held her tight, his face buried in her breasts, covering them with hungry kisses. And then he whispered, \"My little love, let it be as you will, be the moonlight or dark...\"\n\n\"And you will take me away from Camelot afterward? I do not want to be shamed...\"\n\n\"Anywhere,\" he said, \"I swear it... I will swear it by your God, if you will.\"\n\nShe murmured, bending her head close to him, her hands moving through the sweet clean curliness of his hair, \"The Christian God does not like lovers, and hates it when women lie with men... swear it by your God, Kevin, swear it by the serpents around your wrists....\"\n\nHe whispered, \"I swear,\" and the meaning of the oath seemed to ripple the air around them both." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Oh, fool, you have sworn to your death.... Nimue shivered, but Kevin, his face still hidden against her breasts, his hot breath damping her gown, was oblivious to anything except her breasts under his lips. As a promised lover he took the privilege of touching, kissing, drawing her gown aside a little to cup them in his hands. \"I do not know how I can bear to wait.\" And she murmured, \"No, nor I,\" and meant it with all her heart.\n\nI would that this was done....\n\nThe moon would not be visible, but the moon tide would turn exactly two hours after sunset, three days from now; she could feel its ebbing like a great sickness in her blood, withdrawing life from her veins. Most of those three days she spent in her chambers, telling the Queen that she was ill, and it was not far from the truth. Much of her time alone she spent with her hands on Kevin's harp, meditating, filling the ether around her with the magical bond between them.\n\nAn ill-omened time, and Kevin knew it, as she did; but he was too blinded by the promise of her love to care.\n\nThe day dawned when the moon would darken; Nimue felt it through her body. She had made herself an herbal brew which would keep the moon-dark bleeding from coming on-she did not want to disgust him with the sight of her blood, nor frighten him to recalling the taboos of Avalon. She had to turn her mind away from the physical realities of the act; for all her training, she knew that in truth she was the nervous virgin she pretended to be. Well, so much the better, she need not try to pretend. She could simply be what she was-a girl giving herself for the first time to a man she loved and desired. And what would come after that, well, it was as the Goddess had bidden her." }, { "from": "human", "value": "She hardly knew how to make the day pass." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Never had the chatter of Gwenhwyfar's ladies seemed so meaningless, so vapid. In the afternoon she could not turn her mind to spinning, so she brought the harp Kevin had given her and played and sang for them; but it was not easy, she must avoid all the songs of Avalon, and they were the ones which she found floating in her mind. But even the longest day wears to sunset. She washed herself and scented her body, and sat near Gwenhwyfar in the hall, merely picking at her food, sick and faint, disgusted by the grossness of the table manners, the dogs under the table. She could see Kevin seated among the King's councillors, near the house priest who confessed some of the ladies. He had been bothering her, asking why she did not seek spiritual advice, and when she said she was in no need of it, frowning as if she were the worst of sinners. Kevin. She could almost feel his hungry hands on her breast, and it seemed as if the look he sent toward her must be audible.\n\nTonight. Tonight, my beloved. Tonight.\n\nAh, Goddess, how can I do this to this man who loves me, who has put his whole soul into my hands.... I have sworn. I must keep my oath or be as much a traitor as he.\n\nThey met fora moment in the lower hall as the Queen's ladies went away to their chambers. He said, swiftly and very low, \"I have concealed your horse and mine in the woods beyond the gate. Afterward\"-and his voice shook-\"afterward I will take you away wherever you will, lady.\"\n\nYou do not know whither I shall lead you. But it was too late to turn back. She said, through tears she could not control, \"Ah, Kevin, I-I love you-\" and knew it was true. She had wound herself so deep in his heart that she did not know, she could not even imagine, how she could bear to be apart from him. It seemed to her that the whole air of the night was alive with magic, that somehow others must see this great trembling in the air and the darkness hovering over her." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She must let them think she had gone abroad on some likely errand. She told the ladies who shared her chamber that she had promised one of the chamberlain's wives to try a remedy for the toothache, and that she would not be back for many hours. Then, taking her darkest, heavy cloak and tying the small sickle of her initiation about her waist beneath her gown, she slipped out. After a moment she turned into a dark corner and removed the little sickle, slipping it into a tied pocket at her waist-whatever befell, Kevin must not see it.\n\nHis heart would break if I failed to keep this tryst, she thought; he did not know how fortunate he would be....\n\nDarkness. Not even shadows in the moonless courtyard. She found herself trembling, picking her steps carefully by the dimmest of starlight. After a little there was a deeper darkness and she heard his voice, a muted hoarse mutter: \"Nimue?\"\n\n\"It is I, my beloved.\"\n\nWhich is the greater falsity, to break my oath to Avalon, or to lie to Kevin thus? Both are false... is a lie ever right?\n\nHe took her arm and the touch of his hot handmade her own blood heat. They were both deeply entangled now in the magic of the hour. He led her outside the gate, down the steep slope that raised the ancient fort of Camelot above the surrounding hills. In winter this ran a river and swampy; now it was dry, thick with the rank growth of the damp lands. He led her into a grove of trees.\n\nAh Goddess, I always knew that on this day when I laid down my virginity, that it would be within a grove... but I did not know it would be with all the sorcery of the dark moon...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He took her close and kissed her. His whole body seemed to be burning. He spread their cloaks together on the grass, and drew her down, his twisted hands shaking so hard on the fastenings of her dress that she had to take and loosen them herself. He said with a shred of his natural voice, \"I am glad it is dark... that my misshapen body will not terrify you....\"\n\n\"Nothing about you could frighten me, my love,\" she whispered and reached out her hands for him. At the moment she meant it utterly, rapt in her own spell which had caught her too, knowing that this man, body and heart and soul, was in her hands. Yet, for all her magic, she was inexperienced, and she shrank away with real fear from the touch of his hardening manhood. He kissed and soothed and caressed her, and she felt the burning of the slack tide, the thick darkening of the hour of sorcery. At the very moment when it peaked she pulled him down to her, knowing that if she delayed until the new moon showed in the sky, she would lose much of her power.\n\nHe murmured, feeling her trembling, \"Nimue, Nimue-my little love-you area maiden-if you will, we can-pleasure one another and I need not take your virginity....\"\n\nSomething in that made her want to weep-that he, maddened by his desire, this heavy thing that twisted between them, could still so consider her... but she cried out, \"No! No! I want you,\" and pulled him down fiercely to her, taking her hands and guiding him into her, almost welcoming the sudden pain; the pain, the sudden blood, the peaking of his frenzied desire, woke alike frenzy in her, and she clung to him, gasping, encouraging him with her fierce cries. And then at the very last moment she held him away, while he gasped and pleaded, and she whispered-\"On your oath! You are mine?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I swear it! Ah, I cannot bear-I cannot-let me-\"\n\n\"Wait! You swear it! You are mine! Say it!\"\n\n\"I swear, I swear by my soul-\"\n\n\"Yet a third time-you are mine-\"\n\n\"I am yours! I swear!\" And she felt his sudden spasm of fear, knowing what had happened, but now he was in the grip of his own frenzy, moving on her as if despairing, heaving and gasping, crying out as if in unendurable agony, and she felt the magical spell descending on her at the very moment of slack tide, as he cried out and fell heavily on her unresisting body, and she felt the spurting of his seed within her. He was still as death, and she trembled, feeling her breath charged as if with exhaustion. There was none of the pleasure she had heard spoken of, but there was something greater than pleasure-avast triumph. For the spell was heavy around them both, and she had his spirit and soul and essence. She felt with her hands his sperm that had mingled with the blood of her virginity at the very moment of the moon's turning. She took it on her fingers and marked his brow, and at the touch the spell came on him and he sat up, slack and lifeless.\n\n\"Kevin,\" she said. \"Get to your horse and ride.\"\n\nHe rose, his movements leaden. He turned toward the horse and she knew that with this spell she must be precise.\n\n\"Garb yourself first,\" she said, and mechanically he drew on his robe, tying it about his waist. He moved stiffly, and by starlight she saw the gleam of his eyes; he knew, now, behind the domination of the spell, that she had betrayed him. Her throat tightened with agony and a wild tenderness, she wanted to pull him down again and takeaway the spell and cover his broken face with kisses, and weep and weep for the betrayal of their love." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But I too am sworn and it is fate.\n\nShe covered herself with her robe and took her horse and they rode silently away, taking the road to Avalon. At dawn Morgaine would have the boat waiting for them on the shore.\n\nSome hours before dawn, Morgaine waked from restless sleep, sensing that Nimue's work was done. Silently she robed herself, wakening Niniane and the attendant priestesses, who came slowly in her train down to the shore, wrapped in their dark robes and spotted deerskin tunics, hair braided in the single braid down their backs, and the black-handled sickle knives tied at their waists. They waited, silent, Niniane and Morgaine at their head, and as the sky began to flush pale pink with the first light, she motioned to the barge to castoff and watched it disappear in the mists.\n\nThey waited. The light strengthened, and just as the sun was rising, the boat appeared out of the mists again. Morgaine could see Nimue standing in the prow of the boat, her cloak pulled over her head, tall and straight; but her face was hidden in the darkness of the cloak. There was a slumped heap in the bottom of the boat.\n\nWhat has she done to him? Is he dead or enspelled? Morgaine found herself wishing that indeed he was dead, that he had taken his life in despair or terror. Twice she had raged at this man and called him traitor to Avalon, and the third time he had truly been traitor beyond question, taking the Holy Regalia forth from their hiding place. Oh, yes, he deserved death, even such a death as he should this morning die. She had spoken with the Druids, and they had agreed, one and all, that he should die in the oak grove, and that he should not die the swift death of mercy. Treachery of this sort had not been known in all of Britain since the days of Eilan, who had secretly married a son of the Roman proconsul and put forth pretended oracles to keep the Tribes from rising against the Romans. Eilan had died in the fire, and three of her priestesses with her; and Kevin's deed was not treachery alone, but blasphemy, as when Eilan had meddled with the voice of the Goddess. And it must be punished." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Two of the barge crew helped the Merlin to his feet." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He was half-clad, his robe loosely tied around him, barely concealing his nakedness. His hair was disheveled, his face blank... drugged or enchanted? He tried to walk, but without his sticks he reeled and caught for balance at the nearest support. Nimue stood frozen, not looking at him, her face still hidden in her cloak; but as the first rays of the sun arose, she put back the hood, and at that moment, touched by the first sunlight, the enchantment slid off Kevin's face, and Morgaine saw startled comprehension come into his eyes; he knew where he was and what had happened.\n\nMorgaine saw him look at Nimue, blinking at the sight of the Avalon barge. And then all at once the whole knowledge of his betrayal came over his face, and he lowered his head in shock and shame.\n\nSo now he knows not only what it is to betray but to be betrayed.\n\nBut then she looked at Nimue. The girl was pale, her face bloodless, her longhair in disarray, though she had hastily tried to braid it. Nimue was looking at Kevin, and her lips trembled as she hastily turned her eyes away again.\n\nShe loved him, too; the spell rebounded on her. I should have known, Morgaine thought, that so powerful a spell would have rebounded on its maker.\n\nBut Nimue bowed low as Avalon custom demanded.\n\n\"Lady and Mother,\" she said, her voice toneless, \"I have brought you the traitor who betrayed the Holy Regalia.\"\n\nMorgaine stepped forward and embraced the girl, who shrank from the embrace. She said, \"Welcome back to us, Nimue, priestess, sister,\" and kissed the girl on her wet cheek. She could feel Nimue's misery through her whole body. Ah, Goddess, has this destroyed her too? If so, we have bought Kevin's life at too dear a price." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Go now, Nimue,\" she added in compassion. \"Let them take you back to the House of Maidens-your work is done. You need not witness what must come after this, you have done your part and you have suffered enough.\"\n\nNimue whispered, \"What will become of-of him?\"\n\nMorgaine held her tight. \"Child, child, that need concern you not. You have done your part with strength and courage, it is enough.\"\n\nNimue caught her breath as if she would weep, but she did not. She looked at Kevin, but he did not meet her eyes, and at last, shivering so hard she could hardly walk, she let two of the priestesses lead her away. Morgaine said in a low voice to them, \"Don't torment her with questions. Done is done. Let her be.\"\n\nWhen Nimue was gone, Morgaine turned back to Kevin. She met his eyes, and pain struck at her. This man had been her lover, but he had been more; he had been the only man who had never sought to entangle her in any political maneuvers, never sought to use her birth or high position, never asked anything of her save love. He had called her alive out of hell in Tintagel, he had come to her as the God, he had been perhaps her only friend, manor woman, in her entire life.\n\nShe forced her words through the tremendous pain in her throat. \"Well, Kevin Harper, false Merlin, forsworn Messenger, have you anything to say to her before you meet her judgment?\"\n\nKevin shook his head. \"Nothing that you would consider important, Lady of the Lake.\" She remembered, through a haze of pain, that he had been the first to yield to her this title." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Be it so,\" she said, and felt her face like stone. \"Take him forth to judgment.\"\n\nHe took a single faltering step between his captors, then turned back and faced her, his head thrown back in defiance. \"No, wait,\" he said. \"I find I have a thing to say to you after all, Morgaine of Avalon. I told you once that my life was a small thing to forfeit for the Goddess, and I want you to know it is for her that I have done this.\"\n\n\"Are you saying it is for the sake of the Goddess that you betrayed the Holy Regalia into the hands of the priests?\" Niniane demanded, and her voice cut with scorn. \"Why then, you are mad as well as forsworn! Take the traitor away!\" she commanded, but Morgaine signalled to them to wait.\n\n\"Let him be heard.\"\n\n\"It is even so,\" said Kevin. \"Lady, I said it once to you before this-the day of Avalon is ended. The Nazarene has conquered, and we must go into the mists further and further until we are no more than a legend and a dream. Would you then take the Holy Regalia with you into that darkness, preserving it carefully against the dawning of anew day that now shall never be? Even if Avalon must perish, I felt it right that the holy things should be sent forth into the world in the service of the Divine, by whatever name God or the Gods maybe called. And because of what I have done, the Goddess has manifested herself at least once in the world yonder, in away that shall never be forgotten. The passing of the Grail shall be remembered, my Morgaine, when you and I are only legends for the fireside and tales for children. I do not think that wasted, nor should you, who bore that chalice as her priestess. Now do with me what you will.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Morgaine bent her head." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The memory of that moment of ecstasy and revelation, when she had borne the Grail in the form of the Goddess, would remain with her until her death; and of those who had experienced the vision, whatever they might have seen, none of their lives would ever be the same. But now she must face Kevin in the person of the avenging Goddess, the Death-crone, the ravening sow who will devour her own young, the Great Raven, the Destroyer....\n\nYet he had given the Goddess this much. She reached out her hand to him... and stopped, for under her hand again she saw what once before she had seen, a skull beneath her fingers....\n\n... now he is fey, he sees his own death, and I see it too.... Yet he shall not suffer nor be tortured. He spoke truth; he has done what the Goddess has given him to do, and now must I do the same.... She waited until her voice was steady before she spoke. In the distance she heard a soft thundering.\n\nAt last she said, \"The Goddess is merciful. Take him to the oak grove, as is ordained, but there slay him swiftly with a single stroke. Bury him beneath the great oak, and let it henceforth be shunned now and forever by all men. Kevin, last of the Messengers of the Goddess, I curse you to forget all, to be reborn without priesthood and without enlightenment, that all you have done in your former lives be wiped away and your soul returned to the once-born. A hundred lifetimes shall you return, Kevin Harper, always seeking the Goddess and never finding her. Yet in the end, Kevin, once Merlin, I say to you-if she wants you, be very sure she will find you again.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Kevin looked straight at her." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He smiled, that curious, sweet smile, and said, almost in a whisper, \"Farewell, then, Lady of the Lake. Tell Nimue I loved her... or it maybe that I will tell her myself. For I think it will be along, longtime before you and I shall meet again, Morgaine.\" And again soft thunder punctuated his words.\n\nMorgaine shivered as he limped away without looking back, supported on the arms of his captors.\n\nWhy do I feel so shamed? I showed mercy; I could have had him tortured. They will call me, too, traitor and weakling, that he was not taken to the oak grove and there made to scream and pray for death till the very trees shrank from the sound.... Am I only a weakling, that I would not torture a man I once loved? Is his death to be so easy that the Goddess will then seek vengeance on me? So be it, even if I must meet the death I could not give him.\n\nShe flinched, looking into the grey storm clouds in the sky. Kevin has suffered all his lifelong. I will add nothing more than death to his fate. Lightning flared in the sky, and she thought, with a shiver-or was it only the cold wind that came with the sudden rush of the storm outside?-So passes the last of the great Merlins, into the storm that breaks now over Avalon.\n\nShe gestured to Niniane. \"Go. See my sentence done to the letter, that they slay him with a single stroke, and leave not his body above ground fora single hour.\" She saw the younger woman's gaze rest on her face; was it known, then, to everyone, that once they had been lovers? But Niniane only asked, \"And you?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I go now to Nimue." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She will need me.\"\n\nBut Nimue was not in her room in the House of Maidens, nor anywhere in the house, nor, when Morgaine hurried across the rain-swept courts, was she in the secluded house where she had dwelt with Raven. She was not anywhere in the temple, and one of the attendant priestesses told Morgaine that Nimue had refused food or wine or even a bath. Morgaine, terrible apprehension growing in her with every flash of lightning as the storm grew and raged, called for all the servants of the temple to search for her; but before they could Niniane came, her face white, attended by the men she had sent to see Kevin's death done as Morgaine had decreed.\n\n\"What is it?\" Morgaine demanded, her voice cold. \"Why was my sentence not done?\"\n\n\"He was slain with a single stroke, Lady of the Lake,\" Niniane whispered, \"but with the very stroke came lightning from the sky and struck the great oak-cleft it in twain. There is a great rift in the sacred oak, from the sky to the ground....\"\n\nMorgaine felt steel clamp around her throat. Nothing so strange, that with the storm should come the lightning flash, and ever the lightning strikes at the highest point. But that it should come in the same hour wherein Kevin prophesied the end of Avalon...\n\nShe shivered again, wrapping her arms about herself under her cloak so that those who looked on her should not see her trembling. How could she turn this omen, for omen it surely was, aside from the impending destruction of Avalon?\n\n\"The God has prepared a place for the traitor. Bury him, then, within the cleft in the oak....\"\n\nThey bowed acquiescence and went away, through thunder and the sudden rattle of rain, and Morgaine, distraught, realized that she had forgotten Nimue. But a voice within her said, Now it is too late." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They found her at high noon, just as the sun came out after the storm, floating among the reeds of the Lake. Her longhair was spread out on the surface like water weeds, and Morgaine, stunned with grief, could not find it in her heart to regret that Kevin had not gone alone into the shadowed land beyond death." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Extende the story in collaboration with the author.\nTags: fantasy, arthurian, historical fantasy\nAuthor: Marion Zimmer Bradley\nTitle: The Mists of Avalon\nChapter: 66" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They found her at high noon, just as the sun came out after the storm, floating among the reeds of the Lake. Her longhair was spread out on the surface like water weeds, and Morgaine, stunned with grief, could not find it in her heart to regret that Kevin had not gone alone into the shadowed land beyond death." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Morgaine thought often, in the bleak days which followed upon Kevin's death, now indeed the Goddess had taken it upon herself to destroy the Companions of the Round Table. But why had it been her will to destroy Avalon too?\n\nI am growing old. Raven is dead and Nimue is dead, who should have been Lady after me. And the Goddess has laid her hand upon no other to be her prophetess. Kevin lies entombed within the oak. What of Avalon now?\n\nIt seemed that the world was shifting, that beyond the mists the world moved at an ever-accelerating pace. No one save herself and one or two of the oldest priestesses could open the gateway through the mists, and there was now little reason to try. And there were times when she walked abroad and could see neither sun nor moon, and she knew that she had strayed over the borders of the fairy country; but she saw only the rarest glimpses of the fairy folk among the trees, nor did she ever again have sight of the queen.\n\nShe wondered if indeed the Goddess had deserted them, for some of the maidens from the House of Maidens had gone again into the world, and others strayed into the fairy country and did not return again.\n\nThe Goddess came forth for the last time into the world when she bore the Grail through Arthur's hall at Camelot, Morgaine thought, and then, confused, she asked herself whether the Goddess had truly borne the Grail, or had it only been herself and Raven working illusion?\n\nI have called on the Goddess and found her within myself.\n\nAnd Morgaine knew that never again would she have the ability to seek beyond herself for comfort or counsel; she could look only within. No priestess, no prophetess, no Druid or councillor, no Goddess now to turn to; none but her unguided self. Now and again, when, as the habit of a lifetime bade her, she sought to call up the image of the Goddess to guide her, she saw nothing, or sometimes the face of Igraine-not the elderly, priest-ridden wife and widow of Uther, but the young and beautiful mother who had first laid these burdens on her, who had bidden her care for Arthur and given her into the hands of Viviane. And now and again she would seethe face of Viviane, who had sent her to the bed of the Horned One, or Raven, who had stood at her side during that great moment of invocation." }, { "from": "human", "value": "They are the Goddess." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And I am the Goddess. And there is no other.\n\nShe cared little to look into her magical mirror, but now and again when the moon was dark she went to drink of the spring and to look into the waters. But she saw only tantalizing glimpses: the Companions of the Round Table rode this way and that, following dreams and glimmers of vision and the Sight, but none found the true Grail. Some forgot the quest and rode openly in search of adventure; some met with more of adventure than they could manage, and so died; some did good deeds, and some evil. One or two, in piercing visions of faith, dreamed their own Grail and so died. Others, following the message of their own visions, went on pilgrimage to the Holy Lands; and others still, following a wind that was blowing all through the world in these days, withdrew into solitude and the hermit life, seeking, in crude caves and shelters, the life of silence and penitence-but what visions came to them, whether of the Grail or of some other thing, Morgaine never knew nor cared.\n\nOnce or twice she had glimpses of a face she knew. She saw Mordred at Camelot, at Arthur's side. Galahad, too, she saw as he sought the Grail; but then she saw him no more, and wondered if the quest had claimed him to death.\n\nAnd once she saw Lancelet, half naked, clad in animal skins, his hair long and ragged, without armor or sword, running in the forest, and the gleam of madness was in his eyes; well, she had guessed that this quest might lead him only to madness and despair. Still she sought him again in the mirror, from moon to moon, but fora longtime she had no success. Then she saw him sleeping, ragged and naked, on straw somewhere, and the walls of a prison or dungeon rose about him... and then she saw him no more." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Ah, Gods, has he gone too... with so many of Arthur's men....\n\nTruly the Grail was no blessing to Arthur's court, but a curse....\n\nAnd rightly so, a curse to the traitor who would have profaned it...\n\nAnd now is it gone forever from Avalon.\n\nFora longtime Morgaine believed that the Grail had been taken away by the Goddess into the realms of the Gods, so that mankind might never again profane it, and she was content that it should be so; for it had been defiled with the wine of the Christians, which somehow was blood as well as wine, and she had no notion of how to cleanse it.\n\nWhispers came from the outside world to Morgaine through some of the old brotherhood of priests who came in these days to Avalon; Christians, some of them, of the old ones who had once worshipped beside the Druids, in their firm belief that their Christ had once lived hereon Avalon and been taught wisdom. Now, fleeing from the enforced conformity of that new breed of Christians who would wipe out all other worship but their own, they came to Avalon, and from them Morgaine heard something of the Grail.\n\nThe priests were now saying that it was indeed the true cup from which Christ had drunk at his Last Supper, and that it had been taken away into Heaven whence it would never again be seen in the world. Yet also there were rumors that it had been seen on that other isle, Ynis Witrin, sparkling in the depths of their well, that well which on Avalon was the holy mirror of the Goddess; and therefore the priests on Ynis Witrin had begun to call it the Well of the Chalice.\n\nAnd when the old priests had dwelt fora time upon Avalon, Morgaine began to hear rumors that now and again the Grail had been seen, fora moment, upon their altar. That must be as the Goddess wills. They will not profane it. But she knew not whether it was truly therein the ancient church of the Christian brotherhood... which was built on the very spot of the church on the other island, so that they said that, when the mists thinned, the ancient brotherhood on Avalon could hear the monks chanting in their church on Ynis Witrin. Morgaine remembered the day when the mists had thinned to let Gwenhwyfar through to Avalon." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Time ran strangely now upon Avalon. Morgaine did not know whether that twelvemonth and a day to which the knights were vowed had passed or not, and sometimes she thought that indeed years must have passed in the outside world....\n\nShe thought long on the words Kevin had spoken:... the mists are closing on Avalon.\n\nAnd then, one day, she was summoned to the shores of the Lake, but she needed no Sight to tell her who stood in the barge. Avalon had once been his home too. Lancelet's hair was all grey now and his face thin and haggard, but as he stepped from the boat, with only the shadow of his old light-footed grace, she stepped forward and took his hands, and she could see in his face no trace of madness.\n\nHe looked into her eyes, and suddenly it seemed that she was the Morgaine of the old days, when Avalon was a temple alive with priestesses and Druids and not a solitary land adrift in the mists with a bare handful of aging priestesses, a few elderly Druids, a handful of half-forgotten ancient Christians.\n\n\"How is it that you are so untouched by time, Morgaine?\" he asked her. \"All seems changed, even herein Avalon-look, even the ring stones are hidden in the mists!\"\n\n\"Oh, they are still there,\" Morgaine said, \"though some of us would lose our way if we sought them now.\" And like a pain in her heart she remembered a day-ah, it was a lifetime ago!-when she and Lancelet had lain together in the shadow of the stones. \"I think perhaps they will one day go altogether into the mists, and thus never be torn down by human hands or the winds of time. There are none to worship at them now... even the Beltane fires are no longer lighted on Avalon, though I have heard that they keep the old rites still in the wildnesses of North Wales and in Cornwall. The little people will never let them die while any of them survive. I am surprised that you were able to come here, kinsman.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He smiled, and now she could seethe traces of pain and grief-yes, even of madness-around his eyes. \"Why, I hardly knew it was hither I came, cousin. My memory plays tricks on me, now. I was mad, Morgaine. I castaway my sword and lived like an animal in the forests, and then there was a time, I know not how long, that I was confined in a strange dungeon.\"\n\n\"I saw it,\" she whispered. \"I knew not what it meant.\"\n\n\"Nor did I, nor do I yet,\" Lancelet said. \"I remember very little of that time-it is God's blessing, I think, that I cannot remember what I might have done. I think it was not the first time-there were times, during those years with Elaine, that I hardly knew what I did....\"\n\n\"But you are well now,\" she said quickly. \"Come and breakfast with me, cousin-it is too early for anything else, for whatever reason you came here.\"\n\nHe followed her, and Morgaine took him into her dwelling; except for her attendant priestesses, he was the first person who had entered it in years. There was fish from the Lake, this morning, and she served him with her own hands.\n\n\"Ah, this is good,\" he said, and ate hungrily-she wondered how long it had been since he had last remembered to eat. His hair was as fastidiously combed as ever, his curly hair-all grey now, and patches of white in his beard-neatly trimmed, and his cloak, though shabby and travel-worn, was neatly brushed and clean. He saw her glance at the cloak and laughed a little.\n\n\"In the old days I would not have used this cloak fora saddle blanket,\" he said. \"I lost cloak and sword and armor, I know not where-it maybe that I was robbed of them in some evil adventure, or cast them away in madness. I know only that one day I heard someone speak my name, and it was one of the Companions-Lamorak, perhaps, though it is still very hazy in my mind. I was too weak to travel, but though he rode on the next day, I began slowly to remember who I was, and they gave me a gown and let me sit to table to eat with my knife instead of throwing me scraps in a wooden piggin-\" His laugh was shaky, nervous. \"Even when I knew not that I was Lancelet, I had still my accursed strength, and I think I had done some of them harm. I think I lost the best part of a year out of my life.... I remember only little things, and the main thought in my mind was never to let them know I was Lancelet, lest I bring shame on the Companions or Arthur...\" He fell silent, and Morgaine guessed at his torment by what he did not say. \"Well, slowly I grew strong enough to travel, and Lamorak had left money fora horse and goods for me. But most of that year is darkness-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He picked up the remaining bread on his plate and resolutely mopped up the scraps offish. Morgaine asked him, \"What of the quest?\"\n\n\"What indeed? I have heard a little,\" he said, \"here and there, here and there, as I rode in the land. Gawaine was the first to return to Camelot.\"\n\nMorgaine smiled, almost against her will. \"He was always fickle-to everything and everyone.\"\n\n\"Except to Arthur,\" Lancelet said. \"He is more loyal to Arthur than any of his dogs! And I met with Gareth as I rode hither.\"\n\nMorgaine said, \"Dear Gareth, he is the best of Morgause's sons! What said he to you?\"\n\n\"He said he had had a vision,\" Lancelet said slowly, \"which bade him return to court and do his duty by his king and his lands, and not to delay, loitering about and seeking visions of holy things. And he talked along time with me, begging me to lay aside the quest of the Grail and return to Camelot with him.\"\n\n\"I am surprised you did not,\" Morgaine said.\n\nHe smiled. \"I am surprised too, kinswoman. And I have promised to return as soon as I can.\" Suddenly, his face grew grave. \"Gareth told me,\" he said, \"that Mordred is always about Arthur now. And when I would not return to court with him, he told me this-that what I could best do for Arthur was to find Galahad and bid him return at once to Avalon, for he mistrusted Mordred and his influence upon Arthur.... I am sorry to speak ill of your son, Morgaine.\"\n\nMorgaine said, \"He told me once that Galahad would not live to rule... yet he swore tome, by an oath I do not think he would dare break, that he would have no hand in his death.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lancelet looked troubled. \"I have seen many evil adventures that may befall on this accursed quest. God grant that I can find Galahad before he falls prey to one of them!\" A silence fell between them, while Morgaine thought, I knew it in my heart-this was why Mordred refused the quest. She realized, quite suddenly, that she had ceased to believe that her son Gwydion-Mordred-would ever now be King from Avalon. She wondered when she had begun to accept that in her heart. Perhaps it had been when Accolon died and the Goddess did not stretch forth her hand to protect her chosen.\n\nGalahad will be King, and he will be a Christian king.\n\nAnd that may well mean that he will kill Gwydion. What of the King Stag, when the young stag is grown? But if the day of Avalon had ended, perhaps Galahad would take his throne in peace, without the need to kill his rival.\n\nLancelet laid down the remnant of apiece of bread and honey and looked past her at the corner of the room. \"Is that Viviane's harp?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" she said. \"I left mine at Tintagel. But I suppose it is yours by right of inheritance if you want it.\"\n\n\"I play no longer, nor do I have any will to make music, Morgaine. By right it is yours, as are all other things which belonged to my mother.\"\n\nMorgaine recalled words which had cut her to the heart-again, a lifetime ago!-I would that you were not so much like my mother, Morgaine! Now the memory held no pain, but warmth; Viviane was not gone entirely from the world if something survived in her. He said, stumbling, \"There are now so few of us-so few who recall the old days at Caerleon-even at Camelot-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Arthur is there,\" she said, \"and Gawaine, and Gareth, and Cai, and many more, my dear. And no doubt they ask one another with everyday, Where is Lancelet? Why are you here, and not there?\"\n\n\"I said, my mind plays me tricks-I hardly knew I came hither,\" Lancelet said. \"Yet now I am here, I should ask-I heard Nimue was here,\" and she remembered: she had told him this, once, when he had thought his daughter at the convent where once Gwenhwyfar had been. \"I should ask, what has become of her-is she well, does she thrive among the priestesses?\"\n\n\"I am sorry,\" Morgaine said. \"It seems I have nothing but ill news for you-Nimue died, a year ago.\"\n\nMore than this she would not say. Lancelet knew nothing of the Merlin's betrayal, or of Nimue's last visit to the court. It could only grieve him to know the rest. He asked no questions, only sighed heavily, and cast his eyes on the floor. At last he said without looking up, \"And the baby-little Gwenhwyfar-she is married, and in Less Britain, and this quest has swallowed Galahad. I never knew any of my children. I never tried to know them-it seemed tome they were all I could give Elaine, and so I left them to her almost entirely, even the boy. I rode fora time with Galahad when first we departed from Camelot, and I knew more of him in the ten days and nights we rode together than in all the sixteen years he had lived. I think perhaps he would make a good king, if he lives....\"\n\nHe looked at Morgaine, almost pleading, and she knew he was longing for reassurance, but she had no comfort for him. At last she said, \"If he lives, he will be a good king, but I think he will be a Christian king.\" It seemed that fora moment all the sounds of Avalon were hushed around her, as if the very waves of the Lake and the whispering sound of the reeds on the border were silent to hear her say it. \"If he survives the quest of the Grail-or if he should abandon it-still his rule will be circled about by the priests, and through all the land there will be only one God and only one religion.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Would that be such a tragedy, Morgaine?\" Lancelet asked quietly. \"All through this land, the Christian God is bringing a spiritual rebirth here-is that an evil thing, when mankind has forgotten the Mysteries?\"\n\n\"They have not forgotten the Mysteries,\" she said, \"they have found them too difficult. They want a God who will care for them, who will not demand that they struggle for enlightenment, but who will accept them just as they are, with all their sins, and takeaway their sins with repentance. It is not so, it will never be so, but perhaps it is the only way the unenlightened can bear to think of their Gods.\"\n\nLancelet smiled bitterly. \"Perhaps a religion which demands that every man must work through lifetime after lifetime for his own salvation is too much for mankind. They want not to wait for God's justice, but to see it now. And that is the lure which this new breed of priests has promised them.\"\n\nMorgaine knew that he spoke truth, and bowed her head in anguish. \"And since their view of a God is what shapes their reality, so it shall be-the Goddess was real while mankind still paid homage to her, and created her form for themselves. Now they will make for themselves the kind of God they think they want-the kind of God they deserve, perhaps.\"\n\nWell, so it must be, for as man saw reality, so it became. While the ancient Gods, the Goddess, were seen as benevolent or life-giving, so indeed had nature been to them; and when the priests had taught men to think of all nature as evil, alien, hostile, and the old Gods as demons, even so they would become, surging up from within that part of man which he now wished to sacrifice or control, instead of letting it lead him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She said, remembering at random something she had read when she had looked into the books of Uriens' house priest in Wales, \"And so all men will become even as that apostle who wrote that they should become as eunuchs for the Kingdom of God... I think I care not to live within that world, Lancelet.\"\n\nThe weary knight sighed and shook his head. \"I think I care not for it either, Morgaine. Yet perhaps it will be a simpler world than ours, and it will be easier to know what is right to do. So I came to seek Galahad, for though he will be a Christian king, I think he would be a better king than Mordred....\"\n\nMorgaine clenched her hands under the edge of her sleeves. I am not the Goddess! It is-it is not mine to choose! \"You came-hereto seek him, Lancelet? He was never one of us. My son Gwydion-Mordred-he was reared at Avalon. If he left Arthur's court he might come here. But Galahad? He was as pious as Elaine-he would scorn to set foot in this world of witchcraft and fairy!\"\n\n\"But as I told you, I knew not that I came here,\" said Lancelet. \"I sought to reach Ynis Witrin and the Isle of the Priests, for I heard a rumor of a magical brightness which comes and goes in the church there, and they have renamed their Well, I have heard, the Well of the Chalice-I thought perhaps Galahad rode this way. Another old habit brought me here.\"\n\nShe asked him seriously then, face to face, \"What do you think of this quest, Lancelet?\"\n\n\"I know not, truly, cousin,\" said Lancelet. \"When I took this quest on me, I went as once I went to kill old Pellinore's dragon-do you remember that, Morgaine? None of us believed in it then, and yet I did in the end find that dragon and slay it. Yet I know that something, something of great holiness, came into Camelot that day we saw the Grail.\" And when she would have spoken, he said vehemently, \"No, tell me not that I imagined it, Morgaine-you were not there, you do not know what it was like! For the first time, I felt that there was a Mystery somewhere which was beyond this life. And so I went on this quest, though half of me felt it was mad-and I rode awhile with Galahad, and it seemed that his faith mocked mine, because he was so pure and his faith so simple and good, and I was old and stained-\" Lancelet stared down at the floor, and she saw him swallow hard. \"That is why, in the end, I parted from him, lest I damage that shining faith... and then I know not where I went, for the fog came down over my mind, and the darkness, and it seemed that Galahad must-must know all the sins of my life and he must despise me for them.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "His voice had risen in excitement, and fora moment Morgaine saw the unhealthy brightness returning to his eyes, as she had seen it in the naked man running in the forest. She said quickly, \"Don't think of that time, my dear. It is over.\"\n\nHe drew along, shuddering breath and she saw his eyes fade. \"My quest now is to seek Galahad. I know not what he saw-an angel maybe-or why the call of the Grail came so strongly to some and so little to others. Of all the knights, I think only Mordred saw nothing, or if he did he kept it to himself.\"\n\nMy son was reared at Avalon; he would not have been deceived by the magic of the Goddess, Morgaine thought, and was about to speak and tell Lancelet what he had seen-he had been, in youth, an initiate of Avalon and he should not be allowed to think of it as some mystery of the Christians. But, hearing again that strange note in Lancelet's voice, she bent her head and said nothing. The Goddess had given him a vision of comfort; it was not for her to destroy it with a word.\n\nShe had sought this, she had worked for it. Arthur had forsaken the Goddess, and the Goddess had scattered his fellowship with a wind blowing from her holy place. And the final irony was this: that her holiest of visions should inspire the most passionate legend of Christian worship. Morgaine said at last, reaching out her hand to him, \"Sometimes I believe, Lancelet, that it does not matter what we do. The Gods move us as they will, whatever it is that we think that we are doing. We are no more than their pawns.\"\n\n\"If I believed that,\" said Lancelet, \"I should go mad once and for all.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Morgaine smiled sadly and said, \"And if I did not believe it, I should perhaps go mad." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I must believe that I had no power to do other than I have done.\"\n\n... must believe that I never had a choice... a choice to refuse the king-making, a choice to destroy Mordred unborn, a choice to refuse when Arthur gave me to Uriens, a choice to hold back my hand from the death of Avalloch, a choice to keep Accolon at my side... a choice to spare Kevin Harper a traitor's death, and Nimue...\n\nLancelet said, \"And I must believe that man has the power to know the right, to choose between good and evil and know that his choice has made a difference...\"\n\n\"Oh, aye,\" Morgaine said, \"if he knows what good is. But does it not seem to you, cousin, that ever, in this world, evil wears the face of good? Sometimes I feel it is the Goddess who makes the wrong appear the right, and the only thing we can do-\"\n\n\"Why then, the Goddess would be just such a fiend as the priests say she is,\" said Lancelet.\n\n\"Lancelet,\" she said, leaning forward to plead with him, \"never blame yourself. You did what you must! Believe only that it was your fate and ordained-\"\n\n\"No, or I should slay myself at once, so that the Goddess could not make use of me to bring about more evil,\" said Lancelet vehemently. \"Morgaine, you have the Sight, and I cannot-I cannot believe it is God's will that Arthur and his court shall fall into Mordred's hands! I told you I came hither because my mind played tricks on me. Without thinking, I called the Avalon barge tome and came here, but now, I think, perhaps I wrought better than I knew. You, who have the Sight, can look within the mirror and see for me where Galahad has gone! I will even brave his anger and demand that he leave this quest and return to Camelot-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The ground seemed to quiver beneath Morgaine's feet. Once she had stepped unwary into a patch of quicksand and had felt the mud shiver and slip sidewise; it was like that, as if she must throw herself at once to safe ground... she heard herself say, as if very faraway, \"You will indeed return to Camelot with your son, Lancelet-\" and wondered why the cold seemed to suck at her very vitals. \"I will look into the mirror for you, kinsman. But I know Galahad not, I may not see anything which is of use to you.\"\n\n\"Yet tell me you will do what you can,\" Lancelet pleaded, and she said, \"I have told you I will look into the mirror. But it will be with us as the Goddess wills. Come.\"\n\nThe sun was high now, and as they walked down the hill toward the Sacred Well, a raven croaked once overhead. Lancelet crossed himself against the evil omen, but Morgaine looked up and said, \"What did you say, sister?\"\n\nRaven's voice said in her mind, Be not afraid. Mordred will not kill Galahad. And Arthur will kill Mordred.\n\nShe said aloud, \"Arthur will be King Stag still....\"\n\nLancelet turned and stared at her. \"What did you say, Morgaine?\"\n\nRaven said in her mind, Not to the Holy Well, but to the chapel, and now. It is the time ordained.\n\nLancelet asked, \"Where are we going? Have I forgotten the way to the Holy Well?\" and Morgaine, raising her head, realized that her steps had brought them, not to the Well, but to the little chapel where the ancient Christian brotherhood held their services. They said it had been built by the brotherhood when the ancient Joseph had thrust his staff into the ground on the hill called Wearyall. She putout her hand and took a sprig of the Holy Thorn; it pricked her finger to the bone, and hardly knowing what she did, she putout her hand and marked Lancelet's forehead with the streak of blood." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He looked at her, startled. She could hear the priests singing softly, Kyrie eleison, Christe eleison. She went in quietly and knelt down to her own surprise. The chapel was filled with mist, and it seemed to Morgaine that through the mist she could see that other chapel, the one on Ynis Witrin, and hear both sets of voices singing... Kyrie eleison... and there were women's voices too; yes, this must be on Ynis Witrin, for in the chapel on Avalon there were no women, these must be the nuns in the convent there. It seemed fora moment that Igraine knelt beside her and she heard her voice, clear and soft, singing Christe eleison. The priest was at the altar, and then it seemed to her as if Nimue was there, her golden hair hanging down her back, fair and lovely as Gwenhwyfar had been when she was a young maiden in the convent. But instead of the old jealous fury, Morgaine looked on her with the purest love for her beauty... the mists thickened; she could hardly see Lancelet kneeling at her side, but before her, kneeling at the altar in the other chapel, she could see Galahad with his face raised, shining, and on it was the reflected brightness... and she knew that he, too, saw through the mists, into the chapel hereon Avalon, where the Grail stood....\n\nShe heard from the other chapel a ring of tiny bells, and heard... she never knew which of the priests, the one herein Avalon, or the one on Ynis Witrin... but in her mind it was the gentle voice of Taliesin... murmuring, \"For in that night in which the Christ was betrayed, our Master took the cup and blessed it, and said, All of you drink of this, for this is my blood which will be shed for you. So often as ye drink of this cup, do it ever in remembrance of me.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She could seethe shadow of the priest who lifted the cup of communion, yet it was the damsel of the Grail, Nimue... or was it she herself who set the cup to his lips? Lancelet rushed forward, crying out, \"Ah-the light, the light-!\" and dropped to his knees, his hands shielding his eyes, then slipped further forward and lay prone on the ground.\n\nUnder the touch of the Grail, the shadowed face of the young man became clear, solid, real, and the mists were gone; Galahad knelt and drank of the cup.\n\n\"For as the wine of many grapes was crushed to make a single wine, so as we unite in this bloodless and perfect sacrifice, then shall we all become One in the Great Light which is Infinite....\"\n\nAnd even as the rapture glowed through his face, the light shining there, he drew a great breath of absolute joy, and looked full into the light. He reached out to grasp the cup in his hands... and fell forward, slithered to the floor of the chapel, and he too lay there without moving.\n\nIt is death to touch the holy things unprepared....\n\nMorgaine saw Nimue-or was it she herself?-cover Galahad's face with a white veil. And then Nimue was gone, and the cup was standing on the altar, only the gold cup of the Mysteries, without any trace of the unearthly light... she was not sure it was there... it was surrounded by mist. And Galahad lay dead on the floor of the chapel in Avalon, cold and still beside Lancelet.\n\nIt was along time before Lancelet stirred, and as he raised his head, Morgaine saw that his face was shadowed with tragedy. He whispered, \"And I was not worthy to follow him.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"You must take him back to Camelot,\" Morgaine said gently." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"He has won the quest of the Grail-but it was his final quest. He could not bear that light.\"\n\n\"Nor could I,\" Lancelet whispered. \"Look, the light is still on his face. What did he see?\"\n\nSlowly, she shook her head, feeling the cold rise up her arms. \"Neither you nor I will ever know that, Lancelet. I know only this-that he died with the Grail at his lips.\"\n\nLancelet looked up at the altar. The priests had gone quietly away, leaving Morgaine alone with the dead and the living; and the cup, surrounded in mist, still gleamed there, softly glowing.\n\nLancelet rose. He said, \"Yes. And this shall comeback with me to Camelot, that all men may know the quest is ended... and no more knights seeking the unknown to die or go mad...\"\n\nHe took one step toward the altar where the Grail gleamed, but Morgaine flung her arms around him and held him back.\n\n\"No! No! It is not for you! The very sight of it struck you down! It is death to touch the holy things unprepared-\"\n\n\"Then I shall die for it,\" he said, but she held him hard, and soon she felt him give way. He said, \"Why, Morgaine? Why must this suicidal folly goon?\"\n\n\"No,\" she said, \"the quest of the Grail is ended. You were spared to return to Camelot and tell them that. But you cannot take it back to Camelot. No man can hold and confine it. Those who seek it in faith\"-she heard her own voice, though she did not know what she was going to say until she said it-\"will always find it-here, beyond the mortal lands. But if it should go back with you to Camelot, it would fall into the hands of the narrowest of the priests, and become a pawn for them....\" She could feel the tears thickening her voice. \"I beg of you, Lancelet. Leave it herein Avalon. Let there be, in this new world without magic, one Mystery the priests cannot describe and define once and for all, cannot put within their narrow dogma of what is and what is not...\" Her voice broke. \"In the day which is coming, the priests will tell mankind what is good and what is evil, what to think, what to pray, what to believe. I cannot see to the end-perhaps mankind must have a time of darkness so that we will one day again know what a blessing is the light. But in that darkness, Lancelet, let there be one glimmer of hope. The Grail came once to Camelot. Let the memory of that passing never be sullied by seeing it captive on some worldly altar. Leave one Mystery and one source of vision for man to follow...\" She heard her voice go dry until it seemed like the croaking of the last of ravens." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lancelet bowed down before her. \"Morgaine, or are you truly Morgaine? I think I do not know who or what you are. But what you say is true. Let the Grail remain forever in Avalon.\"\n\nMorgaine raised her hand, and the little folk of Avalon came and lifted up Galahad's body, bearing it silently to the Avalon barge. Lancelet's hand still in her own, Morgaine walked down to the shore, where she looked at the body lying in the boat. Fora moment it seemed that Arthur lay there, then the vision wavered and vanished, and it was only Galahad, with that uncanny peace and light on his face.\n\n\"Now you ride to Camelot with your son,\" said Morgaine quietly, \"but not as I foresaw. I think the Sight is given to mock us-we see what the Gods give us to see, but we know never what it means. I think I will never use the Sight more, kinsman.\"\n\n\"God grant it.\" Lancelet took her hands in his own fora moment; then he bent and kissed them.\n\n\"And so at last we part,\" he said softly. And then, for all she had said of refusing the Sight, she saw in his eyes what he saw when he looked at her-the maiden with whom he had lain in the ring stones and from whom he had turned away from fear of the Goddess; the woman he had gone to in a frenzy of desire, trying to blot out the guilt of his love for Gwenhwyfar and Arthur; the woman he had seen pale and terrible, holding aloft the torch when they had taken him in Elaine's bed; and now the dark, quiet Lady, shadowed in lights, who had lifted his son from the Grail and pleaded with him to leave it forever outside the world." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She leaned forward and kissed him on the brow. There was no need for words; they both knew it was farewell and benediction. As slowly he turned from her and stepped into the magical barge, Morgaine watched the droop of his shoulders and saw the glint of the setting sun on his hair. It was all white now; and Morgaine, seeing herself again in his eyes, thought, I too am old....\n\nAnd now she knew why she had never again caught sight of the queen within the land of Fairy.\n\nI am the queen now.\n\nThere is no Goddess but this, and I am she...\n\nAnd yet beyond this, she is, as she is in Igraine and Viviane and Morgause and Nimue and the queen. And they live in me too, and she...\n\nAnd within Avalon they live forever." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Far to the north, in the country of Lothian, word came seldom and unreliably of the quest for the Grail. Morgause waited for the return of her young lover, Lamorak. And then, half a year later, word came to her that he had died on the quest. He was not the first, she thought, and he will not be the last to die of this monstrous madness, leading men to seek for the unknown! Always I have thought that religions and Gods were a form of madness. Look what they have brought on Arthur! And now they have taken my Lamorak, still so young!\n\nWell, he was gone, and though she missed him and would always miss him in her own way-he had been at her side longer than any other, save only Lot-she need not resign herself to old age and a solitary bed. She scanned herself in her old bronze mirror, sponged away the marks of her tears, then surveyed herself again. If she no longer had quite the full-blown beauty that had brought Lamorak, dazzled, to her feet, she was still a good-looking woman; there were still enough men in the land, and not all of them could have been caught by this questing madness. She was rich, she was Queen of Lothian, and she had her woman's weapons-she was still handsome, with all her own teeth, though now she must blacken her fading eyebrows and eyelashes... they were such a pale-gingery color now. Well, there would always be men; they were all fools, and a clever woman could do with them what she liked. She was no fool like Morgaine, to fret over devotion or virtue, nor a whining idiot like Gwenhwyfar, to think always about her soul.\n\nFrom time to time some tale of the quest, each one more fabulous than the last, would reach her. Lamorak, she heard, had comeback at last to Pellinore's castle, drawn by an old rumor of a magical dish that was kept therein a crypt beneath the castle, and there he had died, crying out that the Grail floated before him in the hands of a maiden, in the hands of his sister, Elaine, as she had been in childhood... she wondered what he had really seen. Word came, too, from the country near the Roman wall that Lancelet was dungeoned somewhere in sir Ectorius\" old country as a madman, and that no one dared send word to King Arthur; then she heard that his brother Bors had come and recognized him, and he had come to his wits and ridden away, whether to follow the quest further or to ride back to Camelot she neither knew nor cared. Perhaps, she thought, with luck he too would die on this quest; otherwise the lure of Gwenhwyfar would draw him back yet again to Arthur and his court." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Only her sensible Gwydion had not gone on the quest, but had remained at Camelot, close to Arthur's side." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Would that Gawaine and Gareth had had the wit to do the same! Now at last her sons had come into the place that should always have been theirs with Arthur.\n\nYet she had another way to know what was happening. Viviane had told her, in her youth at Avalon, that she had not the patience nor the hardihood for initiation into the Mysteries, and Viviane-she knew it now-had been right; who would wish to forsake life for so long as that? For many years she had believed that the doors of magic and of the Sight were closed to her, save for such little tricks as she had mastered on her own. And then she had begun to understand, when first she had used her sorcery to discover Gwydion's parentage, that the magical art was there, awaiting her, needing nothing but her will; having nothing to do with the complex Druidical rules and limitations about its use, or lies about the Gods. It was simply apart of life, there and accessible, nothing to do with good or evil, but available to anyone who had the will and the ruthlessness to use it.\n\nAll those who pretend to religions, Morgause thought, wish only to keep the sources of power in their own hands. But now I have them freely and of my own making, without binding myself by oaths about their use or direction.\n\nSo now, on this night, shut away from her servants, she made her preparations. She felt a dispassionate sympathy for the white dog she had brought in, and a moment of genuine revulsion as she cut its throat and set forth the dish of hot blood she had caught; but, after all, it washer own dog, as much hers as a pig she might have slaughtered for the table, and the power of spilled blood was stronger and more direct than the power built up by the long prayers and disciplines of the Avalon priesthood. Before the fireplace, one of her servant-women was lying, drugged and ready, before the fireplace; not one, this time, for whom she had any affection or any real need. She had learned that lesson when last she had attempted this. She spared a regretful thought for the waste of a good spinning woman that time; at least this one would be no loss to anyone, not even the cook who had half a dozen more helpers than she needed." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She still felt a certain squeamishness at the preliminaries. The blood marking her hands and forehead was unpleasantly sticky, but it seemed to her that she could almost see, billowing forth from the blood like smoke, the thin streams of magical power. The moon had shrunk to the thinnest of glimmers in the sky, and she knew the one who awaited her call in Camelot would be ready. At the precise moment the moon moved into the proper quarter of the sky, she poured the rest of the blood into the fire and called three times aloud.\n\n\"Morag! Morag! Morag!\"\n\nThe drugged woman by the fireside-Morgause vaguely recalled that her name was Becca, or something like that-stirred, her vague eyes taking on depth and purpose, and fora moment, as she arose, it seemed that she was wearing the elegant garb of one of Gwenhwyfar's waiting-women. Her voice, too, was not the rough dialect of the dim-witted country girl, but the careful speech of a southern court lady.\n\n\"I am here at your call. What would you have of me, Queen of the Darkness?\"\n\n\"Tell me of the court. What of the Queen?\"\n\n\"She is much alone since Lancelet has gone, but often calls young Gwydion to her. She has been heard to say that he is like the son she never had. I think she has forgotten that he is the son of Queen Morgaine,\" said the girl, the careful speech so incongruous from the empty-eyed, rough-handed kitchen girl in her shapeless smock of sacking.\n\n\"Do you still put the medicine in her wine at bedtime?\"\n\n\"There is no need, my queen,\" said the alien voice which came through and behind the kitchen girl. \"The Queen's courses have not come upon her now for more than a year, and so I have ceased to give her the drug. But in any case the King comes very seldom to her bed.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "So Morgause's last fear could now be quieted-that somehow, against all odds, Gwenhwyfar would bear a belated child to endanger Gwydion's position at court. Besides, the King's subjects would never accept a child forking, after the long peaceful years of Arthur's reign. Nor, she supposed, would Gwydion have any scruples about making an end to a small, unwanted rival. But it was better not to chance it; Arthur himself, after all, had escaped all Lot's plotting and her own, and had lived to be crowned.\n\nI have waited too long. Lot should have been King of these lands many years ago, and I Queen. Now there is none to stop me. Viviane is gone; Morgaine is old; Gwydion will make me Queen. I am the only woman living to whose word he will listen.\n\n\"What of sir Mordred, Morag? Is he trusted by the Queen, by the King?\"\n\nBut the voice grew thick and heavy. \"I cannot stay-Mordred is often with the King-once I heard the King say to him-eh, my headaches, what am I doing hereby the fire? Cook will skin me alive...\" It was the idiot voice of Becca, thick and sullen, and Morgause knew that faraway in Camelot, Morag had sunk back into her bizarre dream in which she faced the faraway Queen of Lothian or the Queen of Fairy....\n\nMorgause seized the pan of blood, shaking the last remaining drops into the fire. \"Morag, Morag! Hear me, stay, I command!\"\n\n\"My queen,\" came the faraway ladylike voice, \"sir Mordred has always at his side one of the damsels of the Lady of the Lake, they say that she is somehow kin to Arthur-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Niniane, daughter of Taliesin." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Morgause thought, I did not know she had left Avalon. But why now should she stay?\n\n\"Sir Mordred has been named captain of horse while Lancelet is gone from court. There are rumors... Eh, the fire, my lady, will you set the whole of the castle afire?\" Becca was rubbing her eyes and whimpering on the hearth. Infuriated, Morgause gave her a savage push, and the girl fell screaming into the fire; but she was still bound and could not pull herself away from the flames.\n\n\"Damn her, she will wake the whole household!\" Morgause reached out to pull the girl from the flames, but her dress had caught fire, and her shrieks were dreadful, striking Morgause's ears like red-hot needles. She thought, with a trace of pity, Poor girl, there is nothing to be done for her now-she would be so burnt, we could not help her even if she should live! She pulled the screaming, struggling girl out of the fire, not regarding the burns on her own hands, and leaned close fora moment, laying her head on the girl's brow as if to soothe her; then, with a single stroke, she cut her throat from ear to ear. Blood poured into the fire, and the smoke rushed high up into the chimney.\n\nMorgause felt herself shaking with the unexpected power, as if she were spreading out through the whole of the room, through the whole of Lothian, through the whole of the world... she had never dared so much before, but now it had come to her, unsought. It seemed that she hovered bodiless overall the land. Again after years of peace there were armies on the road, and on the west coast hairy men in high-beaked dragon ships landed, plundering and burning cities, laying monasteries waste, carrying away women from the walled convents where they lived... like a crimson wind, sweeping down even to the borders of Camelot... she was not sure whether what she saw now was even at this moment moving in the land or was yet to come." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She cried out through the growing darkness, \"Let me see my sons on the quest of the Grail!\"\n\nDarkness filled the room, sudden, black and thick, with a curious smell of burning, while Morgause crouched, beaten to her knees by the rush of power. The smoke cleared a little, with a small stirring and coiling in the darkness, like the boiling of a pot. Then Morgause saw, in the widening light, the face of her youngest son, Gareth. He was dirty and travel-worn, his clothing ragged, but he was smiling with the old gaiety, and as the light grew, Morgause could see what he was looking at-the face of Lancelet.\n\nAh, Gwenhwyfar would not fawn on him now, not this sickly and wasted man with grey in his hair and the traces of madness and suffering in the lines round his eyes... he looks indeed like something hung up in the field to scare birds from the grain! The old hatred surged through her: it was intolerable, that her youngest and best son should think kindly of this man, should love him and follow him as he had when he was a little child prattling to carved wooden knights....\n\n\"No, Gareth\"-she heard the voice of Lancelet, soft in the curdled silence in the room-\"you know why it is that I will not return to court. I will not speak of my own peace of soul-nor yet of the Queen's-but I am vowed to follow the Grail fora year and a day.\"\n\n\"But this is madness! What the devil is the Grail, against the needs of our king? I was sworn to him, and so were you, years before any of us heard of the Grail! When I think of our King Arthur at court with none of his faithful men save such as are lame or infirm or cowardly... times, I wonder if perhaps it was the work of the fiend, masquerading as a work of God and come to scatter Arthur's Companions out of his hands!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lancelet said quietly, \"I know that it came from God, Gareth. Do not try to deprive me of that.\" And fora moment it seemed that again the light of madness flickered in his eyes.\n\nGareth said, and his voice was oddly subdued when he spoke, \"But when God does the same work as the Devil? I cannot think it is God's will that all Arthur has wrought in more than a quarter of a century should thus be cast aside! Do you know there are wild Northmen landing on the shores, and when the men of those lands cry out for Arthur's legions to come and help them, there are none to send to their aid? And so the Saxon armies are gathering again, while Arthur sits idle in Camelot and you seek for your soul-Lancelet, I beg you, if you will not return to court, at least seek for Galahad and make him return to Arthur's side! If the King is old and his will grows weak-and God forbid I should ever have to say so much-then perhaps your son may stand in his place, for all men know he is the King's adopted son and heir!\"\n\n\"Galahad?\" Lancelet's voice was somber. \"Think you I have much influence with my son? You and the others swore to follow the Grail fora year and a day, yet I rode fora time with Galahad, and I know it is with him even as he said on that day, that if need be he would follow it lifelong.\"\n\n\"No!\" Gareth leaned from his horse and gripped Lancelet by the shoulders. \"That is what you must make him see, Lancelet, that at all costs he must return to Camelot! Ah, God, Gwydion would call me traitor to my own blood, and I love Gwydion well, but-how can I say this even to you, my cousin and my heart's brother? I trust not that man's power over our king! The Saxons who send to Arthur find themselves always speaking with him, they think of him as the sister's son of Arthur, and among them, know you not, the sister's son is heir-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lancelet said, with a gentle smile, \"Recall then, Gareth, that it was even so with the Tribes before the Romans came-we are not Roman, you and I.\"\n\n\"But will you not fight for the rights of your own son?\" demanded Gareth.\n\n\"It is for Arthur to say who shall follow him on his throne,\" said Lancelet, \"if indeed there shall be any king after him at all. Sometimes, it seemed tome when I wandered among the visions of my madness-nay, I mean not to speak of that, but I think perhaps it was a little akin to the Sight-that a darkness would fall over this land when Arthur had gone.\"\n\n\"And then it should be as if Arthur had never been? What of your vow to Arthur?\" Gareth demanded, and Lancelet sighed.\n\n\"If it is your will, Gareth, I will seek out Galahad.\"\n\n\"As quickly as you can,\" Gareth urged, \"and you must persuade him that his loyalty to the King is beyond all quests and Grails and Gods-\"\n\nLancelet said sadly, \"And if he will not come?\"\n\n\"If he does not,\" Gareth said slowly, \"then perhaps he is not the King we will need after Arthur. In that case, we are in God's hands, and may he help us all!\"\n\n\"Cousin, and more than brother,\" said Lancelet, embracing him again, \"we are all in God's hands whatever comes. But I vow to you, I will seek for Galahad and bring him with me to Camelot, I swear it....\"\n\nAnd then the stirring and the brightness were gone, Gareth's face faded and went into the dark, and fora moment it was only Lancelet's eyes, lustrous and so like Viviane's that fora moment Morgause felt that her sister and priestess was looking on her with frowning disapproval, as if to say, Morgause, what have you done now? Then that too was gone, and Morgause was alone with her fire, still belching smoke from which all the clouds of magical power had faded, and the limp, bloodless body of the dead woman lying on the hearth." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lancelet! Lancelet, damn him, he could still play havoc with her plans! Morgause felt her hate like a pain that struck through, a tightness in her throat that travelled down her body to her very womb. Her head was aching, and she felt deathly sick with the aftermath of magic. She wanted nothing more than to sink down on the hearth and sleep for hours, but she must be strong, strong with the powers of sorcery she had called to herself; she was Queen of Lothian, Queen of Darkness! She opened the door and flung the body of the dog onto the midden heap there, disregarding the sickening stench.\n\nShe could not handle the body of the kitchen girl alone. She was about to call out for help, when she stopped, her hands to her face, still marked and sticky with blood; they must not see her like this. She went to the basin and ewer of water, poured it out and washed her face and hands and braided her hair afresh. There was nothing she could do about the bloodstains on her dress, but now that the fire was out, there was little light in the room. At last she called out for her chamberlain, and he came to the door, avid curiosity in his face.\n\n\"What is it, my queen? I heard shouts and screams-is anything amiss here?\" He held up the light, and Morgause knew very well how she looked to him-beautiful, dishevelled-as if she could see herself through his eyes in the aftermath of the Sight. I could stretch forth my hand now and have him over the girl's body, she thought, feeling the strange cramping pain and pleasure of desire, and inwardly she laughed, but she put it willfully aside; there would be time enough for that." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Yes, there is grave trouble. Poor Becca-\" She indicated the limp corpse. \"She fell into the fire, and when I would have helped her burns, she grabbed the knife from my hand to cut her throat-she must have been maddened with the agony, poor thing. See, her blood is allover me.\"\n\nThe man cried out in consternation and went to examine the lifeless form of the girl. \"Well, well, the poor lass had not all her wits. You should not have let her inhere, madam.\"\n\nMorgause was disturbed at the hint of reproach she heard in the man's voice; had she actually thought of taking this one to her bed? \"I did not call you hitherto question my deeds. Take her out of here and have her decently buried, and send my women tome. I ride at dawn for Camelot.\"\n\nNight was falling, and a thick drizzling rain was blurring the road. Morgause was cold and wet, and it only annoyed her when her captain of horse came up and asked, \"Are you sure, madam, that we are on the right road?\"\n\nShe had had her eye on this one for months; his name was Cormac, and he was tall and young, with a hawklike face and strong shoulders and thighs. But it seemed to Morgause now that all men were stupid, she would have done better to leave Cormac at home and lead this party herself. But there were things even the Queen of Lothian could not do.\n\n\"I do not recognize any of these roads. Yet I know from the distance we have ridden this day that we must be near to Camelot-unless you have somehow lost your way in the fog and we are riding northward again, Cormac?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Under ordinary conditions she would have welcomed another night on the road, in her comfortable pavilion, with all the comforts she could provide, and perhaps, when all her women slept, this Cormac to warm her bed.\n\nSince I found the way to sorcery, all men are at my feet. Yet now, it seems, I care for none... strange, I have sought out no man since word came tome of Lamorak's death. Am I growing old? She recoiled from the thought, and resolved she would have Cormac with her tonight... but first they must reach Camelot; she must act thereto protect Gwydion's interest and to advise him. She said impatiently, \"The road must be here, dolt. I have made this journey more times than I have fingers on my two hands! Do you think me a fool?\"\n\n\"God forbid, madam. And I too have ridden this road often, yet somehow, it seems, we are lost,\" Cormac said, and Morgause felt she would choke with her exasperation. Mentally she retraced the road she had travelled so often from Lothian, leaving the Roman road and taking the well-travelled way along the edge of the marshes to Dragon Island, then along the ridge till they should strike the road to Camelot, which Arthur had had broadened and resurfaced until it was almost as good as the old Roman road.\n\n\"Yet somehow you have missed the Camelot road, dolt, for there is that old fragment of Roman wall... somehow or other we are half an hour's ride past the turn to Camelot,\" Morgause scolded. There was no help for it now but to turn the whole caravan about, and already darkness was closing down. Morgause drew up her hood over her head and urged her plodding horse through the grey lowering twilight. At this time of year there should have been another hour of sunlight, but there was only the faintest glimmer of light in the west." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Here it lies,\" said one of her women." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"See, that clump of four apple trees-I came here one summer to take a graft of apples for the Queen's garden.\"\n\nBut there was no road, only a little track winding upward on a barren hill, where there should be abroad road, and above it, even through mist, there should have been the lights of Camelot.\n\n\"Nonsense,\" she said brusquely, \"we have lost the way, somehow-are you trying to tell me that there is no more than one clump of four apple trees in Arthur's kingdom?\"\n\n\"Yet that is where the road ought to be, I swear it,\" grumbled Cormac, but he got the whole line of riders, horses, and pack animals into motion again and they plodded on, rain coming down and down as if it had been coming down since the beginning of time and had forgotten how to stop. Morgause was cold and weary, longing for hot supper at Gwenhwyfar's table and hot mulled wine and a soft bed, and when Cormac rode up to her again she demanded crossly, \"What now, dolt? Have you managed to lose us again, and miss a wide wagon road once more?\"\n\n\"My queen, I am sorry, but somehow-look, we are back again where we paused to rest the horses after we turned off the Roman road-that bit of rag I dropped, I'd been using it to clean the muck off one of the packs.\"\n\nHer wrath exploded. \"Was ever a queen plagued with so many damnable fools about her?\" she shouted. \"Must we look for the biggest city north of Londinium allover the Summer Country? Or must we ride back and forth on this road all night? If we cannot see Camelot's lights in the dark, we could at least hear it, a castle with more than a hundred knights and serving-men, horses and cattle, Arthur's men patrolling all the roads about-everything that moves on this road is clearly insight of his watchtowers!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Yet in the end there was nothing to do but to have lanterns lighted and turn southward again; Morgause herself rode at the head of the line, next to Cormac. The fog and rain seemed to damp out all sound, even echoes, until, through the foggy rain, they found themselves again at the ruined patch of Roman wall where they had turned about before. Cormac swore, but he sounded frightened too.\n\n\"Lady, I am sorry, I cannot understand it-\"\n\n\"Damnation seize you all!\" Morgause shrieked at him. \"Will you have us riding hither and thither on this road all night?\" Yet she too recognized the ruined wall. She drew along breath, exasperation and resignation in one. \"Perhaps by morning the rain will have ended, and if we must we can retrace our steps to the Roman wall. At least we will know where we have come!\"\n\n\"If indeed we have come anywhere and have not wandered somehow into the fairy country,\" murmured one of the women, surreptitiously crossing herself. Morgause saw the gesture, but she only said, \"No more of that! It's bad enough to be lost in the rain and fog without such idiot nonsense! Well, why are you all standing about? We can ride no more tonight, make haste to camp here, and in the morning we will know what to do.\"\n\nShe had intended to call Cormac to her, if only that she might have no leisure for the fear that had begun to steal through her... had they indeed come out of the real world into the unknown? Yet she did not, lying alone and wakeful among her women, restless, mentally retracing all the steps of their journey. There was no sound in the night, not even the calling of frogs from the marshes. It was not possible to lose the whole city of Camelot; yet it had vanished into nowhere. Or was it she herself, with all her men and ladies and horses, who had vanished into the world of sorcery? And every time she came to that point in her thoughts she would wish that she had not allowed her anger with Cormac to set him to watching over the camp; if he were lying here beside her, she would not have that terrifying sense of the world somehow insanely out of joint... again and again she tried to sleep and found herself restlessly staring, wide awake, into the dark." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Sometime in the night, the rain stopped; when day broke, although damp mist was rising everywhere, the sky was free of cloud." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Morgause woke from a fitful doze, a dream of Morgaine, greying and old, looking into a mirror like her own, and went out of her pavilion, hoping that she would lookup the hill and find that Camelot was, indeed, where it should have been, the broad road leading up to the towers of Arthur's castle, or else that they were on some unknown road clearly miles and miles from where they should have been. But they were camped by the ruined Roman wall, which she knew to be about a mile south from Camelot, and as horses and men prepared to ride, she looked up at the hill which should have been Camelot; but the hill was green and grass-grown and featureless.\n\nThey rode slowly along the road, muddy with the many tracks where they had ridden back and forth half the night. A flock of sheep grazed in afield, but when Morgause's man went to speak with the shepherd, the man hid behind a rock wall and would not be coaxed out.\n\n\"And this is Arthur's peace?\" Morgause wondered aloud.\n\n\"I think, my lady,\" said Cormac with deference, \"there must be some enchantment here-whatever it is, this is not Camelot.\"\n\n\"Then in God's name, what is it?\" asked Morgause, but he only muttered, \"In God's name, what indeed?\" and had no further answer for her.\n\nShe looked upward again, listening to the frightened whimpering of one of her women. Fora moment it was as if Viviane spoke again in her mind, saying what Morgause had nevermore than half believed, that Avalon had gone into the mists, and that if one set out there, either Druid or priestess, and not knowing the way, one would come only to the priests' Isle of Glastonbury...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They could retrace their steps to the Roman road... but Morgause felt a curious growing fear: would they find that the Roman road too was gone, was Lothian gone, was she alone on the face of the earth with these few men and women? Shivering, she recalled a few words of Scripture she had heard preached by Gwenhwyfar's house priest, about the end of the world... I say to you, two women will be grinding grain side by side, and one will betaken, and the other one will be left.... Had Camelot and all those within it been taken up into the Christian Heaven, had the world ended, with a few stragglers like herself left to wander on the face of the stricken world?\n\nBut they could not stand staring at the empty track. She said, \"We will retrace our steps toward the Roman road.\" If, she thought, it is still there, if there is anything thereat all. It seemed, as she looked on the mists rising like magical smoke from the marshes, that the world had vanished and even the rising sun was unfamiliar. Morgause was not a fanciful woman; she told herself, it was better to move and try to make their way back, than to stand in that otherworldly silence. Camelot was real, a place in the real world, it could not vanish entirely away.\n\nYet if I had had my way, if Lot and I had been successful in our plotting against Arthur, perhaps the whole land would be like this, silent and desolate and full of fears....\n\nWhy was it so quiet? It seemed in all the world there was no sound but their horses' hooves, and even these seemed to fall like stones dropped into water, muffled and dying away in ripples. They had nearly reached the Roman road-or where the Roman road should have been-when they heard hoofbeats on a hard road; a rider was coming, slow and deliberate, from Glastonbury. They could make out a dark figure through the fog, some kind of heavy-laden pack animal behind him. After a moment one of her men cried out, \"Why, look there, it is sir Lancelet of the Lake-God give you good morning, sir!\"" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Extend the story in collaboration with the author.\nTags: fantasy, arthurian, historical fantasy\nAuthor: Marion Zimmer Bradley\nTitle: The Mists of Avalon\nChapter: 67" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They could retrace their steps to the Roman road... but Morgause felt a curious growing fear: would they find that the Roman road too was gone, was Lothian gone, was she alone on the face of the earth with these few men and women? Shivering, she recalled a few words of Scripture she had heard preached by Gwenhwyfar's house priest, about the end of the world... I say to you, two women will be grinding grain side by side, and one will betaken, and the other one will be left.... Had Camelot and all those within it been taken up into the Christian Heaven, had the world ended, with a few stragglers like herself left to wander on the face of the stricken world?\n\nBut they could not stand staring at the empty track. She said, \"We will retrace our steps toward the Roman road.\" If, she thought, it is still there, if there is anything thereat all. It seemed, as she looked on the mists rising like magical smoke from the marshes, that the world had vanished and even the rising sun was unfamiliar. Morgause was not a fanciful woman; she told herself, it was better to move and try to make their way back, than to stand in that otherworldly silence. Camelot was real, a place in the real world, it could not vanish entirely away.\n\nYet if I had had my way, if Lot and I had been successful in our plotting against Arthur, perhaps the whole land would be like this, silent and desolate and full of fears....\n\nWhy was it so quiet? It seemed in all the world there was no sound but their horses' hooves, and even these seemed to fall like stones dropped into water, muffled and dying away in ripples. They had nearly reached the Roman road-or where the Roman road should have been-when they heard hoofbeats on a hard road; a rider was coming, slow and deliberate, from Glastonbury. They could make out a dark figure through the fog, some kind of heavy-laden pack animal behind him. After a moment one of her men cried out, \"Why, look there, it is sir Lancelet of the Lake-God give you good morning, sir!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Hallo! Who rides there?\" It was indeed Lancelet's well-known voice, and as he came closer, the homely sound of the hooves of horse and pack mule seemed to release something in the world around them. Sounds carried along way in the fog, and this was a simple sound, dogs barking somewhere, a whole pack of dogs, perhaps quarrelling over their food after a hungry night, but it broke the unworldly stillness with its simple, normal noise.\n\n\"It is the Queen of Lothian,\" called Cormac, and Lancelet rode toward them, halting his horse before her.\n\n\"Well, Aunt, I had not hoped to meet with you here-are my cousins with you, perhaps, Gawaine or Gareth?\"\n\n\"No,\" she said, \"I ride alone for Camelot.\" If, she thought irritably, such a place still exists upon the face of this earth! Her eyes rested intently on Lancelet's face as he said some polite words of greeting. He looked weary and travel-worn, his clothing ragged and not overly clean, a cloak of fustian worse than he would have given his groom. Ah, the beautiful Lancelet, Gwenhwyfar will not find you so handsome now, even I would not stretch out my hand to invite him into my bed.\n\nAnd then he smiled, and she realized, In spite of all, he is beautiful.\n\n\"Shall we ride together then, Aunt? For indeed I come on the most sorrowful of missions.\"\n\n\"I had heard that you were on the quest of the Grail. Have you found it, then, or failed to find it that you are so long-faced?\"\n\n\"It is not for such a man as Ito find that greatest of Mysteries. Yet I bring with me one who did indeed hold the Grail in his hands. And so I have come to say that the quest is ended, and the Grail gone forever out of this world.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And then Morgause saw that on the pack mule, covered and shrouded, was the body of a man, She whispered, \"Who-?\"\n\n\"Galahad,\" said Lancelet quietly. \"It was my son who found the Grail, and now we know that no man may look on it and live. Would that it had been I-if only because I bear such bitter news to my king, that the one who should be King after him has gone before us into the world where he may forever follow his quest unspoilt-\"\n\nMorgause shuddered. Now indeed will it be as if Arthur had never been, the land will have no king save for the king in Heaven, ruled over by those priests who have Arthur in their hands... but angrily she dismissed those fancies. Galahad is gone. Arthur must choose Gwydion to rule after him.\n\nLancelet looked sorrowfully at the pack mule with Galahad's body, but he said only, \"Shall we ride on? I had not intended to rest a night by the road, but the mists were thick, and I feared to lose my way. I would have thought it Avalon itself!\"\n\n\"We could not find Camelot in the mists, no more than Avalon-\" Cormac began, but Morgause interrupted him fretfully.\n\n\"Have done with that foolishness,\" she said. \"We mistook the road in the darkness, and rode back and forth half the night! We too are in haste to come to Camelot, nephew.\"\n\nOne or two of her men present knew Lancelet and had known Galahad, and now they crowded close to the body, with soft expressions of sympathy and kindly words. Lancelet listened to all they had to say, his face sorrowful, then, with a few soft words, brought it to an end." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Later, my lads, later, there will be time enough to mourn. I am in no haste, God knows, to bear such news to Arthur, but delaying will make it no kinder. Let us ride on.\"\n\nThe mist was thinning and burning away fast as the sun gained height. They set off down the road where Morgause and her men had ridden back and forth for hours in search of Camelot, but before they had gone very far there was another sound that broke the strange silence of the haunted morning. It was a trumpet call, clear and silver in the still air, from the heights of Camelot. And before her at the clump of four trees, broad and unmistakable in the growing sunlight, lay the wagon road built by Arthur's men for his legions to ride.\n\nIt seemed appropriate that the first man Morgause should see on the heights of Camelot washer son Gareth. He strode forth to challenge them at the great gates of Camelot; then, recognizing Lancelet, hurried to him. Lancelet flung himself headlong from his horse and took Gareth into a strong embrace.\n\n\"So, cousin, it is you-\"\n\n\"Aye, it is that-Cai is too old and lame to be patrolling the walls of Camelot in these days. Ah, it is a good day in which you return to Camelot, my cousin. But I see that you found not Galahad, Lance?\"\n\n\"Aye, but I did,\" said Lancelet sorrowfully, and Gareth's open face, still boyish despite his full beard, was struck with dismay as he looked at the outlines of the dead man under the pall.\n\n\"I must bear this news to Arthur at once. Take me to him, Gareth.\"\n\nGareth bowed his head, his hand resting on Lancelet's shoulder. \"Ah, this is an evil day for Camelot. I said once before, it seemed tome that yonder Grail was the work of some devil, not of God at all!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lancelet shook his head, and it seemed to Morgause that something bright shone through him, as if his body were transparent; and through his sad smile there was hidden joy. \"No, my dear cousin,\" he said, \"you must put that from your mind forever. Galahad has had what God gave to him, and, God help us, so have we all. But his day is finished, and he is free of all human fate. Ours is still to come, dear Gareth-God grant us that we meet it with as much courage as he.\"\n\n\"Amen to that,\" said Gareth, and to Morgause's horrified surprise he crossed himself. Then, with a start, he looked up at her.\n\n\"Mother, is it you? Forgive me-yours is the last company in which I would expect to find Lancelet.\" He bent over her hand with a dutiful kiss. \"Come, madam, let me summon a chamberlain and take you to the Queen. She will make you welcome among her ladies while Lancelet is with the King.\"\n\nMorgause let herself be led away, wondering now why she had come. In Lothian she ruled as queen in her own right, but herein Camelot she could only sit among Gwenhwyfar's ladies, and know no more of what was going on than what one of her sons might see fit to tell her.\n\nShe said to the chamberlain, \"Say to my son Gwydion-sir Mordred-that his mother has come, and bid him to wait upon meas soon as he can.\" But she wondered, sunk in despondency, if in this strange court he would even be troubled to pay her such respects as Gareth had done. And once again, she felt she had done wrong to come to Camelot." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "For many years, Gwenhwyfar had felt that when the Companions of the Round Table were present, Arthur belonged not to her but to them. She had resented their intrusion into her life, their presence at Camelot; often she had felt that if Arthur were not surrounded by the court, perhaps they might have had a life happier than the one they led as King and Queen of Camelot.\n\nAnd yet in this year of the Grail quest, she began to realize that she had been fortunate after all, for Camelot was like a village of ghosts with all the Companions departed, and Arthur the ghost who haunted Camelot, moving silently through the deserted castle.\n\nIt was not that she took no pleasure in Arthur's company when at last it was entirely hers. It was only that now she came to understand how much of his very being he had poured into his legions and the building of Camelot. He showed her ungrudging courtesy and kindness, and she had more of his company than ever she had had in all the long years of war or the years of peace that followed them. But it was as if some part of him was absent with his Companions, wherever they might be, and only a small fraction of the man himself was herewith her. She loved Arthur the man no less than Arthur the King, but she realized now how much less was the man without the business of kingship into which he had put so much of his life. And she was ashamed that she could notice it.\n\nThey never spoke of those who were absent. In that year of the Grail quest, they lived quietly and in peace from day today, speaking only of everyday things, of bread and meat, of fruits from the orchard or wine from the cellars, of anew cloak or the clasp of a shoe. And once, looking around the empty chamber of the Round Table, he said, \"Should we have it put away until they return, my love? Even in this great chamber, there is small room to move, and now when it is all empty-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"No,\" she said quickly, \"no, my dear, leave it." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "This great room was built for the Round Table, and without it, it would be like an empty barn. Leave it. You and I and the household folk can dine in the smaller chamber.\" He smiled at her, and she knew he was glad she had said that.\n\n\"And when the knights return from the quest, we can once again make a great feast there,\" he said, but then fell silent, and she knew he was wondering how many would ever return.\n\nCai was with them, and old Lucan, and two or three of the Companions who were old or infirm or nursing old wounds. And Gwydion-Mordred as he was now called-was always with them, like a grown son; often Gwenhwyfar looked on him and thought, This is the son I might have borne to Lancelet, and heat went scalding and flooding through her whole body, leaving her broken into a hot sweat as she thought of that night when Arthur himself had thrust her into Lancelet's arms. And indeed this heat came often now and went, so that she never knew whether a room was hot or cold, or whether it was this strange sudden heat from within. Gwydion was gentle and deferential to her, calling her always lady or, sometimes, shyly, Aunt; the very shyness with which he used this term of family closeness warmed her and made him dear to her. He was like to Lancelet, too, but more silent and less light of heart; where Lancelet had ever been ready with a jest or play on words, Gwydion smiled and was always ready with some wit like a blow or the thrust of a needle. His wit was wicked, but she could not but laugh when he made some cruel jest.\n\nOne night when their shrunken company was at dinner, Arthur said, \"Until Lancelet comes back to us, nephew, I would have you take his post and be my captain of horse.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Gwydion chuckled." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Light enough will that duty be, my uncle and my lord-there are few horses in that stable now. The finest horses in your stables went with your knights and Companions, and who knows, indeed, whether or no some horse will be the one to find that Grail they seek!\"\n\n\"Oh, hush,\" Gwenhwyfar said. \"You must not make fun of their quest.\"\n\n\"Why not, Aunt? Again and again the priests tell us that we are the sheep of our Lord's pasture, and if a sheep may seek a spiritual presence, why, I have always thought a horse a nobler beast than any sheep. So who's to say whether or no the nobler beast may achieve the quest? Even some scarred old warhorse may come at last to seek spiritual repose, as they say the lion shall one day lie down beside the lamb and never think it dinnertime.\"\n\nArthur laughed uneasily. \"Will we need our horses again for war? Since Mount Badon, God be praised, we have had peace in the land-\"\n\n\"Save for Lucius,\" Gwydion said, \"and if I have learned one thing in my life, it is that peace is something which cannot last. Wild Northmen in dragon ships are landing on the coast, and when men cry out for Arthur's legions to defend them, the answer comes only that Arthur's Companions have ridden away to seek their souls'peace. And so they seek for help from the Saxon kings in the South. But no doubt when this quest is done, they will look once more to Arthur and to Camelot-and it seems tome that warhorses might be in short supply when that day comes. Lancelet is so busy with the Grail and his other deeds that he has had little time to see to the King's stables.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Well, I have told you I wished you to fill that place,\" said Arthur, and it struck Gwenhwyfar that his tone sounded peevish, and old, without the strength it once held." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"As captain of horse you have authority to send for horses in my name. Lancelet used to deal with traders from somewhere to the south, beyond Brittany-\"\n\n\"As I shall do also, then,\" said Gwydion. \"There were no horses like the horses from Spain, but now, my uncle and my lord, the best horses come from further still. The Spaniards themselves buy horses from Africa, from a desert country there. Now these Saracens are beginning to overrun Spain itself-this I heard from yonder Saracen knight Palomides, who journeyed here and was guested fora time, then rode away to see what adventure there might be among the Saxons. He is not a Christian, and it seemed strange to him that all these knights should ride away after the Grail when there was war in the land.\"\n\n\"I spoke to Palomides,\" said Arthur. \"He had a sword from that southern country of Spanish steel-I would gladly have had one like to it, though I think it is no finer than Excalibur. No sword in our country will hold such an edge, like a razor. I am glad I never had to face such a sword in the lists. The Northmen have great axes and clubs, but their weapons are not so good even as the Saxon weapons.\"\n\n\"They are fiercer fighters, though,\" said Gwydion. \"They go into a madness of fighting, as sometimes the Tribesmen of Lothian used to do, casting away their shields in battle.... No, my king, we may have had peace fora goodly time, but even as the Saracens are beginning to overrun Spain, so the wild Northmen are on our coasts, and the wild Irishmen. In the end, no doubt, the Saracens will be good for Spain even as the Saxons have been good for this land-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Good for this land?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Arthur looked at the younger man in astonishment. \"What do I hear you say, nephew?\"\n\n\"When the Romans left us, my lord Arthur, we were isolated at the end of the world, alone with the half-savage Tribes. The war with the Saxons forced us to reach beyond ourselves,\" he said. \"We had trade with Less Britain and with Spain and the countries to the south, we had to barter for weapons and horses, we built new cities-why, here's your own Camelot, sir, to show that. I do not even speak of the movement of the priests, who now have come among the Saxons and made them no longer wild Tribesmen with hair on their faces, worshipping their own barbarian Gods, but civilized men with cities and trade of their own, and their own civilized kings who are subject to you. For what else has this whole land been waiting? Now, even, they have monasteries and learned men writing books, and much more... without the wars against the Saxons, my lord Arthur, Uther's old kingdom would have been forgotten like that of Maximus.\"\n\nArthur said with a glimmer of amusement, \"Then, no doubt, you think these twenty years and more of peace have endangered Camelot, and we need more wars and fighting to bring us into the world again? It is easy to see you are not a warrior, young man. I have no such romantic view of war as that!\"\n\nGwydion smiled back. \"What makes you think I am not a warrior, my lord? I fought among your men against Lucius who would have been emperor, and I had ample time to makeup my own mind about wars and their worth. Without wars, you would be more forgotten than the least of those kings in Wales and in Eire-who now can call the roll of the kings of Tara?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And you think one day it maybe so with Camelot, my boy?\"\n\n\"Ah, my uncle and my king, would you have the wisdom of a Druid or the flattery of a courtier?\"\n\nArthur said, laughing, \"Let us have the crafty counsel of a Mordred.\"\n\n\"The courtier would say, my lord, that the reign of Arthur will live forever and his memory be forever green in the world. And the Druid would say that all men perish, and one day they will be, with all of their wisdom and their glories, like unto Atlantis, sunken beneath the waves. The Gods alone endure.\"\n\n\"And what would my nephew and my friend say, then?\"\n\n\"Your nephew\"-he put just enough emphasis on the word that Gwenhwyfar could hear that it should have been your son-\"would say, my uncle and my lord, that we are living for this day, and not for what history may say of us a thousand years hence. And so your nephew would advise that your stables should once again reflect the noble days when Arthur's horses and his fighting men were known and fearful to all. No man should be able to say, the King grows old and with all his knights on quest, cares nothing to keep his men and horses infighting trim.\"\n\nArthur gave him a friendly clap on the shoulder. \"So let it be, dear boy. I trust your judgment. Send to Spain, or to Africa if you will, for horses such as best suit the reputation of Arthur's legion, and see to their training.\"\n\n\"I shall have to find Saxons for that,\" said Gwydion, \"and the Saxons know little of our secrets of fighting a-horse-you have always said they should not. Is it your will that since the Saxons are our allies now, they should be trained in our fighting skills?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Arthur looked troubled." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I fear I must leave that, too, in your hands.\"\n\n\"I shall try to do my best for you,\" Gwydion said, \"and now, my lord, we have sat overlong in this talk, and wearied the ladies-forgive me, madam,\" he added, inclining his head to Gwenhwyfar with that winning smile. \"Shall we have music? The lady Niniane, I am certain, would be happy to bring her harp and sing to you, my lord and my king.\"\n\n\"I am always happy to hear my kinswoman's music,\" said Arthur gravely, \"if it is pleasing to my lady.\"\n\nGwenhwyfar nodded to Niniane, who fetched her harp and sat before them, singing, and Gwenhwyfar listened with pleasure to the music-Niniane played beautifully, and her voice was sweet, though not so pure or strong as Morgaine's. But as she watched Gwydion, his eyes on Taliesin's daughter, she thought, Why is it that we, a Christian court, must always have here one of those damsels of the Lady of the Lake? It worried her, although Gwydion seemed as good a Christian as anyone else at court, coming always to mass on Sunday, as did Niniane herself. For that matter she could not remember how Niniane had come to be one of her ladies, save that Gwydion had brought her to court and asked the Queen to extend her hospitality as a kinswoman of Arthur and as Taliesin's daughter. Gwenhwyfar had only the kindest memories of Taliesin, and had been pleased to welcome his daughter, but somehow it seemed now that, without ever putting herself forward, Niniane had assumed the place of the first among her ladies. Arthur always treated her with favor and often called to her to sing, and there were times when Gwenhwyfar, watching them, wondered if he looked on her as more than kinswoman." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But no, surely not. If Niniane had a paramour here at court it was more than likely to be Gwydion himself. She had seen him look at her... and yet her heart grew sore within her; this woman was fair, fair as she herself had been, and she was but an aging woman with her hair fading, the color gone from her cheeks, her body sagging.... And so when Niniane had put up her harp and withdrawn, she frowned as Arthur came to escort her from the hall.\n\n\"You look weary, my wife, what ails you?\"\n\n\"Gwydion said you were old-\"\n\n\"My own dear wife, I have sat on that throne of Britain for one-and-thirty years, with you at my side. Do you think there is anyone in this kingdom who can still callus young? Most of our subjects were not yet born when we came to the throne. Though indeed, my dear, I know not how it is that you look ever so young.\"\n\n\"Oh, my husband, I was not seeking to be praised,\" she said impatiently.\n\n\"You should be flattered, my Gwen, that Gwydion does not deal in empty flattery to an aging king, cozening me with lying words. He speaks honestly and I value him for it. I wish-\"\n\n\"I know what you wish,\" she interrupted him, her voice angry. \"You wish you could acknowledge him your son, so that he and not Galahad might have your throne after you-\"\n\nHe colored. \"Gwenhwyfar, must we always be so sharp with each other on this subject? The priests would not have him for King, and there's an end of it.\"\n\n\"I cannot but remember whose son he is-\"\n\n\"I cannot but remember that he is my son,\" said Arthur gently." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I trust not Morgaine, and you yourself have found that she-\"\n\nHis face grew hard and she knew that he would not hear heron this one subject. \"Gwenhwyfar, my son was fostered by the Queen of Lothian, and her sons have been the support and stay of my kingdom. What would I have done without Gareth and Gawaine? And now Gwydion stands fair to be like them, kindest and best of friends and Companions. It will not make me think the less of Gwydion that he stood beside me when all my other Companions forsook me for this quest.\"\n\nGwenhwyfar did not want to quarrel with him. She said now, sliding her hand into his, \"Believe me, my lord, I love you beyond all else on this earth.\"\n\n\"Why, I believe you, my love,\" he said. \"The Saxons have a saying-that man is blessed who has a good friend, a good wife, and a good sword. And all those have I had, my Gwenhwyfar.\"\n\n\"Oh, the Saxons,\" she said, laughing. \"All those years you fought against them, and now you quote their sayings of wisdom-\"\n\n\"Well, what is the good of war-as Gwydion says-if we cannot learn wisdom from our enemies? Long ago, someone-Gawaine, perhaps-said something about the Saxons and the learned men in their monasteries. He said it is like to a woman who is raped, and yet, after the invaders have left our coasts, bears a good son-is it better to have had only the evil, or, when the evil is done and there's no mending it, to take what good may come from that evil?\"\n\nGwenhwyfar frowned and said, \"Only a man, I think, could make such a jest as that!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No, I meant not to bring up old sorrows, dear heart,\" he protested, \"but the harm was done for me and Morgaine years ago.\" She realized that for once he spoke his sister's name without that cold tightening in his face. \"Would it be better that no good of any kind should come from the sin I did with Morgaine-for you will have it that it was sin-or should I be grateful that, since the sin was done and there's no going back to innocence, God has given me a good son in return for that evil? Morgaine and I parted not as friends, and I know not where she is or what has befallen her, nor do I suppose I will ever again look upon her face this side of the day of judgment. But her son is now the very stay of my throne. Should I mistrust him because of the mother who gave him birth?\"\n\nGwenhwyfar would have said, I do not trust him because he was reared in Avalon, but she had no wish to, so she held her peace. But when, at her door, Arthur held her hand and asked softly, \"Is it your will that I join you this night, lady?\" she avoided his eyes and said, \"No-no, I am tired.\" She tried not to seethe look of relief in his eyes. She wondered if it were Niniane or some other who shared his bed these days; she would not stoop to question his chamberlain. If it is not I, why should I care who it might be?\n\nThe year moved on into the darkness of winter, and on toward spring. One day Gwenhwyfar said fiercely, \"I wish this quest were done and the knights returned, Grail or no Grail!\"\n\n\"Hush, my dear, they are sworn,\" said Arthur, but later that day, indeed, a knight rode up the track to Camelot, and they saw that it was Gawaine." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Is it you, cousin?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Arthur embraced him and kissed him on either cheek. \"I had no hope of seeing you till a year was done-did you not swear to follow the Grail fora year and a day?\"\n\n\"I did so,\" said Gawaine, \"but I am not false to my oath, Lord, and yonder priest need not look at meas if I were forsworn. For I last saw the Grail herein this very castle, Arthur, and I am just as like to see it here again as in this corner or that of the world. I rode up and down, hither and thither, and never did I hear word of it more, and one day it came tome that I might as well seek it where I had seen it already, at Camelot and in the presence of my king, even if I must look for it every Sunday on the altar at mass, and nowhere else.\"\n\nArthur smiled and embraced him, and Gwenhwyfar saw that his eyes were wet. \"Come in, cousin,\" he said simply. \"Welcome home.\"\n\nAnd some days later, Gareth too came home. \"I had a vision indeed, and I think it may have come from God,\" he said as they sat at supper in the hall. \"I dreamed I saw the Grail uncovered and fair before me, and then a voice spoke tome from the light around the Grail and said, \"Gareth, Companion of Arthur, this is all you will ever see of that Grail in this life. Why seek further for visions and glories, when your king has need of you in Camelot? You may serve God when you reach Heaven, but while you live hereon earth, return to Camelot and serve your king.\" And when I woke, I remembered that even Christ had said that they should render unto Caesar those things which belonged to Caesar, and so I came home this way, and I met with Lancelet as I rode, and I bade him do the same.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Do you think, then, that you truly found the Grail?\" Gwydion asked.\n\nGareth laughed. \"Perhaps the Grail itself is only a dream. And when I dreamed of the Grail, it bade me do my duty to my lord and king.\"\n\n\"I suppose we shall look to see Lancelet here among us soon, then?\"\n\n\"I hope he can find it in his heart to come,\" said Gawaine, \"for indeed we need him here. But Easter will be upon us soon, and then we can look to have them all come home.\"\n\nLater Gareth asked that Gwydion would bring his harp and sing for them. \"For,\" he said, \"I have not heard even such rough music as I would hear at the court of the Saxons, and you who sit here at home have surely had time to perfect your songs, Gwydion.\"\n\nGwenhwyfar would not have been surprised had he stood aside for Niniane, but instead he brought out a harp Gwenhwyfar recognized.\n\n\"Is that not Morgaine's harp?\"\n\n\"It is so. She left it at Camelot when she went from here, and if she wants it she can send for it, or come and take it from me. And until that day, well, it is surely mine, and I doubt she would begrudge me this when she has given me nothing else.\"\n\n\"Save only your life,\" said Arthur in atone of mild reproof, and Gwydion turned on him a look of such bitterness that Gwenhwyfar was sorely distressed. His savage tone could not be heard four feet away. \"Should I then be grateful for that, my lord and my king?\" Before Arthur could speak, he set his fingers to the strings and began to play. But the song he sang shocked Gwenhwyfar." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He sang the ballad of the Fisher King, who dwelt in a castle at the middle of a great wasteland; and as the king grew ancient and his powers waned, so did the land fade and put forth no crops, till some younger man should come and strike the stroke of mercy which would pour out the blood of the ancient king upon the land. Then the land would grow young again with the new king, and bloom with his youth.\n\n\"Say you so?\" demanded Arthur uneasily. \"That the land where an old king rules can only be a land which fades?\"\n\n\"Not so, my lord. What would we do without the wisdom of your many years? Yet in the ancient days of the Tribes it was even so, where the Goddess of the Land alone endures, and the king rules while he shall please her. And when the King Stag grew old, another would come from the herd and throw him down... but this is a Christian court, and you have no such heathen ways as that, my king. I think perhaps that ballad of the Fisher King is but a symbol of the grass which, even as it says in your Scriptures, is like to man's flesh, enduring but a season, and the king of the wasteland but a symbol of the world which yearly dies with the grass and is renewed with spring, as all religions tell... even Christ withered like the Fisher King when he died the death of the cross and returns again with Easter, ever new...\" and he touched the strings and sang softly:\n\n\"For lo, all the days of man areas a leaf that is fallen and as the grass that withereth.\n\nThou too shalt be forgotten, like the flower that falleth on the grass, like the wine that is poured out and soaks into the earth." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And yet even as the spring returns, so blooms the land and so blooms life which will come again...\"\n\nGwenhwyfar asked, \"Is that Scripture, Gwydion? Averse perhaps of a psalm?\"\n\nGwydion shook his head. \"It is an ancient hymn of the Druids, and there are those who say it is older than that, brought perhaps from those lands which now lie beneath the sea. But each religion has some such hymn as that. Perhaps indeed all religion is One...\"\n\nArthur asked him quietly, \"Are you a Christian, my lad?\"\n\nGwydion did not answer fora moment. At last he said, \"I was reared a Druid and I do not break the oaths I have sworn. My name is not Kevin, my king. But you do not know all the vows I have made.\" Quietly he rose from his place and went forth from the hall. Arthur, staring after him, did not speak even to reprove his lack of courtesy, but Gawaine was scowling.\n\n\"Will you let him take leave with so little of ceremony, lord?\"\n\n\"Oh, leave it, leave it,\" Arthur said. \"We are all kinsmen here, I ask not that he should treat me always as if I were on the throne! He knows well that he is my son, and so does every man in this room! Would you have him always the courtier?\"\n\nBut Gareth was frowning after him. He said softly, \"I wish with all my heart that Galahad would return to court. God grant him some such vision as mine, for you need him more here than you need me, Arthur, and if he comes not soon, I shall go forth myself to seek him.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was only a few days before Pentecost when Lancelet finally came home.\n\nThey had seen the approaching procession-men, ladies, horses and pack animals-and Gareth, at the gates, had summoned all men to welcome them, but Gwenhwyfar, standing at Arthur's side, paid little heed to Queen Morgause, except to wonder why the Queen of Lothian had come. Lancelet knelt before Arthur with his sorrowful news, and Gwenhwyfar too felt the pain in his eyes... always, always it had been like this, that what smote his heart was like a lash laid to her own. Arthur bent and raised Lancelet to his feet and embraced him, and his own eyes were wet.\n\n\"I have lost a son, no less than you, dear friend. He will be sorely missed.\" And Gwenhwyfar could bear it no more, and stepped forward to give Lancelet her hand before them all and say, her voice trembling, \"I had longed for you to return to us, Lancelet, but I am sorry that you must come with such sad news.\"\n\nArthur said quietly to his men, \"Let him betaken to the chapel where he was made knight. There let him lie, and tomorrow he shall be buried as befits my son and heir.\" Ashe turned away, he staggered a little, and Gwydion was quick to put his hand beneath his arm and support him.\n\nGwenhwyfar did not often weep now, but she felt she must weep at Lancelet's face, so marred and stricken. What had befallen him in this year when he followed the Grail? Long sickness, long fasting, weariness, wounds? Never had she seen him so sorrowful, even when he came to speak with her of his marriage to Elaine. Watching Arthur leaning heavily on Gwydion's arm, she sighed, and Lancelet pressed her hand and said softly, \"I can even be glad now that Arthur came to know his own son and to value him. It will soften his grief.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Gwenhwyfar shook her head, not wanting to think of what this would mean for Gwydion and for Arthur." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Morgaine's son! Morgaine's son, to follow after Arthur-no, there was no help for it now!\n\nGareth came and bowed before her and said, \"Madam, my mother is here-\" and Gwenhwyfar recalled that she was not free to stay among the men, that her place was with the ladies, that she could not speak a word of comfort to Arthur or even to Lancelet. She said coldly, \"I am happy to welcome you, Queen Morgause,\" and it came to her mind, Must I confess this then as a sin, that I lie to the queen? Would it somehow be more virtuous if I said to her, I welcome you as duty demands, Queen Morgause, but I am not glad to see you and I wish you had stayed in Lothian, or in hell for all I care! She saw that Niniane was at Arthur's side, that Arthur was between her and Gwydion, and she frowned.\n\n\"Lady Niniane,\" she said coolly, \"I think that the women will withdraw now. Find a guestroom for the Queen of Lothian, and see that everything is made ready for her.\"\n\nGwydion looked angry, but there was nothing to be said, and Gwenhwyfar reflected, as she and her ladies left the courtyard, that there were advantages to being a queen.\n\nAll that day, the Companions and knights of the Round Table were riding back toward Arthur's court, and Gwenhwyfar was busy with the preparations for the feast on the morrow, which would be the funeral. On the day of Pentecost, such of Arthur's men as had returned from this quest would be reunited. She recognized many faces, but some, she knew, would never return: Perceval, and Bors, and Lamorak-she turned a gentler face on Morgause, who, she knew, sincerely mourned for Lamorak. She had felt that the older woman had made a fool of herself with her young lover, but grief was grief, and when at the funeral mass for Galahad the priest spoke of all those others who had fallen on this quest, she saw Morgause hiding tears behind her veil, and her face was red and blotched after the mass." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The night before, Lancelet had watched by his son's body in the chapel, and she had had no chance for private words with him. Now, after the funeral mass, she bade him sit beside her and Arthur at dinner, and when she filled his cup, she hoped that he would drink himself drunk and be past mourning. She grieved over his lined face, so drawn with pain and privation, and over the curls around his face, so white now. And she who loved him best, she could not even embrace him and weep with him in public. For many years she had felt it like a deep pain that she would never have any right to turn to him before other men, but must sit at his side and be only a kinswoman and his queen. And now it seemed to her more dreadful than ever, but he did not turn to her, he did not even meet her eyes.\n\nStanding, Arthur drank to the knights who would never return from the quest. \"Here before you all, I swear that none of their wives or children shall ever know want while I live and Camelot stands with one stone upon another,\" he said. \"I share your sorrow. The heir to my throne died in the quest of the Grail.\" He turned, and held out his hand to Gwydion, who came slowly to his side. He looked younger than he was, in a plain white tunic, his dark hair caught in a golden band.\n\nArthur said, \"A king cannot, like other men, indulge in long mourning, my Companions. Here I ask you to mourn with me for my lost nephew and adopted son, who now will never reign at my side. But even though our mourning is still green, I ask you to accept Gwydion-sir Mordred-the son of my only sister, Morgaine of Avalon, as my heir. Gwydion is young, but he has become one of my wise councillors.\" He raised his cup and drank. \"I drink to you, my son, and to your reign when mine is done.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gwydion came and knelt before Arthur. \"May your reign belong, my father.\" It seemed to Gwenhwyfar that he was blinking back tears, and she liked him better for it. The Companions drank, and then, led by Gareth, broke out in cheering.\n\nBut Gwenhwyfar sat silent. She had known this must come, but she had not expected it to happen at Galahad's very funeral feast! Now she turned to Lancelet and whispered, \"I wish he had waited! I wish he had consulted with his councillors!\"\n\n\"Knew you not he intended this?\" Lancelet asked. He reached out and took her hand, pressing it softly and holding onto it, stroking her fingers beneath the rings she wore. Her fingers seemed now so thin and bony, not young and soft as they had been; she felt abashed and would have drawn her hand away, but he would not let her. He said, still stroking her hand, \"Arthur should not have done that to you without warning-\"\n\n\"God knows, I have no right to complain, who could not give him a son, so he must make do with Morgaine's-\"\n\n\"Still, he should have warned you,\" Lancelet said. It was the first time, Gwenhwyfar thought distantly, that he had ever, even fora moment, seemed to criticize Arthur. He raised her hand gently to his lips, then let it go as Arthur approached them with Gwydion. Stewards were bringing smoking platters of meat, trays of fresh fruits and hot breads, setting sweetmeats every few places along the table. Gwenhwyfar let her steward help her to some meat and fruits, but she barely touched her plate. She saw, with a smile, that it had been arranged that she shared her plate with Lancelet, as so often she had done at other Pentecost feasts; and that Niniane, on Arthur's other side, was eating from his dish. Once he called her daughter, which relieved Gwenhwyfar's mind somewhat-perhaps he accepted her already as his son's potential wife. To her surprise Lancelet seemed to follow her thought." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Will the next festival at court be a wedding? I would have thought the kinship too close-\"\n\n\"Would that matter in Avalon?\" Gwenhwyfar asked, her voice harsher than she intended; the old pain was still there.\n\nLancelet shrugged. \"I know not-in Avalon as a boy I heard of a country far to the south of here, where the royal house married always their own sister and brother that the royal blood might not be diluted by that of the common people, and that dynasty lasted fora thousand years.\"\n\n\"Heathen men,\" said Gwenhwyfar. \"They knew nothing of God, and knew not that they sinned....\"\n\nYet Gwydion seemed not to have suffered from the sin of his mother and his father; why should he, Taliesin's grandson-no, his great-grandson-hesitate towed with Taliesin's daughter?\n\nGod will punish Camelot for that sin, she thought suddenly. For Arthur's sin and for mine... and Lancelet's...\n\nBeyond her she heard Arthur say to Gwydion, \"You said once in my hearing that Galahad looked not like one who would live to his crowning.\"\n\n\"And you remember too, my father and my lord,\" said Gwydion quietly, \"that I swore to you I would have no part in his death, but that he would die honorably for the cross he worshipped, and it was so.\"\n\n\"What more do you foresee, my son?\"\n\n\"Ask me not, lord Arthur. The Gods are kind when they say that no man may know his own end. Even if I knew-and I say not that I know-I would tell you nothing.\"\n\nPerhaps, thought Gwenhwyfar, with a sudden shiver, God has punished us enough for our sin when he sent us this Mordred... and then, looking at the young man, she was dismayed. How can I think so of the one who has been to Arthur as a son indeed? He is not to blame for his fathering!" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She said to Lancelet, \"Arthur should not have done this before Galahad was cold in his grave!\"\n\n\"Not so, my lady. Arthur knows well the duties of a king. Do you think it would matter to Galahad, where he has gone, who sits on the throne he never wished for? I would have done better to make my son a priest, Gwenhwyfar.\"\n\nShe looked at Lancelet, brooding, a thousand leagues away from her, gone into himself where she could never follow, and she said, awkwardly, reaching for him in the best way she could, \"And did you, then, fail to find the Grail?\"\n\nShe saw him come slowly back through the long distance. \"I came-nearer than any sinful man can come and live. But I was spared, to tell the men at Arthur's court that the Grail has gone forever beyond this world.\" Again he fell silent, then said across that vast distance, \"I would have followed it beyond the world, but I was given no choice.\"\n\nShe wondered, Did you not, then, wish to return to court for my sake? And it seemed clear to her that Lancelet was more like Arthur than she had ever known, and that she had never been anything more, to either of them, than a diversion between war and quest; that the real life of a man was lived in a world where love meant nothing. All his life he had devoted to wars at Arthur's side, and now when there was no war he had given himself over to a great Mystery. The Grail had come between them, as Arthur had come between them, and Lancelet's own honor.\n\nNow even Lancelet had turned to God, and thought, no doubt, only that she had led him into grave sin. The pain was unendurable. In all of life, she had had nothing more than this, and she could not keep herself from reaching out to him, clasping his hand. \"I have longed for you,\" she whispered, and was shocked at the longing in her voice; he will think me no better than Morgause, flinging myself at his head.... He held her hand and said softly, \"And I have missed you, Gwen.\" And then, as if he could read her whole hungry heart, he said in a low voice, \"Grail or no Grail, beloved, nothing could have brought me back to this court but the thought of you. I would have remained there, spending the rest of my life in prayers that I might see again that Mystery that was hidden from my eyes. But I am no more than a man, my beloved....\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "And she knew what it was that he was saying, and pressed his hand." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Shall I send away my women, then?\"\n\nHe hesitated a moment, and Gwenhwyfar felt the old dread... how dared she be so forward, so lacking in a woman's modesty?... Always, this moment was like death. Then he tightened his grip on her fingers and said, \"Yes, my love.\"\n\nBut as she awaited him, alone in the darkness, she wondered in bitterness if his'Yes\" had been like Arthur's, an offer made from time to timeout of pity, or a wish to save her pride. Now that there was no longer the slightest hope that she would bear to Arthur a belated child, he could have stopped coming to her, but he was too kind to give her women cause to smile behind her back. Still, it was like a knife in her heart that Arthur always seemed relieved when she sent him away; there were even times when she invited him in and they talked together or she lay fora time in his arms, content to beheld and comforted, but demanding no more of him. Now she wondered if Arthur felt that his embraces would be unwelcome to her, so that he seldom offered them, or whether he truly did not desire her. She wondered if he ever had desired her, or had always come to her because she was the wife he had taken and it was his duty to give her children.\n\nAll men praised my beauty and desired me, save for the husband I was given. And now, she thought, perhaps even Lancelet comes tome because he is too kind to abandon me or turn me away. She grew feverish, and it seemed that even in her light bed gown she was overheated, her whole body breaking out in drops of sweat. She rose and sponged herself with the cold water in ajar on her dressing table, touching her sagging breasts with distaste. Ah, I am old, surely it will disgust him, that this ugly old flesh is still as eager for him as if I were young and beautiful...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "And then she heard his step behind her; and he caught her into his arms, and she forgot her fears." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But after he had gone she lay wakeful.\n\nI should not risk this. It was different, in the old days; now we area Christian court and the eyes of the bishop are always on me.\n\nBut I have nothing else... and it occurred to her suddenly, nor has Lancelet.... His son was dead, and his wife, and the old closeness with Arthur was gone beyond recall.\n\nWould that I were like Morgaine, who does not need a man's love to feel herself alive and real.... And yet Gwenhwyfar knew that even if she did not need this from Lancelet, it was he who needed her; and without her, he would be utterly alone. He had come to court because he needed her no less than she needed him.\n\nAnd so, even if it was sin, it seemed the greater sin to leave Lancelet comfortless.\n\nEven if we are both damned for it, she thought, never shall I turn aside from him. God is a God of love, she thought; how then could he condemn the one thing in her life that was born of love? And if he did, she thought, terrified at her blasphemy, he was not the God she had always worshipped, and she did not care what he thought!" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "That summer there was war again, the Northmen raiding the western coasts, and Arthur's legion rode forth to battle, this time riding at the head of the Saxon kings from the southern country, Ceardig and his men. Queen Morgause remained in Camelot; it was not safe to take the road alone to Lothian, and none could be spared to escort her.\n\nThey returned late in the summer. Morgause was in the women's hall with Gwenhwyfar and her ladies when they heard the trumpets from the heights.\n\n\"It is Arthur returning!\" Gwenhwyfar rose from her seat. Immediately all of the women dropped their spindles and clustered around her.\n\n\"How do you know?\"\n\nGwenhwyfar laughed. \"A messenger brought me the news last night,\" she said. \"Do you think I am dealing in sorcery at my age?\" She looked around her at the excited girls-to Morgause it seemed that all of Gwenhwyfar's ladies were but little girls, fourteen and fifteen, who made every excuse to leave off spinning; and now the Queen said indulgently, \"Shall we go and watch them from the heights?\"\n\nChattering, giggling, gathering in groups of two and three, they ran off, leaving the dropped spindles where they had fallen. Good-naturedly, Gwenhwyfar called one of the serving-women to put the room to rights and, at Morgause's side, followed at a more dignified pace to the brow of the hill, where they could seethe wide road leading up to Camelot.\n\n\"Look, there is the King-\"\n\n\"And sir Mordred, riding at his side-\"\n\n\"And there is the lord Lancelet-oh, look, he has a bandage round his head, and his arm is in a sling!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Let me see,\" said Gwenhwyfar and pushed them aside, while the girls stared. Morgause could make out Gwydion, riding at Arthur's side; he appeared unwounded, and she drew a sigh of relief. She could see Cormac back among the men, too-he had ridden to war with all the men, and he too seemed unhurt. Gareth was easy to find among them-he was the tallest man in Arthur's whole company, and his fair hair blazed like a halo. Gawaine, too, at Arthur's back as always, was upright in his saddle, but as they came nearer she could see a great bruise on his face, darkening his eyes, and his mouth swollen as if he had had a tooth or two knocked out.\n\n\"Look, sir Mordred is handsome-\" one of the little girls said. \"I have heard the Queen say that he looks exactly as Lancelet did when Lancelet was young,\" and then she giggled and dug her neighbor in the ribs. They clung together, whispering, and Morgause watched, sighing. They seemed so young, all of them, so pretty with their hair silky-soft and bound in plaits and curls, brown or red or golden, their cheeks soft as petals and smooth as a baby's, their waists so slim, their hands so smooth and white-she felt, suddenly, wild with jealousy; once she had been more beautiful than any of them. Now they were nudging one another, whispering about this knight and that.\n\n\"Look how the Saxon knights are all bearded-why do they want to look shaggy like dogs?\"\n\n\"My mother says,\" one of the maidens said impudently-she was the daughter of one of the Saxon noblemen, her name was something barbarian which Morgause could hardly pronounce, Alfreth or something of that sort-\"that to kiss a man without a beard is like kissing another maiden, or your baby brother!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Yet sir Mordred shaves his face clean, and there is nothing maidenly about him,\" said one of the girls, and turned laughing to Niniane, standing quietly among the women, \"is there, lady Niniane?\"\n\nNiniane said, with a soft laugh, \"All these bearded men seem old tome-when I was a little girl, only my father and the oldest Druids ever went bearded.\"\n\n\"Even Bishop Patricius now wears his beard,\" said one of the girls. \"I heard him say that in heathen times men deformed their faces by cutting their beards and men should wear their beards as God made them. Maybe the Saxons think it so.\"\n\n\"It is but anew fashion,\" said Morgause. \"They come and they go-when I was young, Christian and pagan alike shaved their faces clean, and now the fashion has changed-I think not it has anything to do with holiness either way. I doubt not, one day Gwydion will wear a beard-will you think less of him, Niniane?\"\n\nThe younger woman laughed. \"No, cousin. He is the same, bearded or shaven. Ah, look, there rides King Ceardig, and others-are they all to be guested here at Camelot? Madam, shall I go and tell the stewards?\"\n\n\"Please do, my dear,\" Gwenhwyfar said, and Niniane moved toward the hall. The girls were shoving one another to get a better view, and Gwenhwyfar said, \"Come, come-all of you, back to your spinning. It is unseemly to stare at young men this way. Have none of you anything better to do than talk so immodestly about the men? All of you now, be off with you, you will see them this night in the great hall. There is to be feasting, which means work for all of you.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They looked sulky, but they went obediently back to the hall, and Gwenhwyfar sighed and shook her head as she walked back at Morgause's side. \"In Heaven's name, was there ever such a lot of unruly girls? And somehow I must keep them all chaste and under my guidance-it seems they spend all their time gossiping and giggling instead of minding their spinning. I am ashamed that my court should be so filled with empty-headed and immodest little hussies like this!\"\n\n\"Oh, come, my dear,\" said Morgause lazily, \"surely you too were fifteen once? Surely you were not such a model maiden as all that-did you never steal a look at a handsome young man and think and gossip about how it would be to kiss him, bearded or shaven?\"\n\n\"I do not know what you did when you were fifteen,\" Gwenhwyfar flared at her, \"but I was behind convent walls! It seems tome that would be a good place for these unmannerly maids!\"\n\nMorgause laughed. \"When I was fourteen, I had an eye for everything that wore breeches. I recall that I used to sit in Gorlois's lap-he that was married to Igraine before Uther's eyes fell on her-and Igraine knew it well, for when she married Uther, her first act was to pack me off to be married to Lot, which was about as far from Uther's court as she could send me without crossing the ocean! Come, Gwenhwyfar, even behind your convent walls can you swear you never peeped out at any handsome young man who came to break your father's horses, or the crimson cloak of any young knight?\"\n\nGwenhwyfar looked down at her sandals. \"It seems so very long ago-\" and then, recollecting herself, spoke briskly. \"The hunters brought in a deer last night-I shall give orders that it be cutup and roasted for dinner, and perhaps we should have a pig killed too, if all these Saxons are to be guested here. And fresh straw must be spread in the rooms where they will sleep, there will never be enough beds for all these people!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Send the maidens to see to that too,\" said Morgause. \"They must learn to manage guests in a great hall-for what other reason are they in your care, Gwenhwyfar? And it is the duty of a queen to welcome her lord when he returns from war.\"\n\n\"You are right.\" Gwenhwyfar sent her page to give the orders, and they walked toward the great gates of Camelot together. Morgause thought, Why, it is exactly as if we had been friends all our lives. And she thought, there were so few of them who had been young together.\n\nShe had much the same feeling when she sat that night in the great hall that was hung with decorations and brilliant with the fine clothes of the ladies and the knights. Almost it was like the great days of Camelot. Yet so many of the old Companions were gone in war, or on the Grail quest, and would never return. Morgause did not remember often that she was old, and it frightened her. Half the seats of the Round Table, it seemed, were filled now with hairy Saxons with their great beards and their rough cloaks, or with young men who seemed hardly old enough to hold weapons. Even her baby, Gareth, was one of the older knights of the Round Table, and the newer ones deferred to him amazingly, calling him sir, and asking his advice, or hesitating to argue with him if they differed. As for Gwydion-most of them called him sir Mordred-he seemed quite a leader among the younger men, new knights and the Saxons whom Arthur had chosen as his Companions.\n\nGwenhwyfar's ladies and stewards had done their task well; there was roast and boiled meat in plenty, and great meat pies with gravy, platters of early apples and grapes, hot bread and lentil porridge. At the high table, when the feasting was done and the Saxons were drinking and at their favorite game of asking riddles, Arthur called Niniane to sing for them. Gwenhwyfar had Lancelet at her side, his head bandaged and his arm in a sling-he had been wounded by a Northman's battle-axe. He could not use his arm, and Gwenhwyfar was cutting his meat for him. No one, Morgause thought, paid it the slightest attention." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gareth and Gawaine were seated further down the table, and Gwydion close to them, sharing a dish with Niniane. Morgause went to greet them. Gwydion had bathed and combed his hair into curls, but one of his legs was bandaged, propped on a stool.\n\n\"Are you hurt, my son?\"\n\n\"It does well enough,\" he said. \"I am too big now, Mother, to run and climb into your lap when I stub my toe!\"\n\n\"It looks worse than that,\" she said, looking at the bandage and the crusted blood at the edges, \"but I will leave you alone, if you wish. Is that tunic new?\"\n\nIt was made in a fashion she had seen many of the Saxons wearing, with sleeves so long that they came down past the wrist and half covered the knuckles of the hand. Gwydion's was of blue-dyed cloth, embroidered with crimson stitchery.\n\n\"It was a gift from Ceardig. He told me it was a good fashion fora Christian court, for it conceals the serpents of Avalon.\" His mouth twisted. \"Perhaps I should give my lord Arthur such a tunic fora New Year's gift this winter!\"\n\n\"I doubt if anyone would know the difference,\" said Gawaine. \"No one, now, thinks of Avalon, and Arthur's wrists are so faded no one sees or would criticize if they did.\"\n\nMorgause looked at Gawaine's bruised face and eyes. He had in truth lost more than one tooth, and his hands, too, looked cut and bruised.\n\n\"And you too are wounded, my son?\"\n\n\"Not from the enemy,\" Gawaine growled. \"This I got from our Saxon friends-one of the men in Ceardig's army. Damn them all, those unmannerly bastards! I think I liked it better when they were all our foes!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You fought him, then?\"\n\n\"Aye, and will do so again, should he dare to open his clacking jaw about my king,\" Gawaine said angrily. \"Nor did I need Gareth to come to my rescue, as if I were not big enough to fight my own battles without my little brother coming to my aid-\"\n\n\"He was twice your size,\" said Gareth, putting down his spoon, \"and he had you on the ground, and I thought he would break your back or crack your ribs-I am not sure yet that he did not. Was Ito sit aside while that foul-tongued fellow beat my brother and slandered my kinsman? He will think twice and then thrice before he opens his evil mouth again with such words.\"\n\n\"Still,\" said Gwydion quietly, \"you cannot silence the whole Saxon army, Gareth, especially when what they say is true. There's a name, and not a pretty one, fora man, even when that man's a king, who sits back and says nothing while another man does his husband's duty in his wife's bed-\"\n\n\"You dare!\" Gareth half rose, turning on Gwydion and gripping the Saxon tunic at the neck. Gwydion put up his hands to loosen Gareth's hold.\n\n\"Easy, foster-brother!\" He looked like a child in the giant Gareth's grip. \"Will you treat meas you treated yonder Saxon because here among kinsmen I speak truth, or am I too to keep to the pleasant lie of the court, when all men seethe Queen with her paramour and say nothing?\"\n\nGareth slowly relaxed his grip and eased Gwydion back to his seat. \"If Arthur has nothing to complain of in the lady's conduct, who am Ito speak?\"\n\nGawaine muttered, \"Damn the woman! Damn her anyhow! Would that Arthur had put her away while there was still time! I have no great love for so Christian a court as this has become, and filled with Saxons. When I was first knight at Arthur's side, there was not a Saxon in all this land with more of religion than a pig in his sty!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Gwydion made a deprecating sound, and Gawaine turned on him." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I know them better than you. I was fighting Saxons while you were wetting your swaddling bands! Are we now to run Arthur's court by what these hairy grunters think of us?\"\n\n\"You do not know the Saxons half so well as I do,\" Gwydion said. \"You do not get to know a man at the business end of a battle-axe. I have lived in their courts and drunk with them and courted their women, and I venture to say that I know them well, which you do not. And this much is true: they call Arthur and his court corrupt, too pagan.\"\n\n\"That comes well from them,\" Gawaine snorted.\n\n\"Still,\" said Gwydion, \"it is no laughing matter, that these men, unrebuked, can call Arthur corrupt-\"\n\n\"Unrebuked, say you?\" Gareth grumbled. \"I think Gawaine and I did some rebuking!\"\n\n\"Will you fight your way through the Saxon court? Better to amend the cause of slander,\" said Gwydion. \"Cannot Arthur rule his wife better than this?\"\n\nGawaine said, \"It would take a braver man than Ito speak ill of Gwenhwyfar to Arthur's face.\"\n\n\"Yet it must be done,\" said Gwydion. \"If Arthur is to be High King overall these men, he cannot be a laughingstock. When they call him cuckold, will they take oath to follow him in peace and in war? Somehow he must heal the corruption in this court-send the woman to a nunnery perhaps, or banish Lancelet-\"\n\nGawaine looked anxiously around. \"For God's sake, lower your voice,\" he said. \"Such things should not even be whispered in this place!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It is better that we should whisper them than that they should be whispered all the length and breadth of the land,\" Gwydion said. \"In God's name, there they sit close by him, and he smiles on them both! Is Camelot to become a joke, and the Round Table a bawdy house?\"\n\n\"Now shut your filthy mouth or I will shut it for you,\" Gawaine snarled, gripping Gwydion's shoulder in his iron fingers.\n\n\"If I were speaking lies, Gawaine, you might well try to shut my mouth, but can you stop the truth with your fists? Or do you still maintain that Gwenhwyfar and Lancelet are innocent? You, Gareth, who have all your life been his pet and minion, I might well believe that you will think no evil of your friend-\"\n\nGareth said, gritting his teeth, \"It is true I wish the woman at the bottom of the sea, or behind the walls of the safest convent in Cornwall. But while Arthur does not speak, I will hold my tongue. And they are old enough to be discreet. All men have known for years that he has been her champion lifelong-\"\n\n\"If I only had some proof, Arthur might listen tome,\" Gwydion said.\n\n\"Damn you, I am certain Arthur knows what there is to know. But it is for him to allow it or to interfere... and he will hear no word against either of them.\" Gawaine swallowed and went on. \"Lancelet is my kinsman, and my friend too. But-damn you-do you think I have not tried?\"\n\n\"And what said Arthur?\"\n\n\"He said that the Queen was above my criticism, and whatever she chose to do was well done. He was courteous, but I could tell that he knew what I was saying and was warning me not to interfere.\"" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Co-write with the author and continue the story.\nTags: fantasy, arthurian, historical fantasy\nAuthor: Marion Zimmer Bradley\nTitle: The Mists of Avalon\nChapter: 69" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It is better that we should whisper them than that they should be whispered all the length and breadth of the land,\" Gwydion said. \"In God's name, there they sit close by him, and he smiles on them both! Is Camelot to become a joke, and the Round Table a bawdy house?\"\n\n\"Now shut your filthy mouth or I will shut it for you,\" Gawaine snarled, gripping Gwydion's shoulder in his iron fingers.\n\n\"If I were speaking lies, Gawaine, you might well try to shut my mouth, but can you stop the truth with your fists? Or do you still maintain that Gwenhwyfar and Lancelet are innocent? You, Gareth, who have all your life been his pet and minion, I might well believe that you will think no evil of your friend-\"\n\nGareth said, gritting his teeth, \"It is true I wish the woman at the bottom of the sea, or behind the walls of the safest convent in Cornwall. But while Arthur does not speak, I will hold my tongue. And they are old enough to be discreet. All men have known for years that he has been her champion lifelong-\"\n\n\"If I only had some proof, Arthur might listen tome,\" Gwydion said.\n\n\"Damn you, I am certain Arthur knows what there is to know. But it is for him to allow it or to interfere... and he will hear no word against either of them.\" Gawaine swallowed and went on. \"Lancelet is my kinsman, and my friend too. But-damn you-do you think I have not tried?\"\n\n\"And what said Arthur?\"\n\n\"He said that the Queen was above my criticism, and whatever she chose to do was well done. He was courteous, but I could tell that he knew what I was saying and was warning me not to interfere.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"But if it were drawn to his attention in away he could not choose to ignore,\" Gwydion said quietly, considering, then raised his hand and beckoned." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Niniane, seated at Arthur's feet, her hands still touching the strings of her harp, softly asked leave of Arthur, then rose and came to him.\n\n\"My lady,\" Gwydion said, \"is it not true that she\"-he inclined his head very slightly in Gwenhwyfar's direction-\"often sends her women away for the night?\"\n\nNiniane said quietly, \"She has not done so while the legion was away from Camelot.\"\n\n\"So at least we know the lady is loyal,\" said Gwydion cynically, \"and does not distribute her favors wholesale.\"\n\n\"No one has ever accused her of common lechery,\" said Gareth angrily, \"and at their ages-they are both older than you, Gawaine-whatever they are about cannot be much harm to anyone, I should think.\"\n\n\"No, I am serious,\" said Gwydion with equal heat. \"If Arthur is to remain High King-\"\n\n\"Mean you not,\" said Gareth angrily, \"if you are to be High King after him-\"\n\n\"What would you, brother? That when Arthur is gone I should turnover all this land to the Saxons?\" Their heads were close together, and they were talking in furious whispers. Morgause knew they had forgotten not only her presence but her very existence.\n\n\"Why, I thought you loved the Saxons well,\" said Gareth, in angry scorn. \"Would you not be content to have them rule, then?\"\n\n\"No, hear me,\" said Gwydion in a rage, but Gareth grabbed at him again and said, \"The whole of the court will hear you if you do not moderate your voices-look, Arthur is staring at you, he watched when Niniane came over here! Maybe Arthur is not the only one who should look to his lady, or-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Be silent!\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gwydion said, wrestling himself free of Gareth's hands.\n\nArthur called out to him, \"What, do my loyal cousins of Lothian quarrel among themselves? I will have peace in my hall, kinsmen! Come, Gawaine, here's King Ceardig asking if you will have a game of riddles with him!\"\n\nGawaine rose, but Gwydion said softly, \"Here's a riddle for you-when a man will not mind his property, what's to be done by those who have an interest in it?\"\n\nGawaine stalked away, pretending he did not hear, and Niniane bent over Gwydion and said, \"Leave it for now. There are too many ears and eyes. You have planted the seed. Now speak to some of the other knights. Do you think you are the only one who saw-that?\" and she moved her elbow just a little. Morgause, following the slight gesture, saw that Gwenhwyfar was bending with Lancelet over a game board on their laps; their heads were close together.\n\n\"I think there are many who think it touches the honor of Arthur's Camelot,\" Niniane murmured. \"You need only find some who are less-biased-than your brothers of Lothian, Gwydion.\"\n\nBut Gwydion was looking angrily at Gareth. \"Lancelet,\" he muttered, \"always Lancelet!\" And Morgause, looking from Gwydion to her youngest son, thought of a small child prattling to a red-and-blue carved knight which he called Lancelet.\n\nThen she thought of a younger Gwydion, following Gareth about like a puppy. Gareth is his Lancelet, she thought. What will come of this? But her disquiet was swallowed up in malice. Surely it is time, she thought, that Lancelet should have to answer for all he has wrought." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Niniane stood at the crest of Camelot, looking down at the mists that surrounded the hill. She heard a step behind her, and said, without turning, \"Gwydion?\"\n\n\"Who else?\" His arms came around her and held her tight, and she turned her face to kiss him. He demanded, without letting her go, \"Does Arthur kiss you like that?\"\n\nShe freed herself from his embrace to confront him. \"Are you jealous of the King? Was it not you who told me to gain his confidence?\"\n\n\"Already Arthur has had more than enough of what is mine-\"\n\n\"Arthur is a Christian man-I will say no more than that,\" Niniane said, \"and you are my dear love. But I am Niniane of Avalon, and I account to no man on this earth for what I do with what is mine-yes, mine and not yours. I am not Roman, to let some man tell me what I may do with what the Goddess gave me. And if you like that not, Gwydion, then I shall return to Avalon.\"\n\nGwydion smiled, the cynical smile she liked least about him.\n\n\"If you could find the way,\" he said. \"You might find that not so easy any longer.\" Then the cynicism slipped from his face and he stood holding Niniane's hand lightly in his and said, \"I care not what Arthur may do in the time remaining to him. Like Galahad, he may have his moments, for he will be along time without them.\" He stared down at what looked like an ocean of mist surrounding Camelot. \"When the mist clears we will see Avalon from here, perhaps, and Dragon Island.\" He sighed and said, \"Did you know-some of the Saxons are moving into that country now, and there has been hunting of the deer on Dragon Island, though Arthur forbade it.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Niniane's face hardened in anger. \"A stop must be put to that. The place is sacred, and the deer-\"\n\n\"And the little folk who own the deer. But Aedwin the Saxon slaughtered them,\" Gwydion said. \"He told Arthur that they shot at his men with poisoned elf-arrows, so he gave his men leave to kill as many of them as he could find. And now they hunt the deer-and Arthur will go to war against Aedwin, if he must. I wish Aedwin had a better cause-in honor I must fight to protect those who look to Avalon.\"\n\n\"And Arthur goes to war for their sakes?\" Niniane was surprised. \"I thought he had forsworn Avalon.\"\n\n\"Avalon, perhaps, but not the harmless folk from the island.\" Gwydion was silent, and Niniane knew he was remembering a day on Dragon Island. He slid his fingers along the tattooed serpents on his wrists, then pulled the sleeves of his Saxon tunic down over them. \"I wonder, could I still pull down a King Stag with only my hands and a flint knife?\"\n\n\"I doubt not that you could, if you were challenged,\" said Niniane. \"The question is, could Arthur? For if he cannot...\"\n\nShe left the question hanging in the air, and he said somberly, watching the enclosing mist, \"I do not think it will clear. Mist hangs here always, so thickly now that some of the Saxon kings who send messengers cannot find their way.... Niniane! Will Camelot too go into the mists?\"\n\nShe began to fling him back some careless word of jest or reassurance, then stopped and said, \"I know not. Dragon Island is defiled, the folk dying or dead, the sacred herd prey to the Saxon hunters. Northmen raid the coast. Will they one day sack Camelot as the Goths overthrew Rome?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"If I had known in time,\" Gwydion said with smothered violence, striking one fist against the other, \"if the Saxons had brought word to Arthur, he could have sent me-or some other-to protect that holy ground where he was made King Stag and made the sacred marriage with the land!" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Now the shrine of the Goddess has been overthrown, since he did not die to protect it, his kingship is forfeit.\"\n\nNiniane heard what he did not say: And mine. She said, \"You knew not that it was endangered.\"\n\n\"And for that too I blame Arthur,\" Gwydion said. \"That the Saxons could think of doing this without consulting him-does it not say to you how little they think now of his High Kingship? And why do they think so little of him? I will tell you, Niniane-they think little of any king who is cuckold, who cannot rule his women-\"\n\n\"You who were reared in Avalon,\" she said angrily, \"will you judge Arthur by the Saxon's standards, which are worse than those of the Romans? Will you let a kingdom rise or fall because of some notion of how a man should keep his women in bonds? You are to be King, Gwydion, because you bear the royal blood of Avalon and because you are the child of the Goddess-\"\n\n\"Pah!\" Gwydion spat and followed it with an obscenity. \"Did it never occur to you, Niniane-perhaps Avalon fellas later Rome fell, because there was corruption at the heart of the realm? By Avalon's laws, Gwenhwyfar has done no more than is right-the lady shall choose who she will for her consort, and Arthur should be overthrown by Lancelet! Why, Lancelet is the son of the High Priestess herself-why not set him to be King in Arthur's place? But is our king to be chosen because some woman wants him in her bed?\" Again he spat. \"No, Niniane, that day is done-first the Romans and now the Saxons know how the world's to be. The world is no longer a great womb bearing men-now the movement of men and armies settles things. What people now would accept my rule because I was the son of this woman or that? Now it is the king's son who takes the land, and shall we turn away a good thing because the Romans did so first? We have better ships now-we will discover lands beyond the old lands that have sunk in the sea. Willa Goddess who is tied to this one patch of earth and its crops follow us there? Look at the Northmen who are raiding our coasts-will they be stopped with the Mother's curses? The few priestesses that are left in Avalon-no Saxons or wild Northmen will ever ravish them, because Avalon is no longer apart of the world in which these wild raiders live. Those women who live in the world that is coming will need men to guard them. The world now, Niniane, is not one of Goddesses, but of Gods, perhaps of one God. I need not try to bring Arthur down. Time and change alone will do that.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Niniane's back prickled as if with the Sight. \"And what of you, King Stag of Avalon? What of the Mother who sent you forth in her name?\"\n\n\"Do you think I mean to go into the mists with Avalon and Camelot? I mean to be High King after Arthur-and to do that, I must keep the glory of Arthur's court at full height. So Lancelet must go, which means that Arthur must be forced to banish him, and probably Gwenhwyfar as well. Are you with me, Niniane, or not?\"\n\nHer face was deathly white. She clenched her fists at her side, wishing that she had the power of Morgaine, the power of the Goddess, to rise like abridge from earth to sky and strike him down with the lightning force of the outraged Goddess. The crescent moon on her brow burned with rage.\n\n\"Am Ito help you by betraying a woman who has taken the right the Goddess has given to all women, to choose what man she will?\"\n\nGwydion laughed mockingly. \"Gwenhwyfar gave up that right when first she knelt at the feet of the slave's God.\"\n\n\"Nevertheless, I'll have nothing to do with betraying her.\"\n\n\"Then you will not send me word when she sends her women away again for the night?\"\n\n\"No,\" said Niniane, \"by the Goddess, I will not. And Arthur's treachery to Avalon is nothing to yours!\" She turned her back on him and would have moved away, but he caught and held her there.\n\n\"You'll do what I command you!\"\n\nShe struggled to free herself, at last wrenching her bruised wrists from him. \"Command me? Not in a thousand years!\" she said, breathless with fury. \"Beware, you who have laid hands on the Lady of Avalon! Arthur shall know now what sort of viper he has taken to his breast!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Ina towering rage, Gwydion grabbed her other wrist and pulled her toward him, then struck her full force across the temple, and she fell to the ground without a cry. He was so full of wrath that he let her fall without a move to catch her.\n\n\"Well did the Saxons name you,\" said a low, savage voice from the fog. \"Evil counsel, Mordred-murderer!\"\n\nHe turned with a convulsive moment of fear and looked at the crumpled body of Niniane at his feet. \"Murderer? No! I was only angry with her-I would not hurt her-\" He stared around him, unable to make out anything in the thickening mist, yet knowing the voice.\n\n\"Morgaine! Lady-my mother!\"\n\nHe knelt, panic clutching at his throat, raising Niniane up, searching fora heartbeat, but she lay there without breath, without life.\n\n\"Morgaine! Where are you? Where are you? Damn you, show yourself!\" But there was only Niniane, lifeless and unmoving at his feet. He clasped her to him, imploring. \"Niniane! Niniane, my love-speak tome-\"\n\n\"She will not speak again,\" said the bodiless voice, but as Gwydion turned this way and that in the fog, a woman's solid figure materialized out of it. \"Oh, what have you done, my son?\"\n\n\"Was it you? Was it you?\" Gwydion demanded, his voice cracking in hysteria. \"Was it you called me murderer?\"\n\nMorgause stepped back, half afraid. \"No, no, I came but now-what have you done?\"\n\nGwydion flung himself at her, and she held him, stroking him as she had done when he was twelve years old. \"Niniane angered me-she threatened me-as the Gods witness it, Mother, I meant her no harm, but she threatened to go to Arthur and tell him I plotted against his precious Lancelet,\" Gwydion said, almost babbling. \"I struck her, I swear I meant only to frighten her, but she fell-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Morgause let Gwydion go and knelt beside Niniane. \"You struck an unlucky blow, my son-she is dead. There's nothing you can do now. We must go and tell Arthur's marshals and stewards.\"\n\nHis face had gone livid. \"Mother! The marshals-what will Arthur say?\"\n\nMorgause felt a great melting within her heart. He was in her hands, as when he had been a little helpless child whom Lot would have killed, his life washers, and he knew it. She folded him to her breast.\n\n\"Never mind, my love, you mustn't suffer for it, anymore than for any other you killed in battle,\" she said, looking down with triumph at Niniane's lifeless body. \"She could have fallen in the fog-it's along way to the bottom of the hill,\" she said, looking over the brow of Camelot, where it descended steeply into the mist. \"So, catch hold of her feet thus. Done is done, and nothing that happens to her now can make a difference.\" Her old hatred of Arthur surged up; Gwydion would bring him down, and he would do it with her help-and when it was done, she would beat his side, the lady who had set him on his throne! Niniane was no longer between them; she herself alone should be his support and his help.\n\nSilently, in the fog, the slight body of the Lady of Avalon disappeared into the mists. Later Arthur would call for her and when she did not appear, send men to search; but Gwydion, staring as if hypnotized into the mists, thought fora moment that he saw the black shadow of the Avalon barge somewhere on the waters between Camelot and Dragon Island. It seemed to him fora moment that Niniane, robed in black as the Death-crone, beckoned to him from the barge... and then it was gone." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Come, my son,\" said Morgause. \"You spent this morning in my rooms and the rest of the day you must spend with Arthur in his hall. Remember, you have not seen Niniane this day-when you come to Arthur, you must ask for her, even seem a little jealous, as if you feared to find her in his bed.\"\n\nAnd it was balm to her heart that he clutched at her and muttered, \"I will. I will, my mother. Surely you are the best of all mothers, the best of all women!\"\n\nAnd she held him fora moment and kissed him again, savoring her power, before she let him go." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gwenhwyfar lay wide-eyed in the darkness, waiting for the step of Lancelet, yet thinking of Morgause, smiling-almost leering-as she murmured, \"Ah, I envy you, my dear! Cormac is a fine young man, and hearty enough-but he has none of the grace and beauty of your lover.\"\n\nGwenhwyfar had bent her head and said nothing. Who was she to scorn Morgause, when she was doing the same thing? But it was too dangerous. The bishop, on his last Sunday, had preached a sermon on the great commandment against adultery, saying that the chastity of wives lay at the very root of the Christian way of living, since only by married chastity did women redeem the sin of Eve. Gwenhwyfar recalled the tale of that woman taken in adultery, whom they had brought to Christ; he had said, Let that one who had done no sin, cast at her the first stone. There had been none guiltless to cast it-but herein her court, there were many who were sinless, with Arthur himself to cast that stone. Christ had said to the woman, Go and sin no more. And that was what she must do....\n\nIt was not his body she desired. Morgause, sniggering over the lusty young man who washer lover, would never have believed how little difference that had made to either of them. Seldom, indeed, had he ever taken her in that way which was sin and dishonor-only in those first years, when they had had Arthur's acquiescence, to try and see if Gwenhwyfar could bear a son to the kingdom. There had been other ways to find pleasure, which she somehow felt less of a sin, less violation of Arthur's marriage rights in her body. And even so, it was not that she desired so much, only that she should be with him... it was a thing, she thought, almost more of the soul than the body. Why should a God of love condemn this? He might condemn the sin they had done, for which she had done penance over and over, but how could he condemn this, which was the truest love of the heart?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I have taken nothing from Arthur which he desired or needed of me. He must have a queen, a lady to keep his castle; for the rest, he wanted nothing of me save a son, and it was not I but God who denied him that.\n\nThere was a soft step in the darkness; she whispered, \"Lancelet?\"\n\n\"Not so.\" A glimmer of a tiny lamp in the darkness confused her; fora moment she saw what seemed a beloved face, grown young-then knew who it must be.\n\n\"How dare you? My women are not so far but that I can scream aloud, and there is none will believe that I summoned you here!\"\n\n\"Lie still,\" he said. \"There is a knife at your throat, my lady.\" And as she shrank away, clutching the bed clothing, \"Oh, don't flatter yourself, madam, I came not here for rape. Your charms are too stale for me, my lady, and too well tasted.\"\n\n\"That's enough,\" said a husky voice in the dark behind Gwydion. \"Don't mock her, man! This is a dirty business, snooping at bedchamber doors, and I wish I'd never heard of it! Quiet, all of you, and hide yourselves around the chamber!\"\n\nShe recognized Gawaine's face as her eyes adapted to the dim light, and beyond them a familiar form. \"Gareth! What do you here?\" she asked, sorrowfully. \"I thought you Lancelet's dearest friend.\"\n\n\"And so I am,\" he said grimly. \"I came to see no worse done to him than justice. That one\"-he flicked a contemptuous gesture at Gwydion-\"would cut his throat-and leave you to be accused of murder!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Be still,\" said Gwydion, and the light went out. Gwenhwyfar felt the pricking of the knife at her throat. \"If you speak a syllable to warn him, madam, I will cut your throat and take my chances explaining why to my lord Arthur.\" The point dug in till Gwenhwyfar, flinching with pain, wondered if it had actually drawn blood. She could hear small noises-the rustle of garments, the clink of weapons hurriedly muffled; how many men had he brought to this ambush? She lay silent, twisting her hands in despair. If only she could warn Lancelet... but she lay like a small animal in a snare, helpless.\n\nMinutes crawled by for the trapped woman silent between her pillows and the knife. After along time, she heard a tiny sound, a soft whistle like a bird call. Gwydion felt the tensing of her muscles and asked in a rasping whisper, \"Lancelet's signal?\" He dug the knife again into the yielding skin at her throat, and she whispered, sweating in terror, \"Yes.\"\n\nShe felt the straw beneath her rustle as he shifted his weight and moved away. \"There area dozen men in this room. Try to give him warning, and you will not live three seconds.\"\n\nShe heard sounds in the antechamber; Lancelet's cloak, his sword-ah, God, would they take him naked and weaponless? She tensed again, feeling in advance the knife driving into her body, but somehow she must warn him, must cry out-she opened her lips, but Gwydion-was it the Sight, how did he know?-thrust his hand cruelly over her face, smothering the cry. She writhed under his suffocating hand, then felt Lancelet's weight on the bed." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Gwen?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "he whispered. \"What is the matter? Did I hear you crying, my beloved?\"\n\nShe managed to writhe away from the concealing hand.\n\n\"Run!\" she screamed. \"It's a trick, a trap-\"\n\n\"Hell's doors!\" She could feel him, like a cat, springing back.\n\nGwydion's lamp flared; somehow the light went from hand to hand, until the room was filled with light, and Gawaine, Cai, and Gareth, with a dozen shadowy forms behind them, stepped forward. Gwenhwyfar huddled under the bedcover, and Lancelet stood still, quite naked, weaponless.\n\n\"Mordred,\" he said, in contempt. \"Such a trick is worthy of you!\"\n\nGawaine said formally, \"In the King's name, Lancelet, I accuse you of high treason. Get me your sword.\"\n\n\"Never mind that,\" said Gwydion, \"go and take it.\"\n\n\"Gareth! In God's name, why did you lend yourself to this?\"\n\nGareth's eyes were glistening as if with tears in the lamplight. \"I never believed it of you, Lancelet. I would to God I had fallen in battle before ever I saw this day.\"\n\nLancelet bent his head and Gwenhwyfar saw his eyes, panicky, move around the room. He muttered, \"Oh, God, Pellinore looked at me so when they came with the torches to take me in Elaine's bed-must I betray everyone, everyone?\" She wanted to reach out to him, to cry outwith pity and pain, to shelter him in her arms. But he would not look at her.\n\n\"Your sword,\" said Gawaine quietly. \"And dress yourself, Lancelet. I will not take you naked and disgraced into Arthur's presence. Enough men have witnessed your shame.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Don't let him get at his sword-\" some faceless voice in the darkness protested, but Gawaine gestured the speaker contemptuously into silence." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lancelet turned slowly away from them, into the tiny antechamber where he had left clothing, armor, weapons. She heard him drawing on his garments. Gareth stood, his hand on his sword, as Lancelet came into the room, dressed but weaponless, his hands in full view.\n\n\"I am glad for your sake that you will come with us quietly,\" said Gwydion. \"Mother\"-he turned into the shadows, and Gwenhwyfar saw, with consternation, Queen Morgause standing there-\"see to the Queen. She shall be in your charge until Arthur may deal with her.\"\n\nMorgause advanced on the bedside. Gwenhwyfar had never noticed before how large a woman Morgause was, and how ruthless her jawline.\n\n\"Come along, my lady, get into your gown,\" she said. \"And I will help you peg your hair-you do not want to go naked and shameless before the King. And be glad there was a woman here. These men-\" she looked contemptuously at them-\"meant to wait until they could catch him actually inside you.\" Gwenhwyfar shrank from the brutality of the words; slowly, with lagging fingers, she began to draw on her gown. \"Must I dress before all these men?\"\n\nGwydion did not wait for Morgause to answer. He said, \"Don't try to cozen us, shameless woman! Dare you pretend you have anything left of decency or modesty? Put on that gown, madam, or my mother shall bundle you into it like a sack!\"\n\nHe calls her mother. No wonder Gwydion is cruel and ruthless, with the Queen of Lothian to foster him! Yet Gwenhwyfar had seen Morgause so often as merely a lazy, jolly, greedy woman-what had brought her to this? She sat still, fastening the laces of her shoes." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lancelet said quietly, \"It is my sword you want, then?\"\n\n\"You know it,\" Gawaine said.\n\n\"Why, then\"-moving almost more swiftly than the eye could follow, Lancelet leaped for Gawaine, and in another catlike movement, had Gawaine's own sword in his hand-\"come and take it, damn you!\" He lunged with Gawaine's sword at Gwydion, who fell across the bed, howling, bleeding from a great slash in his backside; then, as Cai stepped forward, sword in hand, Lancelet caught up a cushion from the bed and pushed Cai backward with it so that he fell into the advancing men, who tripped over him. He leaped upon the bed and said, low and short to Gwenhwyfar, \"Keep perfectly still and be ready!\"\n\nShe gasped, shrinking back and making herself small in a corner. They were coming at him again; he ran one of them through, briefly engaged another, and over that one's body, lunged and slashed at a shadowy attacker. The giant form of Gareth crumpled slowly to the floor. Lancelet was already fighting someone else, but Gwydion, bleeding, cried out, \"Gareth!\" and flung himself across the body of his foster-brother. In that moment of horrified lull, while Gwydion knelt, sobbing, over Gareth's body, Gwenhwyfar felt Lancelet catch her upon his arm, whirl, kill someone at the door-she never knew who it was-and then she was on her feet in the corridor, and Lancelet was pushing her, with frantic haste, ahead of him. Someone came at him out of the dark and Lancelet killed him, and they ran on.\n\n\"Make for the stables,\" he gasped. \"Horses, and out of here, fast.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Wait!\" She caught at his arm. \"If we throw ourselves on Arthur's mercy-or you escape and I will stay and face Arthur-\"\n\n\"Gareth might have seen justice done. But with Gwydion's hand in it, do you think either of us would ever reach the King alive? I named him well Mordred!\" He hurried her into the stables, swiftly flung a saddle on his horse. \"No time to find yours. Ride behind me, and hold on well-I'm going to have to ride down the guards at the gate.\" And Gwenhwyfar realized she was seeing anew Lancelet-not her lover, but the hardened warrior. How many men had he killed this night? She had no time for fear as he lifted heron his horse and sprang up before her.\n\n\"Hang onto me,\" he said. \"I'll have no time to look after you.\" He turned then, and gave her one hard, long kiss. \"This is my fault, I should have known that infernal bastard would be spying-well, whatever happens now, at least it's over. No more lies and no more hiding. You're mine forever-\" and he broke off. She could feel him trembling, but he turned savagely to grip the reins. \"And now we go!\"\n\nMorgause looked on in horror as Gwydion, weeping, bent over her youngest son.\n\nWords spoken in half earnest, years ago-Gwydion had refused to take the lists on the opposite side from Gareth, even in a mock battle. It seemed tome that you lay dying, he had said... and I knew it was my doing you lay without the spark of life.... I will not tempt that fate.\n\nLancelet had done this, Lancelet whom Gareth had always loved more than any other man." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "One of the men in the room stepped forward and said, \"They're getting away-\"\n\n\"Do you think I care about that?\" Gwydion winced, and Morgause realized that he was bleeding, that his blood was flowing and mingling with Gareth's on the floor of the chamber. She caught up the linen sheet from the bed, tore it, and wadded it against Gwydion's wound.\n\nGawaine said somberly, \"No man in all of Britain will hide them now. Lancelet is everywhere outcast. He has been taken in treason to his king, and his very life is forfeit. God! How I wish it had not come to this!\" He came and looked at Gwydion's wound, then shrugged. \"No more than a flesh cut-see, the bleeding is slowed already, it will heal, but you will not sit in comfort for some days. Gareth-\" His voice broke; the great, rough, greying man began to weep like a child. \"Gareth had worse fortune, and I will have Lancelet's life for it, if I die myself at his hands. Ah God, Gareth, my little one, my little brother-\" and Gawaine bent and cradled the big body against him. He said thickly, through sobs, \"Was it worth it, Gwydion, was it worth Gareth's life?\"\n\n\"Come away, my boy,\" said Morgause, through a tightness in her own throat-Gareth, her baby, her last child; she had lost him long ago to Arthur, but still she remembered a fair-haired little boy, clutching a wooden painted knight in his hand. And one day you and I shall goon quest together, sir Lancelet... always Lancelet. But now Lancelet had overreached himself, and everywhere in the land every man's hand would be against him. And still she had Gwydion, her beloved, the one who would one day be King, and she at his side." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Come, my lad, come away, you can do nothing for Gareth now. Let me bind up your wound, then we shall go to Arthur and tell him what has befallen, so that he may send out his men to seek for the traitors-\"\n\nGwydion shook her grip from his arm. \"Getaway from me, curse you,\" he said in a terrible voice. \"Gareth was the best of us, and I would not have sacrificed him fora dozen kings! It was you and your spite against Arthur always urging me on, as if I cared what bed the Queen slept in-as if Gwenhwyfar were any worse than you, when from the time I was ten years old you had this one or that one in your bed-\"\n\n\"Oh, my son-\" she whispered, aghast. \"How can you speak so tome? Gareth was my son too-\"\n\n\"What did you ever care for Gareth, or for any of us, or for anything but your own pleasure and your own ambition? You would urge me to a throne, not for my sake but for your own power!\" He thrust away her clinging hands. \"Get you back to Lothian, or to hell if the devil will have you, but if ever I set eyes on you again, I swear I will forget all except that you were the murderer of the one brother I loved, the one kinsman-\" and as Gawaine urgently pushed his mother from the chamber, she could hear Gwydion weeping again. \"Oh, Gareth, Gareth, I should have died first-\"\n\nGawaine said shortly, \"Cormac, take the Queen of Lothian to her chamber.\"\n\nHis strong arm was holding her upright, and after they had moved down the hall, after that dreadful sobbing had died away behind her, Morgause began to draw breath freely again. How could he turn on her this way? When had she ever done anything except for his sake? She must show decent mourning for Gareth, certainly, but Gareth was Arthur's man, and surely Gwydion would have realized it, sooner or later. She looked up at Cormac. \"I cannot walk so fast-hold back a little.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Certainly, my lady.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She was very much aware of his arm enfolding her, holding her. She let herself lean a little on him. She had bragged to Gwenhwyfar of her young lover, but she had never yet actually taken him to her bed-she had kept him delaying, dangling. She turned her head against his shoulder. \"You have been faithful to your queen, Cormac.\"\n\n\"I am loyal to my royal house, as all my people have ever been,\" the young man said in their own language, and she smiled.\n\n\"Here is my chamber-help me inside, will you? I can scarce walk-\"\n\nHe supported her, eased her down on her bed. \"Is it my lady's will that I call her women?\"\n\n\"No,\" she whispered, catching at his hands, aware that her tears were seductive. \"You have been loyal tome, Cormac, and now is that loyalty to be rewarded-come here-\"\n\nShe held out her arms, half shutting her eyes, then opened them, in shock, as he pulled awkwardly away.\n\n\"I-I think you are distraught, madam,\" he stammered. \"What do you think I am? What do you take me for? Why, lady, I have as much respect for you as for my own grandmother! Should I take advantage of an old womanlike you when you are beside yourself with grief? Let me call your waiting-woman, and she will make you a nice posset and I will forget what you said in the madness of grief, madam.\"\n\nMorgause could feel the blow in the very pit of her stomach, repeated blows on her heart-my own grandmother... old woman... the madness of grief.... The whole of the world had suddenly gone mad-Gwydion insane with ingratitude, this man who had looked on her so long with desire turning on her... she wanted to scream, to call for her servants and have him whipped till his back ran crimson with his blood and the walls rang with his shrieking for mercy. But even as she opened her mouth for that, the whole weight of her life seemed to descend on her in deadly weariness." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Yes,\" she said dully, \"I do not know what I was saying-call my women, Cormac, and tell them to bring me some wine. We will ride at daybreak for Lothian.\"\n\nAnd when he had gone, she sat on the bed without the strength to lift her hands.\n\nI am an old woman. And I have lost my son Gareth, and I have lost Gwydion, and I will never now be Queen in Camelot. I have lived too long." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Clinging to Lancelet's back, her gown pulled up above her knees and her bare legs hanging down, Gwenhwyfar closed her eyes as they rode hard through the night. She had no idea where they were going. Lancelet was a stranger, a hard-faced warrior, a man she had never known. There was a time, she thought, when I would have been terrified, out like this under the open sky, at night... but she felt excited, exhilarated. At the back of her mind was pain too, mourning for the gentle Gareth who had been like a son to Arthur and deserved better of life than to be struck down so-she wondered if Lancelet even knew whom he had killed! And there was grief for the end of her years with Arthur, and all they had shared for so long. But from what had happened this night there could be no going back. She had to lean forward to hear Lancelet over the rushing of wind. \"We must stop somewhere soon, the horse must rest-and if we ride in daylight, my face and yours are known all through this countryside.\"\n\nShe nodded; she had not breath enough to speak. After a time they came within a little wood, and there he pulled to a stop and lifted her gently from the horse's back. He led the horse to water, then spread his cloak on the ground for her to sit. He stared at the sword by his side. \"I still have Gawaine's sword. When I was a boy-I heard tales of the fighting madness, but I knew not that it was within our blood-\" and sighed heavily. \"There is blood on the sword. Whom did I kill, Gwen?\"\n\nShe could not bear to see his sorrow and guilt. \"There was more than one-\"\n\n\"I know I struck Gwydion-Mordred, damn him. I know I wounded him, I could still act with my own will then. I don't suppose\"-his voice hardened-\"that I had the luck to kill him?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Silently she shook her head.\n\n\"Then who?\" She did not speak; he leaned over and took her shoulders so roughly that fora moment she was afraid of the warrior as she had never been of the lover. \"Gwen, tell me! In God's name-did I kill my cousin Gawaine?\"\n\nThis she could answer without hesitation, glad it was Gawaine he had named. \"No. I swear it, not Gawaine.\"\n\n\"It could have been anyone,\" he said, staring at the sword and suddenly shuddering. \"I swear it to you, Gwen, I knew not even that I had a sword in my hand. I struck Gwydion as if he had been a dog, and then I remember no more until we were riding-\" and he knelt before her, trembling. He whispered, \"I am mad again, I think, as once I was mad-\"\n\nShe reached out, caught him against her in a passion of wild tenderness. \"No, no,\" she whispered, \"ah, no, my love-I have brought all this on you, disgrace and exile-\"\n\n\"You say that,\" he whispered, \"when I have brought them on you, taken you away from everything that meant anything to you-\"\n\nReckless, she pressed herself to him and said, \"Would to God that you had done it before!\"\n\n\"Ah, it is not too late-I am young again, with you beside me, and you-you have never been more beautiful, my own dear love-\" He pushed her back on the cloak, suddenly laughing in abandon. \"Ah, now there's none to come between us, none to interrupt us, my own-ah, Gwen, Gwen-\"\n\nAs she came into his arms, she remembered the rising sun and a room in Meleagrant's castle. It was like that now; and she clung to him, as if there were nothing else in the world, nothing more for either of them, not ever." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They slept a little, curled together in the cloak, and wakened still in each other's arms, the sun searching for them through the green branches overhead. He smiled, touching her face.\n\n\"Do you know-never before have I wakened in your arms without fear. Yet now I am happy, in spite of all...\" and he laughed at her, a note of wildness coming into the laughter. There were leaves in his white hair, and leaves caught in his beard, and his tunic was rumpled; she put up her hands and felt grass and leaves in her own hair, which was coming down. She had noway to comb it, but she caught it in handfuls and parted it to braid, then bound the end of the single braid with a scrap ripped from the edge of her torn skirt. She said, her voice catching with laughter, \"What a pair of wild ragamuffins we are! Who would know the High Queen and the brave Lancelet?\"\n\n\"Does it matter to you?\"\n\n\"No, my love. Not in the least.\"\n\nHe brushed leaves and grass out of his hair and beard. \"I must getup and catch the horse,\" he said, \"and perhaps there will be a farm nearby where we can find you some bread or a drink of ale-I have not a single coin with me, nor anything worth money, save my sword, and this-\" He touched a little gold pinon his tunic. \"For the moment, at least, we are beggars, though if we could reach Pellinore's castle, I still have a house there, where I lived with Elaine, and servants-and gold, too, to pay our passage overseas. Will you come with me to Less Britain, Gwenhwyfar?\"\n\n\"Anywhere,\" she whispered, her voice breaking, and at that moment she meant it absolutely-to Less Britain, or to Rome, or to the country beyond the world's end, only that she might be with him forever. She pulled him down to her again and forgot everything in his arms." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But when, hours later, he lifted heron the horse and they went on at a soberer pace, she fell silent, troubled. Yes, no doubt they could make their way overseas. Yet when this night's work was talked from one end of the world to the other, shame and scorn would comedown on Arthur, so that for his own honor he must seek them out wherever they fled. And soon or late, Lancelet must know that he had slain the friend who was dearest to him in all the world save only Arthur's self. He had done it in madness, but she knew how grief and guilt would consume him and in time he would remember, when he looked on her, not that she was his love, but that he had killed his friend, unknowing, for her sake; and that he had betrayed Arthur for her sake. If he must make war on Arthur for her sake, he would hate her....\n\nNo. He would love her still, but he would never forget by whose blood he had come to possess her. Never would one or the other-love or hate-take power over him, but he would live with them both, tearing doubly at his heart, and one day they would tear his mind to bits and he would go mad again. She clung close to the warmth of his body, leaning her head against his back, and wept. She knew, for the first time, that she was stronger than he, and it cut at her heart with a deathly sword.\n\nAnd so when they paused again, she was dry-eyed, though she knew that the weeping had moved inward to her heart and never would she cease to mourn. \"I will not go overseas with you, Lancelet, nor will I bring strife among all the old Companions of the Round Table. When-when Mordred has his way, they will all beat odds,\" she said, \"and a day will come when Arthur will need all his friends. I will not be like that lady of old time-washer name Helen, that fair one in the saga you used to tell tome?-who had all the kings and knights of her day at strife over her in Troy.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"But what will you do?\" She tried not to hear that even through the bewilderment and grief in his voice, there was a thread of relief.\n\n\"You will take me to the Isle of Glastonbury,\" she said. \"There is a nunnery there where I was schooled. There I will go, and I will tell them only that evil tongues made a quarrel between you and Arthur for my sake. When sometime has passed, I will send word to Arthur so that he knows where I am, and knows that I am not with you. And then he can with honor make his peace with you.\"\n\nHe protested, \"No! No, I cannot let you go-\" but she knew, with a sinking at her heart, that she would have no difficulty persuading him. Perhaps, against all odds, she had hoped that he would fight for her, that he would carry her off to Less Britain with the sheer force of his will and passion. But that was not Lancelet's way. He was as he was, and whatever he was, so and no other way he had been when first she loved him, and so he was now, and so she would love him for the rest of her life. And at last he strove no more with her, but set the horse's head on the road toward Glastonbury.\n\nThe long shadow of the church lay across the waters when they set foot at last on the boat that would bring them to the island, and the church bells were ringing out the Angelus. Gwenhwyfar bent her head and whispered a word of prayer.\n\nMary, God's Holy Mother, have pity on me, a sinful woman... and then fora moment it seemed to her that she stood beneath a great light, as she had stood on that day when the Grail passed through the hall. Lancelet satin the prow of the ferry, his head lowered. He had not touched her from the moment she had told him what she had decided, and she was glad; a single touch of his hand would have worn away her resolve. Mist lay on the Lake, and for an instant it seemed to her that she saw a shadow, like the shadow of their own boat, a barge draped in black, with a dark figure at the prow-but no. It was only a shadow, a shadow...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "The boat scraped on the shore." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He helped her from it. \"Gwenhwyfar-are you certain?\"\n\n\"I am certain,\" she said, trying to sound surer than she felt.\n\n\"Then I will escort you to the doors of the convent,\" he said, and it suddenly struck her that this took, for him, more courage than all the killing he had done for her sake.\n\nThe old abbess recognized the High Queen, and was awed and amazed that she should return, but Gwenhwyfar told the tale she had decided on-that evil tongues had wrought a quarrel between Arthur and Lancelet for her sake, and she had chosen to take refuge here so they might amend their quarrel.\n\nThe old woman patted her cheek as if she were the little Gwenhwyfar who had been lessoned here when she was a child. \"You are welcome to stay as long as you wish it, my daughter. Forever, if that is your will. In God's house we turn no one away. But here you will not be a queen,\" she warned, \"only one of our sisters.\"\n\nGwenhwyfar sighed with utter relief. She had not known till this moment how heavy it was, the weight of being a queen. \"I must say farewell to my knight, and wish him well, and bid him amend the quarrel with my husband.\"\n\nThe abbess nodded gravely. \"In these days, our good King Arthur cannot spare a single one of his knights, and surely not the good sir Lancelet.\"\n\nGwenhwyfar went out into the anteroom of the convent. Lancelet was there, wandering restlessly. He took her hands. \"I cannot bear to say farewell to you here, Gwenhwyfar-ah, my lady, my love, must it be this way?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"It must be so,\" she said pitilessly, but knowing that for the first time she acted without thought of herself." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Your heart was always with Arthur, my dearest. I often think the only sin we did was not that we loved, but that I came between the love you had for each other.\" If it could always have been among us three as it was on that Beltane night with Morgaine's love charm, she thought, there would have been less of sin. The sin was not that we lay together, but that there was strife, and less of love therefore. \"I send you back to Arthur with all my heart, dearest. Tell him for me that I loved him never the less.\"\n\nHis face was almost transfigured. \"I know that now,\" he said. \"And I know, too, that I loved him never the less, and I felt always that I wronged you by loving him....\" He would have kissed her, but it was not suitable here. Instead he bent over her hand. \"While you are in God's house, pray for me, lady.\"\n\nMy love for you is a prayer, she thought. Love is the only prayer I know. She thought she had never loved him so much as at this moment, when she heard the convent door close, hard and final, and felt the walls shutting her in.\n\nSo safe, so protected, those walls had made her feel, in that daylong past. Now she knew that she would walk between them all the rest of her life. When I had freedom, she thought, I desired it not, and feared it. And now, when I have learned to love it and long for it, I am renouncing it in the name of my love. Dimly she felt that this was right-the acceptable gift and sacrifice to bring before God. But as she walked through the nuns' cloister, she looked at the walls closing her in, trapping her." }, { "from": "human", "value": "For my love." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And for the love of God, she thought, and felt a small seed of comfort stealing through her. Lancelet would go to the church where Galahad had died, and there he would pray. Perhaps he would remember a day when the mists of Avalon had opened, and she and he and Morgaine had stood together, lost, knee-deep in the waters of the Lake. She thought of Morgaine too, with a sudden passion of love and tenderness. Mary, Holy Mother of God, be with her too, and bring her to you one day....\n\nThe walls, the walls, they would drive her mad, closing her in, she would never be free again.... No. For her love, and for the love of God, she would even learn to love them again one day. Folding her hands in prayer, Gwenhwyfar walked down the cloister to the sisters' enclosure, and went inside forever.\n\nMorgaine speaks...\n\nI thought I was beyond the Sight; Viviane, still younger than I, had renounced it, chosen another to be Lady in her place. But there was none to sit in the shrine of the Lady after me, and none to approach the Goddess. I saw it, helpless, when Niniane died, and I could not stretch forth my hand.\n\nI had loosed this monster upon the world, and I had acquiesced in that move which should send him to throw down the King Stag. And I saw it from afar when, on Dragon Island, the shrine was thrown down and the deer hunted in the forest, without love, without challenge, without appeal to her who was giver of the deer; only arrows from afar and the edge of the spear, and her people hunted down like her deer. The tides of the world were changing. There were times when I saw Camelot too, drifting in the mist, and the wars raging up and down the land again, the Northmen who were the new foe plundering and burning... anew world, and new Gods." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Truly the Goddess had departed, even from Avalon, and I, mortal as I was, remained there alone....\n\nAnd yet, one night, some dream, some vision, some fragment of the Sight, drove me, at the hour of the dark moon, to the mirror.\n\nAt first I saw only the wars raging up and down the land. I never knew what came between Arthur and Gwydion, although, after Lancelet fled with Gwenhwyfar, there was enmity among the old Companions, blood feud declared between Lancelet and Gawaine. Later, when Gawaine lay dying, that great-hearted man begged Arthur, with his last breath, to make his peace with Lancelet and summon him to Camelot once more. But it was too late; not even Lancelet could rally Arthur's legion again, not when so many followed Gwydion, who now led half of Arthur's own men and most of the Saxons and even a few of the renegade Northmen against him. And in that hour before dawn, the mirror cleared, and in the unearthly light I saw the face of my son at last with a sword in his hand, circling slowly, in the darkness, seeking...\n\nSeeking, as Arthur in his day had sought, to challenge the King Stag. I had forgotten what a small man Gwydion was, like Lancelet. Elf-arrow, the Saxons had called Lancelet; small, dark, and deadly. Arthur would have towered more than ahead above him.\n\nAh, in the days of the Goddess, man went against King Stag to seek his kingship! Arthur had been content to await his father's death, but now anew thing was coming upon this land-father and son enemies, and sons to challenge fathers fora crown... it seemed tome that I could see a land that ran red with blood, where sons were not content to await their crowning day. And now, in the circling dark, it seemed that I could see Arthur too, tall and fair and alone, cutoff from his men... and Excalibur naked in his hand." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But through and around the prowling figures I could see Arthur in his tent, restlessly asleep, Lancelet guarding him as he slept; and somewhere, too, I knew Gwydion slept among his own armies. Yet some part of them prowled restless on the shores of the Lake, seeking in the darkness, swords naked, against one another.\n\n\"Arthur! Arthur, stand to the challenge, or do you fear me too much?\"\n\n\"No man can say that I ever ran from a challenge.\" Arthur turned as Gwydion came from the wood. \"So,\" he said, \"it is you, Mordred. I nevermore than half believed that you had turned against me till now when I see it with my own eyes. I thought those who told me so sought to undermine my courage by telling me the worst that could befall. What have I done? Why have you become my enemy? Why, my son?\"\n\n\"Do you truly believe that I was ever anything else, my father?\" He spoke the word with the greatest bitterness. \"For what else was I begotten and born, but for this moment when I challenge you fora cause that is no longer within the borders of this world? I no longer even know why I am to challenge you-only that there is nothing else left in my life but for this hatred.\"\n\nArthur said quietly, \"I knew Morgaine hated me, but I did not know she hated meas much as this. Must you do her will even in this, Gwydion?\"\n\n\"Do you think I do her will, you fool?\" Gwydion snarled. \"If anything could bid me spare you, it is that-that I do Morgaine's will, that she wishes you overthrown, and I know not whether I hate more her or you...\"\n\nAnd then, stepping forth into their dream or vision or whatever it might be, I knew that I stood on the shores of the Lake where they challenged each other, stood between them clad in the robes of a priestess." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Must this be?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I call upon you both, in the name of the Goddess, to amend your quarrel. I sinned against you, Arthur, and against you, Gwydion, but your hate is for me, not for each other, and in the name of the Goddess I beg of you-\"\n\n\"What is the Goddess tome?\" Arthur tightened his fist on the hilt of Excalibur. \"I saw her always in your face, but you turned away from me, and when the Goddess rejected me, I sought another God....\"\n\nAnd Gwydion said, looking on me with contempt, \"I needed not the Goddess, but the woman who mothered me, and you put me into the hands of one who had no fear of any Goddess or any God.\"\n\nI tried to cry out, \"I had no choice! I did not choose-\" but they came at each other with their swords, rushing through meas if I were made of air, and it seemed that their swords met in my body... and then I was in Avalon again, staring in horror at the mirror where I could see nothing, nothing but the widening stain of blood in the sacred waters of the Well. My mouth was dry and my heart pounding as if it would beat a hole in the walls of my chest, and the taste of ruin and death was bitter on my lips.\n\nI had failed, failed, failed! I was false to the Goddess, if indeed there was any Goddess except for myself; false to Avalon, false to Arthur, false to brother and son and lover... and all I had sought was in ruin. In the sky was a pale and reddening flush where, sometime soon, the sun would rise; and beyond the mists of Avalon, cold in the sky, I knew that somewhere Arthur and Gwydion would meet, this day, for the last time." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As I went to the shore to summon the barge, it seemed tome that the little dark people were all around me and that I walked among them as the priestess I had been. I stood in the barge alone, and yet I knew there were others standing therewith me, robed and crowned, Morgaine the Maiden, who had summoned Arthur to the running of the deer and the challenge of the King Stag, and Morgaine the Mother who had been torn asunder when Gwydion was born, and the Queen of North Wales, summoning the eclipse to send Accolon raging against Arthur, and the Dark Queen of Fairy... or was it the Death-crone who stood at my side? And as the barge neared the shore, I heard the last of his followers cry, \"Look-look, there, the barge with the four fair queens in the sunrise, the fairy barge of Avalon....\"\n\nHe lay there, his hair matted with blood, my Gwydion, my lover, my son... and at his feet Gwydion lay dead, my son, the child I had never known. I bent and covered his face with my own veil. And I knew that it was the end of an age. In the days past, the young stag had thrown down the King Stag, and become King Stag in his turn; but the deer had been slaughtered, and the King Stag had killed the young stag and there would be none after him...\n\nAnd the King Stag must die in his turn.\n\nI knelt at his side. \"The sword, Arthur. Excalibur. Take it in your hand. Take it, and fling it from you, into the waters of the Lake.\"\n\nThe Sacred Regalia were gone out of this world forever, and the last of them, the sword Excalibur, must go with them. But he whispered, protesting, holding it tight, \"No-it must be kept for those who come after-to rally their cause, the sword of Arthur-\" and looked up into the eyes of Lancelet. \"Take it, Galahad-hear you not the trumpets from Camelot, calling to Arthur's legion? Take it-for the Companions-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No,\" I told him quietly. \"That day is past. None after you must pretend or claim to bear the sword of Arthur.\" I loosed his fingers gently from the hilt. \"Take it, Lancelet,\" I said softly, \"but fling it from you far into the waters of the Lake. Let the mists of Avalon swallow it forever.\"\n\nLancelet went quietly to do my bidding. I know not if he saw me, or who he thought I was. And I cradled Arthur against my breast. His life was fading fast; I knew it, but I was beyond tears.\n\n\"Morgaine,\" he whispered. His eyes were bewildered and full of pain. \"Morgaine, was it all for nothing then, what we did, and all that we tried to do? Why did we fail?\"\n\nIt was my own question, and I had no answer; but from somewhere, the answer came. \"You did not fail, my brother, my love, my child. You held this land in peace for many years, so that the Saxons did not destroy it. You held back the darkness fora whole generation, until they were civilized men, with learning and music and faith in God, who will fight to save something of the beauty of the times that are past. If this land had fallen to the Saxons when Uther died, then would all that was beautiful or good have perished forever from Britain. And so you did not fail, my love. None of us knows how she will do her will-only that it will be done.\"\n\nAnd I knew not, even then, whether what I spoke was truth, or whether I spoke to comfort him, in love, as with the little child Igraine had put into my arms when I was but a child myself; Morgaine, she had told me, take care of your little brother, and so I had always done, so I would always do, now and beyond life... or was it the Goddess herself who had put Arthur into my arms?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He pressed his failing fingers over the great cut at his breast. \"If I had but-the scabbard you fashioned for me, Morgaine-I should not lie here now with my life slowly bleeding forth from me.... Morgaine, I dreamed-and in my dream I cried out for you, but I could not hold you-\"\n\nI held him close. In the first light of the rising sun I saw Lancelet raise Excalibur in his hand, then fling it as hard as he could. It flew through the air end over end, the sun glinting as if on the wing of a white bird; then it fell, twisting, and I saw no more; my eyes were misted with tears and the growing light.\n\nThen I heard Lancelet: \"I saw a hand rising from the Lake-a hand that took the sword, and brandished it three times in the air, and then drew it beneath the water...\"\n\nI had seen nothing, only the glimmer of light on a fish that broke the surface of the Lake; but I doubt not that he saw what he said he saw.\n\n\"Morgaine,\" Arthur whispered, \"is it really you? I cannot see you, Morgaine, it is so dark here-is the sun setting? Morgaine, take me to Avalon, where you can heal me of this wound-take me home, Morgaine-\"\n\nHis head was heavy on my breast, heavy as the child in my own childish arms, heavy as the King Stag who had come tome in triumph. Morgaine, my mother had called impatiently, take care of the baby... and all my life I had borne him with me. I held him close and wiped away his tears with my veil, and he reached up and caught at my hand with his own.\n\n\"But it is really you,\" he murmured, \"it is you, Morgaine... you have comeback tome... and you are so young and fair... I will always seethe Goddess with your face... Morgaine, you will not leave me again, will you?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I will never leave you again, my brother, my baby, my love,\" I whispered to him, and I kissed his eyes. And he died, just as the mists rose and the sun shone full over the shores of Avalon." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "In the spring of the year after this, Morgaine had a curious dream.\n\nShe dreamed that she was in the ancient Christian chapel upon Avalon, builtin the old times by that Joseph of Arimathea who had come here from the Holy Land. And there, before that altar where Galahad had died, Lancelet stood in the robes of a priest, and his face was solemn and shining. In her dream she went, as she had never done in any Christian church, to the altar rail for the sharing of their bread and wine, and Lancelet bent and set the cup to her lips and she drank. And then it seemed to her that he knelt in his turn, and he said to her, \"Take this cup, you who have served the Goddess. For all the Gods are one God, and we are all One, who serve the One.\" And as she took the cup in her hands to set it to his lips in her turn, priestess to priest, he was young and beautiful as he had been years ago. And she saw that the cup in her hands was the Grail.\n\nAnd then he cried out, as he had done when Galahad knelt before him, \"Ah, the light-the light-\" and fell forward and lay on the stones without moving; and Morgaine woke in her isolated dwelling on Avalon with that cry of rapture still ringing in her ears; and she was alone.\n\nIt was very early, and mist lay thick on Avalon. She rose quietly and robed herself in the dark garb of a priestess, but she tied her veil around her head so that the crescent tattoo there was invisible.\n\nShe went quietly out into the stillness of the dawn, taking the downward path beside the Sacred Well. Still as it was, she could sense noiseless footsteps, silent as shadows, behind her. She was never alone; the little dark people always attended her, though she seldom actually saw them-she was their mother and their priestess and they would never leave her. But when she came near the shadow of the ancient Christian chapel, the footsteps gradually ceased; they would not follow heron this ground. Morgaine paused at the door." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "In your role as the author's collaborator, continue the tale.\nTags: fantasy, arthurian, historical fantasy\nAuthor: Marion Zimmer Bradley\nTitle: The Mists of Avalon\nChapter: 72" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "In the spring of the year after this, Morgaine had a curious dream.\n\nShe dreamed that she was in the ancient Christian chapel upon Avalon, builtin the old times by that Joseph of Arimathea who had come here from the Holy Land. And there, before that altar where Galahad had died, Lancelet stood in the robes of a priest, and his face was solemn and shining. In her dream she went, as she had never done in any Christian church, to the altar rail for the sharing of their bread and wine, and Lancelet bent and set the cup to her lips and she drank. And then it seemed to her that he knelt in his turn, and he said to her, \"Take this cup, you who have served the Goddess. For all the Gods are one God, and we are all One, who serve the One.\" And as she took the cup in her hands to set it to his lips in her turn, priestess to priest, he was young and beautiful as he had been years ago. And she saw that the cup in her hands was the Grail.\n\nAnd then he cried out, as he had done when Galahad knelt before him, \"Ah, the light-the light-\" and fell forward and lay on the stones without moving; and Morgaine woke in her isolated dwelling on Avalon with that cry of rapture still ringing in her ears; and she was alone.\n\nIt was very early, and mist lay thick on Avalon. She rose quietly and robed herself in the dark garb of a priestess, but she tied her veil around her head so that the crescent tattoo there was invisible.\n\nShe went quietly out into the stillness of the dawn, taking the downward path beside the Sacred Well. Still as it was, she could sense noiseless footsteps, silent as shadows, behind her. She was never alone; the little dark people always attended her, though she seldom actually saw them-she was their mother and their priestess and they would never leave her. But when she came near the shadow of the ancient Christian chapel, the footsteps gradually ceased; they would not follow heron this ground. Morgaine paused at the door." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Inside the chapel there was a glimmer of light, the light they always kept in their sanctuary. Fora moment, so real was the memory of her dream, Morgaine was tempted to step inside... she could hardly believe she would not see Lancelet there, struck down by the magical brilliance of the Grail... but no. She had no business there, and she would not intrude on their God; and if indeed the Grail was there, it had gone beyond her reach.\n\nYet the dream remained with her. Had it been sent as a warning? Lancelet was younger than she herself was... she knew not how time ran in the outer world. Avalon, now, had gone so far into the mists that it might be with Avalon as it had been with the fairy country when she was young-while a single year passed within Avalon, three or five or even seven years might have run by in the outer world. And so what it had come to her to do should be done now, while she could still come and go between the worlds.\n\nShe knelt before the Holy Thorn, whispering a soft prayer to the Goddess, and asking leave of the tree; then she cut a slip for planting. It was not the first time: in these last years, whenever one had come to Avalon and returned to the outside world, wandering Druid or pilgrim priest... fora few of them could still come to the ancient chapel on Avalon... she had sent with him a slip of the Holy Thorn, so that it might still blossom in the world outside. But this she must do with her own hands.\n\nNever, except at Arthur's crowning, had she set foot on the other island... except, perhaps, for that day when the mists had opened, and Gwenhwyfar had somehow fallen or wandered through. But now, deliberately, she called the barge, and when it was out in the Lake, sent it into the mists, so that when it glided forth into the sunlight again, she could seethe long shadow of the church lying over the Lake, and hear the soft tolling of a bell. She saw her followers shrink from the sound, and knew that here, too, they would not follow her, nor set foot. So be it, then; the last thing she wished for was to have the priests on that isle staring in fear and dread at the barge from Avalon. Unseen, they glided toward the shore and unseen she stepped onto the land, watching the black-draped barge vanish again into the mists. And then, the basket over her arm-like any old market woman or peddler come hereon pilgrimage, she thought-she went silently up the path from the shore." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Only a hundred years or less, certainly less in Avalon, that these worlds have diverged; yet already the world here is different. The trees were different, and the paths, and she stopped, bewildered, at the foot of a little hill-surely there was nothing like this on Avalon? She had somehow thought the land would be the same, only the buildings different, for they were, after all, the same island, separated only by some magical change... but now she saw that they were very different.\n\nAnd then she saw, winding down the hill toward the little church, a procession of robed monks, and they bore with them, toward the church, a body on its bier.\n\nSo I saw truly, then, even though I thought it a dream. She stopped, and as the monks brought the body to rest before taking it into the church, she went forward and drew back the pall from the dead face.\n\nLancelet's face was drawn and lined, far older than when they had parted... she did not want to think how much older. But she saw that only fora moment; then what she saw on his face was only the sweet and marvelous look of peace. He lay smiling, looking so far beyond her that she knew on what his dying eyes had rested.\n\nShe whispered, \"So at last you found your Grail.\"\n\nOne of the monks who carried him said, \"Perhaps you knew him in the world, sister?\" and she knew that in her dark garb, he thought her one of them.\n\n\"He was a-a kinsman of mine.\"\n\nCousin, lover, friend... but that was long ago. At the end we were priestess and priest.\n\n\"I thought as much,\" said the monk, \"for they called him Lancelet at the court of Arthur, in the old days, but here among us we called him Galahad. He had been with us for many years, and he was made priest but a few days ago.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "So far you came in your search fora God who would not mock you, my cousin!\n\nThe monks who carried him raised him again to their shoulders. The one who had spoken with her said, \"Pray for his soul, sister,\" and she bowed her head. She could not feel grief; not now, when she had seen the reflection of that faraway light on his face.\n\nBut she would not follow him into the church. Here the veil is thin. Here Galahad knelt, and saw the light of the Grail in the other chapel, the chapel on Avalon, and reached for it, reached through the worlds, and so died....\n\nAnd here at last Lancelet has come to follow his son.\n\nMorgaine walked slowly along the path, half ready to abandon what she had come to do. What difference did it make now? But as she paused, irresolute, an old gardener, kneeling atone of the beds of flowers behind the path, raised his head and spoke to her. \"I know you not, sister, you are not one of those who dwell here,\" he said. \"Are you a pilgrim?\"\n\nNot as the man thought; but so she was, in away. \"I seek the burial place of my kinswoman-she was the Lady of the Lake-\"\n\n\"Ah yes, that was many, many years ago, in the reign of our good King Arthur,\" he said. \"It lies yonder, where pilgrims to the island may see it. And from it, the path leads up to the convent of the sisters, and if you are hungry, sister, they will give you something to eat there.\"\n\nHas it come to this, that I look like a beggar? But the man had meant no harm, so she thanked him, and walked in the direction he had pointed out." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Arthur had built for Viviane a noble tomb indeed. But what lay there was not Viviane; nothing lay there but bones, slowly returning to the earth from which they had come... and all things at last give up their body and their spirit into the keeping of the Lady again....\n\nWhy had it made so much difference to her? Viviane was not there. Yet when she stood with bent head before the cairn, she was weeping.\n\nAfter a time, a woman in a dark robe not unlike her own, with a white veil over her head, approached her. \"Why do you weep, sister? She who lies here is at peace and in God's hands, she has no need of mourning. But maybe she was one of your kin?\"\n\nMorgaine nodded, bending her head against the tears.\n\n\"We pray always for her,\" said the nun, \"for, though I do not know her name, she was said to be the friend and benefactor of our good King Arthur in the days that were gone.\" She lowered her head and murmured some prayer or other, and even as she prayed, bells rang out, and Morgaine drew back. So, in place of the harps of Avalon, Viviane had only these clanging bells and doleful psalms?\n\nNever did I think I would stand side by side with one of these Christian nuns, joining with her in prayer. But then she remembered what Lancelet had said in her dream.\n\nTake this cup, you who have served the Goddess. For all the Gods are One...\n\n\"Come up to the cloister with me, sister,\" said the nun, smiling and laying a hand on her arm. \"You must be hungry and weary.\"\n\nMorgaine went with her to the gates of their cloister, but would not go in. \"I am not hungry,\" she said, \"but if I might have a drink of water-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Of course.\" The woman in black beckoned, and a young girl came and brought a pitcher of water, which she poured into a cup. And she said, as Morgaine lifted it to her lips, \"We drink only the water of the chalice well-it is a holy place, you know.\"\n\nIt was like Viviane's voice in her ears: The priestesses drink only the water of the Sacred Well.\n\nThe nun and the young girl, robed in black, turned and bent their heads before a woman who came from the cloister, and the nun who had guided her said, \"This is our abbess.\"\n\nMorgaine thought, Somewhere I have seen her. But even as the thought crossed her mind, the woman said, \"Morgaine, you do not know me? We thought you long dead...\"\n\nMorgaine smiled at her, troubled. \"I am sorry-I do not-\"\n\n\"No, you would not remember me,\" said the abbess, \"though I saw you, now and again, at Camelot; I was so much younger. My name is Lionors. I was married to Gareth, and when all my children were grown, I came here-hereto end my days. Did you come to Lancelet's funeral, then?\" She smiled and said, \"I should indeed have said Father Galahad, but it is hard to remember, and now he is in Heaven it will not matter.\" She smiled again. \"I know not now even who is King, or whether Camelot still stands-there is war in the land again, it is not as it was in Arthur's time. That all seems so very long ago,\" she added with detachment.\n\n\"I came hereto visit Viviane's grave. She is buried here-do you remember?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I have seen the tomb,\" said the abbess, \"but it was before ever I came to Camelot.\"\n\n\"I have a favor to beg of you,\" Morgaine said, and touched the basket on her arm. \"This is the Holy Thorn that grows on the hills of Avalon, where it is said that the foster-father of Christ struck his staff into the ground and it blossomed there. I would plant a cutting of this thorn tree on her grave.\"\n\n\"Plant it if you will,\" said Lionors. \"I cannot see how anyone could object to that. It seems right tome that it should be herein the world, and not hidden away in Avalon.\"\n\nShe looked at Morgaine, dismayed.\n\n\"Avalon! Have you come here from that unholy land?\"\n\nMorgaine thought, Once I would have been angry with her. \"Unholy it is not, whatever the priests say, Lionors,\" she said gently. \"Think-would the foster-father of Christ have struck his staff there if the land had seemed to him evil? Is not the Holy Spirit everywhere?\"\n\nThe woman bowed her head. \"You are right. I will send novices to help you with the planting.\"\n\nMorgaine would sooner have been alone, but she knew it was a kindly thought. The novices seemed no more than children to Morgaine, girls of nineteen or twenty, so young that she wondered-forgetting that she herself had been made priestess when she was eighteen-how they could possibly know enough of spiritual things to choose lives like this. She had thought nuns in Christian convents would be sad and doleful, ever conscious of what the priests said about the sinfulness of being born women, but these were innocent and merry as robins, talking gaily to Morgaine of their new chapel and bidding her rest her knees while they dug the hole for the cutting." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And it is your kinswoman who is buried here?\" asked one of the girls. \"Can you read what it says? I never thought I would learn to read, for my mother said it was not suitable, but when I came here, they told me I must be able to read in the mass book, and so now I can read in Latin! Look,\" she said proudly, and read: \"\"King Arthur made this tomb for his kinswoman and benefactress, the Lady of the Lake, slain by treachery at his court in Camelot\"-I cannot read the date, but it was along time ago.\"\n\n\"She must have been a very holy woman,\" said another of the girls, \"for Arthur, they say, was the best and the most Christian of all kings. He would never have had any woman buried here unless she was a saint!\"\n\nMorgaine smiled; they reminded her of the girls in the House of Maidens. \"I would not call her a saint, though I loved her. In her day, there were those who called her a wicked sorceress.\"\n\n\"King Arthur would never have a wicked sorceress buried here among holy people,\" said the girl. \"And as for sorcery-well, there are ignorant priests and ignorant people, who are all too ready to cry sorcery if a woman is only a little wiser than they are! Are you going to stay and take the veil here, Mother?\" she asked, and Morgaine, fora moment startled at the word, realized that they were speaking to her with the same deference and respect as any of her own maidens in the House of Maidens, as if she were an elder among them.\n\n\"I am vowed elsewhere, my daughter.\"\n\n\"Is your convent as nice as this one? Mother Lionors is a kind woman,\" the girl said, \"and we are all very happy here-once we had a woman among our sisters who had been a queen. And I know we will go to Heaven, all of us,\" said the girl with a smile, \"but if you have taken vows elsewhere, I am sure that is a good place, too. Only I thought you might perhaps want to stay here, so that you could pray for the soul of your kinswoman who lies buried here.\" The girl rose and dusted off her dark dress. \"Now you may plant your cutting, Mother... or would you like me to set it in the earth?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"No, I will do it,\" said Morgaine, and knelt to press the soft soil around the roots of the plant." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As she rose, the girl said, \"If you wish, Mother, I will promise to come here and say a prayer every Sunday for your kinswoman.\"\n\nFor some absurd reason, Morgaine felt that tears were coming to her eyes. \"Prayer is always a good thing. I am grateful to you, daughter.\"\n\n\"And you, in your convent, wherever it maybe, you must pray for us too,\" said the girl simply, taking Morgaine's hand as she rose. \"Here, Mother, let me brush the dirt from your gown. Now you must come and see our chapel.\"\n\nFora moment Morgaine was inclined to protest. She had sworn when last she left Arthur's court that she would never again enter any Christian church; but this girl was so much like one of her own young priestesses that she would not profane the name by which the girl knew her God. She let the girl lead her inside the church.\n\nIn that other world, she thought, that church where the ancient Christians worship must stand on this very spot; some holiness from Avalon must surely come through the worlds, through the mists... she did not kneel or cross herself, but she bent her head before the high altar of the church; and then the girl tugged gently at her hand.\n\n\"Come,\" she said. \"The high altar is of God and I am a little afraid here always... but you have not seen our chapel-the sisters' chapel... come, Mother.\"\n\nMorgaine followed the young girl into the small side chapel. There were flowers here, armfuls of apple blossom, before a statue of a veiled woman crowned with a halo of light; and in her arms she bore a child. Morgaine drew a shaking breath and bowed her head before the Goddess." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The girl said, \"Here we have the Mother of Christ, Mary the Sinless. God is so great and terrible I am always afraid before his altar, but herein the chapel of Mary, we who are her avowed virgins may come to her as our Mother, too. And look, here we have little statues of our saints, Mary who loved Jesus and wiped his feet with her hair, and Martha who cooked dinner for him and scolded her sister when she would not cook with her-I like to think of Jesus when he was areal man who would do something for his mother, when he changed the water into wine at that wedding, so she wouldn't be unhappy because there wasn't enough wine for everyone. And here is a very old statue that our bishop gave us, from his native country... one of their saints, her name is Brigid...\"\n\nMorgaine looked on the statue of Brigid, and she could feel the power coming from it in great waves that permeated the chapel. She bowed her head.\n\nBut Brigid is not a Christian saint, she thought, even if Patricius thinks so. That is the Goddess as she is worshipped in Ireland. And I know it, and even if they think otherwise, these women know the power of the Immortal. Exile her as they may, she will prevail. The Goddess will never withdraw herself from mankind.\n\nAnd Morgaine bowed her head and whispered the first sincere prayer she had ever spoken in any Christian church.\n\n\"Why, look,\" said the novice, as she brought her out of doors into the daylight, \"we have one of the Holy Thorn here too, not the one you planted on your kinswoman's grave.\"\n\nAnd I thought I could meddle in this? Morgaine thought. Surely, the holy thing had brought itself from Avalon, moving, as the hallows were withdrawn from Avalon, into the world of men where it was most needed. It would remain hidden in Avalon, but it would be shown herein the world as well. \"Yes, you have the Holy Thorn, and in days to come, as long as this land shall last, every queen shall be given the Holy Thorn at Christmas, in token of her who is queen in Heaven as in Avalon.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I don't know what you are talking about, Mother, but thank you for your blessing,\" said the young novice. \"The abbess is awaiting you in the guesthouse-she will take breakfast with you. But would you like, perhaps, to stay in the Lady's chapel first and pray awhile? Sometimes when you are alone with the Holy Mother, she can make things clear to you.\"\n\nMorgaine nodded, unable to speak, and the girl said, \"Very well. When you are ready, just come to the guesthouse.\" She pointed, and Morgaine went back into the chapel and bowed her head, and giving way at last, sank to her knees.\n\n\"Mother,\" she whispered, \"forgive me. I thought I must do what I now see you can do for yourself. The Goddess is within us, yes, but now I know that you are in the world too, now and always, just as you are in Avalon and in the hearts of all men and women. Be in me too now, and guide me, and tell me when I need only let you do your will....\"\n\nShe was silent, kneeling, fora longtime, her head bowed, but then, as if compelled, she looked up, and as she had seen it on the altar of the ancient Christian brotherhood in Avalon, as she had seen it when she bore it in Arthur's hall, she saw alight on the altar, and in the Lady's hands-and the shadow, only the shadow, of a chalice...\n\nIt is in Avalon, but it is here. It is everywhere. And those who have need of a sign in this world will see it always.\n\nThere was a sweet scent that did not come from the flowers; and for an instant it seemed to Morgaine that it was Igraine's voice that whispered to her... but she could not hear the words... and Igraine's hands that touched her head. As she rose, blinded by tears, suddenly it rushed over her, like a great light." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "No, we did not fail. What I said to comfort Arthur in his dying, it was all true. I did the Mother's work in Avalon until at last those who came after us might bring her into this world. I did not fail. I did what she had given me to do. It was not she but I in my pride who thought I should have done more.\n\nOutside the chapel, sunlight lay on the land, and there was afresh scent of spring in the air. Where the apple trees moved in the morning breeze, she could seethe blossoms that would bear fruit in their season.\n\nShe turned her face toward the guesthouse. Should she go there and breakfast with the nuns, speak perhaps of the old days at Camelot? Morgaine smiled gently. No. She was filled with the same tenderness for them as for the budding apple trees, but that time was past. She turned her back on the convent and walked down to the Lake, along the old path by the shore. Here was a place where the veil lying between the worlds was thin. She needed no longer to summon the barge-she need only step through the mists here, and be in Avalon.\n\nHer work was done." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Extend the plot as the writer's co-author.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, empire\nAuthor: Michael J. Sullivan\nTitle: Nyphron Rising\nChapter: 6" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Is that what you think?\"\n\nArcadius took off his glasses and wiped them.\n\n\"For centuries people have searched for the descendants of Emperor Nareion and no one has ever found them. The Empire itself searched for Nareion's son Nevrik with the power of great wizards and questing knights at a time when they could identify him by sight. They failed-unless you accept the recent declaration that they found the heir in the form of this farm girl from Dahlgren.\"\n\n\"Thrace is not the heir,\" Royce said, simply. \"The church orchestrated that whole incident as theatrics to anoint their choice for ruler. They botched the job and she accidently caught the prize.\"\n\nThe wizard nodded. \"So I think commonsense decrees that an heir no longer exists... if he ever existed to begin with. Unless...\" he trailed off.\n\n\"Unless what?\"\n\n\"Nothing.\" Arcadius shook his head.\n\nRoyce intensified his stare until the wizard relented.\n\n\"Just supposition really, but, well-it just seems too romantic, that the heir and a bodyguard could have lived all alone on the run for so long, managing to hide while the entire world hunted them.\"\n\n\"What are you suggesting?\" Royce asked.\n\n\"After the emperor's death, when Jerish and Nevrik fled, wouldn't Jerish have had friends? Wouldn't there have been hundreds of people loyal to the emperor's son willing to help conceal him? Support him? Organize an attempt to put him back on the throne? Of course this organization would have to act in secrecy, given that the bulk of the dying Empire was in control of the church.\"\n\n\"Are you saying such a group exists?\" Royce asked." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Arcadius shrugged. \"I am only speculating here.\"\n\n\"You're more than speculating. What do you know?\"\n\n\"Well, I have come across some odd references in various texts that refer to a group known only as the Theorem Eldership. I first discovered them in a bit of historical text from 2465, about the time of the Steward's Reign of Glenmorgan the Second. Some priest who noted them only as a secret heretical sect mentioned the Theorem Eldership in an official report. Of course at that time anyone who opposed the church was considered heretical, so I didn't give it much thought. Then I spotted another reference to the same group in a very old letter sent from Lord Darius Seret to Patriarch Venlin dating back to within the first sixty years after the death of Emperor Nareion.\"\n\n\"Lord Seret?\" Royce asked. \"As in the Knights of Novron Seret?\"\n\n\"Indeed,\" Arcadius said. \"The duke was commanded by the Patriarch to locate the whereabouts of Emperor Nareion's missing son Nevrik, so the duke formed an elite band of knights who swore an oath to find the heir. It wasn't until a hundred years after the death of Darius that the knights adopted the official name, the Order of Seret Knights, which later shortened out of convenience. Quite ironic actually as their responsibilities and influence broadened dramatically. You would hardly know it as the seret work mostly in secret-hidden so they can perform their duties invisibly. To this end, they still report directly to the Patriarch. It is really a matter of perceptive logic. Given there is a pseudo-invisible order of knights that seek to hunt down the heir, is it so impossible another unseen group is protecting him?\"\n\nArcadius stood up and, with no trouble navigating his way through the room's debris, reached the far wall. There a slate hung and with a bit of chalk he wrote:" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Then he crossed out each letter and underneath wrote:\n\nHe returned to his desk and sat down.\n\n\"If you decide to search for the heir,\" Arcadius told Royce in a grave tone, \" be very careful. This is not some bit of jewelry you seek and he maybe protected and hunted by men who will sacrifice their lives and use any means against you. If any of this is true, then I fear you will be entering into a world of shadows and lies where a silent, secret war has been waging for nearly a thousand years. There will be no honor and no quarter given. It is a place where people disappear without a trace and martyrs thrive. No price will be too great, no sacrifice too awful. What is at stake in this struggle-at least in their eyes-is the future of Elan.\n\n---\n\nThe number of students at Sheridan always diminished in summer, so Arcadius arranged for them to sleep in the vacated top floor known as Glen's Attic. The fourth floor dormitory in Glen Hall lacked even a single window and was oven-hot in summer. Home to the sons of affluent farmers, the upper dorm was deserted this time of year as students returned home to tend crops. This left the entire loft to them. It was one long room with a slanted ceiling so shallow even Arista had to watch her head or risk hitting a rafter. Cots jutted out from the wall where the ceiling met the floor, each nothing more than a straw mattress. Personal belongings were absent, but every inch of wood was etched with a mosaic of names, phrases, or drawings-seven centuries of student memoirs.\n\nArista and Hadrian worked at drying their wet gear. They laid everything made of cloth across the floor and damp stains spread across the ancient timbers. Everything was soaked and smelled of horse." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I'll get a drying lineup,\" Hadrian told her. \"We can use the blankets to create a bit of privacy for you at the same time.\" He gave her a quizzical look.\n\n\"What?\"\n\nHe shook his head. \"I've just never seen a soaking-wet princess before. You sure you want to do this? It's not too late, we can still head back to Medford and-\"\n\n\"I'll be fine.\" She headed for the stairs.\n\n\"Where are you going?\"\n\n\"To bring up the rest of the bags.\"\n\n\"It's probably still raining and I can get those just as soon-\"\n\nArista interrupted him, \"You have ropes to tie and, as you pointed out, I'm already soaked.\" She descended the steps. Her shoes squished and her wet dress hung with added weight.\n\nNo one thinks I can do it.\n\nShe led a pampered life. She knew that. She was no fool, but neither was she made of porcelain. How much fortitude did it take to live like a peasant? She was the daughter of King Amrath Essendon, Princess of Melengar-she could rise to any occasion. They all had her so well defined, but she was not like Lenare Pickering. She did not sit all day considering which dress went best with her golden locks. Arista stroked her still dripping head, and felt her flat tangled hair. Lenare would have fainted by now.\n\nOutside the rain had stopped, which left the air filled with the earthy smell of grass, mud, and worms. Everything glistened, and breezes touched off showers beneath trees. She forgot her cloak. It lay four flights up. She was going only a short distance and would be quick, but by the time she reached the carriage house, she regretted her decision. Three gown-draped students stood in the shadows talking about the new horses." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"They're from Melengar,\" the tallest said with the confident, superior tone of a young noble speaking to lesser men. \"You can tell by the Medford brand on that one.\"\n\n\"So Lane, you think Melengar has fallen already?\" the shortest of them asked.\n\n\"Of course, I'll wager Breckton took it last night or maybe early this morning. It's about a day's ride from Medford, and that's why the owners of these horses are here. They're probably refugees, cowards fleeing like rats from a sinking ship.\"\n\n\"Deserters?\"\n\n\"Maybe,\" Lane replied.\n\n\"If Melengar really did fall last night, it might have been the king himself who fled,\" the short one speculated.\n\n\"Don't be a rube!\" the second tallest told him. \"A king would never ride on nags like these.\"\n\n\"Don't be too sure about that.\" Lane came to the little one's defense. \"Alric isn't areal king. They say he and his witch sister killed their father and stole the throne just as he was about to name Percy Braga his successor. I even heard that Alric has taken his sister as his mistress, and there's talk of her becoming queen.\"\n\n\"That's disgusting!\"\n\n\"The church would never allow that,\" said the other.\n\n\"Alric kicked the church out of Melengar months ago because he knew it would try to stop him,\" Lane explained. \"You have to understand that the Melengarians aren't civilized people. They're still mostly barbarians and slip further back into their tribal roots every year. Without the church to watch over them, they'll be drinking the blood of virgins and praying to Oberlin before the year is out. They allow elves to run free in their cities. Did you know that?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Arista could not see their faces as she stood beyond the doorway, careful to keep herself hidden.\n\n\"So perhaps this is the nag the king of Melengar escaped on. He could be staying in one of the dorm rooms right now, plotting his next move.\"\n\n\"Do you think Chancellor Lambert knows?\"\n\n\"I doubt it,\" Lane replied. \"I don't think a good manlike Lambert would allow a menace like Alric to stay here.\"\n\n\"Should we tell him?\"\n\n\"Why don't you tell him, Hinkle?\" Lane said to the short fellow.\n\n\"Why me? You should do it. After all you're the one that noticed them.\"\n\n\"Me? I don't have time. Lady Chastelin sent me another letter today and I need to work on my reply lest she drives a dagger into her chest for fear I have forgotten her.\"\n\n\"Don't look at me,\" said the remaining one. \"I'll admit it, Lambert scares me.\"\n\nThe others laughed.\n\n\"No, I'm serious. He scares the wax out of me. He had me in his office last semester because of that rabid rat stunt Jason pulled. I'd rather he'd just cane me.\"\n\nTogether they walked off, continuing their chatter, only now it drifted to Lady Chastelin as doubts of her devotion to Lane arose.\n\nArista waited a moment until she was certain they were gone then found the bags near the saddles and stuffed one under her arm. She grabbed the other two and quickly, but carefully, returned across the commons and slipped backup the stairs of Glen Hall.\n\nHadrian was not in the loft when she returned but he had the lines up and blankets hung dividing the room. She slipped through the makeshift curtain and began the miserable task of stringing out her wet things. She changed into her nightgown and robe. They were near the center of her bag and only slightly damp. Then she began throwing the rest of her clothes over the lines. Hadrian returned with a bucket of water and paused when he spotted Arista brazenly displaying her petticoats and corset. She felt her face flush as she imagined what he was thinking. She traveled unescorted with two men, was bedding down in the same room-albeit a large and segmented hall-and now she displayed her underwear for them to see. She was surprised they had not questioned her more intently. It would eventually come up, she knew. Royce was not the type to miss such an obvious breech of protocol as a maiden princess being ordered to travel alone in the company of two rogues, no matter how highly esteemed by the crown. As for her clothes, there was no other way or place to dry them safely, so it was this or wear them wet in the morning. There was no sense being prissy about it." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Royce entered the dorm as she finished her work. He was wearing his cloak with the hood up. It dripped a puddle on the floor.\n\n\"We'll be leaving well before dawn,\" he pronounced.\n\n\"Is something wrong?\" Hadrian asked.\n\n\"I found a few students snooping around the carriage house when I made my rounds.\"\n\n\"He does that,\" Hadrian explained. \"Sort of an obsession he has. Can't sleep otherwise.\"\n\n\"You were there?\"\n\nRoyce nodded. \"They won't be troubling us anymore.\"\n\nArista felt the blood drain from her face. \"You... you killed them?\" she asked in a whisper. As she said it, she felt sick. A few minutes earlier, listening to their horrible discussion, she found herself wishing them harm, but she did not mean it. They were little more than children. She knew, however, that Royce might not see it that way. She had come to realize that for him, a threat was a threat no matter the package.\n\n\"I considered it.\" No tone of sarcasm tempered his words. \"If they had turned left toward the Chancellor's residence instead of right toward the dormitories... but they didn't. They went straight to their rooms. Nevertheless, we will not be waiting until morning. We'll be leaving in a few hours, that way even if they do start a rumor about horses from Melengar, we will belong gone by the time it reaches the right ears. The Empire's spies will assume we are heading to Trent to beg their aid. We'll need to get you anew mount though before heading to Colnora.\"\n\n\"If we are leaving as soon as that, I should go see Arcadius about that meal he promised,\" Hadrian said." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No!\" Arista told him hastily. They looked at her, surprised. She smiled, embarrassed at her outburst. \"I'll go. It will give you two a chance to change out of your wet things without me here.\" Before they could say anything, she slipped out and down the hallway to the stairs.\n\nIt had been nearly a year since that morning on the bank of the Nidwalden River when Esrahaddon put a question in her head. The wizard had admitted using her to orchestrate the murder of her father to facilitate his escape, but he also suggested there was more to the story. This could be her only chance to speak with Arcadius. She took aright at the bottom of the stairs and hurried to his study.\n\nArcadius sat on a stool at a small wooden desk on the far side of the room, studying a page of a massive tome. Beside him was a brazier of hot coals and an odd contraption she had never seen before-a brown liquid hung suspended above the heat of the brazier in a glass vial, as a steady stream of bubbles rose from a small stone immersed in the liquid. The steamy vapors rose through a series of glass tubes and passed through another glass container filled with salt crystals. From the end of that tube a clear fluid slowly dripped into a small flask. A yellow liquid also hung suspended above the flask, and through a valve one yellow drop fell for each clear one. As these two liquids mixed, white smoke silently rose into the air. Occasionally he adjusted a valve, added salt, or pumped bellows, causing the charcoal to glow red hot. At her entrance, Arcadius looked up.\n\nHe removed his glasses, wiped them with a rag from the desk, and put them back on. He peered at her through squinting eyes.\n\n\"Ah, my dear, come in.\" Then, as if remembering something important, he hastily twisted one of the valves. A large puff of smoke billowed up, causing several of the animals in the room to chatter. The stone fell to the bottom of the flask, where it lay quietly. The animals calmed down, and the elderly Master of Lore turned and smiled at Arista, motioning for her to join him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "This was no easy feat." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Arista searched for open floor to step on and, finding little, grabbed the hem of her robe and opted to step on the sturdiest looking objects in the shortest path to the desk.\n\nThe wizard waited patiently with a cheery smile. His high rosy cheeks causing the edges of his eyes to wrinkle like abed sheet held in a fist.\n\n\"You know,\" he began, as she made the perilous crossing, \"I always find it interesting what paths my students take to reach me. Some are direct, while others take more of a roundabout approach. Others end up getting lost in the clutter and some find the journey too much trouble and give up altogether, never reaching me.\"\n\nArista was certain he implied more than he said, but she had neither the time nor inclination to explore it further. Instead, she replied, \"Perhaps if you straightened up a bit you wouldn't lose so many students.\"\n\nThe wizard tilted his head. \"I suppose you're right, but where would be the fun in that?\"\n\nArista stepped over the rabbit cage, around the large pestle and mortar, and stood before the desk on a closed cover of a book no less than three-feet in height and two in width.\n\nThe lore master looked down at her feet, pursed his lips, and nodded his approval. \"That's Glenmorgan the Second's biography, easily seven hundred years old.\"\n\nArista looked alarmed.\n\n\"Not to worry, not to worry,\" he told her, chuckling to himself. \"It's a terrible book written by church propagandists. The perfect platform for you to stand on, don't you think?\"\n\nArista opened her mouth, thought about what she was going to say, and then closed it again." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The wizard chuckled once more. \"Ah yes, they've gone and made an ambassador out of you, haven't they? You've learned to think before you speak. I suppose that's good. Now tell me, what brings you to my office at this hour? If it's about dinner, I apologize for the delay, but the stoves were out and I needed to fetch a boy to get them fired again. I also had to drag the cook away from a card game, which he wasn't at all pleased about. But a meal is being prepared as we speak and I will have it brought up the moment it is finished.\"\n\n\"It's not that Master-\"\n\nHe put up a hand to stop her. \"You are no longer a student here. You area princess and Ambassador of Melengar. If you call me Arcadius, I won't call you Your Highness, agreed?\" The grin of his was just too infectious to fight. She nodded and smiled in return.\n\n\"Arcadius,\" she began again, \"I've had something on my mind and I've been meaning to visit you for sometime, but so much has been happening. First there was Fanen's funeral. Then, of course, Tomas arrived in Melengar.\"\n\n\"Oh yes, the Wandering Deacon of Dahlgren. He came here as well preaching that a young girl named Thrace is the Heir of Novron. He sounded very sincere. Even I was inclined to believe him.\"\n\n\"A lot of people did and that's part of the reason Melengar's fate is so precarious now.\"\n\nArista stopped. There was someone at the door, a pretty girl, perhaps six years old. Long dark hair spilled over her shoulders, her hands clasped together holding a length of thin rope that she played with, spinning it in circles." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Ah, there you are. Good,\" the wizard told the girl, who stared apprehensively at Arista. \"I was hoping you'd turn up soon. He's starting to cause a fuss. It's as if he can tell time.\" Arcadius glanced at Arista. \"Oh, forgive me. I neglected to introduce you. Arista, this is Mercy.\"\n\n\"How do you do?\" Arista asked.\n\nThe little girl said nothing.\n\n\"You must forgive her. She is a bit shy with strangers.\"\n\n\"A bit young for Sheridan, isn't she?\"\n\nArcadius smiled. \"Mercy is my ward. Her mother asked me to watch over her for awhile until her situation improved. Until then I try my best to educate her, but as I learned with you, young ladies can be most willful.\" He turned to the girl. \"Go right ahead, dear. Take Mr. Rings outside with you before he rips up his cage again.\"\n\nThe girl moved across the room's debris as nimble as a cat and removed a thin raccoon from his cage. He was a baby by the look of it, and she carried him out the door, giggling as Mr. Rings sniffed her ear.\n\n\"She's cute,\" Arista said.\n\n\"Indeed she is. Now you said you had something on your mind?\"\n\nArista nodded and considered her words. The question Esrahaddon planted she now presented to her old teacher. \"Arcadius, who approved my entrance into Sheridan?\"\n\nThe lore master raised a bristled eyebrow. \"Ah,\" he said. \"You know, I always wondered why you never asked before. You are perhaps the only female to attend Sheridan University in its seven hundred year history, and certainly the only one to study the arcane arts at all, but you never questioned it once.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Arista's posture tightened. \"I am questioning it now.\"\n\n\"Indeed... indeed,\" the wizard replied. He sat back, removed his glasses, and rubbed his nose briefly. \"I was visited by the Chancellor of the School, Ignatius Lambert, and asked if I would be willing to accept a gifted young lady into my instructions on Arcane Theory. This surprised me you see, because I didn't teach a class on Arcane Theory. I wanted to. I requested to have it added to the curriculum many times, but was always turned down by the school's patrons. It seemed they didn't feel that teaching magic was a respectable pursuit. Magic uses power not connected to a spiritual devotion to Maribor and Novron. At best it was subversive and possibly outright evil in their minds. The fact that I practiced the arcane arts at all has always been an embarrassment.\"\n\n\"Why haven't they replaced you?\"\n\n\"It could be that my reputation as the most-learned wizard in Avryn lends such prestige to this school that they allow me my hobbies. Or it maybe that anyone who has tried to force my resignation has been turned into the various toads, squirrels, and rabbits you see about you.\"\n\nHe appeared so serious that Arista looked around the room at the various cages and aquariums, at which point the wizard began to chuckle.\n\nShe scowled at him. Which only made him laugh harder.\n\n\"As I was saying,\" Arcadius went on when he had once again gained control of himself. \"Ignatius was in one sentence offering me my desire to teach magic if I was willing to accept you as a student. Perhaps he thought I would refuse. Little did he know that unlike the rest of them, I harbor no prejudices concerning women. Knowledge is knowledge, and the chance to be able to instruct and enlighten a princess-a potential leader-with the power to help shape the world around us was not a deterrent at all, but rather a bonus.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"So you're saying I was allowed entrance because of a plan of the school's headmaster that backfired?\"\n\n\"Not at all, that is merely how it happened, not why. Why is a much more important question. You see, School Chancellor Ignatius Lambert was not alone in my office that morning. With him was another man. He remained silent and stood over there just behind and to the left of you, where the birdcage is now, of course, the cage wasn't there then. Instead, he chose to stand on a discarded old coat and a dagger. As I mentioned, it is always interesting to seethe paths people take when they enter this office, and where they choose to stand.\"\n\n\"Who was he?\"\n\n\"Percy Braga, the Archduke of Melengar.\"\n\n\"So it was Uncle Percy.\"\n\n\"He certainly was involved, but even an archduke of Melengar wasn't likely to have influence over those running Sheridan University especially on a matter as volatile as teaching magic to young noble ladies. Sheridan is in the ecclesiastical realm of Ghent, where secular lords have no sway. There was, however, another man with them. He never entered my office but stood in the doorway, in the shadows.\"\n\n\"Could you tell who it was?\"\n\n\"Oh, yes.\" Arcadius smiled. \"These are reading glasses, my dear. I can see long distances just fine, but then I can see that is a common mistake people make.\"\n\n\"Who was it then?\"\n\n\"A close friend of your family I believe. It was Bishop Maurice Saldur, of Medford's Mares Cathedral of Novron, but you probably knew that, didn't you?\"\n\n---\n\nGood to his word, Arcadius sent steaming meat pies and red wine. Arista recalled the pies from her days as a student. They were never very good, even fresh. Usually made from the worst cuts of pork because the school saved lamb for the holidays. The pies were heavy on onions and carrots and thin on gravy and meat. Students actually gambled on how many paltry shreds of pork they found in their pie-a mere five stood as the record. Despite complaints, the other students wolfed down their meals, but she never did. Most of the other students' indignation she guessed was only bluster-they likely ate no better at home. Arista, however, was accustomed to three or four different meats roasted on the bone, several varieties of cheese, freshly baked breads, and whatever fruits were in season. To get her through the week, she had servants bring survival packages which she kept in her room." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You could have mentioned that you knew Arcadius,\" Arista told them as they sat down together at the common table, an old bit of furniture defaced like everything else. It wobbled enough to make her glad the wine was in a jug with cups instead of a bottle and stemmed glasses.\n\n\"And ruin the fun?\" Hadrian replied with a handsome grin. \"So Arcadius was your professor here?\"\n\n\"One of them. The curriculum requires that you take several classes learning different subjects from the various teachers. Master Arcadius was my favorite. He was the only one to teach magic.\"\n\n\"So you learned magic from Arcadius as well as Esrahaddon?\" Royce asked, digging into his pie.\n\nArista nodded, poking her pie with a knife and letting the steam out.\n\n\"That must have been interesting. I am guessing their teaching styles were a bit different.\"\n\n\"Like night and day.\" She took a sip of wine. \"Arcadius was formalin his lessons. He followed a structured course using books and lecturing very professorially, as you saw this evening. His style made the lessons seem right and proper, despite the stigma associated with them. Esrahaddon was haphazard and seemed to teach whatever came to mind, and often had trouble explaining things. Arcadius is clearly the better teacher, but...\" She paused.\n\n\"But?\" Royce asked.\n\n\"Well, don't tell Arcadius,\" she said, conspiratorially, \"but Esrahaddon seems to be the more skilled and knowledgeable. Arcadius is the expert on the history of magic, but Esrahaddon is the history, if you follow me.\"\n\nShe took a bite of pie and got a mouthful of onions and burnt crust.\n\n\"Having learned from both, doesn't that make you the third most skilled mage in Avryn?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Arista smirked bitterly and washed the mouthful down with more wine. While she suspected Royce was correct, she had only cast two spells since leaving their tutelage.\n\n\"Arcadius taught me many important lessons. Yet his classes concerned themselves with using knowledge as a means to broaden his students'understanding of their world. It's his way to get them thinking in new directions, to perceive what is around them in terms that are more sensible. Of course, this didn't make his students happy. We all wanted the secrets to power, the tools to reshape the world to our liking. Arcadius doesn't really give answers, but rather forces his students to ask questions.\n\n\"For instance he once asked us what makes noble blood different from a commoner's blood. We pricked our fingers and ran tests and as it turns out there is no detectable difference. This led to a fight on the commons between a wealthy merchant's son and the son of a low-ranking baron. Master Arcadius was reprimanded and the merchant's son was whipped.\"\n\nHadrian finished eating, and Royce was more than halfway through his pie, but the thief left his wine untouched, grimacing after the first sip. Arista chanced another bite and caught a mushy carrot, still more onions, and a soggy bit of crust. She swallowed with a sour look.\n\n\"Not a fan of pie?\" Hadrian asked.\n\nShe shook her head. \"You can have it if you like.\" She slid it over.\n\n\"So how was it studying with Esrahaddon?\"\n\n\"He was a completely different story,\" she went on after another mouthful of wine. \" When I couldn't get what I wanted from Arcadius, I went to him. You see, all of Arcadius\" teachings involve elaborate preparations, alchemic recipes that are used to trigger the release of nature's powers and incantations to focus it. He also stressed observation and experimentation to tap the power of the natural world. But while Arcadius relied on manual techniques to derive power from the elements, Esrahaddon explained how the same energy can be summoned though more subtle enticement using only motion, harmonic sound, and the power of the mind." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The problem was Esrahaddon's technique focused on hand movements, which explains why the church cut his off. He tried to talk me through the motions, but without the ability to demonstrate it was very frustrating. Because subtle differences can separate success from failure, it was hopeless. All I ever managed to do was make a man sneeze, oh and once I cursed the Countess Amril with boils.\" Hadrian poured out the last of the wine in his and Arista's glass after Royce waved him off. \" Arcadius was angry when he found out about the curse and lectured me for hours. He was always against using magic for personal gain or for the betterment of a just a few. He often said, \"Don't waste energy to treat a single plague victim, instead search to eliminate the illness and save thousands. '\n\n\"So yes, you are right. I am likely the most-tutored mage in all of Avryn, yet I would be hard-pressed to do much more than make a person sneeze.\"\n\n\"And you can do that just with hand movements?\" Royce asked, skeptically.\n\n\"Would you like a demonstration?\"\n\n\"Sure, try it on Hadrian.\"\n\n\"Ah no, let's not,\" Hadrian protested. \"I don't want to be accidently turned into a toad or rabbit or something. Didn't you learn anything else?\"\n\n\"Well, he tried to teach me how to boil water, but I never got it to work. I was close, but always missing something and he-\" she trailed off.\n\n\"What?\" Hadrian asked.\n\nShe shrugged. \"I don't know. It's just that I was practicing gestures on the ride here and I-\" She squinted in concentration as she ran through the motions in her mind. They should be the same. Both the rain and the boiling spell contained the same element-water. The same motion should be found in each. Just thinking about it made her heart quicken." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "That is it, isn't it? That is the missing piece.\n\nIf she had the rest of the spell right, then all she need do was... She looked around for the bucket that Hadrian had brought up. She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. Boiling water, while harder than making a person sneeze, was a short, simple incantation and one she attempted without success hundreds of times. She cleared her mind, relaxed, then reached out, sensing the room-the light and heat emanating from the candles, the force of the wind above the roof, the dripping of water from their wet clothes. She opened her eyes and focused on the bucket and the water inside. Lukewarm, it lay quiet, sleeping. She felt its place in the world, part of the whole, waiting fora change, wanting to please.\n\nArista began to hum, letting the sounds follow the rhythm that spoke to the water. She sensed its attention. Her voice rose, speaking the few short words in a melody of a song. She raised a single hand and made the motions, only this time she added a simple sweep of her thumb. It felt perfect-the hole that evaded her in the past. She closed her hand into a fist and squeezed. The moment she did she could feel the heat, and across the room steam rose.\n\nHadrian stood up, took two steps, and then stopped. \"It's bubbling,\" he said, his voice expressing his amazement.\n\n\"So are our clothes.\" Royce pointed to the wet clothing hanging on the line, which were beginning to hiss as steam rose from them.\n\n\"Oops.\" Arista opened her hand abruptly. The wash water stopped boiling, and the clothes quieted.\n\n\"By Mar, that's unbelievable.\" Hadrian stood grinning. \"You really did it.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Royce remained silent, staring at the steaming clothes.\n\n\"I know. Can you believe it?\" she said.\n\n\"What else can you do?\"\n\n\"Let's not find out,\" Royce interrupted. \"It's getting late and we'll be leaving in just a few hours, so we should get to sleep.\"\n\n\"Killjoy,\" Hadrian replied. \"But he's probably right. Let's turn in.\"\n\nArista nodded and walked behind the wall of blankets and only then allowed herself a smile.\n\nIt worked! It really worked.\n\nLying on the little cot not bothering with a blanket she stared at the ceiling, listening to the thieves moving about.\n\n\"You have to admit that was impressive.\" She heard Hadrian say.\n\nIf Royce made a reply, she did not hear it. She scared him. The expression on his face had said more than words ever could. Lying there looking up at the rafters, she realized she had seen that look before. The day Arcadius reprimanded her. She was leaving his office when he stopped her. \"I never taught curses in this class, boils or otherwise. Did you cause them by mixing a draught that she drank?\"\n\n\"No,\" she recalled saying. \"It was a verbal curse.\"\n\nHis eyes widened and his mouth gaped, but he said nothing more. At the time, she thought his look was amazement and pride in a student exceeding expectations. Looking back, Arista realized she only saw what she wanted to see." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As Amilia watched, the playful flicker of candlelight caught the attention of the empress, briefly replacing her blank stare.\n\nIs that a sign?\n\nAmilia often played this game with herself, looking for any improvement. A month passed since Saldur summoned her to his office to explain her duties. She knew she could never do half of what he wanted, but his main concern was the empress' health. She did look better. Even in this faint light, Amilia could seethe change. Her cheeks were no longer hollow, her skin no longer stretched. The empress was now eating some vegetables and even bits of meat hidden in the soup, yet Amilia feared the progress was too slow.\n\nModina still had not said a word-at least, not while awake. Often, when the empress was sleeping she mumbled, moaned, and tossed about restlessly. Upon awakening, the girl cried, tears running down her cheeks. Amilia held her, stroked her hair, and tried to keep her warm, but the empress never acknowledged her presence.\n\nAmilia continued to tell Modina stories to pass the time, hoping it would help. After telling her everything she could think of about her family, she moved onto fairytales from her childhood. There was Gronbach, the evil dwarf who kidnapped a milkmaid and imprisoned her in his subterranean lair. The maiden solved the riddle of the three boxes, snipped off his beard, and escaped.\n\nShe even recounted scary stories told by her brothers in the dark of the carriage workshop. She knew they were purposefully trying to frighten her, and even now they gave Amilia chills. But anything was worth a try to snap Modina back to land of the living. The most disturbing of these was about elves who put their victims to sleep with music before eating them." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "When she ran out of fairytales, she turned to ones remembered from church like the epic tale of how, in their hour of greatest need, Maribor sent the divine Novron to save mankind wielding the wondrous Rhelacan to defeat the elves.\n\nThinking Modina would like the similarities to her own life, Amilia told the romantic account of the farmer's daughter Persephone, whom Novron took to be his queen. When she refused to leave her simple village, he built the great imperial capital right there and named the city Percepliquis after her.\n\n\"So what story shall we have this evening?\" Amilia asked as the two girls lay across from one another, bathed in the light of the candles. \" How about Kile and the White Feather? Our monsieur used it from time to time when he wanted to make a point about penance and redemption. Have you heard that one? Do you like it? I do.\n\n\"Well, you see, the father of the gods, Erebus, had three sons Ferrol, Drome, and Maribor; the gods of elves, dwarfs, and men. He also had a daughter Muriel, who was, of course, the loveliest being ever created and had dominion overall the plants and animals. Well, one night Erebus became drunk and raped his own daughter. In anger, her brothers attacked their father and tried to kill him, but of course, gods can't die.\"\n\nAmilia saw the candles flicker from a draft. It was always colder at night and, getting up, she brought them both another blanket.\n\n\"So, where was I? Oh yes, racked with guilt and grief Erebus returned to Muriel and begged her forgiveness. She was moved by her father's remorse, but still could not look at him. He begged, pleading for her to name a punishment. She needed time to let the fear and pain pass so she told him,\"Go to Elan to live. Not as a god, but as a man to learn humiliation. ' To repent for his misdeeds, she charged him with doing good works. Erebus did as she requested and took the name of Kile. It is said that to this day, he walks the world of men, working miracles. For each act that pleases her, she bestows upon him a white feather from her magnificent robe, which he keeps in a pouch forever by his side. Muriel decreed that when the day came when all the feathers were bestowed, she would call her father home and forgive him. It is said when all the gods are reunited, all will be made right and the world will transform into a paradise.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "This really was one of Amilia's favorite stories and she told it hoping for miraculous results. Perhaps the father of the gods would hear her and come to their aid. Amilia waited. Nothing happened. The walls were the same cold stone, the flickering flames the only light. She sighed. \"Well, maybe we'll just have to make our own miracles,\" she told Modina as she blew out all but a single candle then closed her eyes to sleep.\n\n---\n\nAmilia woke with anew-found purpose. She resolved to free Modina from her room, if only fora short while. The cell reeked of urine and mildew that lingered even after scrubbing and fresh straw. She wanted to take her outside, but knew that was asking too much. She was certain Lady Constance was dragged away because of Modina's failing health, not because she took her from her cell. Whatever the consequences, she had to try.\n\nAmilia changed both herself and Modina into their day clothing and, taking her gently by the hand, led her to the door and knocked. When it opened, she faced the guard straight and tall and announced. \"I'm taking the empress to the kitchen for her meal. I was appointed the Imperial Secretary by Regent Saldur himself, and I'm responsible for her care. She can't remain in this filthy cell. It's killing her.\"\n\nShe waited.\n\nHe would refuse and she would argue. She tried to organize her rebuttals: noxious vapors, the healing power of fresh air, the fact that they would kill her if the empress did not show improvement. Why that last one would persuade him she had not worked out, but it was one of the thoughts pressing on her mind.\n\nThe guard looked from Amilia to Modina and back to Amilia again. She was shocked when he nodded and stepped aside. Amilia hesitated-she had not considered the possibility he would relent. She led the empress up the steps while the soldier followed behind." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She made no announcement like Lady Constance. She simply walked in with the empress in tow, bringing the kitchen once more to a halt. Everyone stared. No one said a word.\n\n\"The empress would like her meal,\" Amilia told Ibis, who nodded. \"Could you please put some extra bread at the bottom of the bowl, and could she get some fruit today?\"\n\n\"Aye, aye,\" the big man acknowledged. \"Leif, get on it. Nipper, go to the storage and bring up some of those berries. The rest of you, back to work. Nothing to see here.\"\n\nNipper bolted outside, leaving the door open. Red, one of the huntsman's old dogs, wandered in. Modina dropped Amilia's hand.\n\n\"Leif, get that animal out of here,\" Ibis ordered.\n\n\"Wait,\" Amilia said. Everyone watched as the empress knelt down next to the elkhound. The dog in turn nuzzled her.\n\nRed was old, his muzzle had gone gray, and his eyes clouded with blindness. Why the huntsman kept him was a mystery, as all he did was sleep in the courtyard and beg for handouts from the kitchen. Few took notice of his familiar presence, but he commanded the empress' attention. She scratched behind his ears and stroked his fur.\n\n\"I guess Red gets to stay.\" Ibis chuckled. \"Dog's got important friends.\"\n\nEdith Mon entered the kitchen, halting abruptly at the sight of Amilia and the empress. She pursed her lips, narrowed her eyes, and without a word pivoted and exited the way she came.\n\n---\n\nAmidst the sound of pounding hammers, Regent Maurice Saldur strode through the palace reception hall where artisans were busy at work. A year ago this was King Ethelred's castle, the stark stone fortress of Avryn's most powerful monarch. Since the coronation of the empress, it became the Imperial Palace of the Nyphron Empire and the home of the Daughter of Maribor. Saldur insisted on the renovations: A grand new foyer complete with the crown seal etched in white marble on the floor, several massive chandeliers to lighten the dark interior, a wider ornate balcony from which her eminence could wave to her adoring people, and of course a complete rework of the throne room." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Ethelred and the chancellor balked at the expense. The new throne cost almost as much as a warship, but they did not understand the importance of impressions the way he did. He had an illiterate, nearly comatose child for an empress, and the only thing preventing disaster was that no one knew. How much silk, gold, and marble did it take to blind the world? More than he had access to he was certain, but he would do what he could.\n\nThese last few weeks, Saldur felt as if he were balancing on his head while standing on a stool with one leg missing, strapped to the back of a runaway horse. The Empire went up practically overnight like a barn-raising. Centuries of planning had finally coalesced, but as with everything, there were mistakes, errors, and circumstances for which they could not possibly account.\n\nThe whole fiasco in Dahlgren was only the start. The moment they declared the establishment of the New Empire, Glouston went into open revolt. Alburn decided to haggle over terms, and, of course, there was Melengar. The humiliation was beyond words. Every other Avryn kingdom fell instep as planned, all except his. He was Bishop of Melengar and close personal adviser to the king and later his son, and yet Melengar remained independent. It was only Saldur's clever solution to the Dahlgren problem that kept him from fading into obscurity. He drew victory from ashes, and for that the Patriarch appointed him the church's representative, making him co-regent alongside Ethelred.\n\nThe old king of Warric maintained the existing systems, but Saldur was the architect of the new world order. His vision would define the lives of thousands for centuries to come. It was a tremendous opportunity, yet he felt as if he was rolling a massive boulder up a hill. If he should trip or stumble, the rock would rollback and crush him and everything else with it." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "When he reached his office, he found Luis Guy waiting. The church sentinel had just arrived, hopefully with good news. The Knight of Nyphron waited near the window, as straight and impeccable as ever. He stood looking out at some distant point with his hands clasped behind his back. As usual, he wore the black and scarlet of his order, each line clean, his beard neatly trimmed.\n\n\"I assume you've heard,\" Saldur said, closing the door behind him and ignoring any greeting. Guy was not the type to bother with pleasantries-something Saldur appreciated about the man. Over the last several months, he had seen little of Guy, who the Patriarch kept occupied searching for the real Heir of Novron and the wizard Esrahaddon. This was also to his liking, as Guy could be a formidable rival and his travels kept the sentinel from the center of power. Strangely, Guy appeared to have little interest in carving out a place for himself in the New Empire-something else to be grateful for.\n\n\"About the Nationalists? Of course,\" Guy responded, turning away from the window.\n\n\"And?\"\n\n\"And what?\"\n\n\"And I would like to know what-\" Saldur halted when he noticed another man in the room.\n\nThe office was comfortable in size, large enough to accommodate a desk, bookshelves, and a table with a chessboard between two soft chairs where the stranger sat.\n\n\"Oh, yes.\" Guy motioned to the man. \"This is Merrick Marius. Merrick meet Bishop-forgive me-Regent Saldur.\"\n\n\"So this is him,\" Saldur muttered annoyed the man did not rise.\n\nHe remained sitting comfortably, leaning back with casual indifference, staring in a manner too direct, too brazen. Merrick wore a thigh-length coat of dark red suede-an awful shade Saldur thought-the color of dried blood. His hair was short; his face pale, and aside from his coat, his attire was simple and unadorned." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Not very impressive, are you?\" Saldur observed.\n\nThe man smiled at this. \"Do you play chess, your grace?\"\n\nSaldur's eyebrows rose and he glanced at Guy. This was his man after all. Guy was the one who dug him up, unearthing him from the fetid streets, and praised his talents. The sentinel said nothing and showed no outward sign of outrage or discontent with his pet.\n\n\"I am running an Empire, young man,\" Saldur replied, dismissively. \"I don't have time for games.\"\n\n\"How strange,\" Merrick said. \" I've never thought of chess as a game. Tome it is more of a religion really. Every aspect of life, distilled into sixteen pieces within sixty-four black and white squares, which from a distance actually appear gray. Of course, there are more than a mere sixty-four squares. The smaller squares taken in even numbers form larger ones, creating a total of two-hundred and four. Most people miss that. They see only the obvious. Few have the intelligence to look deeper to seethe patterns hidden within patterns. That's part of the beauty of chess-it is much more than it first appears, more complicated, more complex. I've heard how some bishops base sermons on it, explaining the hierarchy of pieces and how they represent the classes of society, and the rules of movement depict the individual duties ordained by Maribor.\n\n\"Have you ever done that, your grace?\" Merrick asked but did not wait for an answer. \"Amazing idea, isn't it?\" He looked down at the board. \"The world at your fingertips, so manageable, so defined. It has such simple rules, a near infinite number of possible paths, but only three outcomes.\" He leaned forward over the board, his eyes searching the field of black and white." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The bishop is an interesting piece.\" He plucked one off the board and held it in his hand, rolling the polished stone figure back and forth across his open palm. \"It is not a very well-designed piece, not as pretty perhaps assay the knight. It is often overlooked, hiding along the corners of the board appearing so innocent, so disarming. But it is able to sweep the length of the board at sharp unexpected angles, often with devastating results. I've always thought that bishops were underutilized through alack of appreciation for their talents. I suppose I am unusual in this respect, but then I'm not the type of person to judge the value of apiece based on how it looks.\"\n\n\"You think you're a very clever fellow, don't you?\" Saldur challenged.\n\n\"No, your grace,\" Merrick replied. \"Clever is the man who makes a fortune selling dried up cows, explaining how it saves the farmers the trouble of getting up every morning to milk them. I am not clever-I'm a genius.\"\n\nAt this, Guy decided to interject, \"Regent, at our last meeting I mentioned a solution to the Nationalist problem. He sits before you. Mister Marius has everything worked out. He merely needs approval from the regents.\"\n\n\"And certain assurances of payment,\" Merrick added.\n\n\"You can't be serious.\" Saldur whirled on Guy. \"The Nationalists are sweeping north on a rampage. They've taken Kilnar. They are only miles from Ratibor. They will be marching on this palace by Wintertide. What I need are ideas, alternatives, solutions-not some irreverent popinjay!\"\n\n\"You have some interesting ideas, your grace,\" Merrick told Saldur, his voice calm and casual as if he had not heard a word. \"I like your views on a central government. The benefits of standardizations in trade, laws, farming, even the widths of roads are excellent. It shows clarity of thought that I would not expect from an elderly church bishop.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"How do you know anything of my-\"\n\nMerrick raised his hand to halt the regent. \"I should explain right away that how I obtain information is confidential and not open for discussion. The fact is, I know it-what's more, I like it. I can seethe potential in this New Empire you are struggling to erect. It may well be exactly what the world needs to get beyond the petty warfare that weakens our nations and mires the common man in hopeless poverty. At present, however, this is still a dream. That is where I come in. I only wish you came tome earlier. I could have saved you that embarrassing and now burdensome problem of her eminence.\"\n\n\"That was the result of an unfortunate error on the part of my predecessor, the archbishop. Something he paid for with his life. I was the one who salvaged the situation.\"\n\n\"Yes, I know. Some idiot named Rufus was supposed to slay the mythical beast and thereby prove he was the fabled Heir of Novron, the descendent of the god Maribor himself. Only instead, Rufus was devoured and the beast laid waste to everything in the vicinity. Everything, except a young girl who somehow managed to slay it, and in front of a church deacon no less-oops. But you're right. That wasn't your fault. You were the smart one with the brilliant idea to use her as a puppet-a girl so bereft from losing everything and everyone that she went mad. Your solution to this is to hide her in the depths of the palace and hope no one notices. In the meantime, you and Ethelred run a military campaign to takeover all of Avryn, sending your best troops north to invade Melengar just as the Nationalists invade from the south. Brilliant. I must say, with things so well in hand it is a wonder I was contacted at all.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I am not amused,\" Saldur told him.\n\n\"Nor should you be, for at this moment King Alric of Melengar is setting into motion plans to form an alliance with the Nationalists, trapping you in a two-front war, and bringing Trent into the conflict on their side.\"\n\n\"You know this?\"\n\n\"It is what I would do. And with the wealth of Delgos and the might of Trent, your fledgling Empire, with its insane empress, will crumble as quickly as it rose.\"\n\n\"More impressed now?\" Guy asked.\n\n\"And what would you have us do to stave off this impending cataclysm?\"\n\nMerrick smiled. \"Pay me.\"\n\n---\n\nThe grand exalted Empress Modina Novronian, ruler of Avryn, and high priestess of the Church of Nyphron, sat sprawled on the floor feeding her bowl of soup to Red, who expressed his gratitude by drooling on her dress. He rested his head on her lap and slapped his tail against the stone, his tongue sliding lazily in and out. The empress curled up beside the dog and laid her head on the animal's side. Amilia smiled, it was encouraging to see Modina interact with something, anything.\n\n\"Get that disgusting animal out of here and get her off the floor!\"\n\nAmilia jumped and looked up horrified to see Regent Saldur enter the kitchen with Edith Mon at his side, wearing a sinister smile. Amilia could not move. Several scullery maids rushed to the empress' side and gently pulled her to her feet.\n\n\"The very idea,\" he continued to shout as the maids busied themselves smoothing out Modina's dress. \"You,\" the regent growled pointing at Amilia, \"this is your doing. I should have known. What was I expecting when I put a common street urchin in charge of... of...\" he trailed off, looking at Modina with an exasperated expression. \"At least your predecessors didn't have her groveling with animals!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Your grace, Amilia was-\" Ibis Thinly began.\n\n\"Shut up, you oaf!\" Saldur snapped at the stocky cook, and then returned his attention to Amilia. \"Your service to the empress has ended, as well as your employment at this palace.\"\n\nSaldur motioned to the empress' guard, and then said, \"Take her out of my sight.\" The guard approached Amilia, unable to meet her eyes.\n\nAmilia breathed in short, stifled gasps and realized she was trembling as the soldier approached. Not normally given to crying, Amilia could not help it, and tears began streaming down her cheeks.\n\n\"No,\" Modina said.\n\nSpoken with no force, barely above a whisper, the single word cast a spell on the room. One of the cooking staff dropped a metal pot that rang loudly on the stone floor. They all stared. The regent turned in surprise, and then began to circle the empress, studying her with interest. The girl had a focused, challenging look as she glared at Saldur. The regent glanced from Amilia to Modina several times. He cocked his head from side to side as if trying to workout a puzzle. The guard stood by awkwardly.\n\nAt length, Saldur put him at ease. \"As the empress commands,\" Saldur said without taking his eyes off Modina. \"It seems that I may have been a bit premature in my assessment of...\" Saldur glance at Amilia, annoyed. \"What's your name?\"\n\n\"A-Amilia.\"\n\nHe nodded as if approving the correct answer. \"Your techniques are unusual, but certainly one can't argue with results.\"\n\nSaldur looked back at Modina as she stood within the circle of maids who parted at his approach. He circled her. \"She does look better, doesn't she? Color's improved. There's...\" he motioned toward her face, \"a fullness to her cheeks.\" His head was nodding. He crossed his arms and with a final nod of approval said, \"Very well, you can keep the position, as it seems to please her eminence.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The regent turned and headed out of the scullery. He paused at the doorway to look over his shoulder saying, \"You know-I was really starting to believe she was mute.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Arista always thought of herself as an experienced equestrian. Most ladies never even satin a saddle, but she had ridden since childhood. The nobles mocked, and her father scolded, but nothing could dissuade her. She loved the freedom of the wind in her hair and her heart pounding with the beat of the hooves. Before setting out, she looked forward to impressing the thieves with her vast knowledge in horsemanship. She knew they would be awed by her skill.\n\nShe was wrong.\n\nIn Sheridan, Royce found her a spirited brown bay mare to replace her exquisite palfrey. Since setting out he forced them over rough ground, fording streams, jumping logs, and dodging low branches-often at a trot. Clutching white-knuckled to the saddle, she used all her skills and strength just to remain on the horse's back. Gone were her illusions of being praised as a skilled rider, and all that remained was the hope of making it through the day without the humiliation-not to mention the physical pain of falling.\n\nThey rode south after leaving the university, following trails only Royce could find. Before dawn they crossed the narrow headwaters of the Galewyr and proceeded up the embankment on the far side. Briars and thickets lashed at them. Unseen dips caught the horses by surprise, and Arista cried out once when her mount made an unexpected lunge across a washed-out gap. Their silence added to her humiliation. If she were a man they would have laughed.\n\nThey climbed steadily, reaching such a steep angle that their mounts panted for air in loud snorts and on occasion uttered deep grunts as they struggled to scramble up the dewy slope. At last they crested the hill, and Arista found herself greeting a chilly dawn atop the wind-swept Senon Upland." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Senon was a high, barren plateau of exposed rock and scrub bushes with expansive views on all sides. The horses' hooves clacked loudly on the barefaced granite until Royce brought them to a stop. His cloak fluttered with the morning breeze. To the east, the sunrise peered at them over the mist-covered forests of Dunmore. From this height, the vast wood appeared like a hazy blue lake as it fell away below them, racing toward the dazzling sun. Arista knew that beyond it lay the Nidwalden River, the Parthalorenon Falls, and the tower of Avempartha. Royce stared east for several minutes, and she wondered if his elven eyes could see that tiny pinnacle of his people in the distance.\n\nIn front of them and to the southwest lay the Warric province of Chadwick. Like everything else west of the ridge, it remained submerged in darkness. Down in the deep rolling valley, the predawn sky would only now be separating from the dark horizon. It would have appeared peaceful, a world tucked in bed before the first cock's crow, except for the hundreds of lights flickering like tiny fireflies.\n\n\"Breckton's camp,\" Hadrian said. \"The Northern Imperial Army is not making very good time it seems.\"\n\n\"We'll descend before Amber Heights and rejoin the road well past Breckton,\" Royce explained. \"How long do you figure before they reach Colnora?\"\n\nHadrian rubbed the growing stubble of his beard. \"Another three, maybe four, days. An army that size moves at a snail's pace, and I am guessing Breckton isn't pleased with his orders. He's likely dragging his feet hoping they'll be rescinded.\"\n\n\"You sound as if you know him,\" she said." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I never met the man, but I fought under his father's banner. I've also fought against him when I served in the ranks of King Armand's army in Alburn.\"\n\n\"How many armies have you served in?\"\n\nHadrian shrugged. \"Too many.\"\n\nThey pushed on, traversing the crest into the face of a fierce wind that tugged at her clothes and caused her eyes to water. Arista kept her head down and watched her horse's hooves pick a path across the cracked slabs of lichen-covered rock. She clutched her cloak tight about her neck as the damp of the previous day's rain and sweat conspired with the wind to make her shiver. When they plunged back into the trees the slow descent began. Once more the animals struggled. This time Arista bent backward, nearly to her horse's flanks to keep her balance.\n\nIt was mercifully cooler than the day before, though the pace was faster. Finally, several hours after midday they stopped on the bank of a small stream, where the horses gorged themselves on cool water and river grass. Royce and Hadrian grabbed packs and gathered wood. Exhausted, Arista as much fellas sat down. Her legs and backside ached. There were insects and twigs in her hair and a dusting of dirt covering her gown. Her eyes stared at nothing, losing their focus as her mind stalled, numb from fatigue.\n\nWhat have I gotten myself into? Am I up to this?\n\nThey were below the Galewyr, in imperial territory. She had thrown herself into the fire, perhaps foolishly. Alric would be furious when he found her missing, and she could just imagine what Ecton would say. If they caught her-she stopped herself.\n\nThis is not helping." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She turned her attention to her escorts.\n\nLike the hours on horseback, Royce and Hadrian remained quiet. Hadrian unsaddled the horses and gave them alight brushing while Royce setup a small cook fire. It was entertaining to watch. Without a word, they would toss tools and bags back and forth. Hadrian blindly threw a hatchet over his shoulder and Royce caught it just in time to begin breaking up branches for the fire. Just as Royce finished the fire, Hadrian had a pot of water ready to place on it. For Arista, who lived her life in public among squabbling nobles and chattering castle staffs, such silence was strange.\n\nHadrian chopped carrots and dropped them into the dented, blackened pot on the coals. \"Are you ready to eat the best meal you've ever had, Highness?\"\n\nShe wanted to laugh, but did not have the strength. Instead, she said, \"There are three chefs and eighteen cooks back at Essendon Castle that would take exception to that remark. They spend their whole lives perfecting elaborate dishes. You would be amazed at the feasts I've attended, filled with everything from exotic spices to ice sculptures. I highly doubt you'll be able to surpass them.\"\n\nHadrian smirked. \"That might be,\" he replied, struggling to cut chunks of dry, brine-encrusted pork into bite-sized cubes, \"but I guarantee this meal will put them all to shame.\"\n\nArista removed the pearl-handled hairbrush from a pouch that hung at her side and tried in vain to comb out her hair. She eventually gave up and sat watching Hadrian drop wretched-looking meat into the bubbling pot. Ash and bits of twigs thrown up by the cracking fire landed into the mix." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Master chef, debris is getting in your pot.\"\n\nHadrian grinned. \"Always happens. Can't help it. Just be careful not to bite down too hard on anything or you might crack a tooth.\"\n\n\"Wonderful,\" she told him, then turned her attention to Royce who was busy checking the horses'hooves. \"We've come along way today, haven't we? I don't think I've ever traveled so far so quickly. You keep a cruel pace.\"\n\n\"That first part was over rough ground,\" Royce mentioned. \"We'll cover a lot more miles after we eat.\"\n\n\"After we eat?\" Arista felt her heart sink. \"We aren't stopping for the day?\"\n\nRoyce glanced up at the sky. \"It's hours until nightfall.\"\n\nThey mean for me to get back into the saddle?\n\nShe did not know if she could stand, much less ride. Virtually every muscle in her body was in pain. They could entertain any thoughts they may, but she would not travel any farther that day. There was no reason to move this fast, or over such rough ground. Why Royce was taking such a difficult course she did not understand.\n\nShe watched as Hadrian dished out the disgusting soup he had concocted into a tin cup and held it out to her. There was an oily film across the top through which green meat bobbed, everything seasoned with bits of dirt and tree bark. Most assuredly, it was the worst thing anyone ever presented her to eat. Arista held the hot cup between her hands, grimacing and wishing she had eaten more of the meat pie back in Sheridan.\n\n\"Is this a... stew?\" she asked.\n\nRoyce laughed quietly. \"He likes to call it that.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"It's a dish I learned from Thrace,\" Hadrian explained with a reminiscent look on his face." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"She's a much better cook than I am. She did this thing with the meat that-well, anyway, no it's not stew. It's really just boiled salt-pork and vegetables. You don't get a broth, but it takes away the rancid taste of the salt and softens the meat. And it's hot. Trust me, you're going to love it.\"\n\nArista closed her eyes and lifted the cup to her lips. The steamy smell was wonderful. Before she realized it, she devoured the entire thing, eating so quickly she burned her tongue. A moment later, she was scraping the bottom with a bit of hard bread. She looked for more and was disappointed to see Hadrian already cleaning the pot. Lying in the grass she let out a sigh as the warmth of the meal coursed through her body.\n\n\"So much for ice sculptures.\" Hadrian chuckled.\n\nDespite her earlier reluctance, she found new strength after eating. The next leg of the trip was over level ground along the relative ease of a deer trail. Royce drove them as fast as the terrain allowed, never pausing or consulting a map.\n\nAfter many hours Arista had no idea where they were, nor did she care. The food faded into memory and she found herself once more near collapse. She rode bent over, resting on the horse's neck and drifting in and out of sleep. She could not discern between dream and reality and would wake in a panic, certain she was falling. Finally they stopped.\n\nEverything was dark and cold. The ground was wet and she stood shivering once more. Her guides went back into their silent actions. This time, to Arista's immense disappointment, no fire was made and instead of a hot meal they handed her strips of smoked meat, raw carrots, an onion quarter, and a triangle of hard, dry bread. She sat on the wet grass, feeling the moisture soak into her skirt and dampening her legs as she devoured the meal without a thought." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Shouldn't we get a shelter up?\" she asked, hopefully.\n\nRoyce looked up at the stars. \"It looks clear.\"\n\n\"But...\" She was shocked when he spread out a cloth on the grass.\n\nThey mean to sleep right here-on the ground without even a tent!\n\nArista had three handmaids that dressed and undressed her daily. They bathed her and brushed her hair. Servants fluffed pillows and brought warm milk at bedtime. They tended the fireplace in shifts, quietly adding logs throughout the night. Sleeping in her carriage was a hardship; sleeping on that ghastly cot in the dorm a torment-this was insane! Even peasants had hovels.\n\nArista wrapped her cloak tight against the night's chill.\n\nWill I even get a blanket?\n\nTired beyond memory, she got on her hands and knees and feebly brushed a small pile of dead leaves together to act as a mattress. Lying down, she felt them crunch and crinkle beneath her.\n\n\"Hold on,\" Hadrian said, carrying over a bundle. He unrolled a canvas tarp. \"I really need to make more of these. The pitch will keep the damp from soaking through.\" He handed her a blanket as well. \"Oh, there's a nice little clearing just beyond those trees, just in case you need it.\"\n\nWhy in the world would I need a-\n\n\"Oh,\" she said and managed a nod. Surely they would come upon a town soon. She could wait.\n\n\"Goodnight, Highness.\"\n\nShe did not reply as Hadrian went a few paces away and assembled his own bed from pine boughs. Without a tent, there was no choice but to sleep in her dress, which left her trapped in a tight corset. Arista spread out the tarp, removed her shoes, and lay down pulling the thin blanket up to her chin. Though utterly miserable, she stubbornly refused to show it. After all, common women lived everyday under similar conditions-so could she. The argument was noble, but gave little comfort." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Collaborate on the narrative and advance it.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, empire\nAuthor: Michael J. Sullivan\nTitle: Nyphron Rising\nChapter: 13" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She stopped talking. Exhausted and out of breath.\n\nThe room was silent.\n\nTo Hadrian's surprise, it was Royce who spoke first. \"Making Emery disappear isn't the hard part. Keeping him hidden is the problem.\"\n\n\"They'll tear the city apart looking, that's certain,\" Polish said.\n\n\"Can we bring him here?\" Arista asked.\n\nPolish shook his head. \"The Imps know about us. They leave us alone because we don't cause much trouble and they enjoy the black market we provide. No, they'll most certainly comedown here looking. Besides, without orders from the Jewel or the First Officer, I couldn't expose our operation to that much risk.\"\n\n\"We need a safe house where the Imps won't dare look,\" Royce said. \"Someplace they won't even want to look. Is the city physician an Imperialist or a Loyalist?\"\n\n\"He's a friend of Emery, if that's any indication,\" Quartz explained.\n\n\"Perfect. By the way, princess, conquering Ratibor wasn't in our contract. This will most certainly cost you extra.\"\n\n\"Just keep a tally,\" she replied, unable to suppress her smile.\n\n\"If this keeps up we're going to own Melengar,\" Hadrian mentioned.\n\n\"What's this we stuff?\" Royce asked. \"You're retired remember?\"\n\n\"Oh? So you'll be leading the Nationalist advance will you?\"\n\n\"Sixty, forty?\" Royce proposed.\n\n---\n\nDespite the recent rain, the public stable on Lords Row caught fire just after dark. More than two dozen horses ran through the streets. The city's inhabitants responded with a bucket brigade. Those unable to find a place inline stood in awe as the vast wooden building burned with flames reaching high into the night's sky." }, { "from": "human", "value": "With no chance of saving the stable, the town fought to save the butcher's shop next door." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Men climbed on the roof, and braving the rain of sparks, soaked the shake shingles. Bucket after bucket doused the little shop as the butcher's wife watched terrified from the street, her face glowing with the horrific light. The town folk, and even some imperial guards, fought the fire for hours until at last, deprived of the shop next door, it burned itself out. The stable was gone. All that remained was charred and smoking rubble, but the butcher's shop survived with one blackened wall to mark its brush with disaster. The townsfolk, covered in soot and ash, congratulated themselves on a job well done. The Gnome filled with patrons toasting their success. They clapped their neighbors on the back, told jokes and stories of near-death.\n\nNo one noticed Emery Dorn was missing.\n\nThe next morning the city bell rang with the news. A stuffed dummy hung in his place. Guards swore they had not left their stations but had no explanation. Sheriff Vigan, the judge, and various other city officials were furious. They stood in Central Square, shouting and pointing fingers at the guards then at each other. Even Viceroy Androus interrupted his busy schedule to emerge from City Hall to personally view the scene.\n\nBy midmorning, The Gnome filled up with gossipers and happy customers as if the town had declared a holiday, and Ayers was happily working up a sweat filling drinks.\n\n\"He was still breathing at sunset!\" the cooper declared.\n\n\"He's definitely alive. Why free him if he was dead?\" the grocer put forth.\n\n\"Who did it?\"\n\n\"What makes you think anyone did it? That boy likely got away himself. Emery is a sly one, he is. We shoulda known the Imps couldn't kill the likes of him.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"He's likely down in the sewers.\"\n\n\"Naw, he's left the city, nothing for him here now.\"\n\n\"Knowing Emery, he's in the viceroy's house right now drinking the old man's brandy!\"\n\nThis brought laughter to go with the round of ales Ayers dispensed. Ayers had his own thoughts on the matter-he guessed the guards freed him. Emery was a great talker. Ayers heard him giving speeches in The Gnome dozens of times and he always won over the crowd. It was easy to imagine the boy talking all night to those men set to watch him and turning them around. He wanted to mention it, but the keg was nearly empty and he was running low on mugs. He did not care much for the Imps personally, but they sure were great for business.\n\nAloud banging at the tavern's entrance killed the laughter and people turned sharply. Ayers nearly dropped the keg he was lifting, certain the sheriff was leading another raid, but it was only Doctor Gerand.\n\nHe stood at the open door, hammering the frame with his shoe to get their attention. Everyone breathed again.\n\n\"Come in, Doctor!\" Ayers shouted. \"I'll have another keg brought up.\"\n\n\"Can't,\" he replied, \"need to be keeping my distance from everyone for awhile. Just want to let people know to stay clear of the Dunlap house. They've got a case of pox there.\"\n\n\"Is it bad?\" the grocer asked.\n\n\"Bad enough,\" the physician said.\n\n\"All these new immigrants from down south bringing all kinds of sickness with them,\" Ayers complained.\n\n\"Aye, that's probably what did it,\" Doctor Gerand said. \"Mrs. Dunlap took in a boarder a few days back, a refugee from Vernes. It was that fella who first comedown with the pox. So don't be going near the Dunlap's place until you hear it's safe from me, in fact, I'd steer clear of Benning Street altogether. I'm gonna see if I can get the sheriff to put up some signs and maybe a fence or something to let people know to keep out. Anyway, I'm just going around telling folks, and I would appreciate it if you helped me spread the word before this gets out of hand.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "By noon, the city guard was turning everyone out of their houses and shops searching for the escaped traitor, and the very first place they looked was the Dunlap's home. The five guards on duty the night Emery disappeared were forced to draw lots, and one lone soldier went in. He came out finding nothing but a couple of sick people, neither of whom were Emery. After making his report at a distance, he returned to the Dunlaps to remain under quarantine.\n\nThe soldiers then tore through The Laughing Gnome, the marketplace, the old church, and even the scribe's office, leaving them all a mess. Squads of soldiers entered the sewers and came up soaked. They did not find the escaped traitor, but they did find a couple chests that some said were filled with stolen silver.\n\nThere was no sign of Emery Dorn.\n\nBy nightfall, a make-shift wooden fence stood across Benning Street and a large whitewashed sign read:\n\nTwo days later, the soldier who searched the Dunlap's house died. He was seen in the yard covered with puss-filled boils. The doctor dug a hole himself while people watched from a distance. After that, no one went near Benning Street.\n\nThe city officials and those at The Gnome concluded Emery left town or died-secretly buried somewhere.\n\n---\n\nArista, Hadrian, and Royce waited silently just outside the entrance to the bedroom until the doctor finished. \"I've taken the bandages off him,\" Doctor Gerand said. He was an elderly man with white hair, a hooknose, and bushy eyebrows that managed to look sad even when he smiled. \"He's much better today. A whipping like he took,\" he paused, unsure how to explain, \"well, you saw what it did to the poor lady that hung alongside him. He should have died, but he's young. He'll bounce back once he wakes up and starts eating. Of course, his back will be scarred for life and he'll never be as strong as he was-too much damage. The only concern I have is noxious humors causing an imbalance in his body, but honestly, that doesn't look like it will be a problem. Like I said, the boy is young and strong. Let him continue to rest and he should be fine.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They followed the doctor downstairs, escorting him to the front door of the Dunlap's home where he bid them goodnight.\n\nPausing in the doorway he looked back. \"Emery is a good lad. He was my son's best friend. Jimmy was taken into the Imperial Army and died in some battle up north.\" He paused a moment, glancing at the floor. \"Watching Emery on that post was like losing him allover again. Whatever happens now, I just wanted to say thank you.\" With that, the doctor left.\n\nArista saw the inside of more commoners homes over the last week than she had in her entire life. After visiting with the Bakers of Hintindar, she assumed all families lived in identical houses, but the Dunlap's home was nothing like the Bakers\". It was two stories with a solid wooden floor on both levels, the upper story creating a thick-beamed ceiling to the lower. While still modest and a bit cramped, it showed touches of care and a dash of prosperity that Hintindar lacked. The walls were painted and decorated with pretty designs of stars and flowers, and the wood surfaces were buffed and stained. Knickknacks of glazed pottery and woodcarvings lined shelves above the fireplace. Unlike Dunstan and Arbor's sparse home, the Dunlaps had a lot of furniture. Wooden chairs with straw seats circled the table. Another pair bookended a spinning wheel surrounded by several wicker baskets. Little tables held vases of flowers and on the wall hung a cabinet with small doors and knobs. Kept neat, clean, and orderly, it was a house loved by a woman whose husband was a good provider, but rarely home.\n\n\"Are you sure you don't want anything else?\" Mrs. Dunlap asked, while clearing the dinner plates. She was an old, plump woman who always wore an apron and matching white scarf and had a habit of wringing her wrinkled hands." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"We're fine,\" Arista told her. \"And thank you again for letting us use your home.\"\n\nThe old woman smiled. \"It's not so much a risk as you might think. My husband has been dead six years now. He proudly served as His Majesty Urith's coachman. Did you know that?\" Her eyes sparkled as she looked off as if seeing him once more. \"He was a handsome man in his driver's coat and hat with that red plume and gold broach. Yes, sir, a mighty fine-looking man, proud to serve the king, and had for thirty years.\"\n\n\"Was he killed with the king?\"\n\n\"Oh, no.\" She shook her head. \"But he died soon after, of heartbreak I think. He was very close to the royal family. Drove them everywhere they went. They gave him gifts and called him by his given name. Once, during a storm, he even brought the princes hereto spend the night. The little boys talked about it for weeks. We never had children of our own, you see, and I think Paul-that's my husband-I think he thought of the royals as his own boys. It devastated him when they died in that fire-that horrible fire. Emery's father died in it, too, did you know that? He was one of the king's bodyguards. There was so much death that terrible, terrible night.\"\n\n\"Urith was a good king?\" Hadrian asked.\n\nShe shrugged. \"I'm just an old woman, what do I know? People complained about him all the time when he was alive. They complained about the high taxes, and some of the laws, and how he would live in a castle with sixty servants dining on deer, boar, and beef all at the same meal while people in the city were starving. I don't know that there is such a thing as a good king, perhaps there are just kings that are good enough.\" She looked at Arista and winked. \"Perhaps what we need is less kings and more womenfolk running the show.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Mrs." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dunlap went back to the work of straightening as they sat at the round dining table.\n\n\"Well,\" Royce began, looking at Arista, \"step one of your rebellion is complete. So now what?\"\n\nShe thought a moment then said, \"We'll need to circulate the story of Emery leading the coming attack. Play him up as a hero, a ghost that the Empire can't kill.\"\n\n\"I've heard talk like that around town already,\" Royce said. \"You were right about that at least.\"\n\nArista smiled. Such a compliment from Royce was high praise.\n\n\"We need to use word of mouth,\" she continued, \"to get the momentum for the revolt started. I want everyone to know it is coming. I want them to think of it as inevitable as the coming of dawn. I want them to believe it can't fail. I'll need leaders as well. Hadrian, keep an eye out for reliable men who can help lead the battle. Men others listen to and respect. I'll also need you to devise a battle plan to take the armory and the garrison for me. Unlike my brother, I never studied the art of war. They made me learn needlepoint instead. Do you know how often I have used needlepoint?\"\n\nHadrian chuckled.\n\n\"It's also imperative that we get word to Alric to start the invasion from the north. Even if we take the city, Breckton can wait us out unless Melengar applies pressure. I would suggest asking the Diamond to send the message, but given how reliable they were last time and how utterly important this is-Royce, I need to ask you to carry the message for me. If anyone can get through and bring back help, it's you.\"\n\nRoyce pursed his lips, thinking, and then nodded. \"I'll talk to Polish just the same and see if I can get him to part with one or two of his men to accompany me. You should write three messages to Alric. Each of us will carry one and spilt up if there's trouble. Three people will increase the odds that at least one will make it. And don't neglect to write an additional letter explaining how this trip south was all your idea. I don't want to bear the brunt of his anger when he finds out where you went. Oh, and of course an explanation of the fees to be paid,\" he said with a wink." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Arista sighed." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"He'll want to kill me.\"\n\n\"Not if you succeed in taking the city,\" Hadrian encouraged.\n\n\"Speaking of which, after you complete the battle plan for the garrison you'll need to see about reaching Gaunt's army and taking command of it. I'm not exactly sure how you're going to do that, but I'll write you a decree and declare you general-ambassador in proxy, granting you the power to speak on my behalf. I'll give you the rank of Auxiliary Marshall and the title of Lord. That might just impress them and at least give you the legal right to negotiate and the credentials to command.\"\n\n\"I doubt royal titles will impress Nationalists much,\" Hadrian said.\n\n\"Maybe not, but the threat of the Northern Imperial Army should give you a good deal of leverage. Desperate men might be willing to cling to an impressive title in the absence of anything else.\"\n\nHadrian chuckled again.\n\n\"What?\" she asked.\n\n\"Oh, nothing,\" he said. \"I was just thinking that for an ambassador, you're a very capable general.\"\n\n\"No you weren't,\" she told him bluntly. \"You're thinking that I'm capable fora woman.\"\n\n\"That, too.\"\n\nArista smiled. \"Well, it's lucky that I am, because so far I'm pretty lousy at being a woman. I honestly can't stand needlepoint.\"\n\n\"I suppose I should set out tonight for Melengar,\" Royce said. \"Unless there's something else you need before I go?\"\n\nArista shook her head.\n\n\"How about you?\" he asked Hadrian. \"Assuming you survive this stunt, what are you going to do now that you know the heir is dead? Are you going back to Hintindar or Medford?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Hang on, are you sure the heir is dead?\" Arista broke in.\n\n\"You were there. You heard what Bartholomew said,\" Hadrian replied. \"I don't think he was lying.\"\n\n\"I'm not saying that he was... it's just that... well Esrahaddon seemed pretty convinced the heir was still alive when he left Avempartha. And then there's the church. They're after Esra, expecting him to lead them to the real heir. They so much as told me that when I was at Ervanon last year. So why is everyone looking if he's dead.\"\n\n\"There's no telling what Esrahaddon is up to. As for the church, they pretended to look for the heir just as they are pretending they found the heir,\" Royce said.\n\n\"Perhaps, but there's still the image that we saw in the tower. He seemed like a living, breathing person tome.\"\n\nRoyce thought. \"Maybe there was a previous wife, or even a prostitute.\"\n\n\"You're assuming the heir was a man,\" Arista pointed out. \"It could have been the woman.\"\n\nRoyce nodded. \"Good point.\"\n\nHadrian shook his head. \"There couldn't have been another child. My father would have known and searched for him... or her. No, Danbury knew the line ended or he wouldn't have stayed in Hintindar.\"\n\nHe glanced at Royce then lowered his eyes. \"In any case, if I survive I'll probably head to Hintindar.\"\n\nRoyce nodded. \"You'll probably get killed anyway. But... I suppose you're okay with that-as happy as a dog with a bone.\"\n\n\"How's that?\"\n\n\"Nothing.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There was a pause then Hadrian said, \"It's not completely hopeless. It's just that damn cavalry. They'll cut down the Nationalists in a heartbeat. If only it would rain again.\"\n\n\"Rain?\" Arista asked.\n\n\"Charging horses carrying heavy armored knights need solid ground. After the last few days, the ground has already dried. If I could engage them over tilled rain-drenched farmland, the horses will mire themselves and Dermont would lose his best advantage. But the weather doesn't look like it's gonna cooperate.\"\n\n\"So you would prefer it to rain non-stop between now and the battle?\" Arista asked.\n\n\"That would be one sweet miracle, but I don't expect we'll have that kind of luck.\"\n\n\"Perhaps luck isn't what we need.\" Arista smiled at him.\n\n---\n\nThe Dunlap household was dark except for the single candle Arista carried up the steps to the second floor. She had said her goodbyes to Royce and Hadrian. Mrs. Dunlap went to bed hours ago and the house was quiet. It was the first time in ages she found herself alone.\n\nHow can this plan possibly work? Am I crazy?\n\nShe knew what her old handmaid, Bernice, would say. Then the old woman would offer her a gingerbread cookie as a consolation prize.\n\nWhat will Alric say when Royce reaches him?\n\nEven if she succeeded, he would be furious that she disobeyed him and went off without telling anyone. She pushed those thoughts away and would worry about all that later. They could hang her for treason if they wished, so long as Melengar was safe.\n\nAll estimates indicated Breckton would arrive in less than four days. She would have to control the city by then. She planned to launch the revolt in two days and hoped she had at least a few days to recover, pull in supplies from the surrounding farms, and setup some defenses." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Royce would get through with the message. If he could get to Alric quickly, and if her brother moved fast, Alric could attack across the Galewyr in just a few days, and it would only take two or three days for word to reach Aquesta. Hearing that Alric was invading from the north, Sir Breckton would receive new orders. She would need to hold him off at least that long. All this assumed they successfully took the city and defeated Lord Dermont's knights to the south.\n\nTwo days. How long did it normally take to plan a successful revolution?\n\nLonger than two days, she was certain.\n\n\"Excuse me. Hello?\"\n\nArista stopped as she passed the open door of Emery's bedroom. They put him in the small room at the top of the stairs, in the same bed where the princes of Rhenydd once slept on a stormy night. Emery had remained unconscious since they stole him from the post. She was surprised to see his eyes open and looking back at her, his hair pressed from sleep, a puzzled look on his face.\n\n\"How are you feeling?\" she asked, softly.\n\n\"Terrible,\" he replied. \"Who are you? And where am I?\"\n\n\"My name is Arista and you're at the Dunlaps on Benning Street.\" She set the candle on the nightstand and sat on the edge of the bed.\n\n\"But I should be dead,\" he told her.\n\n\"Awfully sorry to disappoint, but I thought you would be more helpful alive.\" She smiled at him.\n\nHis brow furrowed. \"Helpful with what?\"\n\n\"Don't worry about that now. You need to sleep.\"\n\n\"No! Tell me. I won't be a party to the Imperialists, I tell you!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Settle down, of course not." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "We need your help taking the city back from the Imperialists.\"\n\nEmery looked at her, stunned. His eyes shifted from side to side. \"I don't understand.\"\n\n\"I heard your plan in The Laughing Gnome. It was a good one and we are going to do it in two days, so you need to rest and get your strength back.\"\n\n\"Who are we? Who are you? How did you manage this?\"\n\nArista smiled. \"Practice, I guess.\"\n\n\"Practice?\"\n\n\"Let's just say this isn't the first time I've had to save a kingdom from a traitorous murderer out to steal the throne. It's okay; just go back to sleep it will-\"\n\n\"Wait! You said your name was Arista?\"\n\nShe nodded.\n\n\"You're the princess of Melengar!\"\n\nShe nodded again. \"Yes.\"\n\n\"But... but how... why?\" He started to push upon the bed with his hands and winced.\n\n\"Calm down,\" she told him firmly. \"You need to rest. I mean it.\"\n\n\"I shouldn't belying down in your presence!\"\n\n\"You will if I tell you to, and I am telling you to.\"\n\n\"I-I just can't believe... why... why would you come here?\"\n\n\"I'm hereto help.\"\n\n\"You're amazing.\"\n\n\"And you are suffering from a flogging that would have killed any man with the good sense to know he should be dead. Now you need to go back to sleep this instant, and that's an order. Do you understand?\"\n\n\"Yes, Your Majesty.\"\n\nShe smiled. \"I am not a ruling queen, Emery, just a princess, my brother is the king.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Emery looked embarrassed. \"Your Highness, then.\"\n\n\"I would prefer it if you just called me Arista.\"\n\nEmery looked shocked.\n\n\"Go ahead, give it a try.\"\n\n\"It's not proper.\"\n\n\"And is it proper that you should deny a princess' request? Particularly one who saved your life?\"\n\nHe shook his head slowly. \"Arista,\" he said shyly.\n\nShe smiled at him and, on an impulse, leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. \"Goodnight, Emery,\" she said, and stepped back out of the room.\n\nShe walked back down the steps through the dark house and out the front door. The night was still. Just as Hadrian had mentioned the sky was clear, showing a bountiful banquet of stars spilling like dust across the vast blackness. Benning Street, a short lane that dead-ended at the Dunlaps' carriage house, was empty.\n\nIt was unusual for Arista to be completely alone outdoors. Hilfred had always been her ever-present shadow. She missed him and yet it felt good to be on her own facing the night. It had only been a few days since she rode out of Medford, but she knew she was not the same person who left. She had always feared her life would be no more than that of a woman of privilege, helpless and confined. She escaped that fate and entered into the more prestigious, but equally restricted, role of ambassador, which was nothing more than a glorified messenger. Now, however, she felt for the first time she was finding her true calling.\n\nShe began to hum softly to herself. The spell she cast on the Seret Knights had worked, yet no one taught her how to do it. She invented the spell, drawing from a similar idea and her general knowledge of the Art." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "That is what makes it an art.\n\nThere was indeed a gap in her education, but it was because what was missing could not be taught. Esrahaddon had not held back anything. The gap was the reality of magic. Instructors could teach the basic techniques and methods, but a mastery of mechanical knowledge can never make a person an artist. No one can teach creativity or invention. A spark needs to come from within. It must be something unique, something discovered by the individual, a leap of understanding, a burst of insight, the combining of common elements in an unexpected way.\n\nArista knew it to be true. She had known it since killing the knights. The knowledge both excited and terrified her. The horrible deaths of the seret only compounded that terrible realization. Now, however, standing alone in the yard under the blanket of stars and the stillness of the warm summer night, she embraced her understanding and it was thrilling. There was danger, of course, both intoxicating and alluring, and she struggled to contain her emotions. Recalling the death cries of the knights and the ghastly looks on their faces helped to ground her. She did not want to get lost in that power. In her mind's eye, the Art was a great beast, a dragon of limitless potential that yearned to beset free, but a mindless beast let loose upon the world would be a terrible thing. She understood the wisdom of Arcadius and the need to restrain the passion she now touched.\n\nArista set the candle down before her and cleared her mind to focus.\n\nShe reached out and pressed her fingers in the air as if gently touching the surface of an invisible object. Power vibrated like the strings of a harp as her humming became a chant. They were not the words that Esrahaddon had taught her. Nor was it an incantation from Arcadius. The words were her own. The fabric of the universe was at her fingertips, and she fought to control her excitement. She plucked the strings on her invisible harp. She could play individual notes or chords, melodies, rhythms, and a multitude of combinations of each. The possibilities of creation were astonishing and so numerous were the choices that she was equally overwhelmed. It would clearly take a lifetime, or more, to begin to grasp the potential she now felt. Tonight however, her path was simple and clear. A flick of her wrist and sweep of her fingers, almost as if she was motioning farewell, and at that moment the candle blew out." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A wind gusted. The dry soil of the street whirled into a dirt-devil. Old leaves and bits of grass buffeted about. The stars faded as thick full clouds crept across the sky. On a tin roof, she heard it. It sang on the metal, the chorus of her song, and then she felt the splatter of rain on her upturned and laughing face." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The ceiling of the Grand Imperial Throne Room was a dome painted robin's egg blue interspersed with white puffy clouds mimicking the sky on a gentle summer's day. The painting was heavy and uninspired, but Modina thought it beautiful. She could not remember the last time she saw the real sky.\n\nHer life since Dahlgren was a nightmare of vague unpleasant people and places she could not, and did not care to, remember. She had no idea how much time passed since the death of her father. It did not matter. Nothing did. Time was a concern of the living, and if she knew anything it was that she was dead. A ghost drifting dream-like, pushed along by unseen hands, hearing disembodied voices-but something had changed.\n\nAmilia had come and with her the haze and the fog that she had been lost in for so long had begun to lift. She became aware of the world around her.\n\n\"Keep your head up, and don't look at them,\" Nimbus was telling her. \"You are the empress and they are beneath you, contemptuous and not worthy of even the slightest glance from your imperial eyes. Back straight. Back straight.\"\n\nModina, dressed in a formal gown of gold and white, stood on the imperial dais before an immense and gaudy throne. She scratched it once and discovered the gold was a thin veneer over dull metal. The dais itself was twelve-feet from the ground with sheer sides except for where the half moon stairs provided access. The stairs were removable, allowing her to beset on display, the perfect unapproachable symbol of the New Empire.\n\nNimbus shook his head miserably. \"It's not going to work; she's not listening.\"\n\n\"She's just not used to standing straight all the time,\" Amilia told him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Perhaps a stiff board sewn into her corset and laced tight?\" a steward proposed timidly.\n\n\"Actually, that's not a bad idea,\" Amilia replied. She looked at Nimbus, \"What do you think?\"\n\n\"Better make it a very stiff board,\" Nimbus replied, sardonically.\n\nThey waved over the royal tailor and seamstress and an informal meeting ensued. They droned on about seams, stays, and ties while Modina looked down from above.\n\nCan they seethe pain in my face?\n\nShe did not think so. She did not see sympathy in their eyes, but awe-awe and admiration. They simultaneously marveled and quaked when in her presence. She heard them whisper about the beast she slew, and how she was the daughter of a god. To the thousands of soldiers, knights, and commoners she was something to worship.\n\nUntil recently, Modina had been oblivious to it all. Her mind shut in a dark hole where any attempt to think caused such anguish she recoiled back into the dull safety of the abyss. Time dulled the pain, and slowly the words of nearby conversations seeped in. She began to understand. According to what she overheard, she and her father were descendents of some legendary lost king. This was why only they could harm the beast. She had been anointed empress, but she was not certain what that meant. So far, it meant pain and isolation.\n\nModina stared at those around her without emotion. She was no longer capable of feeling. There was no fear, anger, or hate, nor was there love or happiness. She was a ghost haunting her own body, watching the world with detached interest. Nothing that transpired around her held any importance-except Amilia." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Previously the people hovering around her were vague gray faces. They spoke to her of ridiculous notions the vast majority she could not begin to comprehend even if she wanted to. Amilia was different. When she spoke it was of things she understood. Amilia told stories of her family and reminded her of another girl-a girl named Thrace-who died and was just a ghost now. It was a painful memory, but Amilia managed to remind her about times before the darkness, before the pain, when there was still someone in the world that loved her.\n\nWhen Saldur threatened to send Amilia away, she could seethe terrible fear in the girl's eyes. She recognized that fear. Saldur's voice was the screech of the beast and at that moment, she awoke from her long dream. Her eyes focused, seeing clearly for the first time since that night. She would not allow the beast to win again.\n\nSomewhere in the chamber, out of sight of the dais, a door slammed. The sound echoed around the marbled hall. Loud footsteps followed with an even louder conversation.\n\n\"I don't understand why I can't launch an attack against Alric on my own,\" the voice came from an agitated well-dressed man.\n\n\"Breckton's army will dispatch the Nationalists in no time then he can return to Melengar and you can have your prize, Archie.\" replied the voice of an older man. \"Melengar isn't going anywhere, and it's not worth the risk.\"\n\nThe younger voice she did not recognize, but the older one she had heard many times before. They called him Regent Ethelred. The pair of nobles and their retinue came into view. Ethelred was dressed as she usually saw him-red velvet and gold silk. His thick mustache and dark beard betrayed his age, as both were going steadily gray." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The younger man walking beside him dressed in a stylish scarlet silk tunic with a high-ruffed collar, an elegant cape, and an extravagant plumed hat that matched the rest of his attire perfectly. Taller than the regent, his long auburn hair trailed down his back in a ponytail. They walked at the head of a group of six others: personal servants, stewards, and court officials. Four of the six Modina recognized, as she had seen the little parade before. There was the court scribe, who went everywhere carrying a ledger. He was a plump man with long red cheeks and a balding head who always had a feathered quill behind each ear, making him look like a strange bird. His staunchly straight posture and odd strut reminded her of a quail parading through afield, and because she did not know the scribe's name, in her mind she dubbed him simply The Quail.\n\nThere was also Ethelred's valet, whom she labeled the White Mouse, as he was a thin, pale man with stark white hair whose fastidious pampering seemed rodent-like. She never heard him speak except to say'of course, my lord.\" He continuously flicked lint from Ethelred's clothes, and was always on hand to take a cloak or change the regent's footwear.\n\nThen there was The Candle because he was a tall, thin man with wild red curly hair and a drooping mouth that sagged like tallow wax.\n\nThe last of the entourage was a soldier of some standing. He wore a uniform that had dozens of brightly colored ribbons pinned to it.\n\n\"I would appreciate you using a formal address when we are in public,\" Archie pointed out.\n\nEthelred turned as if surprised to see they were not alone in the hall." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Oh,\" he said, quickly masking a smile. Then in atone heavy with sarcasm proclaimed, \"Forgive me, Earl of Chadwick,\" then added, \"I didn't notice them. They are more like furniture tome. My point was, however, that we only suspect the extent of Melengar's weakness. Attacking them would introduce more headaches than it is worth. As it is, there is no chance Alric will attack us. He's a boy, but not so foolhardy as to provoke the destruction of his little kingdom.\"\n\n\"Is that...\" Archibald stared up at Modina and stopped walking so that Ethelred lost track of him fora moment.\n\n\"The empress? Yes,\" Ethelred replied, his tone revealing a bit of his own irritation that the earl had apparently not heard what he just said.\n\n\"She's... she's... beautiful.\"\n\n\"Hmm? Yes, I suppose she is,\" Ethelred responded without looking. Instead, he turned to Amilia who, along with everyone else, was standing straight, her eyes looking at the floor. \"Saldur tells me you're our little miracle worker. You got her eating, speaking and generally cooperating. I am pleased to hear it.\"\n\nAmilia curtseyed in silence.\n\n\"She will be ready in time, correct? We can ill-afford another fiasco like the one we had at the coronation. She couldn't even make an appearance. You will see to that, won't you?\"\n\n\"Yes, my lord.\" Amilia curtseyed again.\n\nThe Earl of Chadwick's eyes remained focused on Modina, and she found his expression surprising. She did not seethe awe inspired look of the palace staff, nor the cold callous countenance of her handlers. His face bore abroad smile." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A soldier entered the hall, walking briskly toward them. The one with the pretty ribbons left the entourage and strode forward to intercept him. They spoke in whispers fora brief moment, and then the other soldier handed over some parchments. Ribbon Man opened and read them silently to himself before returning to Ethelred's side.\n\n\"What is it?\"\n\n\"Your lordship, Admiral Gafton's blockade fleet succeeded in capturing the Ellis Far, a small sloop, off the coast of Melengar. Onboard they found parchments signed by King Alric granting the courier permission to negotiate with the full power of the Melengar crown. The courier and ship's captain were unfortunately killed in the action. The coxswain, however, was taken and persuaded to reveal the destination of the vessel as Tur Del Fur.\"\n\nEthelred nodded his understanding. \"Trying to linkup with the Nationalists, but that was expected. The sloop sailed from Roe then?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"You're sure no other ship slipped past?\"\n\n\"The reports indicate it was the only one.\"\n\nWhile Ethelred and the soldier spoke and the rest of the hall remained still as statues, only the Earl of Chadwick was unaffected. She did not return his gaze, and it made her uncomfortable the way he stared at her.\n\nHe ascended the steps and knelt. \"Your eminence,\" he said, gently taking her hand and kissing the ring she wore. \"I am Archibald Ballentyne, twelfth Earl of Chadwick.\"\n\nModina said nothing.\n\n\"Archibald?\" Ethelred's voice once more.\n\n\"Forgive my rude approach,\" the earl continued, \"but I find I can't help myself. How strange it is that we haven't met before. I've been to Aquesta many times but never had the pleasure. Bad luck I suppose, I am certain you are very busy, and as I command a substantial army, I am busy as well. Recent events have seen fit to bring my command here. It is not something I was pleased with. That is until now. You see, I was doing very well conquering new lands for your growing Empire, and having to stop I considered unfortunate. But my regret has turned to one of genuine delight as I've been blessed to behold your splendor.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Archie!\" Ethelred had been calling out to him for sometime, but it was not until he used that name that the well-dressed man's attention finally left her. \"Stop with that foolishness, will you. We need to get to the meeting.\"\n\nThe earl frowned in irritation.\n\n\"Please forgive me, your eminence, but duty calls.\"\n\n---\n\nThe moment the practice was over, they changed Modina back into her simple dress and she was escorted to her cell. She thought there was a time when two palace soldiers walked with her everywhere, but now there was only one. His name was Gerald. That was all she knew about him, which was strange because she saw him everyday. Gerald escorted her wherever she went and stood guard outside her cell door. She assumed he took breaks, most likely late at night, but in the mornings when she and Amilia went to breakfast he was always there. She never heard him speak. They were quite a quiet pair.\n\nWhen she reached the cell door, it was open, the dark interior waiting. He never forced her in. He never touched her. He merely stood patiently, taking up his post at the entrance. She hesitated before the threshold, and when she looked at Gerald he stared at the floor.\n\n\"Wait.\" Amilia trotted up the corridor toward them. \"Her eminence is moving today.\"\n\nBoth Gerald and Modina looked puzzled.\n\n\"I've given up talking to the Lord Chamberlin,\" Amilia declared. She was speaking quickly and seemed to address them both at once. \"Nimbus is right-I am the Secretary to the Empress after all.\" She focused on Gerald. \"Please escort her eminence to her new bedroom on the east wing's fifth floor.\"\n\nThe order was weak, not at all the voice of a noblewoman. It lacked the tenor of confidence, the power of arrogance. There was a space of time, a beat of uncertainty when no one moved and no one spoke. Committed now, Amilia remained awkwardly stiff facing Gerald. For the first time Modina noticed how large a man he was, the sword at his side, the castle guard uniform, every line straight, every bit of metal polished." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gerald nodded, and moved aside.\n\n\"This way, your eminence,\" Amilia said, letting out a breath.\n\nThe three of them walked to the central stairs as Amilia continued to talk. \"I got her eating, I got her to talk-I just want a better place for her to sleep. How can they argue? No one is even on the fifth floor.\"\n\nAs they reached the main hall they passed several surprised servants. One young woman stopped, stunned.\n\n\"Anna.\" Amilia caught her attention. \"It is Anna, isn't it?\"\n\nThe woman nodded, unable to take hear eyes off Modina.\n\n\"The empress is moving to a bedroom on the fifth floor. Run and get linens and pillows.\"\n\n\"Ah-but Edith told me to scrub the-\"\n\n\"Forget Edith.\"\n\n\"She'll beat me.\"\n\n\"No, she won't,\" Amilia said, and thought fora moment. With sudden authority she continued, \"From now on, you are working for the empress-her personal chambermaid-from now on you report directly tome, do you understand?\"\n\nAnna looked shocked.\n\n\"What do you want to do?\" Amilia asked. \"Defy Edith Mon or refuse the empress? Now get those linens and get the best room on the fifth floor in order.\"\n\n\"Yes, your eminence,\" she addressed Modina, \"right away.\"\n\nThey climbed the stairs, moving quickly by the fourth floor. In the east wing, the fifth floor was a single long hall with five doors. Light entered from a narrow slit at the far end, revealing a dust-covered corridor.\n\nAmilia looked at the five doors fora moment. Shrugging, she opened one and motioned for them to wait as she entered. When she returned, she grimaced and said, \"Let's wait for Anna.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They did not have to wait long. The chambermaid returned with an armload of linens, chased by two young boys with rags, a broom, a mop, and a bucket. Anna panted for breath and her brow glistened. The chambermaid traversed the corridor and selected the door at the far end. She and the boys rushed in. Amilia joined them. Before long, the boys raced back out and returned hauling various items: pillows, a blanket, more water, brushes. Modina and Gerald waited in the hallway, listening to the grunts and bumps and scrapes. Soon Anna exited, covered in dirt and dust, dragging armloads of dirty rags. Then Amilia reappeared and motioned for Modina to enter.\n\nSunlight. She spotted the brilliant shaft spilling in, slicing across the floor, along a tapestry-covered wall, and over a massive bed covered in satin sheets and a host of fluffy pillows. There was even a thick carpet on the floor. A mirror and a washbasin sat on a small stand. A little writing desk stood next to a fireplace, and on the far wall was the open window.\n\nShe walked to it and, falling to her knees, looked out at the sky, breathing the fresh air. It was narrow, but Modina could peer down into the courtyard below or lookup directly into the blue of the sky-the real sky. She rested her head on the sill, reveling in the sunshine like a drought victim douses themselves with water. Until that moment, she had not noticed how starved she was for fresh air and sunlight. She thought Amilia had spoken to her, but she was too busy looking at the sky.\n\nSmells were a treat. A cool breeze blew in, tainted by the stables below. For her, this was a friendly familiar scent, hearty and comforting. Birds flew past. A pair of swallows darted and dove in aerial acrobatics as they chased each other. They had a nest up above her in a crevice near one of the other windows that dotted the exterior wall." }, { "from": "human", "value": "She did not know how long she knelt there." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "At some point, she realized she was alone. The door behind her had closed, a blanket draped over her shoulders. Eventually she heard voices drifting up from below.\n\n\"We've spent more than enough time on the subject, Archibald. The case is closed.\" It was Ethelred's voice, coming from one of the windows just below hers.\n\n\"I know you are disappointed,\" she recognized the fatherly tone of Bishop Saldur. \"Still, you have to be mindful of the big picture. This isn't just some wild land grab; this is an Empire we are building.\"\n\n\"Two months at the head of an army and he acts as if he were a sage war-weary general!\" Ethelred laughed.\n\nAnother voice spoke, too softly or too distant from the window for her to hear. Then she heard the earl once again. \"I've taken Glouston and the Rilan Valley through force of arms and thereby secured the whole northern rim of Warric. I think I've proved my skill.\"\n\n\"Skill? You let Marquis Lanaklin escape to Melengar and you failed to secure the wheat fields in Rilan, which burned. Those crops would have fed the entire Imperial Army for the next year, but now they are lost because you were preoccupied with taking an empty castle.\"\n\n\"It wasn't empty...\" There was more said but too faint to hear.\n\n\"The marquis was gone. The reason for taking it went with him,\" the bellowing voice of Ethelred thundered. The regent must be standing very near the window, as she could hear him the best.\n\n\"Gentlemen,\" Saldur intervened, \"water under the bridge. What's past is past. What we need to concern ourselves with is the present and the future, and at the moment both go by the same name-Gaunt.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Again, there were other voices speaking too faintly, their sounds fading to silence. All Modina could hear was the hoeing of servants weeding the vegetable garden below.\n\n\"I agree,\" Ethelred suddenly said. \"We should have killed that bastard years ago.\"\n\n\"Calm yourself, Lanis,\" Saldur's voice boomed. Modina wasn't certain if he was using Ethelred's first name or addressing someone else whose voice was too distant for her to catch. \"Everything has its season. We all knew the Nationalists wouldn't give up their freedom without a fight. Granted we had no idea Gaunt would be their general, or that he would prove to be such a fine military commander. We had assumed he was nothing more than an annoying anarchist, alone voice in the wilderness like our very own Deacon Thomas. His transformation into a skilled general was-I will admit-a bit unexpected. Nevertheless, his successes are not beyond our control.\"\n\n\"And what does that mean?\" someone asked.\n\n\"Luis Guy had the foresight to bring us a man who could effectively deal with the problems of Delgos and Gaunt and I present him to you today. Gentlemen, let me introduce Merrick Marius.\" His voice began to grow faint. \"He's quite a remarkable man... been working for us these... on a...\" Saldur's voice drifted off, too far from the window. There was along silence, then Ethelred spoke again, \"Let him finish, you'll see.\"\n\nAgain the words were too quiet for her to hear.\n\nModina listened to the wind as it rose and rustled distant leaves. The swallows returned and played again, looping in the air. Below in the courtyard somewhere out of her sight she could hear the harsh shouts of soldiers in the process of changing guards. She had nearly forgotten about the conversation from below when abruptly she heard a communal gasp." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You're not serious?\" an unknown voice asked in a stunned tone.\n\nMore quiet murmurings.\n\n\"... and as I said, it would mark the end of Degan Gaunt and the Nationalists forever,\" Saldur's voice returned.\n\n\"But at what cost, Sauly?\" another voice floated in. Normally too far it was now loud and clear.\n\n\"We have no other choice,\" Ethelred put in. \"Gaunt is marching north toward Ratibor. He must be stopped.\"\n\n\"This is insane. I can't believe you are even contemplating it!\"\n\n\"We've done much more than contemplate. Nearly everything is in place. Isn't that so?\" Saldur asked.\n\nModina strained to hear, but the voice that replied was too faint.\n\n\"We'll send it by ship after we receive word that all is set,\" Saldur explained. There was another pause, and then he spoke again, \"I think we all understand that.\"\n\n\"I see no reason to hesitate any longer,\" Ethelred said. \"We are all in agreement then?\"\n\nA number of voices spoke their acknowledgement.\n\n\"Excellent. Marius, you should leave immediately...\"\n\n\"There's just one more thing...\" She had not heard this voice before and he faded, no doubt walking away from the window.\n\nSaldur's voice returned. \"You have? Where? Tell us at once!\"\n\nMore muffled conversation.\n\n\"Blast, man! I can assure you you'll get paid,\" Ethelred said.\n\n\"If he's led you to the heir, he is no longer of any use. That's right, isn't it Sauly? You and Guy have a greater interest in this, but unless you have an objection I say be done with him at your earliest convince.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Another long pause.\n\n\"I think the Nyphron Empire is good for it, don't you?\" Saldur said.\n\n\"You're quite the magician, aren't you Marius?\" said Ethelred again. \"We should have hired your services earlier. I'm not a fan of Luis Guy or any of the Patriarch's sentinels, but it seems his decision to employ you was certainly a good one.\"\n\nThe voices drifted off, growing fainter until it was quiet.\n\nMost of what she heard held no interest for Modina, too many unknown names and places. She had only the vaguest notions of the terms Nationalist, Monarchist, and Imperialist. Tur Del Fur was a famous city, she heard of before-someplace south, but Degan Gaunt was only a name. She was glad the talking was over. She preferred the quiet sounds of the wind, the trees, and the birds. They took her back to an earlier time, a different place. As she sat looking out at her sliver of the world, she found herself wishing she could still cry." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gill had a hard time seeing anything clearly in the pouring rain, but he was certain that a man was walking right at him. He felt for the horn hanging at his side and regretted trapping it underneath his rain smock that morning. On thirty watches, he never needed it. He peered through the gray curtain-no army, just the one guy. He was dressed in a cloak that hung like a soaked rag, his hood cast back, his hair slicked flat. No armor or shield, but two swords hung from his belt, and Gill spotted an additional sword-the two-handed pommel of a great sword-on his back. The man walked steadily through the muddy field. He looked alone and could hardly pose a threat to the nearly one thousand men bivouacked on the hill. If he sounded the alarm, he would never hear the end of it. Gill was confident he could handle one guy.\n\n\"Halt!\" Gill shouted over the drumming rain as he pulled his sword from its sheath and brandished it at the stranger. \"Who are you and what do you want?\"\n\n\"I am hereto see Commander Parker,\" the man said, not showing any signs of slowing. \"Take me to him at once.\"\n\nGill laughed. \"Oh, aren't you the bold one,\" he said, extending the sword. The stranger walked right up to the tip as if he meant to impale himself. \"Stop or I'll run-\"\n\nBefore Gill could finish, the man hit the flat face of the sword. The vibration ran down the blade, breaking Gill's grip. A second later the man had the weapon and was pointing it at him.\n\n\"I gave you an order, picket,\" the stranger snapped. \"I am not accustomed to repeating myself to my troops. Look sharp or I'll have you flogged.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Then the man returned his sword, which only made matters worse.\n\n\"What's your name, picket?\"\n\n\"Gill, ah, sir,\" he said, adding the sir unsure if this man was an officer or not.\n\n\"Gill, in future, when standing watch, arm yourself with a crossbow and never let even one man approach to within one hundred-feet without putting a hole through him, do you understand?\" The man did not wait for an answer. He walked past him and continued striding up the hill through the tall wet grass.\n\n\"Umm, yes, sir, but I don't have a crossbow, sir,\" Gill said as he jogged behind him.\n\n\"Then you had best get one, isn't that right?\" the man called over his shoulder.\n\n\"Yes, sir.\" Gill nodded even though the man was ahead of him. The man walked past scores of tents, heading toward the middle of the camp. Everyone was inside away from the rain, and no one saw him pass. The tents were a haphazard array of rope and stick-propped canvas. No two were alike, as they scrounged supplies as they moved. Most were cut from ship sails grabbed at the port in Vernes and again in Kilnar. Others made-do with nothing but old bed linens and, in a few rare cases, actual tents were used.\n\nThe stranger paused at the top of the hill. When Gill caught up he asked, \"Which of these tents belongs to Parker?\"\n\n\"Parker? He's not in a tent, sir. He's in the farmhouse down that way,\" he said, pointing.\n\n\"Gill, why are you off your post?\" Sergeant Milford growled at him as he came out of his tent, blinking as the rain stung his eyes. He was wrapped in a cloak, his bare feet showing pale beneath it." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Well, I-\" Gill began, but the stranger interrupted.\n\n\"Who is this now?\" the stranger walked right up to Milford and stood with his hands on his hips, scowling.\n\n\"This here is Sergeant Milford, sir,\" Gill answered, and the sergeant looked confused.\n\nThe stranger inspected him and shook his head. \"Sergeant, wherein Maribor's name is your sword?\"\n\n\"In my tent, but-\"\n\n\"You don't think it necessary to wear your sword when an enemy army stands less than a mile away and could attack at any minute?\"\n\n\"I was sleeping, sir!\"\n\n\"Lookup, sergeant!\" the man said. The sergeant tilted his head up, wincing once more as rain hit his face. \"As you can see, it is nearly morning.\"\n\n\"Ah-yes, sir. Sorry, sir.\"\n\n\"Now get dressed and get anew picket on Gill's post at once, do you understand?\"\n\n\"Yes, sir. Right away, sir!\"\n\n\"Gill!\"\n\n\"Yes, sir!\" Gill jumped.\n\n\"Let's get moving. I'm late as it is.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir!\" Gill set off following once more, offering the sergeant a flummoxed shrug as he passed.\n\nThe main body camped on what everyone called Bingham Hill, apparently after farmer Bingham, who grew barley and rye in the fields below. Gill heard there was quite the hullabaloo when Commander Gaunt informed Bingham the army would be using his farm and Gaunt was taking his house fora headquarters. The pastoral home with thatched roof and wooden beams found itself surrounded by a sea of congested camps. Flowers that once lined the walkway were crushed beneath a hundred boots. The barn housed the officers, and the stable provided storage and was used as a dispensary and tavern for those with rank. Everywhere there were tents and a hundred campfires burnt rings into the ground." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Inform Commander Parker I am here,\" the stranger told the guard on the porch.\n\n\"And who are you?\"\n\n\"Marshall Lord Blackwater.\"\n\nThe sentry hesitated only a moment then disappeared inside. He remerged quickly and held the door open.\n\n\"Thank you, Gill. That will be all,\" the stranger said, as he stepped inside.\n\n---\n\n\"You're Commander Parker?\" Hadrian asked the portly man before him who was sloppily dressed in a short black vest and dirty white britches. An up-turned nose satin the middle of his soft face, which rested on a large wobbly neck.\n\nHe was seated before a rough wooden table littered with candles, maps, dispatches, and a steaming plate of eggs and ham. He stood up, pulling a napkin from his neck, and wiped his mouth. \"I am, and you are Marshall Blackwater? I wasn't informed of-\"\n\n\"Marshall Lord Blackwater,\" he corrected with a friendly smile and handed over his letter of reference.\n\nParker took the letter, roughly unfolding it, and began reading.\n\nWavy wooden beams edged and divided the pale yellowing walls. Along these hung pots, sacks, cooking tools, and what Hadrian guessed to be Commander Parker's sword and cloak. Baskets, pails, and jugs huddled in corners stacked out of the way on a floor that listed downhill toward the fireplace.\n\nAfter reading the letter, Parker returned to his seat and tucked his napkin back into his collar. \"You're not really a lord are you?\"\n\nHadrian hesitated briefly. \"Well, technically I am, at least for the moment.\"\n\n\"What are you when you're not a lord?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I suppose you could call me a mercenary. I've done a lot of things over the years.\"\n\n\"Why would a princess of Melengar send a mercenary tome?\"\n\n\"Because I can win this battle for you.\"\n\n\"What makes you think I can't win it?\"\n\n\"The fact that you're still in this farmhouse instead of the city. You are very likely a good manager and quartermaster, and I am certain a wonderful bookkeeper, but war is more than numbers and ledgers. With Gaunt gone, you might be a bit unsure of what to do next. That's where I can help you. As it happens, I have a great deal of combat experience.\"\n\n\"So you know about Gaunt's disappearance.\"\n\nHadrian did not like the tone in his voice. There was something there, something coy and threatening. Aggression was still his best approach. \"This army has been camped here for days, and you've not launched a single foray at the enemy.\"\n\n\"It's raining,\" Parker replied. \"The field is a muddy mess.\"\n\n\"Exactly,\" Hadrian said. \"That's why you should be attacking. The rain will give you the upper hand. Call in your captains and I can explain how we can turn the weather to our advantage, but we must act quickly-\"\n\n\"You'd like that, wouldn't you?\" There was that tone again. This time more ominous. \"I have a better idea, how about you explain tome why Arista Essendon would betray Degan?\"\n\n\"She didn't. You don't understand, she's-\"\n\n\"Oh she most certainly did!\" Parker rose to his feet and threw his napkin to the floor as if it were a gauntlet of challenge. \"And you needn't lie any further. I know why. She did it to save her miserable little kingdom.\" He took a step forward and bumped the table. \"By destroying Degan, she hopes to curry favor for Melengar. So what are your real orders?\" He advanced pointing an accusatory finger. \"To gain our confidence? To lead this army into an ambush like you did with Gaunt? Was it you? Were you there? Were you one of the ones that grabbed him?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Parker glanced at Hadrian's swords. \"Or is it to get close enough to kill me?\" he said, staggering backward. The commander knocked his head on a low-hanging pot that fell with a brassy clang. The noise made Parker jump. \"Simms! Fall!\" he cried, and the two sentries rushed in.\n\n\"Sir!\" they said in unison.\n\n\"Take his swords. Shackle him to a stake. Get him out of-\"\n\n\"You don't understand, Arista isn't your enemy,\" Hadrian interrupted.\n\n\"Oh, I understand perfectly.\"\n\n\"She was setup by the Empire just as Gaunt was.\"\n\n\"So she's missing too?\"\n\n\"No, she's in Ratibor right now planning a rebellion to aid your attack.\"\n\nParker laughed aloud at that. \"Oh please, sir! You do need lessons in lying. A princess of Melengar organizing an uprising in Ratibor? Get him out of here.\"\n\nOne of the soldiers drew his sword. \"Remove your weapons now!\"\n\nHadrian considered his options. He could run, but he would never get another opportunity to persuade them. Taking Parker prisoner would require killing Simms and Fall, and destroying any hope of gaining their trust. With no other choice, he sighed and unbuckled his belt.\n\n---\n\n\"Exactly how confident are you that Hadrian will succeed in persuading the Nationalists to attack tomorrow morning?\" Polish asked Arista as they sat at the Dunlaps' table, while outside it continued to storm.\n\n\"I have the same level of confidence in his success as I do in ours,\" Arista replied.\n\nPolish smirked. \"I keep forgetting you're a diplomat.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Eight other people sat around the little table where the city lay mapped out using knickknacks borrowed from Mrs." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dunlaps' shelves. Those present were handpicked by Hadrian, Doctor Gerand, Polish, or Emery, who was back on his feet and eating everything Mrs. Dunlap put under his nose.\n\nWith Royce and Hadrian gone, Arista spent most of her time talking with the young Mr. Dorn. While no longer stumbling overusing her first name, the admiration in his eyes was unmistakable, and Arista caught herself smiling self-consciously. He had a nice face-cheerful and passionate, and while he was younger even than Alric, she thought him more mature. Perhaps that came from hardship and struggle.\n\nSince he regained consciousness she had babbled on about the trials that brought her there. He told her about his mother's death giving him life and growing up as a soldier's son. They both shared stories of the fires that robbed them of the ones they loved. She listened as he poured out his life's story of being an orphan with such intensity that it filled her eyes with tears. He had such away with words, a means of inciting emotion and empathy. She realized Emery could have changed the world if only he were born noble. Listening to him, to his ideals, to his passion for justice and compassion, she realized this was what she could expect from Degan Gaunt. A common man with the heart of a king.\n\n\"You must understand it is not entirely up tome,\" Polish told them. \"I don't issue policy in the guild. I simply don't have the authority to sanction an outright attack, particularly when there is nothing to be gained. Even if victory were assured, instead of a rather wild gamble, my hands would still be tied.\"\n\n\"Nothing to be gained?\" Emery said stunned. \"There is a whole city to be gained! Furthermore, if the Imperial Army is routed from the field, it is possible that all Rhenydd might fall under the banner of the Delgos Republic.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I would also add,\" Arista said, \"that defeating the Imperials here would leave Aquesta open for assault by the remainder of the Nationalists, Melengar, and possibly even Trent-if I can swing their alliance. Once Aquesta falls, Colnora will be a free city and certain powerful merchants could find themselves in legitimate seats of power.\"\n\n\"You are good. I'll grant you that, my lady,\" Polish replied. \"But there are many ifs in that scenario, and the Monarchists won't allow Colnora to be ruled by a commoner. Lanaklin would assume the throne of Warric and likely appoint his own duke to run the city.\"\n\n\"Well, the Diamond's position will certainly continue to decline if you fail to aid us and the Empire's strength grows,\" Arista shot back.\n\nPolish frowned and shook his head. \"This is far beyond the bounds of my mandate. I simply can't commit without orders from the Jewel. The Imps leave the Diamond alone, for the most part. They see us as inevitable as the rats in any sewer. As long as we don't make too much of a nuisance, they leave us to our scurrying. But if we do this, they will declare war. The Diamond will no longer be neutral. We'll be a target in every Imp city. Hundreds could be imprisoned or executed.\"\n\n\"We could keep your involvement a secret,\" Emery offered.\n\nPolish laughed. \"Even if that were possible-which it's not-as the winner chooses which secrets are kept, you would have to prove you are going to win before I could help you and, clearly by then you would not need my assistance. I am sorry, my rats will do what we can, but joining in the assault is not possible.\"\n\n\"Can you at least see that the armory door is unlocked?\" Emery asked." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Polish thought a moment and nodded. \"That I can do.\"\n\n\"Can we get back to the plan?\" Doctor Gerand asked.\n\nBefore leaving, Hadrian outlined the details fora strategy to take the city. Emery's idea was a good one, but an idea simply was not the same as a battle plan and they were all thankful for Hadrian's advice. He had explained that surprise was their greatest tool and catching the armory unaware was their best tactic. After that, things would be more difficult. Their greatest adversary would be time. It was essential they secure the armory quickly in order to prepare for the attack by the garrison.\n\n\"I will lead the men into the armory,\" Emery declared. \"If I survive, I will take my place in the square with the men at the weak point of the line.\"\n\nEveryone nodded grimly.\n\nHadrian's plan further called for the forming of two straight lines-one before the other-outside the armory and to purposely leave a gap as a weak point. Professional soldiers would look for this kind of vulnerability so the rebels could predetermine where the attack would fall the hardest. He warned that the men stationed there would have the most casualties, but it would also allow them to fold the line and generate a devastating envelopment maneuver, which would take advantage of their superior numbers.\n\n\"I will lead the left flank,\" Arista said, and everyone looked at her, stunned.\n\n\"My lady,\" Emery began, \"you understand I hold you in the highest esteem, but a battle is no place fora woman and I would be sorely grieved should your life come into peril.\"\n\n\"My life will be in peril no matter where I am, so I may as well be of some use. Besides, this is all my idea. I can't standby while all of you risk your own lives.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You need fear no shame,\" Doctor Gerand told her. \"You have already done more than we can hope to repay you for.\"\n\n\"Nevertheless,\" she said resolutely, \"I will stand with the line.\"\n\n\"Can you wield a sword, too?\" Perin the Grocer asked. His tone was not mocking or sarcastic, but one of expectant amazement, as if he anticipated she would reply that she was a master swordfighter of some renown.\n\nThe miraculous survival of Emery was only one of the rallying points of the rebellion. Arista had overlooked the power of her own name. Emery pointed out that she and her brother were heroes to those wishing to fight the Empire. Their victory over Percy Braga, immortalized in the traveling theater play, had inspired many all across Apeladorn. All the recruiters had to do was whisper that Arista Essendon had come to Ratibor and that she stole Emery from the clutches of the Empire, and most people simply assumed victory was assured.\n\n\"Well,\" she said, \"I certainly have just as much experience as most of the merchants, farmers, and tradesmen that will be fighting alongside me.\"\n\nNo one said anything fora long while, and then Emery stood up.\n\n\"Forgive me, Your Highness, but I cannot allow you to do this.\"\n\nArista gave him a harsh, challenging stare and Emery's face cringed, exposing that a mere unpleasant glance from her was enough to hurt him.\n\n\"And how do you plan to stop me?\" she snapped, recalling all the times her father or brother, or even Count Pickering, shooed her out of the council hall insisting she would spend her time more productively with a needle in her hand." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Proceed with the plot as the storytelling partner.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, empire\nAuthor: Michael J. Sullivan\nTitle: Nyphron Rising\nChapter: 17" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Still, you're the only one left in the world who can really do magic, right? So there's no chance anyone is magically listening.\"\n\n\"What about this rain? It's not supposed to stop? It would seem I am not the only one.\"\n\n\"You're afraid of Arista?\"\n\n\"No, just making a point. I am not the only wizard in the world and I have already been far too careless. In my haste I took chances that maybe I should not have, drawing too much attention, playing into others'hands. With so little time left-only a matter of months-it would be foolhardy to risk more now. I fear the heir's identity has already been compromised, but there is a chance I am wrong and I will cling to that hope. I'm sorry Hadrian. I can't tell you just yet, but trust me I will.\"\n\n\"No offense, but you don't seem too trustworthy.\"\n\nThe wizard smiled. \"Maybe you are Jerish's descendent after all. Very soon I'll need Riyria's help with an extremely challenging mission.\"\n\n\"Riyria doesn't exist anymore. I've retired.\"\n\nThe wizard nodded. \"Nevertheless, I will require both of you, and as it concerns the heir, I presume you'll make an exception.\"\n\n\"I don't even know where I'll be.\"\n\n\"Don't worry, I'll find you both when the time comes. But for now, we have the little problem of Lord Dermont's army to contend with.\"\n\nThere was a knock at the door. \"Horses ready, sirs,\" the new adjutant-general reported in.\n\nAs they stepped out, Hadrian spotted Gill walking toward him with the fighter's purse. \"Good morning, Gill,\" Hadrian said, taking his pouch back." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Morning, sir,\" he said, looking sick but making an effort to smile." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It's all there, sir.\"\n\n\"I'm a bit busy at the moment, Gill, but I'm sure we'll have a chance to catch up later.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir.\"\n\nHadrian mounted a brown-and-white gelding Bently held for him. He watched as Esrahaddon mounted a smaller black mare by hooking the stub of his wrist around the horn. Once in the saddle the wizard wrapped the reins around his stubs. \"It's strange. I keep forgetting you don't have hands.\"\n\n\"I don't,\" the wizard replied coldly.\n\nOverhead heavy clouds swirled as boys ran about the camp spreading the order to form up. Horses trotted, kicking up clods of earth. Carts rolled, leaving deep ruts. Half-dressed men darted from tents, slipping in the slick mud. They carried swords over their shoulders, dragged shields, and struggled to fasten helms. Hadrian and Esrahaddon rode through the hive of soggy activity to the top of the ridge where they could seethe lay of the land for miles. To the north, the city with its wooden spires and drab walls stood as a ghostly shadow. To the south lay the forest, and between them avast plain stretched westward. What was once farmland was now a muddy soup. The field was shaped like a basin, and at its lowest point a shallow pond formed. It reflected the light of the dreary gray sky like a steel mirror. On the far side, the hazy encampment of the Imperial Army was just visible through a thick curtain of rain. Hadrian stared but could only make out faint shadowy shapes. Nothing indicated they knew what was about to happen. Below them on the east side of the slope, hidden from imperial view, the Nationalist Army assembled into ranks." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What is it?\" Esrahaddon asked.\n\nHadrian realized he was grimacing. \"They aren't very good soldiers,\" he replied, watching the men wander about creating misshapen lines. They stood listless, shoulders slumped, heads down.\n\nEsrahaddon shrugged. \"There area few good ones. We pulled in some mercenaries and a handful of deserters from the Imperials. That Renquist you were so taken with, he was a sergeant in the imperial forces. Joined us because he heard nobility didn't matter in the Nationalist Army. We got a few of those, but mostly they're farmers, merchants, or men who lost their homes or families.\"\n\nHadrian glanced across the field. \"Lord Dermont has trained foot soldiers, archers, and knights-men who devoted their whole lives to warfare and trained since an early age.\"\n\n\"I wouldn't worry about that.\"\n\n\"Of course you wouldn't. I'm the one who has to lead this ugly rabble. I'm the one who must go down there and face those lances and arrows.\"\n\n\"I'm going with you,\" he said. \"That's why you don't need to worry about it.\"\n\nBently and three other young men carrying colored flags rode up beside them. \"Captains report ready, sir.\"\n\n\"Let's go,\" he told them and trotted down to take his place with a small contingent of cavalry. The men on horseback appeared even less capable than those on foot. They had no armor and wore torn rain-soaked clothes. Except for the spears they held across their laps, they looked like vagabonds or escaped prisoners.\n\n\"Raise your lances!\" he shouted. \"Stay tight, keep your place, wheel together, and follow me.\" He turned to Bently. \"Wave the blue flag.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Bently swung the blue flag back and forth until the signal was mimicked across the field, then the army began moving forward at a slow walk. Armies never moved at apace that suited Hadrian. They crept with agonizing slowness when he was attacking, but when defending seemed to race at him. He patted the neck of his horse who was larger and more spirited than old Millie. Hadrian liked to know his horse better before a battle. They needed to work as a team in combat and he did not even know this one's name.\n\nWith the wizard riding at his right side and Bently on his left, Hadrian crested the hill and began the long descent into the wet field. He wheeled his cavalry to the right, sweeping toward the city, riding the rim of the basin and avoiding the middle of the muck, which he left to the infantry. He would stay to the higher ground and watch the army's northern flank. This would also place him near the city gate, able to intercept any imperial retreat. After his company made his turn, he watched as the larger force of light-mounted lancers broke and began to circle left, heading to guard the southern flank. The swishing tails of their horses soon disappeared into the rain.\n\nThe ranks of the infantry came next. They crested the hill, jostling each other, some still struggling to get their helms on and shields readied. The lines were skewed, broken and wavy, and when they hit the mud, whatever mild resemblance they had to a formation was lost. They staggered and slipped forward as a mob. They were at least quiet. He wondered if it was because most of them might behalf-asleep.\n\nHadrian felt his stomach twist.\n\nThis will not go well. If only I had more time to drill the men properly they would at least look like soldiers." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Successor failure in battle often hinged on impressions, decided in the minds of men before the first clash. Like bullies casting insults in a tavern, it was a game of intimidation-a game the Nationalists did not know how to play.\n\nHow did they ever win a battle? How did they take Vernes and Kilnar?\n\nUnable to see their ranks clearly, he imagined the Imperials lined up in neat powerful rows waiting, letting his troops exhaust themselves in the mud. He expected a wall of glistening shields peaked with shinning helms locked shoulder to shoulder, matching spears foresting above. He anticipated hundreds of archers already notching shafts to string. The knights, Lord Dermont would hold back. Any fool could seethe futility of ordering a charge into the muck. With their pennants fluttering from their lances, and heavy metal armor, the knights probably waited in the trees and perhaps around the wall of the city-hidden until just the right moment-it is what he would do. When they tried to flank, Hadrian and his little group would be all that stood in the way. He would call the charge and hope those behind him followed.\n\nThey were more than halfway across the field, when he was finally able to seethe imperial encampment. White tents stood in neat lines, horses corralled, and no one was visible.\n\n\"Where are they?\"\n\n\"It's still very early,\" the wizard said, \"and in a heavy rain no one likes to getup. It's so much easier to stay in bed.\"\n\n\"But where are the sentries?\"\n\nHadrian watched, shocked as the mangled line of infantry cleared the muddy ground and closed in on the imperial camp, their lines straightening out a bit. He saw the heads of his captains. There was no sign of the enemy." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Have you ever noticed,\" Esrahaddon said, \"how rain has a musical quality about it sometimes? The way it drums on a roof? It's always easier to sleep on a rainy night. There's something magical about running water that is very soothing, very relaxing.\"\n\n\"What did you do?\"\n\nThe wizard smiled. \"A weak, thin enchantment. Without hands it is very hard to do substantive magic anymore, but-\"\n\nThey heard a shout. A tent flap fluttered, then another. More shouts cascaded, and then a bell rang.\n\n\"There, see,\" Esrahaddon sighed, \"I told you. It doesn't take much to break it.\"\n\n\"But we have them,\" Hadrian said stunned. \"We caught them sleeping! Bently, the green flag. Flag the charge. Flag the charge!\"\n\n---\n\nSheriff Vigan scowled at Arista. Behind her, men picked up weapons and shuffled back into position.\n\n\"I told you to lay down your arms and leave,\" the sheriff shouted. \"Not more than a few of you will be punished in the stocks, and only your leaders will be executed. The first has already fallen. Will you stand behind a woman? Will you throwaway your lives for her sake?\"\n\nNo one moved. The only sound was that of the rain, the sheriff's horse, and the jangling of his bridle.\n\n\"Very well,\" he said. \"I will execute the leading agitators one at a time if that is what it takes.\" He glanced over his shoulder and ominously raised his hand again.\n\nThe princess did not move.\n\nShe stood still and tall with Emery's sword above her head, his blood on her dress, and the wind and rain lashing her face. She glared defiantly at the sheriff." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Thwack!\n\nThe sound of a crossbow.\n\nPhhump!\n\nThe moist sound of a muffled impact.\n\nArista felt blood spray her face, but there was no pain. Sheriff Vigan fell sideways into the mud. Polish stood in front of the blacksmith shop, an empty crossbow in his hands.\n\nRenkin Pool grabbed Arista by the shoulder and jerked her backward. Off balance, she fell. Pool stood over her, his shield raised. Another telltale thwack and Pool's shield burst into splinters. The bolt continued into his chest. The explosion of blood and wood rained on her.\n\nAnother crossbow fired, this one handled by Adam the Wheeler. Trenchon screamed as the arrow passed into his thigh and continued into his horse which collapsed, crushing Trenchon's leg beneath it. Another bow fired, then another, and Arista could see that during the pause the blonde woman had hauled crossbows out of the armory and passed them throughout the ranks.\n\nThe garrison captain promptly assumed command of the Imperials. He gave a shout and the remainder of their bowmen fired across the square. Men in the line fell.\n\n\"Fire!\" Adam Wheeler shouted and rebel bows gave answer. A handful of imperial soldiers dropped in the mud.\n\n\"Tighten the line!\" Adam shouted. \"Fill in the gaps where people fall!\"\n\nThey heard a shout from across the field then a roar as the garrison drew their swords and rushed forward. Arista felt the vibration of charging men. They screamed like beasts, their faces wild. They struck the line in the center. There was no prepared weak point-Emery and Pool were dead, the tactic lost.\n\nShe heard cries, screams, the clanging of metal against metal, and the dull thumps of swords against wooden shields. Soldiers pushed forward and the line broke in two. Perin was supposed to lead the left flank in a folding maneuver. He lay in the mud, blood running down his face. His branch of the line disconnected from the rest quickly routed. The mainline also failed, disintegrated, and disappeared. Men fought in a swirling turmoil of swords, broken shields, blood, and body parts." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Arista remained where she fell." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She felt a tugging on her arm and looked up to seethe blonde woman again. \"Getup! You'll be killed!\" She had a hold on her wrist and dragged Arista to her feet. All around them men screamed, shouted, and grunted, water splashed, mud flew, and blood sprayed. The hand squeezing her wrist hauled her backward. She thought of Emery lying in the mud and tried to pull away.\n\n\"No!\" The blonde snapped jerking her once more. \"Are you crazy?\" The woman dragged her to the armory entrance, but once she reached the door Arista refused to go in any farther and remained at the opening, watching the battle.\n\nThe skill and experience of the garrison guards overwhelmed the citizens. They cut through the people of Ratibor and pushed them against the walls of the buildings. Every puddle was dark with blood, every shirt and face stained red. Mud and manure mixed and churned with severed limbs and blood. Everywhere she looked lay bodies. Dead men with open, lifeless eyes and those writhing in pain lay scattered across the square.\n\n\"We're going to lose,\" Arista said. \"I did this.\"\n\nThe candlemaker, a tall thin man with curly hair, dropped his weapons and tried to run. Arista watched as six inches of sword came out of his stomach. She did not even know his name. A young bricklayer called Walter had his head crushed. Another man she did not know lost his hand.\n\nArista stood still holding Emery's sword. She clutched the doorframe holding on as the world spun around her. She felt sick and wanted to vomit. She could not move or turn away from the carnage. They would all die. It washer fault. \"I killed us all.\"\n\n\"Maybe not.\" The blonde caught Arista's attention and pointed at the far end of the square. \"Look there!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Coming up King's Street Arista saw a rush of movement and heard the pounding of hooves. They came out of the haze of falling rain. Riding three and four abreast, horsemen charged into the square. At their head were two riders. One carried the pennant of the Nationalists-the other brandished a huge sword. She recognized him instantly.\n\nThrowing up a spray of mud, Hadrian crossed the square. Ashe closed on the battle, he led the charge into the thickest of the soldiers. The garrison heard the cry and turned to seethe band of horsemen rushing at them. Out front, Hadrian came like a demon, whirling his long blade, cleaving a swath through their ranks, cutting them down. The garrison broke and routed before the onslaught. When they found no retreat, they threw down their weapons and pled for mercy.\n\nSpotting Arista, Hadrian leapt to the ground and ran to her. Arista found it hard to breathe, and the last of her strength gave out. She fell to her knees, shaking. Hadrian reached down, surrounding her in his arms and pulled her up.\n\n\"The city is yours, Your Highness,\" he said.\n\nShe dropped Emery's sword, threw her arms around his neck, and cried." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The rain stopped. The sun so long delayed returned full face to a bright blue sky. The day quickly grew hot as Hadrian made his way around the square though the many mud-covered bodies, searching for anyone that was still alive. Everywhere seemed to be the muffled wails and weeping of wives, mothers, fathers, and sons. Families pulled their loved ones from the bloody mire and carried them home to wash them clean fora proper burial. Hadrian stiffened when he spotted Doctor Gerand gently closing the lifeless eyes of Carat. Not far from him, Adam the Wheeler sat slumped against the armory. He looked as if he had merely walked over and sat down fora moment to rest.\n\n\"Over here!\"\n\nHe spotted a woman with long blonde hair motioning to him. Hadrian quickly crossed to where she squatted over the body of an imperial soldier.\n\n\"He's still alive,\" she said. \"Help me get him out of the mud. I can't believe no one saw him.\"\n\n\"Oh, I think they saw him,\" Hadrian replied as he gripped the soldier under the back and knees and lifted him up.\n\nHe carried the man to the silversmith's porch and laid him down gently as the woman ran to the well fora bucket of clean water.\n\nHadrian shed his own bloodstained shirt. \"Here,\" he said, offering the linen to the woman.\n\n\"Thank you,\" she replied. She took the shirt and began rinsing it in the bucket. \"Are you certain you don't mind me using this to help an imperial guard?\"\n\n\"My father taught me that a man is only your enemy until he falls.\"\n\nShe nodded. \"Your father sounds like a wise man,\" she said, and wrung the excess water from the shirt, then began to clean the soldier's face and chest, looking for the wound." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"He was. My name is Hadrian by the way.\"\n\n\"Miranda,\" she replied, \"pleased to meet you. Thank you for saving our lives. I assume the Nationalists defeated Lord Dermont?\"\n\nHadrian nodded. \"It wasn't much of a battle. We caught them sleeping.\"\n\nPulling up the soldier's hauberk and tearing back his tunic, she wiped his skin and found a puncture streaming blood.\n\n\"I hope you aren't terribly attached to this shirt,\" she told Hadrian as she tore it in two. She used half as a pad, and the other half to tie it tight about the man's waist. \"Let's hope that will stop the bleeding. A few stitches would help, but I doubt a needle could be spared for him right now.\"\n\nHadrian looked the man over. \"I think he'll live, thanks to you.\"\n\nThis brought a shallow smile to her lips. She dipped her blood-covered hands in the bucket and splashed the clean water on her face. Looking out across the square she muttered, \"So many dead.\"\n\nHadrian nodded.\n\nHer eyes landed on Carat, a hand went to her mouth and her eyes started to tear. \"He was such a help to us,\" she said. \"Someone said he was a thief, but he proved himself a hero today. Who would have thought that thieves would stick out their necks? I saw their leader, Polish, shoot the sheriff.\"\n\nHadrian smiled. \"If you ask him, he'll tell you you're mistaken.\"\n\n\"Thieves with hearts, who'd have thought,\" she said.\n\n\"I am not so sure I would go that far.\"\n\n\"No? Then where are the vultures?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Hadrian looked up at the sky, then realizing his own stupidity, shook his head." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You mean the looters?\" He looked around. \"You're right. I didn't even notice until now.\"\n\nShe nodded. Sunlight reflected off Hadrian's medallion. Miranda pointed. \"That necklace, where did you get it?\"\n\n\"My father.\"\n\n\"Your father? Really? My older brother has one just like it.\"\n\nHadrian's heart raced. \"Your brother has a necklace like this?\"\n\nShe nodded.\n\nHadrian looked around the square, suddenly concerned. \"Is he...\"\n\nShe thought a moment. \"I don't think so,\" she said. \"At least my heart tells me he's still alive.\"\n\nHadrian tried to control his racing thoughts. \"How old is your brother?\"\n\n\"I think he'd be about forty now, I guess.\"\n\n\"You guess?\"\n\nShe nodded. \"We never celebrated his birthday, which was always kind of strange. You see, my mother adopted him. She was the midwife at his birth and...\" She hesitated. \"Things didn't go well. Anyway, my mother kept an amulet just like yours and gave it to my brother as his inheritance the day he left home.\"\n\n\"What do you mean things didn't go well with the birth?\" Hadrian asked.\n\n\"The mother died-that sort of thing happens, you know. Mothers die all the time in childbirth. It's not at all uncommon. It just happens. We should probably look for other wounded-\"\n\n\"You're lying,\" Hadrian shot back.\n\nShe started to stand but Hadrian grabbed her arm. \"This is very important. I must know everything you can tell me about the night your brother was born.\"\n\nShe hesitated but Hadrian held her tight." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It wasn't her fault. There was nothing she could do. They were all dead. She was just scared. Who wouldn't be?!\"\n\n\"It's okay. I'm not accusing your mother of anything. I just need to know what happened.\" He held up his amulet. \"This necklace belonged to my father. He was there that night.\"\n\n\"Your father, but no one...\" He saw realization in her eyes. \"The swordsman covered in blood?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Hadrian nodded. \"Does your mother still live in the city? Can I speak to her? My mother died several years ago.\"\n\n\"Do you know what happened? I have to know. It is very important.\"\n\nShe looked around and, when she was sure no one could overhear, she said, \" A priest came to my mother one night looking fora midwife and took her to the Bradford Boarding House where a woman was giving birth. While my mother worked to deliver the baby, a fight started on the street.\n\n\"My mother had just delivered the first child-\"\n\n\"First child?\"\n\n\"She could see another was on the way, but men in black broke into the room. My mother hid in a wardrobe. The husband fought, but they killed his wife and child and another man who came to help. The father took off his necklace-like the one you wear-and put it around the neck of the dead baby. There was still fighting on the street out front and the husband ran out of the room.\n\n\"My mother was terrified. She said there was blood everywhere, and the poor woman and her baby... but she summoned the courage to slip out of the wardrobe. She remembered the second child and knew it would die if she didn't do something. She picked up a knife and delivered it." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"From the window she saw the husband die and the street filled with dozen of bodies. A swordsman covered in blood was killing everyone. She didn't know what was happening. She was terrified. She was certain he would kill her, too. With the second child in her arms she took the necklace from the dead baby and escaped out the broken window. She fled and pretended the baby washers and never told anyone what really happened until the night she died-when she told me.\"\n\n\"Why did she take the necklace?\"\n\n\"She said it was because the father meant it for his child.\"\n\n\"But you don't believe that?\"\n\nShe shrugged. \"Look at it.\" She pointed at his amulet. \"It's made of silver. My mother was a very poor woman. But it's not like she sold it. It did belong to the child and in the end she did give it to him.\"\n\n\"What is your brother's name?\"\n\nShe looked puzzled. \"I thought you knew. You were with the Nationalists.\"\n\n\"How would being with-\"\n\n\"My brother is the leader of the Nationalist Army.\"\n\n\"Oh,\" Hadrian's hopes sank. \"Your brother is Commander Parker?\"\n\n\"No, no, my name is Miranda Gaunt. My brother is Degan.\"\n\n---\n\nShe had not fought or taken blows, but Arista felt battered and beaten. She satin what, until that morning, had been the viceroy's office. A huge gaudy chamber, it contained all that had survived the burning of the old royal palace. It was dark outside the many windows. Night had slipped in, heralding a close to the longest day she could recall. Memories of that morning were already distant, from another year, another life." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Outside, the flicker of bonfires bloomed in the square where they sentenced Emery to die." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Die he did, but his dream survived, his promise fulfilled. She could hear them singing, see their shadows dancing. They toasted him with mugs of beer, and celebrated his victory with lambs on spits. A decidedly different gathering than the one the sheriff had planned.\n\n\"We insist you take the crown of Rhenydd,\" Doctor Gerand repeated, his voice carrying over the others.\n\n\"I agree,\" Perin said. Since the battle, the big grocer designated to lead the failed left flank, wounded in the fight, had become a figure of legend. He found himself thrust into the ad hoc city council hastily comprised of the city's most revered surviving citizens.\n\nSeveral other heads nodded. She did not know them, but guessed they owned large farms or businesses-commoners all. None of the former nobility remained after the Imperial takeover. All of the Imperials were either dead or imprisoned. Viceroy Androus, evicted from his office, was relocated to a prison cell along with the city guards that surrendered. A handful of other city officials and Laven, the man who had words with Emery in The Gnome, prepared to stand trial for crimes against the citizenry-anew law.\n\nWhen the battle ended, Arista helped organize the treatment of the wounded. Soon people returned to her, asking what to do next. She directed them to bury the bodies of those without families outside the city. There was a brief ceremony presided over by Monsignor Bartholomew.\n\nThe wounded and dying overwhelmed the armory, and makeshift hospitals were created in the Dunlaps'barn and rooms commandeered at The Gnome. People also volunteered their private homes, particularly those with beds recently made empty. With the work of cleaning up the dead and wounded underway, the question of what to do with the viceroy and the other imperial supporters arose, along with a dozen other inquiries. Arista suggested they form a council and decide together what should be done. They did, and their first official act was to summon her to the viceroy's old office." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was unanimous. The council voted to appoint Arista ruling queen of the Kingdom of Rhenydd.\n\n\"There is no one else hereof noble blood,\" Perin said wearing a blood-stained bandage around his head. \"No one else who even knows how to govern.\"\n\n\"But Emery envisioned a republic,\" Arista told them. \"A self-determining government like they have in Delgos. This was his dream-the reason he fought, the reason he died.\"\n\n\"But we don't know how to do that.\" Doctor Gerand said. \"We need experience, and you have it.\"\n\n\"He's right,\" Perin spoke up again. \"Perhaps in a few months we could hold elections, but Sir Breckton and his army are still on their way. We need action. We need the kind of leadership that won us this city, or come tomorrow we'll lose it again.\"\n\nArista sighed and looked over at Hadrian, who sat near the window. As commander of the Nationalist Army, he also received an invitation.\n\n\"What do you think?\" she asked.\n\n\"I'm no politician.\"\n\n\"I'm not asking you to be. I just want to know what you think...\"\n\n\"Royce once told me two people can argue over the same point and both can be right. I thought he was nutty, but I'm not so sure anymore, because I think you're both right. The moment you become queen, you'll destroy any chance of this becoming the kind of free republic Emery spoke of, but if someone doesn't take charge-and fast-that hope will die anyway. And they're right. If I were going to choose anyone to rule, it would be you. As an outsider, you have no bias, no chance of favoritism-you'll be fair. And everyone already loves you.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"They don't love me. They don't even know me.\"\n\n\"They think they do, and they trust you. You can give directions and people will listen. And right now, that's what is needed.\"\n\n\"I can't be queen. Emery wanted a republic, and a republic he will have. You can appoint me temporary mayor of Ratibor and steward of the Kingdom of Rhenydd. I will administer only until a proper government can be established, at which time I will resign and return to Melengar.\" She nodded more to herself than any of them. \"Yes, that way I will be in a position to ensure it gets done.\"\n\nThe men in the room muttered in agreement.\n\n\"Tomorrow we can address the city. Is there anything else?\"\n\nThe council filed out of City Hall into the square, leaving her and Hadrian alone. Outside the constant noise of the crowd grew quiet, and then exploded with cheers.\n\n\"You're very popular, Your Highness,\" Hadrian told her.\n\n\"Too popular. They want to commission a statue of me.\"\n\n\"I heard that. They want to put it in the West End Square, one of you holding up that sword.\"\n\n\"It's not over yet. Breckton is almost here, and we don't even know if Royce got through. What if he never made it? What if he did and Alric doesn't listen? He might not think it possible to take Ratibor and refuse to put the kingdom at risk. We need to be certain.\"\n\n\"You want me to go?\"\n\n\"No,\" she said. \"I want you here. I need you here. But if Breckton lays siege, we will eventually fall and by then it will be too late for you to getaway. Our only hope is if Alric's forces can turn Breckton's attention away from us.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He nodded and his hand played with the amulet around his neck. \"I suppose it doesn't matter where I go for awhile.\"\n\n\"What do you mean?\"\n\n\"Esrahaddon was in Gaunt's camp. He's been helping the Nationalists.\"\n\n\"Did you ask him about the heir?\"\n\nHadrian nodded. \"And you were right. The heir is alive. I think he's Degan Gaunt.\"\n\n\"Degan Gaunt is the heir?\"\n\n\"Funny, huh? The voice of the common man is also the heir to the imperial throne. There was another child. They were twins. The midwife took the surviving one. No one else knew. I have no idea how Esrahaddon figured it out, but that explains why he's been helping Gaunt.\"\n\n\"Where is Esrahaddon now?\"\n\n\"Don't know. I haven't seen him since the battle started.\"\n\n\"You don't think.\"\n\n\"Hmm? Oh, no. I'm sure he's fine. He hung back when we engaged Dermont's forces. I suspect he's off to find Gaunt and will contact me and Royce once he does.\" Hadrian sighed. \" I wish my father could have known he didn't fail after all.\n\n\"I'll take care of things tonight before I leave. I'll put one of the regiment captains in charge of the army. There's a guy named Renquist who seems intelligent. I'll have him see to the walls, patch up the stonework, ready gate defenses, put up sentries, guards, and archers. He should know how to do all of that. And I'll put together a list of things you'll want to do, like bring the entire army and the surrounding farmers within the city walls and seal it up. You should do that right away.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You'll be leaving in the morning then?\"\n\nHe nodded. \"Doubt I'll see you again before I go, so I'll say goodbye now. You've done the impossible, Arista-excuse me-Your Highness.\"\n\n\"Arista is just fine.\" she told him. \"I'm going to miss you.\" It was all she could say. Words were too small to express gratitude so large.\n\nHe opened his mouth, but hesitated. He smiled then and said, \"Take care of yourself, Your Highness.\"\n\n---\n\nIn her dream Thrace could seethe beast coming for her father. He stood smiling warmly at her, his back to the monster. She tried to scream for him to run, but only a soft muffled moan escaped. She tried to wave her arms and draw his attention to the danger, but her arms were lead and refused to move. She tried to run to him, but her feet were stuck, frozen in place.\n\nThe beast had no trouble moving.\n\nIt charged down the hill. Her poor father took no notice, even though the beast shook the ground. It consumed him completely with a single swallow, and she fellas if pierced through the heart. She collapsed onto the grass, struggling to breathe. In the distance the beast was coming for her now, coming to finish the job, coming to swallow her up-his legs squeaking louder and louder as he advanced.\n\nShe woke up in a cold sweat.\n\nShe was sleeping on her stomach in her feather bed with the pillow folded up around her face. She hated sleeping. Sleep always brought nightmares. She stayed awake as long as possible, many nights sitting on the floor in front of the little window, watching the stars and listening to the sounds outside. There was a whole symphony of frogs that croaked in the moat and a chorus of crickets. Fireflies sometimes passed by her tiny sliver of the world. But eventually sleep found her." }, { "from": "human", "value": "The dream was the same every night." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She was on the hill. Her father unaware of his impending death, and there was never anything she could do. However, tonight's dream had been different. Usually it ended when the beast devoured her, but this time she woke early. Something else was different. When the beast came it made a squeaking sound. Even fora dream that seemed strange.\n\nShe heard it then. The sound entered through her window.\n\nSqueak!\n\nThere were other sounds, too, sounds of men talking. They spoke quietly but their voices drifted up from the courtyard below. She went to the window and peered out. As many as a dozen men with torches drew a wagon whose large wooden wheels squeaked once with each revolution. The wagon was a large box with a small barred window cut in the side, like the kind that would hold a lion fora traveling circus. The men were dressed in black and scarlet armor. She had seen that armor before in Dahlgren.\n\nOne man stood out. He was a tall and thin with long black hair and a short, neatly trimmed beard.\n\nThe wagon came to a stop and the knights gathered.\n\n\"He's chained, isn't he?\" she heard one of them say.\n\n\"Why? Are you frightened?\"\n\n\"He's not a wizard,\" the tall man scolded. \"He can't turn you into a frog. His powers are political, not mystical.\"\n\n\"Come now, Luis, even Saldur said not to underestimate him, legends speak of strange abilities. He's part god.\"\n\n\"You believe too much in church doctrine. We are the protectorate of the faith. We don't have to wallow in superstition like ignorant peasants.\"\n\n\"That sounds blasphemous.\"\n\n\"The truth can never be blasphemous so long as it is tempered with an understanding of what is good and right. The truth is a powerful thing, like a crossbow. You wouldn't hand a child a loaded crossbow and say'run and play' would you? People get hurt that way, tragedies occur. The truth must be kept safe, reserved only for those capable of handling it. This-this sacrilegious treasure in a box-is one truth above all that must be kept a secret. It must never again seethe light of day. We will bury it, and bury it deep beneath the castle. We will seal it in for all time and it will become the cornerstone on which we will build anew and glorious Empire that will eclipse the previous one and wash away the sins of our forefathers.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "She watched as they opened the rear of the wagon and pulled out a man." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A black hood covered his face. Chains bound his hands and ankles. Nevertheless, the men treated him carefully, as if he could explode at any minute.\n\nWith four men on either side, they marched him across the courtyard out of the sight of her narrow window.\n\nShe watched as they rolled the wagon back out and closed the gate behind them. Thrace stared at the empty courtyard for more than an hour, until at last she fell asleep again.\n\n---\n\nThe carriage bounced through the night on the rough hilly road, following a sliver of open sky between walls of forest. The jangle of harnesses, thudding of hooves, and the crush of wheels dominated this world. The night's air was heavily scented with the aroma of pond water and a skunk's spray.\n\nArcadius, the lore master of Sheridan University, peered out the open window and hammered on the roof with his walking stick until the driver brought the carriage to a halt.\n\n\"What is it?\" the driver shouted.\n\n\"This will be fine,\" the lore master replied, grabbing up his bag and, finding the strap, slipped it over his shoulder.\n\n\"What is?\"\n\n\"I'm getting out here.\" Arcadius popped open the little door and carefully climbed out onto the desolate road. \"Yes, this is fine.\" He closed the door and lightly patted the side of the carriage as if it were a horse.\n\nThe lore master walked to the front of the coach. The driver sat on the raised bench with his coat drawn up around his neck, a formless sack-hat pulled down over his ears. Between his thighs he trapped a small corked jug. \"But there's nothing here, sir,\" he insisted.\n\n\"Don't be absurd, of course there is. You're here, aren't you, and so am I.\" Arcadius pulled open his bag. \"And look, there are some nice trees and this excellent road we've been riding on.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"But it's the middle of the night, sir.\"\n\nArcadius tilted his head up. \"And just look at that wonderful starry sky. It's beautiful, don't you think. Do you know your constellations, good man?\"\n\n\"No, sir.\"\n\n\"Pity.\" He measured out some silver coins and handed them up to the driver. \"It's all up there, you know. Wars, heroes, beasts, and villains, the past and the future spread above us each night like a dazzling map.\" He pointed. \"That long, elegant set of four bright stars is Persephone and she of course is always beside Novron. If you follow the line that looks like Novron's arm you can see how they just barely touch-lovers longing to be together.\"\n\nThe driver looked up. \"Just looks like a bunch of scattered dust tome.\"\n\n\"It does to a great many people. Too many people.\"\n\nThe driver looked down at him and frowned. \"You sure you want me to just leave you? I can comeback if you want.\"\n\n\"That won't be necessary, but thank you.\"\n\n\"Suit yourself. Goodnight.\" The carriage driver slapped the reins and the coach rolled out, circling in afield to return the way it came. The driver glanced up at the sky twice, shaking his head each time. The carriage and the team moved away, the horses clopping softer and softer until they faded below the harsh shrill of nightly noises.\n\nArcadius stood alone observing the world. It had been sometime since the old professor had been out in the wild. He had forgotten how loud it was. The high-pitched trill of crickets punctuated the oscillating echoes of tree frogs that peeped with the regular pace of a human heart. Winds rustled a million leaves, fashioning the voice of waves at sea." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Arcadius walked forward along the road, crossing the fresh grooves of the carriage wheels. His shoes on the dirt made a surprisingly large amount of noise. The dark had away of drawing attention to the normally invisible, silent, and ignored. That was why nights were so frightening, without the distraction of light, the doors to other senses were unlocked. As children, the dark spoke of the monster beneath the bed, as adults the intruder, and as old men, the herald of death on its way.\n\n\"Long, hard, and rocky, is the road we walk in old age,\" he muttered to his feet.\n\nHe stopped when he reached a post lurching at a crossroad. The sign declared Ratibor to the right and Aquesta to the left. He stepped into the tall grass a few feet and found a fallen log to sit on. He pulled the shoulder strap of the sack over his head and set it down. Rummaging through it he found a honeyed muffin, one of three he had pilfered from the dinner table at the inn. He was old, but his sleight of hand was still impressive. Royce would be proud; less so if he knew he paid for the meal, and that it included the muffins. Still the big swarthy fellow at his elbow would have poached them if he had not acted first. Now it looked as if they would come in handy as he had no idea when-\n\nHe heard hoof beats long before he saw the horse. The sound came from the direction of Ratibor. As unlikely as it was for anyone else to be on that road, the lore master's heart nevertheless increased until at last the rider cleared the trees-a woman rode alone in a dark hood and cloak. She came to a stop at the post.\n\n\"You're late,\" he said.\n\nShe whirled around, relaxing when she recognized him. \"No, I'm early. You are just earlier.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Why are you alone? It's too dangerous. These roads are-\"\n\n\"And who would you suggest I trust to escort me? Have you added to our ranks?\"\n\nShe dismounted and tied her horse to the post.\n\n\"You could have paid some young lad. There must be a few in the city you trust.\"\n\n\"Those I trust would be of no aid, and those that could help I don't trust. Besides, this isn't far. I couldn't have been on the road for more than two hours. And there's not much between Ratibor and here.\" She turned. \"You don't have to getup.\"\n\n\"How else can Ito give you a hug?\" He reached out to embrace her. \"Now tell, me how have you been? I was very worried.\"\n\n\"You worry too much. I'm fine.\" She drew back her hood, revealing long blonde hair that she wore scooped back.\n\n\"The city has been taken?\" Arcadias asked.\n\n\"The Nationalists have it now. They attacked and defeated Lord Dermont's forces in the field and the princess led a revolt against Sheriff Vigan in the city. Sir Breckton and the Northern Imperial Army arrived too late. With the city buttoned-up and Dermont gone, Breckton's Army turned around and headed north.\"\n\n\"I passed part of his supply train. He's taking up a defensive position around Aquesta, I think. Hadrian and Arista? How are they?\"\n\n\"Not a scratch on either,\" she replied. \"Hadrian turned command of the Nationalist Army over to a man named Renquist-one of the senior captains-and left the morning after the battle. I'm not sure whereto.\"\n\n\"Did you have a chance to talk with him?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "She nodded." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Yes, I told him about my brother. Do you know where Degan is?\"\n\n\"Me?\" Arcadius looked surprised. \"No, the seret have him, I am certain of that, but where is anyone's guess. They have gotten a whole lot smarter recently. It's like Guy has sprouted another head, and this one has a brain in it.\"\n\n\"Do you think they killed him?\"\n\n\"Don't know,\" the wizard paused, regretting his curt words and looked at her sympathetically. \"It's hard to fathom the imperial mind. We can hope they want him alive. Now that we've unleashed Hadrian, there's a good chance that he and Royce will save him. It could even be that Esrahaddon will connect the dots and send them.\"\n\n\"Esrahaddon already knows,\" Miranda said. \"He's been with Degan for months.\"\n\n\"So, he found out. Excellent. I thought he might. When he visited Sheridan it was obvious he knew more than he let on.\"\n\n\"Maybe he and Hadrian are looking together-planned a place to meetup after the battle?\"\n\nThe wizard stroked his chin thoughtfully. \"Possible... probable even. So those two are off looking for your brother. What about Arista? What is she doing?\"\n\nMiranda smiled. \"She's running the city. The citizens of Ratibor were ready to proclaim her queen of Rhenydd, but she settled for mayor pro tem until elections can beheld. She intends to honor Emery's dream of a republic in Rhenydd.\"\n\n\"A princess establishing the first republic in Avryn.\" Arcadius chuckled. \"Quite the turn of events.\"\n\n\"The princess has cried a lot since the battle. I've watched her. She works constantly, settling disputes, inspecting the walls, appointing ministers. She falls asleep at her desk in City Hall. She cries when she thinks no one is looking.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"All that violence after so privileged a life.\"\n\n\"I think she might have been in love with a young man who was killed.\"\n\n\"In love? Really? That's surprising. She's never showed an interest in anyone. Who was he?\"\n\n\"No one of note-the son of the dead bodyguard to King Urith.\"\n\n\"That's too bad,\" the wizard said sadly. \"For all her privilege, she's not had an easy life.\"\n\n\"You didn't ask about Royce?\" she noted.\n\n\"I know about him. He arrived back in Medford not long before I set out. The next day Melengar's army crossed the Galewyr. Alric has enlisted every able-bodied man and even a good deal of the boys. He's put Count Pickering, Sir Ecton, and Marquis Lanaklin in command. They broke through the little imperial force and at last report were sweeping south, causing a great deal of havoc. Another obstacle I needed to travel around. Getting back to the university will take a month I expect.\"\n\nThe wizard sighed and a look of concern passed over his face. \"Two things still trouble me. First, Aquesta is threatened by an enemy army resting in Ratibor, and they aren't negotiating or evacuating. Second, there's Marius.\"\n\n\"Who?\"\n\n\"Merrick Marius, also known as Cutter.\"\n\n\"Isn't he the one who put Royce in Manzant?\"\n\n\"Yes, and now he is working for the Empire. He's a wildcard I had not expected.\" The old man paused. \"You're certain that Hadrian believed everything you told him?\"\n\n\"Absolutely. His eyes nearly fell out of his head when I told him who the heir was.\" She sighed. \"Are you sure we-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I'm sure, Miranda. Make no mistake we are doing what is absolutely right and necessary. It is imperative that Royce and Hadrian never find out the truth.\"" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Move the narrative forward in collaboration with the writer.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, knights radiant\nAuthor: Brandon Sanderson\nTitle: Oathbringer\nChapter: 25" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Though... even those seemed more tolerable these days. Perhaps it was familiarity. Or maybe it was Gavilar's talk of forging a dynasty. It was the increasingly obvious truth that this campaign-now stretching over many years-was no quick bash and grab.\n\n\"Bring me Kalanor, Brother,\" Gavilar said. \"We need the Blackthorn today.\"\n\n\"All you need do is unleash him.\"\n\n\"Ha! As if anyone existed who could leash him in the first place.\"\n\nIsn't that what you've been trying to do? Dalinar thought immediately. Marrying me off, talking about how we have to be'civilized\" now? Highlighting everything I do wrong as the things we must expunge?\n\nHe bit his tongue, and they finished their ride down the lines. They parted with a nod, and Dalinar rode over to join his elites.\n\n\"Orders, sir?\" asked Rien.\n\n\"Stay out of my way,\" Dalinar said, lowering his faceplate. The Shardplate helm sealed closed, and a hush fell over the elites. Dalinar summoned Oathbringer, the sword of a fallen king, and waited. The enemy had come to stop Gavilar's continued pillage of the countryside; they would have to make the first move.\n\nThese last few months spent attacking isolated, unprotected towns had made for unfulfilling battles-but had also put Kalanor in a terrible position. If he sat back in his strongholds, he allowed more of his vassals to be destroyed. Already those started to wonder why they paid Kalanor taxes. A handful had preemptively sent messengers to Gavilar saying they would not resist.\n\nThe region was on the brink of flipping to the Kholins. And so, Highprince Kalanor had been forced to leave his fortifications to engage here. Dalinar shifted on his horse, waiting, planning. The moment came soon enough; Kalanor's forces started across the plain in a cautious wave, shields raised toward the sky." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gavilar's archers released flights of arrows. Kalanor's men were well trained; they maintained their formations beneath the deadly hail. Eventually they met Kholin heavy infantry: a block of men so armored that it might as well have been solid stone. At the same time, mobile archer units sprang out to the sides. Lightly armored, they were fast. If the Kholins won this battle-and Dalinar was confident of victory-it would be because of the newer battlefield tactics they'd been exploring.\n\nThe enemy army found itself flanked-arrows pounding the sides of their assault blocks. Their lines stretched, the infantry trying to reach the archers, but that weakened the central block, which suffered a beating from the heavy infantry. Standard spearman blocks engaged enemy units as much to position them as to do them harm.\n\nThis all happened on the scale of the battlefield. Dalinar had to climb off his horse and send fora groom to walk the animal as he waited. Inside, Dalinar fought back the Thrill, which urged him to ride in immediately.\n\nEventually, he picked a section of Kholin troops who were faring poorly against the enemy block. Good enough. He remounted and kicked his horse into a gallop. This was the right moment. He could feel it. He needed to strike now, when the battle was pivoting between victory and loss, to draw out his enemy.\n\nGrass wriggled and pulled back in a wave before him. Like subjects bowing. This might be the end, his final battle in the conquest of Alethkar. What happened to him after this? Endless feasts with politicians? A brother who refused to look elsewhere for battle?\n\nDalinar opened himself to the Thrill and drove away such worries. He struck the line of enemy troops like a highstorm hitting a stack of papers. Soldiers scattered before him, shouting. Dalinar laid about with his Shardblade, killing dozens on one side, then the other." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Eyes burned, arms fell limp. Dalinar breathed in the joy of the conquest, the narcotic beauty of destruction. None could stand before him; all were tinder and he the flame. The soldier block should have been able to band together and rush him, but they were too frightened.\n\nAnd why shouldn't they be? People spoke of common men bringing down a Shardbearer, but surely that was a fabrication. A conceit intended to make men fightback, to save Shardbearers from having to hunt them down.\n\nHe grinned as his horse stumbled trying to cross the bodies piling around it. Dalinar kicked the beast forward, and it leaped-but as it landed, something gave. The creature screamed and collapsed, dumping him.\n\nHe sighed, shoving aside the horse and standing. He'd broken its back; Shardplate was not meant for such common beasts.\n\nOne group of soldiers tried a counterattack. Brave, but stupid. Dalinar felled them with broad sweeps of his Shardblade. Next, a lighteyed officer organized his men to come press and try to trap Dalinar, if not with their skill, then their weight of bodies. He spun among them, Plate lending him energy, Blade granting him precision, and the Thrill... the Thrill giving him purpose.\n\nIn moments like this, he could see why he had been created. He was wasted listening to men blab. He was wasted doing anything but this: providing the ultimate test of men's abilities, proving them, demanding their lives at the edge of a sword. He sent them to the Tranquiline Halls primed and ready to fight.\n\nHe was not a man. He was judgment.\n\nEnthralled, he cut down foe after foe, sensing a strange rhythm to the fighting, as if the blows of his sword needed to fall to the dictates of some unseen beat. A redness grew at the edges of his vision, eventually covering the landscape like a veil. It seemed to shift and move like the coils of an eel, trembling to the beats of his sword." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He was furious when a calling voice distracted him from the fight.\n\n\"Dalinar!\"\n\nHe ignored it.\n\n\"Brightlord Dalinar! Blackthorn!\"\n\nThat voice was like a screeching cremling, playing its song inside his helm. He felled a pair of swordsmen. They'd been lighteyed, but their eyes had burned away, and you could no longer tell.\n\n\"Blackthorn!\"\n\nBah! Dalinar spun toward the sound.\n\nA man stood nearby, wearing Kholin blue. Dalinar raised his Shardblade. The man backed away, raising hands with no weapon, still shouting Dalinar's name.\n\nI know him. He's... Kadash? One of the captains among his elites. Dalinar lowered his sword and shook his head, trying to get the buzzing sound out of his ears. Only then did he see-really see-what surrounded him.\n\nThe dead. Hundreds upon hundreds of them, with shriveled coals for eyes, their armor and weapons sheared but their bodies eerily untouched. Almighty above... how many had he killed? He raised his hand to his helm, turning and looking about him. Timid blades of grass crept up among the bodies, pushing between arms, fingers, beside heads. He'd blanketed the plain so thoroughly with corpses that the grass had a difficult time finding places to rise.\n\nDalinar grinned in satisfaction, then grew chill. A few of those bodies with burned eyes-three men he could spot-wore blue. His own men, bearing the armband of the elites.\n\n\"Brightlord,\" Kadash said. \"Blackthorn, your task is accomplished!\" He pointed toward a troop of horsemen charging across the plain. They carried the silver-on-red flag bearing a glyphpair of two mountains. Left no choice, Highprince Kalanor had committed to the battle. Dalinar had destroyed several companies on his own; only another Shardbearer could stop him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Excellent,\" Dalinar said. He pulled off his helm and took a cloth from Kadash, using it to wipe his face. A waterskin followed. Dalinar drank the entire thing.\n\nDalinar tossed away the empty skin, his heart racing, the Thrill thrumming within. \"Pullback the elites. Do not engage unless I fall.\" Dalinar pulled his helm back on, and felt the comforting tightness as the latches cinched it into place.\n\n\"Yes, Brightlord.\"\n\n\"Gather those of us who... fell,\" Dalinar said, waving toward the Kholin dead. \"Make certain they, and theirs, are cared for.\"\n\n\"Of course, sir.\"\n\nDalinar dashed toward the oncoming force, his Shardplate crunching against stones. He felt sad to have to engage a Shardbearer, instead of continuing his fight against the ordinary men. No more laying waste; he now had only one man to kill.\n\nHe could vaguely remember a time when facing lesser challenges hadn't sated him as much as a good fight against someone capable. What had changed?\n\nHis run took him toward one of the rock formations on the eastern side of the field-a group of enormous spires, weathered and jagged, like a row of stone stakes. Ashe entered the shadows, he could hear fighting from the other side. Portions of the armies had broken off and tried to flank each other by rounding the formations.\n\nAt their base, Kalanor's honor guard split, revealing the highprince himself on horseback. His Plate was overlaid with a silver coloring, perhaps steel or silver leaf. Dalinar had ordered his Plate buffed back to its normal slate grey; he'd never understood why people would want to'augment\" the natural majesty of Shardplate." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Kalanor's horse was a tall, majestic animal, brilliant white with along mane. It carried the Shardbearer with ease. A Ryshadium. Yet Kalanor dismounted. He patted the animal fondly on the neck, then stepped forward to meet Dalinar, Shardblade appearing in his hand.\n\n\"Blackthorn,\" he called. \"I hear you've been single-handedly destroying my army.\"\n\n\"They fight for the Tranquiline Halls now.\"\n\n\"Would that you had joined to lead them.\"\n\n\"Someday,\" Dalinar said. \"When I am too old and weak to fight here, I'll welcome being sent.\"\n\n\"Curious, how quickly tyrants grow religious. It must be convenient to tell yourself that your murders belong to the Almighty instead.\"\n\n\"They'd better not belong to him!\" Dalinar said. \"I worked hard for those kills, Kalanor. The Almighty can't have them; he can merely credit them tome when weighing my soul!\"\n\n\"Then let them weigh you down to Damnation itself.\" Kalanor waved back his honor guard, who seemed eager to throw themselves at Dalinar. Alas, the highprince was determined to fight on his own. He swiped with his sword, along, thin Shardblade with a large crossguard and glyphs down its length. \"If I kill you, Blackthorn, what then?\"\n\n\"Then Sadeas gets a crack at you.\"\n\n\"No honor on this battlefield, I see.\"\n\n\"Oh, don't pretend you are any better,\" Dalinar said. \"I know what you did to rise to your throne. You can't pretend to be a peacemaker now.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Considering what you did to the peacemakers,\" Kalanor said, \"I'll count myself lucky.\"\n\nDalinar leaped forward, falling into Bloodstance-a stance for someone who didn't care if he got hit. He was younger, more agile than his opponent. He counted on being able to swing faster, harder.\n\nStrangely, Kalanor chose Bloodstance himself. The two clashed, bashing their swords against one another in a pattern that sent them twisting about in a quick shuffle of footings-each trying to hit the same section of Plate repeatedly, to open a hole to flesh.\n\nDalinar grunted, batting away his opponent's Shardblade. Kalanor was old, but skilled. He had an uncanny ability to pullback before Dalinar's strikes, deflecting some of the force of the impact, preventing the metal from breaking.\n\nAfter furiously exchanging blows for several minutes, both men stepped back, a web of cracks on the left sides of their Plate leaking Stormlight into the air.\n\n\"It will happen to you too, Blackthorn,\" Kalanor growled. \"If you do kill me, someone will rise up and take your kingdom from you. It will never last.\"\n\nDalinar came in fora power swing. One step forward, then a twist all the way about. Kalanor struck him on the right side-a solid hit, but insignificant, as it was on the wrong side. Dalinar, on the other hand, came in with a sweeping stroke that hummed in the air. Kalanor tried to move with the blow, but this one had too much momentum.\n\nThe Shardblade connected, destroying the section of Plate in an explosion of molten sparks. Kalanor grunted and stumbled to the side, nearly tripping. He lowered his hand to cover the hole in his armor, which continued to leak Stormlight at the edges. Half the breastplate had shattered." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You fight like you lead, Kholin,\" he growled. \"Reckless.\"\n\nDalinar ignored the taunt and charged instead.\n\nKalanor ran away, plowing through his honor guard in his haste, shoving some aside and sending them tumbling, bones breaking.\n\nDalinar almost caught him, but Kalanor reached the edge of the large rock formation. He dropped his Blade-it puffed away to mist-and sprang, grabbing hold of an outcropping. He started to climb.\n\nHe reached the base of the natural tower moments later. Boulders littered the ground nearby; in the mysterious way of the storms, this had probably been a hillside until recently. The highstorm had ripped most of it away, leaving this unlikely formation poking into the air. It would probably soon get blown down.\n\nDalinar dropped his Blade and leapt, snagging an outcropping, his fingers grinding on stone. He dangled before getting a footing, then proceeded to climb up the steep wall after Kalanor. The other Shardbearer tried to kick rocks down, but they bounced off Dalinar harmlessly.\n\nBy the time Dalinar caught up, they had climbed some fifty feet. Down below, soldiers gathered and stared, pointing.\n\nDalinar reached for his opponent's leg, but Kalanor yanked it out of the way and then-still hanging from the stones-summoned his Blade and began swiping down. After getting battered on the helm a few times, Dalinar growled and let himself slide down out of the way.\n\nKalanor gouged a few chunks from the wall to send them clattering at Dalinar, then dismissed his Blade and continued upward.\n\nDalinar followed more carefully, climbing along a parallel route to the side. He eventually reached the top and peeked over the edge. The summit of the formation was some flat-topped, broken peaks that didn't look terribly sturdy. Kalanor sat on one of them, Blade across one leg, his other foot dangling." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dalinar climbed up a safe distance from his enemy, then summoned Oathbringer. Storms. There was barely enough room up hereto stand. Wind buffeted him, a windspren zipping around to one side.\n\n\"Nice view,\" Kalanor said. Though the forces had started outwith equal numbers, below them were far more fallen men in silver and red strewn across the grassland than there were men in blue. \"I wonder how many kings get such prime seating to watch their own downfall.\"\n\n\"You were never a king,\" Dalinar said.\n\nKalanor stood and lifted his Blade, extending it in one hand, point toward Dalinar's chest. \"That, Kholin, is all tied up in bearing and assumption. Shall we?\"\n\nClever, bringing me up here, Dalinar thought. Dalinar had the obvious edge in a fair duel-and so Kalanor brought random chance into the fight. Winds, unsteady footing, a plunge that would kill even a Shardbearer.\n\nAt the very least, this would be a novel challenge. Dalinar stepped forward carefully. Kalanor changed to Windstance, a more flowing, sweeping style of fighting. Dalinar chose Stonestance for the solid footing and straightforward power.\n\nThey traded blows, shuffling back and forth along the line of small peaks. Each step scraped chips off the stones, sending them tumbling down. Kalanor obviously wanted to draw out this fight, to maximize the time for Dalinar to slip.\n\nDalinar tested back and forth, letting Kalanor fall into a rhythm, then broke it to strike with everything he had, battering down in overhand blows. Each fanned something burning inside of Dalinar, athirst that his earlier rampage hadn't sated. The Thrill wanted more." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dalinar scored a series of hits on Kalanor's helm, backing him up to the edge, one step away from a fall. The last blow destroyed the helm entirely, exposing an aged face, clean-shaven, mostly bald.\n\nKalanor growled, teeth clenched, and struck back at Dalinar with unexpected ferocity. Dalinar met it Blade with Blade, then stepped forward to turn it into a shoving match-their weapons locked, neither with room to maneuver.\n\nDalinar met his enemy's gaze. In those light grey eyes, he saw something. Excitement, energy. A familiar bloodlust.\n\nKalanor felt the Thrill too.\n\nDalinar had heard others speak of it, this euphoria of the contest. The secret Alethi edge. But seeing it right there, in the eyes of a man trying to kill him, made Dalinar furious. He should not have to share such an intimate feeling with this man.\n\nHe grunted and-in a surge of strength-tossed Kalanor back. The man stumbled, then slipped. He instantly dropped his Shardblade and, in a frantic motion, managed to grab the rock lip as he fell.\n\nHelmless, Kalanor dangled. The sense of the Thrill in his eyes faded to panic. \"Mercy,\" he whispered.\n\n\"This is a mercy,\" Dalinar said, then struck him straight through the face with his Shardblade.\n\nKalanor's eyes burned from grey to black as he dropped off the spire, trailing twin lines of black smoke. The corpse scraped rock before hitting far below, on the far side of the rock formation, away from the main army.\n\nDalinar breathed out, then sank down, wrung out. Shadows stretched long across the land as the sun met the horizon. It had been a fine fight. He'd accomplished what he'd wanted. He'd conquered all who stood before him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And yet he felt empty. A voice within him kept saying, \"That's it? Weren't we promised more?\"\n\nDown below, a group in Kalanor's colors made for the fallen body. The honor guard had seen where their brightlord had fallen? Dalinar felt a spike of outrage. That was his kill, his victory. He'd won those Shards!\n\nHe scrambled down in a reckless half-climb. The descent was a blur; he was seeing red by the time he hit the ground. One soldier had the Blade; others were arguing over the Plate, which was broken and mangled.\n\nDalinar attacked, killing six in moments, including the one with the Blade. Two others managed to run, but they were slower than he was. Dalinar caught one by the shoulder, whipping him around and smashing him down into the stones. He killed the last with a sweep of Oathbringer.\n\nMore. Where were more? Dalinar saw no men in red. Only some in blue-a beleaguered set of soldiers who flew no flag. In their center, however, walked a man in Shardplate. Gavilar rested here from the battle, in a place behind the lines, to take stock.\n\nThe hunger inside of Dalinar grew. The Thrill came upon him in a rush, overwhelming. Shouldn't the strongest rule? Why should he sit back so often, listening to men chat instead of war?\n\nThere. There was the man who held what he wanted. A throne... a throne and more. The woman Dalinar should have been able to claim. A love he'd been forced to abandon, for what reason?\n\nNo, his fighting today was not done. This was not all!\n\nHe started toward the group, his mind fuzzy, his insides feeling a deep ache. Passionspren-like tiny crystalline flakes-dropped around him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Shouldn't he have passion?\n\nShouldn't he be rewarded for all he had accomplished?\n\nGavilar was weak. He intended to give up his momentum and rest upon what Dalinar had won for him. Well, there was one way to make certain the war continued. One way to keep the Thrill alive.\n\nOne way for Dalinar to get everything he deserved.\n\nHe was running. Some of the men in Gavilar's group raised hands in welcome. Weak. No weapons presented against him! He could slaughter them all before they knew what had happened. They deserved it! Dalinar deserved to-\n\nGavilar turned toward him, pulling free his helm and smiling an open, honest grin.\n\nDalinar pulled up, stopping with a lurch. He stared at Gavilar, his brother.\n\nOh, Stormfather, Dalinar thought. What am I doing?\n\nHe let the Blade slip from his fingers and vanish. Gavilar strode up, unable to read Dalinar's horrified expression behind his helm. As a blessing, no shamespren appeared, though he should have earned a legion of them in that moment.\n\n\"Brother!\" Gavilar said. \"Have you seen? The day is won! Highprince Ruthar brought down Gallam, winning Shards for his son. Talanor took a Blade, and I hear you finally drew out Kalanor. Please tell me he didn't escape you.\"\n\n\"He...\" Dalinar licked his lips, breathing in and out. \"He is dead.\" Dalinar pointed toward the fallen form, visible only as a bit of silvery metal shining amid the shadows of the rubble.\n\n\"Dalinar, you wonderful, terrible man!\" Gavilar turned toward his soldiers. \"Hail the Blackthorn, men. Hail him!\" Gloryspren burst around Gavilar, golden orbs that rotated around his head like a crown." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dalinar blinked amid their cheering, and suddenly felt a shame so deep he wanted to crumple up. This time, a single spren-like a falling petal from a blossom-drifted down around him.\n\nHe had to do something. \"Blade and Plate,\" Dalinar said to Gavilar urgently. \"I won them both, but I give them to you. A gift. For your children.\"\n\n\"Ha!\" Gavilar said. \"Jasnah? What would she do with Shards? No, no. You-\"\n\n\"Keep them,\" Dalinar pled, grabbing his brother by the arm. \"Please.\"\n\n\"Very well, if you insist,\" Gavilar said. \"I suppose you do already have Plate to give your heir.\"\n\n\"If I have one.\"\n\n\"You will!\" Gavilar said, sending some men to recover Kalanor's Blade and Plate. \"Ha! Toh will have to agree, finally, that we can protect his line. I suspect the wedding will happen within the month!\"\n\nAs would, likely, the official re-coronation where-for the first time in centuries-all ten highprinces of Alethkar would bow before a single king.\n\nDalinar sat down on a stone, pulling free his helm and accepting water from a young messenger woman. Never again, he swore to himself. I give way for Gavilar in all things. Let him have the throne, let him have love.\n\nI must never be king." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "-From Oathbringer, preface\n\nThe sounds of arguing politicians drifted to Shallan's ears as she sketched. She sat on a stone seat at the back of the large meeting room near the top of the tower. She'd brought a pillow to sit on, and Pattern buzzed happily on the little pedestal.\n\nShe sat with her feet up, thighs supporting her drawing pad, stockinged toes curling over the rim of the bench in front of her. Not the most dignified of positions; Radiant would be mortified. At the front of the auditorium, Dalinar stood before the glowing map that Shallan and he-somehow combining their powers-could create. He'd invited Taravangian, the highprinces, their wives, and their head scribes. Elhokar had come with Kalami, who was scribing for him lately.\n\nRenarin stood beside his father in his Bridge Four uniform, looking uncomfortable-so basically, same as usual. Adolin lounged nearby, arms folded, occasionally whispering a joke toward one of the men of Bridge Four.\n\nRadiant should be down there, engaging in this important discussion about the future of the world. Instead, Shallan drew. The light was just so good up here, with these broad glass windows. She was tired of feeling trapped in the dark hallways of the lower levels, always feeling that something was watching her.\n\nShe finished her sketch, then tipped it toward Pattern, holding the sketchbook with her sleeved safehand. He rippled up from his post to inspect her drawing: the slot obstructed by a mashed-up figure with bulging, inhuman eyes.\n\n\"Mmmm,\" Pattern said. \"Yes, that is correct.\"\n\n\"It has to be some kind of spren, right?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I feel I should know,\" Pattern said. \"This... this is a thing from long ago. Long, long ago...\"\n\nShallan shivered. \"Why is it here?\"\n\n\"I cannot say,\" Pattern replied. \"It is not a thing of us. It is of him.\"\n\n\"An ancient spren of Odium. Delightful.\" Shallan flipped the page over the top of her sketchbook and started on another drawing.\n\nThe others spoke further of their coalition, Thaylenah and Azir recurring as the most important countries to convince, now that Iri had made it completely clear they had joined the enemy.\n\n\"Brightness Kalami,\" Dalinar was saying. \"The last report. It listed a large gathering of the enemy in Marat, was it?\"\n\n\"Yes, Brightlord,\" the scribe said from her position at the reading desk. \"Southern Marat. You hypothesized it was the low population of the region that induced the Voidbringers to gather there.\"\n\n\"The Iriali have taken the chance to strike eastward, as they've always wanted to,\" Dalinar said. \"They'll seize Rira and Babatharnam. Meanwhile, areas like Triax-around the southern half of central Roshar-continue to go dark.\"\n\nBrightness Kalami nodded, and Shallan tapped her lips with her drawing pencil. The question raised an implication. How could cities go completely dark? These days major cities-particularly ports-would have hundreds of spanreeds in operation. Every lighteyes or merchant wanting to watch prices or keep in contact with distant estates would have one.\n\nThose in Kholinar had started working as soon as the highstorms returned-and then they'd been cutoff one by one. Their last reports claimed that armies were gathering near the city. Then... nothing. The enemy seemed to be able to locate spanreeds somehow." }, { "from": "human", "value": "At least they'd finally gotten word from Kaladin." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A single glyph for time, implying they should be patient. He'd been unable to get to a town to find a woman to scribe for him, and just wanted them to know he was safe. Assuming someone else hadn't gotten the spanreed, and faked the glyph to put them off.\n\n\"The enemy is making a play for the Oathgates,\" Dalinar decided. \"All of their motions, save for the gathering in Marat, indicate this. My instincts say that army is planning to strike back at Azir, or even to cross and try to assault Jah Keved.\"\n\n\"I trust Dalinar's assessment,\" Highprince Aladar added. \"If he believes this course to be likely, we should listen.\"\n\n\"Bah,\" said Highprince Ruthar. The oily man leaned against the wall across from the others, barely paying attention. \"Who cares what you say, Aladar? It's amazing you can even see, considering the place you've gone and stuck your head these days.\"\n\nAladar spun and thrust his hand to the side in a summoning posture. Dalinar stopped him, as Ruthar must have known that he would. Shallan shook her head, letting herself instead be drawn farther into her sketching. A few creationspren appeared at the top of her drawing pad, one a tiny shoe, the other a pencil like the one she used.\n\nHer sketch was of Highprince Sadeas, drawn without a specific Memory. She'd never wanted to add him to her collection. She finished the quick sketch, then flipped to a sketch of Brightlord Perel, the other man they'd found dead in the hallways of Urithiru. She'd tried tore-create his face without wounds.\n\nShe flipped back and forth between the two. They do look similar, Shallan decided. Same bulbous features. Similar build. Her next two pages were pictures of the two Horneaters. Those two looked roughly similar as well. And the two murdered women? Why would the man who strangled his wife confess to that murder, but then swear he hadn't killed the second woman? One was already enough to get you executed." }, { "from": "human", "value": "That spren is mimicking the violence, she thought." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Killing or wounding in the same way as attacks from previous days. A kind of... impersonation?\n\nPattern hummed softly, drawing her attention. Shallan looked up to see someone strolling in her direction: a middle-aged woman with short black haircut almost to the scalp. She wore along skirt and a buttoning shirt with a vest. Thaylen merchant clothing.\n\n\"What is that you're sketching, Brightness?\" the woman asked in Veden.\n\nHearing her own language so suddenly was strange to Shallan, and her mind took a moment to sort through the words. \"People,\" Shallan said, closing her drawing pad. \"I enjoy figure drawing. You're the one who came with Taravangian. His Surgebinder.\"\n\n\"Malata,\" she said. \"Though I am not his. I came to him for convenience, as Spark suggested we might look to Urithiru, now that it has been rediscovered.\" She surveyed the large auditorium. Shallan could see no sign of her spren. \"Do you suppose we really filled this entire chamber?\"\n\n\"Ten orders,\" Shallan said, \"with hundreds of people inmost. Yes, I'd assume we could fill it-in fact, I doubt everyone belonging to the orders could fit inhere.\"\n\n\"And now there are four of us,\" she said idly, eyeing Renarin, who stood stiff beside his father, sweating beneath the scrutiny as people occasionally glanced at him.\n\n\"Five,\" Shallan said. \"There's a flying bridgeman out there somewhere-and those are only the ones of us gathered here. There are bound to be others like you, who are still looking fora way to reach us.\"\n\n\"If they want to,\" Malata said. \"Things don't have to be the way they were. Why should they? It didn't workout so well last time for the Radiants, did it?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Maybe,\" Shallan said. \"But maybe this isn't the time to experiment either. The Desolation has started again. We could do worse than rely upon the past to survive this.\"\n\n\"Curious,\" the woman said, \"that we have only the word of a few stuffy Alethi about this entire \"Desolation\" business, eh sister?\"\n\nShallan blinked at the casual way it was said, along with a wink. Malata smiled and sauntered back toward the front of the room.\n\n\"Well,\" Shallan whispered, \"she's annoying.\"\n\n\"Mmm...\" Pattern said. \"It will be worse when she starts destroying things.\"\n\n\"Destroying?\"\n\n\"Dustbringer,\" Pattern said. \"Her spren... mmm... they like to break what is around them. They want to know what is inside.\"\n\n\"Pleasant,\" Shallan said, as she flipped back through her drawings. The thing in the crack. The dead men. This should be enough to present to Dalinar and Adolin, which she planned to do today, now that she had her sketches done.\n\nAnd after that?\n\nI need to catch it, she thought. I watch the market. Eventually someone will be hurt. And a few days later, this thing will try to copy that attack.\n\nPerhaps she could patrol the unexplored parts of the tower? Look for it, instead of waiting for it to attack?\n\nThe dark corridors. Each tunnel like a drawing's impossible line...\n\nThe room had grown quiet. Shallan shook out of her reverie and looked up to see what was happening: Ialai Sadeas had arrived at the meeting, carried in a palanquin. She was accompanied by a familiar figure: Meridas Amaram was a tall man, tan eyed, with a square face and solid figure. He was also a murderer, a thief, and a traitor. He had been caught trying to steal a Shardblade-proof that what Captain Kaladin said about him was true." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Shallan gritted her teeth, but found her anger... cool. Not gone. No, she would not forgive this man for killing Helaran. But the uncomfortable truth was that she didn't know why, or how, her brother had fallen to Amaram. She could almost hear Jasnah whispering to her: Don't judge without more details.\n\nBelow, Adolin had risen and stepped toward Amaram, right into the center of the illusory map, breaking its surface, causing waves of glowing Stormlight to ripple across it. He stared murder at Amaram, though Dalinar rested his hand on his son's shoulder, holding him back.\n\n\"Brightness Sadeas,\" Dalinar said. \"I am glad you have agreed to join the meeting. We could use your wisdom in our planning.\"\n\n\"I'm not here for your plans, Dalinar,\" Ialai said. \"I'm here because it was a convenient place to find you all together. I've been in conference with my advisors back at our estates, and the consensus is that the heir, my nephew, is too young. This is no time for House Sadeas to be without leadership, so I've made a decision.\"\n\n\"Ialai,\" Dalinar said, stepping into the illusion beside his son. \"Let's talk about this. Please. I have an idea that, though untraditional, might-\"\n\n\"Tradition is our ally, Dalinar,\" Ialai said. \"I don't think you've ever understood that as you should. Highmarshal Amaram is our house's most decorated and well-regarded general. He is beloved of our soldiers, and known the world over. I name him regent and heir to the house title. He is, for all intents, Highprince Sadeas now. I would ask the king to ratify this.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Shallan's breath caught. King Elhokar looked up from his seat, where he-seemingly-had been lost in thought. \"Is this legal?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Navani said, arms folded.\n\n\"Dalinar,\" Amaram said, stepping down several of the steps toward the rest of them at the bottom of the auditorium. His voice gave Shallan chills. That refined diction, that perfect face, that crisp uniform... this man was what every soldier aspired to be.\n\nI'm not the only one who is good at playing pretend, she thought.\n\n\"I hope,\" Amaram continued, \"our recent... friction will not prevent us from working together for the needs of Alethkar. I have spoken to Brightness Ialai, and I think I have persuaded her that our differences are secondary to the greater good of Roshar.\"\n\n\"The greater good,\" Dalinar said. \"You think you are one to speak about what is good?\"\n\n\"Everything I've done is for the greater good, Dalinar,\" Amaram said, his voice strained. \"Everything. Please. I know you intend to pursue legal action against me. I will stand at trial, but let us postpone that until after Roshar has been saved.\"\n\nDalinar regarded Amaram for an extended, tense moment. Then he finally looked to his nephew and nodded in a curt gesture.\n\n\"The throne acknowledges your act of regency, Brightness,\" Elhokar said to Ialai. \"My mother will wish a formal writ, sealed and witnessed.\"\n\n\"Already done,\" Ialai said.\n\nDalinar met the eyes of Amaram across the floating map. \"Highprince,\" Dalinar finally said.\n\n\"Highprince,\" Amaram said back, tipping his head." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Bastard,\" Adolin said.\n\nDalinar winced visibly, then pointed toward the exit. \"Perhaps, son, you should take a moment to yourself.\"\n\n\"Yeah. Sure.\" Adolin pulled out of his father's grip, stalking toward the exit.\n\nShallan thought only a moment, then grabbed her shoes and drawing pad and hurried after him. She caught up to Adolin in the hallway outside, near where the palanquins for the women were parked, and took his arm.\n\n\"Hey,\" she said softly.\n\nHe glanced at her, and his expression softened.\n\n\"You want to talk?\" Shallan asked. \"You seem angrier about him than you were before.\"\n\n\"No,\" Adolin muttered, \"I'm just annoyed. We're finally rid of Sadeas, and now that takes his place?\" He shook his head. \"When I was young, I used to lookup to him. I started getting suspicious when I was older, but I guess part of me still wanted him to be like they said. A man above all the pettiness and the politics. A true soldier.\"\n\nShallan wasn't certain what she thought of the idea of a'true soldier\" being the type who didn't care about politics. Shouldn't the why of what a man was doing be important to him?\n\nSoldiers didn't talk that way. There was some ideal she couldn't quite grasp, a kind of cult of obedience-of caring only about the battlefield and the challenge it presented.\n\nThey walked onto the lift, and Adolin fished out a free gemstone-a little diamond not surrounded by a sphere-and placed it into a slot along the railing. Stormlight began to drain from the stone, and the balcony shook, then slowly began to descend. Removing the gem would tell the lift to stop at the next floor. A simple lever, pushed one way or the other, would determine whether the lift crawled upward or downward." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They descended past the top tier, and Adolin took up position by the railing, looking out over the central shaft with the window all along one side. They were starting to call it the atrium-though it was an atrium that ran up dozens upon dozens of floors.\n\n\"Kaladin's not going to like this,\" Adolin said. \"Amaram as a highprince? The two of us spent weeks in jail because of the things that man did.\"\n\n\"I think Amaram killed my brother.\"\n\nAdolin wheeled around to stare at her. \"What?\"\n\n\"Amaram has a Shardblade,\" Shallan said. \"I saw it previously in the hands of my brother, Helaran. He was older than I am, and left Jah Keved years ago. From what I can gather, he and Amaram fought at some point, and Amaram killed him-taking the Blade.\"\n\n\"Shallan... that Blade. You know where Amaram got that, right?\"\n\n\"On the battlefield?\"\n\n\"From Kaladin.\" Adolin raised his hand to his head. \"The bridgeboy insisted that he'd saved Amaram's life by killing a Shardbearer. Amaram then killed Kaladin's squad and took the Shards for himself. That's basically the entire reason the two hate each other.\"\n\nShallan's throat grew tight. \"Oh.\"\n\nTuck it away. Don't think about it.\n\n\"Shallan,\" Adolin said, stepping toward her. \"Why would your brother try to kill Amaram? Did he maybe know the highlord was corrupt? Storms! Kaladin didn't know any of that. Poor bridgeboy. Everyone would have been better off if he'd just let Amaram die.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Don't confront it." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Don't think about it.\n\n\"Yeah,\" she said. \"Huh.\"\n\n\"But how did your brother know?\" Adolin said, pacing across the balcony. \"Did he say anything?\"\n\n\"We didn't talk much,\" Shallan said, numb. \"He left when I was young. I didn't know him well.\"\n\nAnything to get off this topic. For this was something she could still tuck away in the back of her brain. She did not want to think about Kaladin and Helaran....\n\nIt was along, quiet ride to the bottom floors of the tower. Adolin wanted to go visit his father's horse again, but she wasn't interested in standing around smelling horse dung. She got off on the second level to make her way toward her rooms.\n\nSecrets. There are more important things in this world, Helaran had said to her father. More important even than you and your crimes.\n\nMraize knew something about this. He was withholding the secrets from her like sweets to entice a child to obedience. But all he wanted her to do was investigate the oddities in Urithiru. That was a good thing, wasn't it? She'd have done it anyway.\n\nShallan meandered through the hallways, following a path where Sebarial's workers had affixed some sphere lanterns to hooks on the walls. Locked up and filled with only the cheapest diamond spheres, they shouldn't be worth the effort to break into, but the light they gave was also rather dim.\n\nShe should have stayed above; her absence must have destroyed the illusion of the map. She felt bad about that. Was there away she could learn to leave her illusions behind her? They'd need Stormlight to keep going...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "In any case, Shallan had needed to leave the meeting. The secrets this city hid were too engaging to ignore. She stopped in the hallway and dugout her sketchbook, flipping through pages, looking at the faces of the dead men.\n\nAbsently turning a page, she came across a sketch she didn't recall making. A series of twisting, maddening lines, scribbled and unconnected.\n\nShe felt cold. \"When did I draw this?\"\n\nPattern moved up her dress, stopping under her neck. He hummed, an uncomfortable sound. \"I do not remember.\"\n\nShe flipped to the next page. Here she'd drawn a rush of lines sweeping out from a central point, confused and chaotic, transforming to the heads of horses with the flesh ripping off, their eyes wide, equine mouths screaming. It was grotesque, nauseating.\n\nOh Stormfather...\n\nHer fingers trembled as she turned to the next page. She'd scribbled it entirely black, using a circular motion, spiraling toward the center point. A deep void, an endless corridor, something terrible and unknowable at the end.\n\nShe snapped the sketchbook shut. \"What is happening tome?\"\n\nPattern hummed in confusion. \"Do we... run?\"\n\n\"Where.\"\n\n\"Away. Out of this place. Mmmmm.\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\nShe trembled, part of her terrified, but she couldn't abandon those secrets. She had to have them, hold them, make them hers. She turned sharply in the corridor, taking a path away from her room. A short time later, she strode into the barracks where Sebarial housed his soldiers. There were plentiful spaces like this in the tower: vast networks of rooms with built-in stone bunks in the walls. Urithiru had been a military base; that much was evident from its ability to efficiently house tens of thousands of soldiers on the lower levels alone." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "In the common room of the barracks, men lounged with coats off, playing with cards or knives. Her passing caused astir as men gaped, then leaped to their feet, debating between buttoning their coats and saluting. Whispers of'Radiant\" chased her as she walked into a corridor lined with rooms, where the individual platoons bunked. She counted off doorways marked by archaic Alethi numbers etched into the stone, then entered a specific one.\n\nShe burst in on Vathah and his team, who sat inside playing cards by the light of a few spheres. Poor Gaz sat on the chamber pot in a corner privy, and he yelped, pulling closed the cloth on the doorway.\n\nGuess I should have anticipated that, Shallan thought, covering her blush by sucking in a burst of Stormlight. She folded her arms and regarded the others as they-lazily-climbed to their feet and saluted. They were only twelve men now. Some had made their way to other jobs. A few others had died in the Battle of Narak.\n\nShe'd kind of been hoping that they would all drift away-if only so she wouldn't have to figure out what to do with them. She now realized that Adolin was right. That was a terrible attitude. These men were a resource and, all things considered, had been remarkably loyal.\n\n\"I,\" Shallan told them, \"have been an awful employer.\"\n\n\"Don't know about that, Brightness,\" Red said-she still didn't know how the tall, bearded man had gotten his nickname. \"The pay has come on time and you haven't gotten too many of us killed.\"\n\n\"Oi got killed,\" Shob said from his bunk, where he saluted-still lying down." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Shut up, Shob,\" Vathah said. \"You're not dead.\"\n\n\"Oi'm dyin\" this time, Sarge. Oi'm sure of it.\"\n\n\"Then at least you'll be quiet,\" Vathah said. \"Brightness, I agree with Red. You've done right by us.\"\n\n\"Yes, well, the free ride is over,\" Shallan said. \"I have work for you.\"\n\nVathah shrugged, but some of the others looked disappointed. Maybe Adolin was right; maybe deep down, men like this did need something to do. They wouldn't have admitted that fact, though.\n\n\"I'm afraid it might be dangerous,\" Shallan said, then smiled. \"And it will probably involve you getting a little drunk.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "-From Oathbringer, preface\n\n\"\"The decision has been made,\"\" Teshav read, \" 'to seal off this Oathgate until we can destroy it. We realize this is not the path you wished for us to take, Dalinar Kholin. Know that the Prime of Azir considers you fondly, and looks forward to the mutual benefit of trade agreements and new treaties between our nations.\n\n\"\"A magical portal into the very center of our city, however, presents too severe a danger. We will entertain no further pleas to open it, and suggest that you accept our sovereign will. Good day, Dalinar Kholin. May Yaezir bless and guide you.\"\"\n\nDalinar punched his fist into his palm as he stood in the small stone chamber. Teshav and her ward occupied the writing podium and seat beside it, while Navani had been pacing opposite Dalinar. King Taravangian satin a chair by the wall, hunched forward with hands clasped, listening with a concerned expression.\n\nThat was it then. Azir was out.\n\nNavani touched his arm. \"I'm sorry.\"\n\n\"There's still Thaylenah,\" Dalinar said. \"Teshav, see if Queen Fen will speak with me today.\"\n\n\"Yes, Brightlord.\"\n\nHe had Jah Keved and Kharbranth from Taravangian, and New Natanan was responding positively. With Thaylenah, Dalinar could at least forge a unified Vorin coalition of all the Eastern states. That model might eventually persuade the nations of the west to join with them.\n\nIf anyone remained by then.\n\nDalinar started pacing again as Teshav contacted Thaylenah. He preferred little rooms like this one; the large chambers were a reminder of how enormous this place was. Ina small room like this, you could pretend that you were in a cozy bunker somewhere." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Of course, even in a small chamber there were reminders that Urithiru wasn't normal." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The strata on the walls, like the folds of a fan. Or the holes that commonly showed up at the tops of rooms, right where the walls met the ceiling. The one in this room couldn't help but remind him of Shallan's report. Was something in there, watching them? Could a spren really be murdering people in the tower?\n\nIt was nearly enough to make him pullout of the place. But where would they go? Abandon the Oathgates? For now, he'd quadrupled patrols and sent Navani's researchers searching fora possible explanation. At least until he could come up with a solution.\n\nAs Teshav wrote to Queen Fen, Dalinar stepped up to the wall, suddenly bothered by that hole. It was right by the ceiling, and too high for him to reach, even if he stood on a chair. Instead he breathed in Stormlight. The bridgemen had described using stones to climb walls, so Dalinar picked up a wooden chair and painted its back with shining light, using the palm of his left hand.\n\nWhen he pressed the back of the chair against the wall, it stuck. Dalinar grunted, tentatively climbing up onto the seat of the chair, which hung in the air at about table height.\n\n\"Dalinar?\" Navani asked.\n\n\"Might as well make use of the time,\" he said, carefully balancing on the chair. He jumped, grabbing the edge of the hole by the ceiling, and pulled himself up to look down it.\n\nIt was three feet wide, and about one foot tall. It seemed endless, and he could feel a faint breeze coming out of it. Was that... scraping he heard? A moment later, a mink slunk into the main tunnel from a shadowed crossroad, carrying a dead rat in its mouth. The tubular little animal twitched its snout toward him, then carried its prize away." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Air is circulating through those,\" Navani said as he hopped down off the chair. \"The method baffles us. Perhaps some fabrial we have yet to discover?\"\n\nDalinar looked backup at the hole. Miles upon miles of even smaller tunnels threaded through the walls and ceilings of an already daunting system. And hiding in them somewhere, the thing that Shallan had drawn...\n\n\"She's replied, Brightlord!\" Teshav said.\n\n\"Excellent,\" Dalinar said. \"Your Majesty, our time is growing short. I'd like-\"\n\n\"She's still writing,\" Teshav said. \"Pardon, Brightlord. She says... um...\"\n\n\"Just read it, Teshav,\" Dalinar said. \"I'm used to Fen by now.\"\n\n\"\"Damnation, man. Are you ever going to leave me alone? I haven't slept a full night in weeks. The Everstorm has hit us twice now; we're barely keeping this city from falling apart.\"\"\n\n\"I understand, Your Majesty,\" Dalinar said. \"And am eager to send you the aid I promised. Please, let us make a pact. You've dodged my requests long enough.\"\n\nNearby, the chair finally dropped from the wall and clattered to the floor. He prepared himself for another round of verbal sparring, of half promises and veiled meanings. Fen had been growing increasingly formal during their exchanges.\n\nThe spanreed wrote, then halted almost immediately. Teshav looked at him, grave.\n\n\"\"No,\"\" she read.\n\n\"Your Majesty,\" Dalinar said. \"This is not a time to forge on alone! Please. I beg you. Listen tome!\"\n\n\"\"You have to know by now,\"\" came the reply, \" \"that this coalition is never going to happen. Kholin... I'm baffled, honestly. Your garnet-lit tongue and pleasant words make it seem like you really assume this will work." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"\"Surely you see. A queen would have to be either stupid or desperate to let an Alethi army into the very center of her city. I've been the former at times, and I might be approaching the latter, but... storms, Kholin. No. I'm not going to be the one who finally lets Thaylenah fall to you people. And on the off chance that you're sincere, then I'm sorry.\"\"\n\nIt had an air of finality to it. Dalinar walked over to Teshav, looking at the inscrutable squiggles on the page that somehow made up the women's script. \"Can you think of anything?\" he asked Navani as she sighed and settled down into a chair next to Teshav.\n\n\"No. Fen is stubborn, Dalinar.\"\n\nDalinar glanced at Taravangian. Even he had assumed Dalinar's purpose was conquest. And who wouldn't, considering his history?\n\nMaybe it would be different if I could speak to them in person, he thought. But without the Oathgates, that was virtually impossible.\n\n\"Thank her for her time,\" Dalinar said. \"And tell her my offer remains on the table.\"\n\nTeshav started writing, and Navani looked to him, noting what the scribe hadn't-the tension in his voice.\n\n\"I'm fine,\" he lied. \"I just need time to think.\"\n\nHe strode from the room before she could object, and his guards outside fell into step behind him. He wanted some fresh air; an open sky always seemed so inviting. His feet didn't take him in that direction, however. He instead found himself roaming through the hallways.\n\nWhat now?\n\nSame as always, people ignored him unless he had a sword in his hand. Storms, it was like they wanted him to come in swinging." }, { "from": "human", "value": "He stalked the halls fora good hour, getting nowhere." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Eventually, Lyn the messenger found him. Panting, she said that Bridge Four needed him, but hadn't explained why.\n\nDalinar followed her, Shallan's sketch a heavyweight in his mind. Had they found another murder victim? Indeed, Lyn led him to the section where Sadeas had been killed.\n\nHis sense of foreboding increased. Lyn led him to a balcony, where the bridgemen Leyten and Peet met him. \"Who was it?\" he asked as he met them.\n\n\"Who...\" Leyten frowned. \"Oh! It's not that, sir. It's something else. This way.\"\n\nLeyten led him down some steps onto the wide field outside the first level of the tower, where three more bridgemen waited near some rows of stone planters, probably for growing tubers.\n\n\"We noticed this by accident,\" Leyten said as they walked among the planters. The hefty bridgeman had a jovial way about him, and talked to Dalinar-a highprince-as easily as he'd talk to friends at a tavern. \"We've been running patrols on your orders, watching for anything strange. And... well, Peet noticed something strange.\" He pointed up at the wall. \"See that line?\"\n\nDalinar squinted, picking out a gouge cut into the rock wall. What could score stone like that? It almost looked like...\n\nHe looked down at the planter boxes nearest them. And there, hidden between two of them, was a hilt protruding from the stone floor.\n\nA Shardblade.\n\nIt was easy to miss, as the blade had sunk all the way down into the rock. Dalinar knelt beside it, then took a handkerchief from his pocket and used it to grab the hilt." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Even though he didn't touch the Blade directly, he heard a very distant whine, like a scream in the back of someone's throat. He steeled himself, then yanked the Blade out and set it across the empty planter.\n\nThe silvery Blade curved at the end almost like a fishhook. The weapon was even wider than most Shardblades, and near the hilt it rippled in wavelike patterns. He knew this sword, knew it intimately. He'd carried it for decades, since winning it at the Rift all those years ago.\n\nOathbringer.\n\nHe glanced upward. \"The killer must have dropped it out that window. It clipped the stone on its way down, then landed here.\"\n\n\"That's what we figured, Brightlord,\" Peet said.\n\nDalinar looked down at the sword. His sword.\n\nNo. Not mine at all.\n\nHe seized the sword, bracing himself for the screams. The cries of a dead spren. They weren't the shrill, painful shrieks he'd heard when touching other Blades, but more of a whimper. The sound of a man backed into a corner, thoroughly beaten and facing something terrible, but too tired to keep screaming.\n\nDalinar steeled himself and carried the Blade-a familiar weight-with the flat side against his shoulder. He walked toward a different entrance back into the tower city, followed by his guards, the scout, and the five bridgemen.\n\nYou promised to carry no dead Blade, the Stormfather thundered in his head.\n\n\"Calm yourself,\" Dalinar whispered. \"I'm not going to bond it.\"\n\nThe Stormfather rumbled, low and dangerous.\n\n\"This one doesn't scream as loudly as others. Why?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It remembers your oath, the Stormfather sent. It remembers the day you won it, and better the day you gave it up. It hates you-but less than it hates others.\n\nDalinar passed a group of Hatham's farmers who had been trying, without success, to get some lavis polyps started. He drew more than a few looks; even at a tower populated by soldiers, highprinces, and Radiants, someone carrying a Shardblade in the open was an unusual sight.\n\n\"Could it be rescued?\" Dalinar whispered as they entered the tower and climbed a stairway. \"Could we save the spren who made this Blade?\"\n\nI know of noway, the Stormfather said. It is dead, as is the man who broke his oath to kill it.\n\nBack to the Lost Radiants and the Recreance-that fateful day when the knights had broken their oaths, abandoned their Shards, and walked away. Dalinar had witnessed that in a vision, though he still had no idea what had caused it.\n\nWhy? What had made them do something so drastic?\n\nHe eventually arrived at the Sadeas section of the tower, and though guards in forest green and white controlled access, they couldn't deny a highprince-particularly not Dalinar. Runners dashed before him to carry word. Dalinar followed them, using their path to judge if he was going in the right direction. He was; she was apparently in her rooms. He stopped at the nice wooden door, and gave Ialai the courtesy of knocking.\n\nOne of the runners he had chased here opened the door, still panting. Brightness Sadeas satin a throne set in the center of the room. Amaram stood at her shoulder." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Dalinar,\" Ialai said, nodding her head to him like a queen greeting a subject.\n\nDalinar heaved the Shardblade off his shoulder and set it carefully on the floor. Not as dramatic as spearing it through the stones, but now that he could hear the weapon's screams, he felt like treating it with reverence.\n\nHe turned to go.\n\n\"Brightlord?\" Ialai said, standing up. \"What is this in exchange for?\"\n\n\"No exchange,\" Dalinar said, turning back. \"That is rightfully yours. My guards found it today; the killer threw it out a window.\"\n\nShe narrowed her eyes at him.\n\n\"I didn't kill him, Ialai,\" Dalinar said wearily.\n\n\"I realize that. You don't have the bite left in you to do something like that.\"\n\nHe ignored the gibe, looking to Amaram. The tall, distinguished man met his gaze.\n\n\"I will see you in judgment someday, Amaram,\" Dalinar said. \"Once this is done.\"\n\n\"As I said you could.\"\n\n\"I wish that I could trust your word.\"\n\n\"I standby what I was forced to do, Brightlord,\" Amaram said, stepping forward. \"The arrival of the Voidbringers only proves I was in the right. We need practiced Shardbearers. The stories of darkeyes gaining Blades are charming, but do you really think we have time for nursery tales now, instead of practical reality?\"\n\n\"You murdered defenseless men,\" Dalinar said through gritted teeth. \"Men who had saved your life.\"\n\nAmaram stooped, lifting Oathbringer. \"And what of the hundreds, even thousands, your wars killed?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They locked gazes.\n\n\"I respect you greatly, Brightlord,\" Amaram said. \" Your life has been one of grand accomplishment, and you have spent it seeking the good of Alethkar. But you-and take this with the respect I intend-area hypocrite.\n\n\"You stand where you do because of a brutal determination to do what had to be done. It is because of that trail of corpses that you have the luxury to uphold some lofty, nebulous code. Well, it might make you feel better about your past, but morality is not a thing you can simply doff to put on the helm of battle, then put back on when you're done with the slaughter.\"\n\nHe nodded his head in esteem, as if he hadn't just rammed a sword through Dalinar's gut.\n\nDalinar spun and left Amaram holding Oathbringer. Dalinar's stride down the corridors was so quick that his entourage had to scramble to keep up.\n\nHe finally found his rooms. \"Leave me,\" he said to his guards and the bridgemen.\n\nThey hesitated, storm them. He turned, ready to lash out, but calmed himself. \"I don't intend to stray in the tower alone. I will obey my own laws. Go.\"\n\nThey reluctantly retreated, leaving his door unguarded. He passed into his outer common room, where he'd ordered most of the furniture to be placed. Navani's heating fabrial glowed in a corner, near a small rug and several chairs. They finally had enough Stormlight to power it.\n\nDrawn by the warmth, Dalinar walked up to the fabrial. He was surprised to find Taravangian sitting in one of the chairs, staring into the depths of the shining ruby that radiated heat into the room. Well, Dalinar had invited the king to use this common room when he wished." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dalinar wanted nothing but to be alone, and he toyed with leaving. He wasn't sure that Taravangian had noticed him. But that warmth was so welcoming. There were few fires in the tower, and even with the walls to block wind, you always felt chilled.\n\nHe settled into the other chair and let out a deep sigh. Taravangian didn't address him, bless the man. Together they sat by that not-fire, staring into the depths of the gem.\n\nStorms, how he had failed today. There would be no coalition. He couldn't even keep the Alethi highprinces inline.\n\n\"Not quite like sitting by a hearth, is it?\" Taravangian finally said, his voice soft.\n\n\"No,\" Dalinar agreed. \"I miss the popping of the logs, the dancing of flamespren.\"\n\n\"It does have its own charm though. Subtle. You can seethe Stormlight moving inside.\"\n\n\"Our own little storm,\" Dalinar said. \"Captured, contained, and channeled.\"\n\nTaravangian smiled, eyes lit by the ruby's Stormlight. \"Dalinar Kholin... do you mind me asking you something? How do you know what is right?\"\n\n\"A lofty question, Your Majesty.\"\n\n\"Please, just Taravangian.\"\n\nDalinar nodded.\n\n\"You have denied the Almighty,\" Taravangian said.\n\n\"I-\"\n\n\"No, no. I am not decrying you as a heretic. I do not care, Dalinar. I've questioned the existence of deity myself.\"\n\n\"I feel there must be a God,\" Dalinar said softly. \"My mind and soul rebel at the alternative.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Is it not our duty, as kings, to ask questions that make the minds and souls of other men cringe?\"\n\n\"Perhaps,\" Dalinar said. He studied Taravangian. The king seemed so contemplative.\n\nYes, there still is some of the old Taravangian in there, Dalinar thought. We have misjudged him. He might be slow, but that doesn't mean he doesn't think.\n\n\"I have felt warmth,\" Dalinar said, \"coming from a place beyond. Alight I can almost see. If there is a God, it was not the Almighty, the one who called himself Honor. He was a creature. Powerful, but still merely a creature.\"\n\n\"Then how do you know what is right? What guides you?\"\n\nDalinar leaned forward. He thought he could see something larger within the ruby's light. Something that moved like a fish in a bowl.\n\nWarmth continued to bathe him. Light.\n\n\"\"On my sixtieth day,\"\" Dalinar whispered, \"\"I passed a town whose name shall remain unspoken. Though still in lands that named me king, I was far enough from my home to go unrecognized. Not even those men who handled my face daily-in the form of my seal imprinted upon their letters of authority-would have known this humble traveler as their king.\"\"\n\nTaravangian looked to him, confused.\n\n\"It's a quote from a book,\" Dalinar said. \"A king long ago took a journey. His destination was this very city. Urithiru.\"\n\n\"Ah...\" Taravangian said. \"The Way of Kings, is it? Adrotagia has mentioned that book.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Dalinar said. \" \"In this town, I found men bedeviled. There had been a murder. A hogman, tasked in protecting the landlord's beasts, had been assaulted. He lived long enough, only, to whisper that three of the other hogmen had gathered together and done the crime." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"\"I arrived as questions were being raised, and men interrogated. You see, there were four other hogmen in the landlord's employ. Three of them had been responsible for the assault, and likely would have escaped suspicion had they finished their grim job. Each of the four loudly proclaimed that he was the one who had not been part of the cabal. No amount of interrogation determined the truth. '\"\n\nDalinar fell silent.\n\n\"What happened?\" Taravangian asked.\n\n\"He doesn't say at first,\" Dalinar replied. \"Throughout his book, he raises the question again and again. Three of those men were violent threats, guilty of premeditated murder. One was innocent. What do you do?\"\n\n\"Hang all four,\" Taravangian whispered.\n\nDalinar-surprised to hear such bloodthirst from the other man-turned. Taravangian looked sorrowful, not bloodthirsty at all.\n\n\"The landlord's job,\" Taravangian said, \"is to prevent further murders. I doubt that what the book records actually happened. It is too neat, too simple a parable. Our lives are far messier. But assuming the story did occur as claimed, and there was absolutely noway of determining who was guilty... you have to hang all four. Don't you?\"\n\n\"What of the innocent man?\"\n\n\"One innocent dead, but three murderers stopped. Is it not the best good that can be done, and the best way to protect your people?\" Taravangian rubbed his forehead. \"Stormfather. I sound like a madman, don't I? But is it not a particular madness to be charged with such decisions? It's difficult to address such questions without revealing our own hypocrisy.\"\n\nHypocrite, Amaram accused Dalinar in his mind." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Move the narrative forward in collaboration with the writer.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, knights radiant\nAuthor: Brandon Sanderson\nTitle: Oathbringer\nChapter: 27" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"\"I arrived as questions were being raised, and men interrogated. You see, there were four other hogmen in the landlord's employ. Three of them had been responsible for the assault, and likely would have escaped suspicion had they finished their grim job. Each of the four loudly proclaimed that he was the one who had not been part of the cabal. No amount of interrogation determined the truth. '\"\n\nDalinar fell silent.\n\n\"What happened?\" Taravangian asked.\n\n\"He doesn't say at first,\" Dalinar replied. \"Throughout his book, he raises the question again and again. Three of those men were violent threats, guilty of premeditated murder. One was innocent. What do you do?\"\n\n\"Hang all four,\" Taravangian whispered.\n\nDalinar-surprised to hear such bloodthirst from the other man-turned. Taravangian looked sorrowful, not bloodthirsty at all.\n\n\"The landlord's job,\" Taravangian said, \"is to prevent further murders. I doubt that what the book records actually happened. It is too neat, too simple a parable. Our lives are far messier. But assuming the story did occur as claimed, and there was absolutely noway of determining who was guilty... you have to hang all four. Don't you?\"\n\n\"What of the innocent man?\"\n\n\"One innocent dead, but three murderers stopped. Is it not the best good that can be done, and the best way to protect your people?\" Taravangian rubbed his forehead. \"Stormfather. I sound like a madman, don't I? But is it not a particular madness to be charged with such decisions? It's difficult to address such questions without revealing our own hypocrisy.\"\n\nHypocrite, Amaram accused Dalinar in his mind." }, { "from": "human", "value": "He and Gavilar hadn't used pretty justifications when they'd gone to war." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They'd done as men did: they'd conquered. Only later had Gavilar started to seek validation for their actions.\n\n\"Why not let them all go?\" Dalinar said. \"If you can't prove who is guilty-if you can't be sure-I think you should let them go.\"\n\n\"Yes... one innocent in four is too many for you. That makes sense too.\"\n\n\"No, any innocent is too many.\"\n\n\"You say that,\" Taravangian said. \"Many people do, but our laws will claim innocent men-for all judges are flawed, as is our knowledge. Eventually, you will execute someone who does not deserve it. This is the burden society must carry in exchange for order.\"\n\n\"I hate that,\" Dalinar said softly.\n\n\"Yes... I do too. But it's not a matter of morality, is it? It's a matter of thresholds. How many guilty maybe punished before you'd accept one innocent casualty? A thousand? Ten thousand? A hundred? When you consider, all calculations are meaningless except one. Has more good been done than evil? If so, then the law has done its job. And so... I must hang all four men.\" He paused. \"And I would weep, every night, for having done it.\"\n\nDamnation. Again, Dalinar reassessed his impression of Taravangian. The king was soft-spoken, but not slow. He was simply a man who liked to consider a great longtime before committing.\n\n\"Nohadon eventually wrote,\" Dalinar said, \"that the landlord took a modest approach. He imprisoned all four. Though the punishment should have been death, he mixed together the guilt and innocence, and determined that the average guilt of the four should deserve only prison.\"\n\n\"He was unwilling to commit,\" Taravangian said. \"He wasn't seeking justice, but to assuage his own conscience.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What he did was, nevertheless, another option.\"\n\n\"Does your king ever say what he would have done?\" Taravangian asked. \"The one who wrote the book?\"\n\n\"He said the only course was to let the Almighty guide, and let each instance be judged differently, depending on circumstances.\"\n\n\"So he too was unwilling to commit,\" Taravangian said. \"I would have expected more.\"\n\n\"His book was about his journey,\" Dalinar said. \"And his questions. I think this was one he never fully answered for himself. I wish he had.\"\n\nThey sat by the not-fire fora time before Taravangian eventually stood and rested his hand on Dalinar's shoulder. \"I understand,\" he said softly, then left.\n\nHe was a good man, the Stormfather said.\n\n\"Nohadon?\" Dalinar said.\n\nYes.\n\nFeeling stiff, Dalinar rose from his seat and made his way through his rooms. He didn't stop at the bedroom, though the hour was growing late, and instead made his way onto his balcony. To lookout over the clouds.\n\nTaravangian is wrong, the Stormfather said. You are not a hypocrite, Son of Honor.\n\n\"I am,\" Dalinar said softly. \"But sometimes a hypocrite is nothing more than a person who is in the process of changing.\"\n\nThe Stormfather rumbled. He didn't like the idea of change.\n\nDo I go to war with the other kingdoms, Dalinar thought, and maybe save the world? Or do I sit here and pretend that I can do all this on my own?\n\n\"Do you have anymore visions of Nohadon?\" Dalinar asked the Stormfather, hopeful." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I have shown you all that was created for you to see, the Stormfather said. I can show no more.\n\n\"Then I should like to rewatch the vision where I met Nohadon,\" Dalinar said. \"Though let me go fetch Navani before you begin. I want her to record what I say.\"\n\nWould you rather I show the vision to her as well? the Stormfather asked. She could record it herself that way.\n\nDalinar froze. \"You can show the visions to others?\"\n\nI was given this leave: to choose those who would best be served by the visions. He paused, then grudgingly continued. To choose a Bondsmith.\n\nNo, he did not like the idea of being bonded, but it was part of what he'd been commanded to do.\n\nDalinar barely considered that thought.\n\nThe Stormfather could show the visions to others.\n\n\"Anyone?\" Dalinar said. \"You can show them to anyone?\"\n\nDuring a storm, I can approach anyone I choose, the Stormfather said. But you do not have to be in a storm, so you can join a vision in which I have placed someone else, even if you are distant.\n\nStorms! Dalinar bellowed a laugh.\n\nWhat have I done? the Stormfather asked.\n\n\"You've just solved my problem!\"\n\nThe problem from The Way of Kings?\n\n\"No, the greater one. I've been wishing fora way to meet with the other monarchs in person.\" Dalinar grinned. \"I think that in a coming highstorm, Queen Fen of Thaylenah is going to have a quite remarkable experience.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "-From Oathbringer, preface\n\nVeil prowled through the Breakaway market, hat pulled low, hands in her pockets. Nobody else seemed to be able to hear the beast that she did.\n\nRegular shipments of supplies through Jah Keved via King Taravangian had set the market bustling. Fortunately, with a third Radiant capable of working the Oathgate now, less of Shallan's time was required.\n\nSpheres that glowed again, and several highstorms as proof that that would persist, had encouraged everyone. Excitement was high, trading brisk. Drink flowed freely from casks emblazoned with the royal seal of Jah Keved.\n\nLurking within it all, somewhere, was a predator that only Veil could hear. She heard the thing in the silence between laughter. It was the sound of a tunnel extending into the darkness. The feel of breath on the back of your neck in a darkroom.\n\nHow could they laugh while that void watched?\n\nIt had been a frustrating four days. Dalinar had increased patrols to almost ridiculous levels, but those soldiers weren't watching the right way. They were too easily seen, too disruptive. Veil had set her men to a more targeted surveillance in the market.\n\nSo far, they'd found nothing. Her team was tired, as was Shallan, who suffered from the long nights as Veil. Fortunately, Shallan wasn't doing anything particularly useful these days. Sword training with Adolin each day-more frolicking and flirting than useful swordplay-and the occasional meeting with Dalinar where she had nothing to add but a pretty map.\n\nVeil though... Veil hunted the hunter. Dalinar acted like a soldier: increased patrols, strict rules. He asked his scribes to find him evidence of spren attacking people in historical records." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He needed more than vague explanations and abstract ideas-but those were the very soul of art. If you could explain something perfectly, then you'd never need art. That was the difference between a table and a beautiful woodcutting. You could explain the table: its purpose, its shape, its nature. The woodcutting you simply had to experience.\n\nShe ducked into a tent tavern. Did it seem busier inhere than on previous nights? Yes. Dalinar's patrols had people on edge. They were avoiding the darker, more sinister taverns in favor of ones with good crowds and bright lights.\n\nGaz and Red stood beside a pile of crates, nursing drinks and wearing plain trousers and shirts, not uniforms. She hoped they weren't too intoxicated yet. Veil pushed up to their position, crossing her arms on the boxes.\n\n\"Nothing yet,\" Gaz said with a grunt. \"Same as the other nights.\"\n\n\"Not that we're complaining,\" Red added, grinning as he took along pull on his drink. \"This is the kind of soldiering I can really get behind.\"\n\n\"It's going to happen tonight,\" Veil said. \"I can smell it in the air.\"\n\n\"You said that last night, Veil,\" Gaz said.\n\nThree nights ago, a friendly game of cards had turned to violence, and one player had hit another over the head with a bottle. That often wouldn't have been lethal, but it had hit just right and killed the poor fellow. The perpetrator-one of Ruthar's soldiers-had been hanged the next day in the market's central square.\n\nAs unfortunate as the event had been, it was exactly what she'd been waiting for. A seed. An act of violence, one man striking the other. She'd mobilized her team and set them in the taverns near where the fight occurred. Watch, she'd said. Someone will get attacked with a bottle, inexactly the same way. Pick someone who looks like the man who died, and watch." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Shallan had done sketches of the murdered man, a short fellow with long drooping mustaches. Veil had distributed them; the men took her as no more than another employee.\n\nNow... they waited.\n\n\"The attack will come,\" Veil said. \"Who are your targets?\"\n\nRed pointed out two men in the tent who had mustaches and were of a similar height to the dead man. Veil nodded and dropped a few low-value spheres onto the table. \"Get something in you other than booze.\"\n\n\"Sure, sure,\" Red said as Gaz grabbed the spheres. \"But tell me, sweetness, don't you want to stay herewith us a little longer?\"\n\n\"Most men who have made a pass at me end up missing a finger or two, Red.\"\n\n\"I'd still have plenty left to satisfy you, I promise.\"\n\nShe looked back at him, then started snickering. \"That was a decently good line.\"\n\n\"Thanks!\" He raised his mug. \"So...\"\n\n\"Sorry, not interested.\"\n\nHe sighed, but raised his mug farther before taking a pull on it.\n\n\"Where did you come from, anyway?\" Gaz said, inspecting her with his single eye.\n\n\"Shallan kind of sucked me up along the way, like a boat pulling flotsam into its wake.\"\n\n\"She does that,\" Red said. \"You think you're done. Living out the last light of your sphere, you know? And then suddenly, you're an honor guard to a storming Knight Radiant, and everyone's looking up to you.\"\n\nGaz grunted. \"Ain't that true. Ain't that true....\"\n\n\"Keep watch,\" Veil said. \"You know what to do if something happens.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They nodded. They'd send one man to the meeting place, while the other tried to tail the attacker. They knew there might be something weird about the man they chased, but she hadn't told them everything.\n\nVeil walked back to the meeting point, near a dais at the center of the market, close to the well. The dais looked like it had once held some kind of official building, but all that remained was the six-foot-high foundation with steps leading up to it on four sides. Here, Aladar's officers had setup central policing operations and disciplinary facilities.\n\nShe watched the crowds while idly spinning her knife in her fingers. Veil liked watching people. That she shared with Shallan. It was good to know how the two of them were different, but it was also good to know what they had in common.\n\nVeil wasn't a true loner. She needed people. Yes, she scammed them on occasion, but she wasn't a thief. She was a lover of experience. She was at her best in a crowded market, watching, thinking, enjoying.\n\nNow Radiant... Radiant could take people or leave them. They were a tool, but also a nuisance. How could they so often act against their own best interests? The world would be a better place if they'd all simply do what Radiant said. Barring that, they could at least leave her alone.\n\nVeil flipped her knife up and caught it. Radiant and Veil shared efficiency. They liked seeing things done well, in the right way. They didn't suffer fools, though Veil could laugh at them, while Radiant simply ignored them.\n\nScreams sounded in the market.\n\nFinally, Veil thought, catching her knife and spinning. She came alert, eager, drawing in Stormlight. Where?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Vathah came barreling through the crowd, shoving aside a marketgoer. Veil ran to meet him.\n\n\"Details!\" Veil snapped.\n\n\"It wasn't like you said,\" he said. \"Follow me.\"\n\nThe two took off back the way he'd come.\n\n\"It wasn't a bottle to the head.\" Vathah said. \"My tent is near one of the buildings. The stone ones that were herein the market, you know?\"\n\n\"And?\" she demanded.\n\nVathah pointed as they drew close. You couldn't miss the tall structure beside the tent he and Glurv had been watching. At the top, a corpse dangled from an outcropping, hanged by the neck.\n\nHanged. Storm it. The thing didn't imitate the attack with the bottle... it imitated the execution that followed!\n\nVathah pointed. \"Killer dropped the person up there, leaving them to twitch. Then the killer jumped down. All that distance, Veil. How-\"\n\n\"Where?\" she demanded.\n\n\"Glurv is tailing,\" Vathah said, pointing.\n\nThe two charged in that direction, shoving their way through the crowds. They eventually spotted Glurv up ahead, standing on the edge of the well, waving. He was a squat man with a face that always looked swollen, as if it were trying to burst through its skin.\n\n\"Man wearing all black,\" he said. \"Ran straight toward the eastern tunnels!\" He pointed toward where troubled marketgoers were peering down a tunnel, as if someone had just passed them in a rush.\n\nVeil dashed in that direction. Vathah stayed with her longer than Glurv-but with Stormlight, she maintained a sprint no ordinary person could match. She burst into the indicated hallway and demanded to know if anyone had seen a man pass this way. A pair of women pointed." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Veil followed, heart beating violently, Stormlight raging within her. If she failed the chase, she'd have to wait for two more people to be assaulted-if it even happened again. The creature might hide, now that it knew she was watching.\n\nShe sprinted down this hallway, leaving behind the more populated sections of the tower. A few last people pointed down a tunnel at her shouted question.\n\nShe was beginning to lose hope as she reached the end of the hallway at an intersection, and looked one way, then the other. She glowed brightly to light the corridors fora distance, but she saw nothing in either.\n\nShe let out a sigh, slumping against the wall.\n\n\"Mmmm...\" Pattern said from her coat. \"It's there.\"\n\n\"Where?\" Shallan asked.\n\n\"To the right. The shadows are off. The wrong pattern.\"\n\nShe stepped forward, and something split out of the shadows, a figure that was jet black-though like a liquid or a polished stone, it reflected her light. It scrambled away, its shape wrong. Not fully human.\n\nVeil ran, heedless of the danger. This thing might be able to hurt her-but the mystery was the greater threat. She needed to know these secrets.\n\nShallan skidded around a corner, then barreled down the next tunnel. She managed to follow the broken piece of shadow, but she couldn't quite catch it.\n\nThe chase led her deeper into the far reaches of the tower's ground floor, to areas barely explored, where the tunnels grew increasingly confusing. The air smelled of old things. Of dust and stone left alone forages. The strata danced on the walls, the speed of her run making them seem to twist around her like threads in a loom." }, { "from": "human", "value": "The thing dropped to all fours, light from Shallan's glow reflecting off its coal skin." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It ran, frantic, until it hit a turn in the tunnel ahead and squeezed into a hole in the wall, two feet wide, near the floor.\n\nRadiant dropped to her knees, spotting the thing as it wriggled out the other side of the hole. Not that thick, she thought, standing. \"Pattern!\" she demanded, thrusting her hand to the side.\n\nShe attacked the wall with her Shardblade, slicing chunks free, dropping them to the floor with a clatter. The strata ran all the way through the stone, and the pieces she carved off had a forlorn, broken beauty to them.\n\nEngorged with Light, she shoved up against the sliced wall, finally breaking through into a small room beyond.\n\nMuch of its floor was taken up by the mouth of a pit. Circled by stone steps with no railing, the hole bored down through the rock into darkness. Radiant lowered her Shardblade, letting it slice into the rock at her feet. A hole. Like her drawing of spiraling blackness, a pit that seemed to descend into the void itself.\n\nShe released her Shardblade, falling to her knees.\n\n\"Shallan?\" Pattern asked, rising up from the ground near where the Blade had vanished.\n\n\"We'll need to descend.\"\n\n\"Now?\"\n\nShe nodded. \"But first... first, go and get Adolin. Tell him to bring soldiers.\"\n\nPattern hummed. \"You won't go alone, will you?\"\n\n\"No. I promise. Can you make your way back?\"\n\nPattern buzzed affirmatively, then zipped off across the ground, dimpling the floor of the rock. Curiously, the wall near where she'd broken in showed the rust marks and remnants of ancient hinges. So there was a secret door to get into this place." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Shallan kept her word. She was drawn toward that blackness, but she wasn't stupid. Well, mostly not stupid. She waited, transfixed by the pit, until she heard voices from the hallway behind her. He can't see me in Veil's clothing! she thought, and started to reawaken. How long had shebeen kneeling there?\n\nShe took off Veil's hat and long white coat, then hid them behind the debris. Stormlight enfolded her, painting the image of a havah over her trousers, gloved hand, and tight buttoned shirt.\n\nShallan. She was Shallan again-innocent, lively Shallan. Quick with a quip, even when nobody wanted to hear it. Earnest, but sometimes overeager. She could be that person.\n\nThat's you, apart of her cried as she adopted the persona. That's the real you. Isn't it? Why do you have to paint that face over another?\n\nShe turned as a short, wiry man in a blue uniform entered the room, grey dusting his temples. What was his name again? She'd spent sometime around Bridge Four in the last few weeks, but still hadn't learned them all.\n\nAdolin strode in next, wearing Kholin blue Shardplate, faceplate up, Blade resting on his shoulder. Judging from the sounds out in the hallway-and the Herdazian faces that peeked into the room-he had brought not only soldiers, but the entirety of Bridge Four.\n\nThat included Renarin, who clomped in after his brother, clad in slate-colored Shardplate. Renarin looked far less frail when fully armored, though his face didn't seem like a soldier's, even if he had stopped wearing his spectacles." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Pattern approached and tried to slide up her illusory dress, but then stopped, backing away and humming in pleasure at the lie. \"I found him!\" he proclaimed. \"I found Adolin!\"\n\n\"I see that,\" Shallan said.\n\n\"He came at me,\" Adolin said, \"in the training rooms, screaming that you'd found the killer. Said that if I didn't come, you'd probably-and I quote-\"go do something stupid without letting me watch. '\"\n\nPattern hummed. \"Stupidity. Very interesting.\"\n\n\"You should visit the Alethi court sometime,\" Adolin said, stepping over to the pit. \"So...\"\n\n\"We tracked the thing that has been assaulting people,\" Shallan said. \"It killed someone in the market, then it came here.\"\n\n\"The... thing?\" one of the bridgemen asked. \"Not a person?\"\n\n\"It's a spren,\" Shallan whispered. \"But not like one I've ever seen. It's able to imitate a person fora time-but it eventually becomes something else. A broken face, a twisted shape...\"\n\n\"Sounds like that girl you've been seeing, Skar,\" one of the bridgemen noted.\n\n\"Ha ha,\" Skar said dryly. \"How about we toss you in that pit, Eth, and see how far down this thing goes?\"\n\n\"So this spren,\" Lopen said, approaching the pit, \"it, sure, killed Highprince Sadeas?\"\n\nShallan hesitated. No. It had killed Perel in copying the Sadeas murder, but someone else had murdered the highprince. She glanced at Adolin, who must have been thinking the same thing, for how solemn his expression was." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The spren was the greater threat-it had performed multiple murders. Still, it made her uncomfortable to acknowledge that her investigation hadn't taken them a single step closer to finding who had killed the highprince.\n\n\"We must have passed by this point a dozen times,\" a soldier said from behind. Shallan started; that voice was female. Indeed, she'd mistaken one of Dalinar's scouts-the short woman with longhair-for another bridgeman, though her uniform was different. She was inspecting the cuts Shallan had made to get into this room. \"Don't you remember scouting right past that curved hallway outside, Teft?\"\n\nTeft nodded, rubbing his bearded chin. \"Yeah, you're right, Lyn. But why hide a room like this?\"\n\n\"There's something down there,\" Renarin whispered, leaning out over the pit. \"Something... ancient. You've felt it, haven't you?\" He looked up at Shallan, then the others in the room. \"This place is weird; this whole tower is weird. You've noticed it too, right?\"\n\n\"Kid,\" Teft said, \"you're the expert on what's weird. We'll trust your word.\"\n\nShallan looked with concern toward Renarin at the insult. He just grinned, as one of the other bridgemen slapped him on the back-Plate notwithstanding-while Lopen and Rock started arguing over who was truly the weirdest among them. Ina moment of surprise, she realized that Bridge Four had actually assimilated Renarin. He might be the lighteyed son of a highprince, resplendent in Shardplate, but here he was just another bridgeman.\n\n\"So,\" one of the men said, a handsome, muscled fellow with arms that seemed too long for his body, \"I assume we're heading down into this awful crypt of terror?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Yes,\" Shallan said. She thought his name was Drehy.\n\n\"Storming lovely,\" Drehy said. \"Marching orders, Teft?\"\n\n\"That's up to Brightlord Adolin.\"\n\n\"I brought the best men I could find,\" Adolin said to Shallan. \"But I feel like I should bring an entire army instead. You sure you want to do this now?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Shallan said. \"We have to, Adolin. And... I don't know that an army would make a difference.\"\n\n\"Very well. Teft, give us a hefty rearguard. I don't fancy having something sneak upon us. Lyn, I want accurate maps-stop us if we get too far ahead of your drawing. I want to know my exact line of retreat. We go slowly, men. Be ready to perform a controlled, careful retreat if I command it.\"\n\nSome shuffling of personnel followed. Then the group finally started down the staircase, single file, Shallan and Adolin near the center of the pack. The steps jutted right from the wall, but were wide enough that people would be able to pass on their way up, so there was no danger of falling off. She tried to keep from brushing anyone, as it might disturb the illusion that she was wearing her dress.\n\nThe sound of their footsteps vanished into the void. Soon they were alone with the timeless, patient darkness. The light of the sphere lanterns the bridgemen carried didn't seem to stretch far in that pit. It reminded Shallan of the mausoleum carved into the hill near her manor, where ancient Davar family members had been Soulcast to statues.\n\nHer father's body hadn't been placed there. They had lacked the funds to pay fora Soulcaster-and besides, they'd wanted to pretend he was alive. She and her brothers had burned the body, as the darkeyes did." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Pain...\n\n\"I have to remind you, Brightness,\" Teft said from in front of her, \"you can't expect anything... extraordinary from my men. Fora bit, some of us sucked up light and strutted about like we were Stormblessed. That stopped when Kaladin left.\"\n\n\"It'll comeback, gancho!\" Lopen said from behind her. \"When Kaladin returns, we'll glow again good.\"\n\n\"Hush, Lopen,\" Teft said. \"Keep your voice down. Anyway, Brightness, the lads will do their best, but you need to know what-and whatnot-to expect.\"\n\nShallan hadn't been expecting Radiant powers from them; she'd known about their limitation already. All she needed were soldiers. Eventually, Lopen tossed a diamond chip into the hole, earning him a glare from Adolin.\n\n\"It might be down there waiting for us,\" the prince hissed. \"Don't give it warning.\"\n\nThe bridgeman wilted, but nodded. The sphere bounced as a visible pinprick below, and Shallan was glad to know that at least there was an end to this descent. She'd begun to imagine an infinite spiral, like with old Dilid, one of the ten fools. He ran up a hillside toward the Tranquiline Halls with sand sliding beneath his feet-running for eternity, but never making progress.\n\nSeveral bridgemen let out audible sighs of relief as they finally reached the bottom of the shaft. Here, piles of splinters scattered at the edges of the round chamber, covered in decayspren. There had once been a banister for the steps, but it had fallen to the effects of time.\n\nThe bottom of the shaft had only one exit, a large archway more elaborate than others in the tower. Up above, almost everything was the same uniform stone-as if this whole tower had been carved in one go. Here, the archway was of separately placed stones, and the walls of the tunnel beyond were lined with bright mosaic tiles." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Once they entered the hall, Shallan gasped, holding up a diamond broam. Gorgeous, intricate pictures of the Heralds-made of thousands of tiles-adorned the ceiling, each in a circular panel.\n\nThe art on the walls was more enigmatic. A solitary figure hovering above the ground before a large blue disc, arms stretched to the side as if to embrace it. Depictions of the Almighty in his traditional form as a cloud bursting with energy and light. A woman in the shape of a tree, hands spreading toward the sky and becoming branches. Who would have thought to find pagan symbols in the home of the Knights Radiant?\n\nOther murals depicted shapes that reminded her of Pattern, windspren... ten kinds of spren. One for each order?\n\nAdolin sent a vanguard a short distance ahead, and soon they returned. \"Metal doors ahead, Brightlord,\" Lyn said. \"One on each side of the hall.\"\n\nShallan pried her eyes away from the murals, joining the main body of the force as they moved. They reached the large steel doors and stopped, though the corridor itself continued onward. At Shallan's prompting, the bridgemen tried them, but couldn't get them open.\n\n\"Locked,\" Drehy said, wiping his brow.\n\nAdolin stepped forward, sword in hand. \"I've got a key.\"\n\n\"Adolin...\" Shallan said. \"These are artifacts from another time. Valuable and precious.\"\n\n\"I won't break them too much,\" he promised.\n\n\"But-\"\n\n\"Aren't we chasing a murderer?\" he said. \"Someone who is likely to, say, hide in a locked room?\"\n\nShe sighed, then nodded as he waved everyone back. She tucked her safehand, which had brushed him, back under her arm. It was so strange to feel like she was wearing a glove, but to see her hand as sleeved. Would it really have been so bad to let Adolin know about Veil?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Apart of her panicked at the idea, so she let goof it quickly.\n\nAdolin rammed his Blade through the door just above where the lock or bar would be, then swept it down. Teft tried the door, and was able to shove it open, hinges grinding loudly.\n\nThe bridgemen ducked in first, spears in hand. For all Teft's insistence that she wasn't to expect anything exceptional of them, they took point without orders, even though there were two Shardbearers at the ready.\n\nAdolin rushed in after the bridgemen to secure the room, though Renarin wasn't paying much attention. He'd walked a few steps farther down the main corridor, and now stood still, staring deeper into the depths, sphere held absently in one gauntleted hand, Shardblade in the other.\n\nShallan stepped up hesitantly beside him. A cool breeze blew from behind them, as if being sucked into that darkness. The mystery lurked in that direction, the captivating depths. She could sense it more distinctly now. Not an evil really, but a wrongness. Like the sight of a wrist hanging from an arm after the bone is broken.\n\n\"What is it?\" Renarin whispered. \"Glys is frightened, and won't speak.\"\n\n\"Pattern doesn't know,\" Shallan said. \"He calls it ancient. Says it's of the enemy.\"\n\nRenarin nodded.\n\n\"Your father doesn't seem to be able to feel it,\" Shallan said. \"Why can we?\"\n\n\"I... I don't know. Maybe-\"\n\n\"Shallan?\" Adolin said, looking out of the room, his faceplate up. \"You should see this.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "The wreckage inside the room was more decayed than most they'd found in the tower." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Rusted clasps and screws clung to bits of wood. Decomposed heaps ran in rows, containing bits of fragile covers and spines.\n\nA library. They'd finally found the books Jasnah had dreamed of discovering.\n\nThey were ruined.\n\nWith a sinking feeling, Shallan moved through the room, nudging at piles of dust and splinters with her toes, frightening off decayspren. She found some shapes of books, but they disintegrated at her touch. She knelt between two rows of fallen books, feeling lost. All that knowledge... dead and gone.\n\n\"Sorry,\" Adolin said, standing awkwardly nearby.\n\n\"Don't let the men disturb this. Maybe... maybe there's something Navani's scholars can do to recover it.\"\n\n\"Want us to search the other room?\" Adolin asked.\n\nShe nodded, and he clanked off. A short time later, she heard hinges creak as Adolin forced open the door.\n\nShallan suddenly felt exhausted. If these books here were gone, then it was unlikely they'd find others better preserved.\n\nForward. She rose, brushing off her knees, which only reminded her that her dress wasn't real. You aren't here for this secret anyway.\n\nShe stepped out into the main hallway, the one with the murals. Adolin and the bridgemen were exploring the room on the other side, but a quick glance showed Shallan that it was a mirror of the one they'd left, furnished only with piles of debris.\n\n\"Um... guys?\" Lyn, the scout, called. \"Prince Adolin? Brightness Radiant?\"\n\nShallan turned from the room. Renarin had walked farther down the corridor. The scout had followed him, but had frozen in the hallway. Renarin's sphere illuminated something in the distance. A large mass that reflected the light, like glistening tar." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"We shouldn't have come here,\" Renarin said. \"We can't fight this. Stormfather.\" He stumbled backward. \"Stormfather...\"\n\nThe bridgemen hastened into the hallway in front of Shallan, between her and Renarin. At a barked order from Teft, they made a formation spanning from one side of the main hallway to the other: a line of men holding spears low, with a second line behind holding more spears higher in an overhand grip.\n\nAdolin burst out of the second library room, then gaped at the undulating shape in the distance. A living darkness.\n\nThat darkness seeped down the hallway. It wasn't fast, but there was an inevitability about the way it coated everything, flowing up the sides of the walls, onto the ceiling. On the ground, shapes split from the main mass, becoming figures that stepped as if from the surf. Creatures that had two feet and soon grew faces, with clothing that rippled into existence.\n\n\"She's here,\" Renarin whispered. \"One of the Unmade. Re-Shephir... the Midnight Mother.\"\n\n\"Run, Shallan!\" Adolin shouted. \"Men, start backup the hall.\"\n\nThen-of course-he charged at the flood of things.\n\nThe figures... they look like us, Shallan thought, stepping back, farther from the line of bridgemen. There was one midnight creature that looked like Teft, and another that was a copy of Lopen. Two larger shapes seemed to be wearing Shardplate. Except they were made of shiny tar, their features blobby, imperfect.\n\nThe mouths opened, sprouting spiny teeth.\n\n\"Make a careful retreat, like the prince ordered!\" Teft called. \"Don't get boxed in, men! Hold the line! Renarin!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Renarin still stood out in front, holding forth his Shardblade: long and thin, with a waving pattern to the metal. Adolin reached his brother, then grabbed his arm and tried to tow him back.\n\nHe resisted. He seemed mesmerized by that line of forming monsters.\n\n\"Renarin! Attention!\" Teft shouted. \"To the line!\"\n\nThe boy's head snapped up at the command and he scrambled-as if he weren't the cousin of the king-to obey his sergeant's order. Adolin retreated with him, and the two fell into formation with the bridgemen. Together, they pulled backward through the main hall.\n\nShallan backed up, staying roughly twenty feet behind the formation. Suddenly, the enemy moved with a burst of speed. Shallan cried out, and the bridgemen cursed, turning spears as the main mass of darkness swept up along the sides of the corridor, covering the beautiful murals.\n\nThe midnight figures dashed forward, charging the line. An explosive, frantic clash followed, bridgemen holding formation and striking at creatures who suddenly began forming on the right and left, coming out of the blackness on the walls. The things bled vapor when struck, a darkness that hissed from them and dissipated into the air.\n\nLike smoke, Shallan thought.\n\nThe tar swept down from the walls, surrounding the bridgemen, who circled to keep themselves from being attacked at the rear. Adolin and Renarin fought at the very front, hacking with Blades, leaving dark figures to hiss and gush smoke in pieces.\n\nShallan found herself separated from the soldiers, an inky blackness between them. There didn't seem to be a duplicate for her.\n\nThe midnight faces bristled with teeth. Though they thrust with spears, they did so awkwardly. They struck true now and then, wounding a bridgeman, who would pullback into the center of the formation to be hastily bandaged by Lyn or Lopen. Renarin fell into the center and started to glow with Stormlight, healing those who were hurt." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Shallan watched all this, feeling a numbing trance settle over her. \"I... know you,\" she whispered to the blackness, realizing it was true. \"I know what you're doing.\"\n\nMen grunted and stabbed. Adolin swept before himself, Shardblade trailing black smoke from the creatures' wounds. He chopped apart dozens of the things, but new ones continued forming, wearing familiar shapes. Dalinar. Teshav. Highprinces and scouts, soldiers and scribes.\n\n\"You try to imitate us,\" Shallan said. \"But you fail. You're a spren. You don't quite understand.\"\n\nShe stepped toward the surrounded bridgemen.\n\n\"Shallan!\" Adolin called, grunting as he cleaved three figures before him. \"Escape! Run!\"\n\nShe ignored him, stepping up to the darkness. In front of her-at the closest point of the ring-Drehy stabbed a figure straight through the head, sending it stumbling back. Shallan seized its shoulders, spinning it toward her. It was Navani, a gaping hole in her face, black smoke escaping with a hiss. Even ignoring that, the features were off. The nose too big, one eye a little higher than the other.\n\nIt dropped to the floor, writhing as it deflated like a punctured wineskin.\n\nShallan strode right up to the formation. The things fled her, shying to the sides. Shallan had the distinct and terrifying impression that these things could have swept the bridgemen away at will-overwhelming them in a terrible black tide. But the Midnight Mother wanted to learn; she wanted to fight with spears.\n\nIf that was so, however, she was growing impatient. The newer figures forming up were increasingly distorted, more bestial, spiny teeth spilling from their mouths." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Your imitation is pathetic,\" Shallan whispered. \"Here. Let me show you how it's done.\"\n\nShallan drew in her Stormlight, going alight like a beacon. Things screamed, pulling away from her. As she stepped around the formation of worried bridgemen-wading into the blackness at their left flank-figures extended from her, shapes growing from light. The people from her recently rebuilt collection.\n\nPalona. Soldiers from the hallways. A group of Soulcasters she'd passed two days ago. Men and women from the markets. Highprinces and scribes. The man who had tried to pickup Veil at the tavern. The Horneater she'd stabbed in the hand. Soldiers. Cobblers. Scouts. Washwomen. Even a few kings.\n\nA glowing, radiant force.\n\nHer figures spread out to surround the beleaguered bridgemen like sentries. This new, glowing force drove the enemy monsters back, and the tar withdrew along the sides of the hall, until the path of retreat was open. The Midnight Mother dominated the darkness at the end of the hall, the direction they had not yet explored. It waited there, and did not recede farther.\n\nThe bridgemen relaxed, Renarin muttering as he healed the last few who had been hurt. Shallan's cohort of glowing figures moved forward and formed a line with her, between darkness and bridgemen.\n\nThe creatures formed again from the blackness ahead, growing more ferocious, like beasts. Featureless blobs with teeth sprouting from slit mouths.\n\n\"How are you doing this?\" Adolin asked, voice ringing from within his helm. \"Why are they afraid?\"\n\n\"Has someone with a knife-not knowing who you were-ever tried to threaten you?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Yeah. I just summoned my Shardblade.\"\n\n\"It's a little like that.\" Shallan stepped forward, and Adolin joined her. Renarin summoned his Blade and took a few quicksteps to reach them, his Plate clicking.\n\nThe darkness pulled back, revealing that the hallway opened up into a room ahead. As she approached, Shallan's Stormlight illuminated a bowl-like chamber. The center was dominated by a heaving black mass that undulated and pulsed, stretching from floor to ceiling some twenty feet above.\n\nThe midnight beasts tested forward against her light, no longer seeming as intimidated.\n\n\"We have to choose,\" Shallan said to Adolin and Renarin. \"Retreat or attack?\"\n\n\"What do you think?\"\n\n\"I don't know. This creature... she's been watching me. She's changed how I seethe tower. I feel like I understand her, a connection I cannot explain. That can't be a good thing, right? Can we even trust what I think?\"\n\nAdolin raised his faceplate and smiled at her. Storms, that smile. \"Highmarshal Halad always said that to beat someone, you must first know them. It's become one of the rules we follow in warfare.\"\n\n\"And... what did he say about retreat?\"\n\n\"\"Plan every battle as if you will inevitably retreat, but fight every battle like there is no backing down.\"\"\n\nThe main mass in the chamber undulated, faces appearing from its tarry surface-pressing out as if trying to escape. There was something beneath the enormous spren. Yes, it was wrapped around a pillar that reached from the floor of the circular room to its ceiling.\n\nThe murals, the intricate art, the fallen troves of information... This place was important." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Shallan clasped her hands before herself, and the Patternblade formed in her palms." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She twisted it in a sweaty grip, falling into the dueling stance Adolin had been teaching her.\n\nHolding it immediately brought pain. Not the screaming of a dead spren. Pain inside. The pain of an Ideal sworn, but not yet overcome.\n\n\"Bridgemen,\" Adolin called. \"You willing to give it another go?\"\n\n\"We'll last longer than you will, gancho! Even with your fancy armor.\"\n\nAdolin grinned and slammed his faceplate down. \"At your word, Radiant.\"\n\nShe sent her illusions in, but the darkness didn't shy before them as it had previously. Black figures attacked her illusions, testing to find that they weren't real. Dozens of these midnight men clogged the way forward.\n\n\"Clear the way for me to the thing in the center,\" she said, trying to sound more certain than she felt. \"I need to get close enough to touch her.\"\n\n\"Renarin, can you guard my back?\" Adolin asked.\n\nRenarin nodded.\n\nAdolin took a deep breath, then charged into the room, bursting right through the middle of an illusion of his father. He struck at the first midnight man, chopping it down, then began sweeping around him in a frenzy.\n\nBridge Four shouted, rushing in behind him. Together, they began to form a path for Shallan, slaying the creatures between her and the pillar.\n\nShe walked through the bridgemen, a rank of them forming a spear line to either side of her. Ahead, Adolin pushed toward the pillar, Renarin at his back preventing him from being surrounded, bridgemen in turn pushing up along the sides to keep Renarin from being overwhelmed." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The monsters no longer bore even a semblance of humanity. They struck Adolin, too-real claws and teeth scraping his armor. Others clung to him, trying to weigh him down or find chinks in the Shardplate.\n\nThey know how to face men like him, Shallan thought, still holding her Shardblade in one hand. Why then do they fear me?\n\nShallan wove Light, and aversion of Radiant appeared near Renarin. The creatures attacked it, leaving Renarin fora moment-unfortunately, most of her illusions had fallen, collapsing into Stormlight as they were disrupted again and again. She could have kept them going, she thought, with more practice.\n\nInstead, she wove versions of herself. Young and old, confident and frightened. A dozen different Shallans. With a shock, she realized that several were pictures she'd lost, self-portraits she'd practiced with a mirror, as Dandos the Oilsworn had insisted was vital for an aspiring artist.\n\nSome of her selves cowered; others fought. Fora moment Shallan lost herself, and she even let Veil appear among them. She was those women, those girls, everyone of them. And none of them were her. They were things she used, manipulated. Illusions.\n\n\"Shallan!\" Adolin shouted, voice straining as Renarin grunted and ripped midnight men off him. \"Whatever you're going to do, do it now!\"\n\nShe'd stepped up to the front of the column the soldiers had won for her, right near Adolin. She tore her gaze away from a child Shallan dancing among the midnight men. Before her, the main mass-coating the pillar in the center of the room-bubbled with faces that stretched against the surface, mouths opening to scream, then submerged like men drowning in tar." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Shallan!\" Adolin said again.\n\nThat pulsing mass, so terrible, but so captivating.\n\nThe image of the pit. The twisting lines of the corridors. The tower that couldn't be completely seen. This was why she'd come.\n\nShallan strode forward, arm out, and let the illusory sleeve covering her hand vanish. She pulled off her glove, stepped right up to the mass of tar and voiceless screams.\n\nThen pressed her safehand against it." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "-From Oathbringer, preface\n\nShallan was open to this thing. Laid bare, her skin split, her soul gaping wide. It could get in.\n\nIt was also open to her.\n\nShe felt its confused fascination with humankind. It remembered men-an innate understanding, much as newborn mink kits innately knew to fear the skyeel. This spren was not completely aware, not completely cognizant. She was a creation of instinct and alien curiosity, drawn to violence and pain like scavengers to the scent of blood.\n\nShallan knew Re-Shephir at the same time as the thing came to know her. The spren tugged and prodded at Shallan's bond with Pattern, seeking to rip it free and insert herself instead. Pattern clung to Shallan, and she to him, holding on for dear life.\n\nShe fears us, Pattern's voice buzzed in her head. Why does she fear us?\n\nIn her mind's eye, Shallan envisioned herself holding tightly to Pattern in his humanoid form, the two of them huddled down before the spren's attack. That image was all she could see at the moment, for the room-and everything in it-had dissolved to black.\n\nThis thing was ancient. Created long ago as a splinter of the soul of something even more terrible, Re-Shephir had been ordered to sow chaos, spawning horrors to confuse and destroy men. Overtime, slowly, she'd become increasingly intrigued by the things she murdered.\n\nHer creations had come to imitate what she saw in the world, but lacking love or affection. Like stones come alive, content to be killed or to kill with no attachment or enjoyment. No emotions beyond an overpowering curiosity, and that ephemeral attraction to violence." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Almighty above... it's like a creationspren. Only so, so wrong.\n\nPattern whimpered, huddled against Shallan in his shape of a man with a stiff robe and a moving pattern fora head. She tried to shield him from the onslaught.\n\nFight every battle... as if there is... no backing down.\n\nShallan looked into the depths of the swirling void, the dark spinning soul of Re-Shephir, the Midnight Mother. Then, growling, Shallan struck.\n\nShe didn't attack like the prim, excitable girl who had been trained by cautious Vorin society. She attacked like the frenzied child who had murdered her mother. The cornered woman who had stabbed Tyn through the chest. She drew upon the part of her that hated the way everyone assumed she was so nice, so sweet. The part of her that hated being described as diverting or clever.\n\nShe drew upon the Stormlight within, and pushed herself farther into Re-Shephir's essence. She couldn't tell if it was actually happening-if she was pushing her physical body farther into the creature's tar-or if this was all a representation of someplace else. A place beyond this room in the tower, beyond even Shadesmar.\n\nThe creature trembled, and Shallan finally saw the reason for its fear. It had been trapped. The event had happened recently in the spren's reckoning, though Shallan had the impression that in fact centuries upon centuries had passed.\n\nRe-Shephir was terrified of it happening again. The imprisonment had been unexpected, presumed impossible. And it had been done by a Lightweaver like Shallan, who had understood this creature.\n\nIt feared her like an axehound might fear someone with a voice similar to that of its harsh master." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Shallan hung on, pressing herself against the enemy, but realization washed over her-the understanding that this thing was going to know her completely, discover each and everyone of her secrets.\n\nHer ferocity and determination wavered; her commitment began to seep away.\n\nSo she lied. She insisted that she wasn't afraid. She was committed. She'd always been that way. She would continue that way forever.\n\nPower could bean illusion of perception. Even within yourself.\n\nRe-Shephir broke. It screeched, a sound that vibrated through Shallan. A screech that remembered its imprisonment and feared something worse.\n\nShallan dropped backward in the room where they'd been fighting. Adolin caught her in a steel grip, going down on one knee with an audible crack of Plate against stone. She heard that echoing scream fading. Not dying. Fleeing, escaping, determined to get as far from Shallan as it could.\n\nWhen she forced her eyes open, she found the room clean of the darkness. The corpses of the midnight creatures had dissolved. Renarin quickly knelt next to a bridgeman who had been hurt, removing his gauntlet and infusing the man with healing Stormlight.\n\nAdolin helped Shallan sit up, and she tucked her exposed safehand under her other arm. Storms... she'd somehow kept up the illusion of the havah.\n\nEven after all of that, she didn't want Adolin to know of Veil. She couldn't.\n\n\"Where?\" she asked him, exhausted. \"Where did it go?\"\n\nAdolin pointed toward the other side of the room, where a tunnel extended farther down into the depths of the mountain. \"It fled in that direction, like moving smoke.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"So..." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "should we chase it down?\" Eth asked, making his way carefully toward the tunnel. His lantern revealed steps cut into the stone. \"This goes down along ways.\"\n\nShallan could feel a change in the air. The tower was... different. \"Don't give chase,\" she said, remembering the terror of that conflict. She was more than happy to let the thing run. \"We can post guards in this chamber, but I don't think she'll return.\"\n\n\"Yeah,\" Teft said, leaning on his spear and wiping sweat from his face. \"Guards seem like a very, very good idea.\"\n\nShallan frowned at the tone of his voice, then followed his gaze, to look at the thing Re-Shephir had been hiding. The pillar in the exact center of the room.\n\nIt was set with thousands upon thousands of cut gemstones, most larger than Shallan's fist. Together, they were a treasure worth more than most kingdoms." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "-From Oathbringer, preface\n\nThroughout his youth, Kaladin had dreamed of joining the military and leaving quiet little Hearthstone. Everyone knew that soldiers traveled extensively and saw the world.\n\nAnd he had. He'd seen dozens upon dozens of empty hills, weed-covered plains, and identical warcamps. Actual sights, though... well, that was another story.\n\nThe city of Revolar was, as his hike with the parshmen had proven, only a few weeks away from Hearthstone by foot. He'd never visited. Storms, he'd never actually lived in a city before, unless you counted the warcamps.\n\nHe suspected most cities weren't surrounded by an army of parshmen as this one was.\n\nRevolar was builtin a nice hollow on the leeward side of a series of hills, the perfect spot fora little town. Except this was not a'little town.\" The city had sprawled out, filling in the areas between the hills, going up the leeward slopes-only leaving the tips completely bare.\n\nHe'd expected a city to look more organized. He'd imagined neat rows of houses, like an efficient warcamp. This looked more like a snarl of plants clumped in a chasm at the Shattered Plains. Streets running this way and that. Markets that poked out haphazardly.\n\nKaladin joined his team of parshmen as they wound along a wide roadway kept level with smoothed crem. They passed through thousands upon thousands of parshmen camped here, and more gathered by the hour, it seemed.\n\nHis, however, was the only group that carried stone-headed spears on their shoulders, packs of dried grain biscuits, and hogshide leather sandals. They tied their smocks with belts, and carried stone knives, hatchets, and tinder in waxed sleeves made from candles he'd traded for. He'd even begun teaching them to use a sling." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He probably shouldn't have shown them any of these things; that didn't stop him from feeling proud as he walked with them, entering the city.\n\nCrowds thronged the streets. Where had all these parshmen come from? This was a force of at least forty or fifty thousand. He knew most people ignored parshmen... and, well, he'd done the same. But he'd always had tucked into the back of his mind this idea that there weren't that many out there. Each high-ranking lighteyes owned a handful. And a lot of the caravaneers. And, well, even the less wealthy families from cities or towns had them. And there were the dockworkers, the miners, the water haulers, the packmen they used when building large projects....\n\n\"It's amazing,\" Sah said from where he walked beside Kaladin, carrying his daughter on his shoulder to give her a better view. She clutched some of his wooden cards, holding them close like another child might carry a favorite stuffed doll.\n\n\"Amazing?\" Kaladin asked Sah.\n\n\"Our own city, Kal,\" he whispered. \"During my time as a slave, barely able to think, I still dreamed. I tried to imagine what it would be like to have my own home, my own life. Here it is.\"\n\nThe parshmen had obviously moved into homes along the streets here. Were they running markets too? It raised a difficult, unsettling question. Where were all the humans? Khen's group walked deeper into the city, still led by the unseen spren. Kaladin spotted signs of trouble. Broken windows. Doors that no longer latched. Some of that would be from the Everstorm, but he passed a couple of doors that had obviously been hacked open with axes." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Looting. And ahead stood an inner wall. It was a nice fortification, right in the middle of the city sprawl. It probably marked the original city boundary, as decided upon by some optimistic architect.\n\nHere, at long last, Kaladin found signs of the fight he'd expected during his initial trip to Alethkar. The gates to the inner city lay broken. The guardhouse had been burned, and arrowheads still stuck from some of the wood beams they passed. This was a conquered city.\n\nBut where had the humans been moved? Should he be looking fora prison camp, or a heaping pyre of burned bones? Considering the idea made him sick.\n\n\"Is this what it's about?\" Kaladin said as they walked down a roadway in the inner city. \"Is this what you want, Sah? To conquer the kingdom? Destroy humankind?\"\n\n\"Storms, I don't know,\" he said. \"But I can't be a slave again, Kal. I won't let them take Vai and imprison her. Would you defend them, after what they did to you?\"\n\n\"They're my people.\"\n\n\"That's no excuse. If one of'your people'murders another, don't you put them in prison? What is a just punishment for enslaving my entire race?\"\n\nSyl soared past, her face peeking from a shimmering haze of mist. She caught his eye, then zipped over to a windowsill and settled down, taking the shape of a small rock.\n\n\"I...\" Kaladin said. \"I don't know, Sah. But a war to exterminate one side or the other can't be the answer.\"\n\n\"You can fight alongside us, Kal. It doesn't have to be about humans against parshmen. It can be nobler than that. Oppressed against the oppressors.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As they passed the place where Syl was, Kaladin swept his hand along the wall. Syl, as they'd practiced, zipped up the sleeve of his coat. He could feel her, like a gust of wind, move up his sleeve then out his collar, into his hair. The long curls hid her, they'd determined, well enough.\n\n\"There area lot of those yellow-white spren here, Kaladin,\" she whispered. \"Zipping through the air, dancing through buildings.\"\n\n\"Any signs of humans?\" Kaladin whispered.\n\n\"To the east,\" she said. \"Crammed into some army barracks and old parshman quarters. Others are in big pens, watched under guard. Kaladin... there's another highstorm coming today.\"\n\n\"When?\"\n\n\"Soon, maybe? I'm new to guessing this. I doubt anyone is expecting it. Everything has been thrown off; the charts will all be wrong until people can make new ones.\"\n\nKaladin hissed slowly through his teeth.\n\nAhead, his team approached a large group of parshmen. Judging by the way they'd been organized into large lines, this was some kind of processing station for new arrivals. Indeed, Khen's band of a hundred was shuffled into one of the lines to wait.\n\nAhead of them, a parshman in full carapace armor-like a Parshendi-strolled down the line, holding a writing board. Syl pulled farther into Kaladin's hair as the Parshendi man stepped up to Khen's group.\n\n\"What towns, work camps, or armies do you all come from?\" His voice had a strange cadence, similar to the Parshendi Kaladin had heard on the Shattered Plains. Some of those in Khen's group had hints of it, but nothing this strong." }, { "from": "human", "value": "The scribe parshman wrote down the list of towns Khen gave him, then noted their spears." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You've been busy. I'll recommend you for special training. Send your captive to the pens; I'll write down a description here, and once you're settled, you can put him to work.\"\n\n\"He...\" Khen said, looking at Kaladin. \"He is not our captive.\" She seemed begrudging. \"He was one of the humans' slaves, like us. He wishes to join and fight.\"\n\nThe parshman looked up in the air at nothing.\n\n\"Yixli is speaking for you,\" Sah whispered to Kaladin. \"She sounds impressed.\"\n\n\"Well,\" the scribe said, \"it's not unheard of, but you'll have to get permission from one of the Fused to label him free.\"\n\n\"One of the what?\" Khen asked.\n\nThe parshman with the writing board pointed toward his left. Kaladin had to step out of the line, along with several of the others, to see a tall parshwoman with longhair. There was carapace covering her cheeks, running back along the cheekbones and into her hair. The skin on her arms prickled with ridges, as if there were carapace under the skin as well. Her eyes glowed red.\n\nKaladin's breath caught. Bridge Four had described these creatures to him, the strange Parshendi they'd fought during their push toward the center of the Shattered Plains. These were the beings who had summoned the Everstorm.\n\nThis one focused directly on Kaladin. There was something oppressive about her red gaze.\n\nKaladin heard a clap of thunder in the far distance. Around him, many of the parshmen turned toward it and began to mutter. Highstorm.\n\nIn that moment, Kaladin made his decision. He'd stayed with Sah and the others as long as he dared. He'd learned what he could. The storm presented a chance." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It's time to go.\n\nThe tall, dangerous creature with the red eyes-the Fused, they had called her-began walking toward Khen's group. Kaladin couldn't know if she recognized him as a Radiant, but he had no intention of waiting until she arrived. He'd been planning; the old slave's instincts had already decided upon the easiest way out.\n\nIt was on Khen's belt.\n\nKaladin sucked in the Stormlight, right from her pouch. He burst alight with its power, then grabbed the pouch-he'd need those gemstones-and yanked it free, the leather strap snapping.\n\n\"Get your people to shelter,\" Kaladin said to the surprised Khen. \"A highstorm is close. Thank you for your kindness. No matter what you are told, know this: I do not wish to be your enemy.\"\n\nThe Fused began to scream with an angry voice. Kaladin met Sah's betrayed expression, then launched himself into the air.\n\nFreedom.\n\nKaladin's skin shivered with joy. Storms, how he'd missed this. The wind, the openness above, even the lurch in his stomach as gravity let go. Syl spun around him as a ribbon of light, creating a spiral of glowing lines. Gloryspren burst up about Kaladin's head.\n\nSyl took on the form of a person just so she could glower at the little bobbing balls of light. \"Mine,\" she said, swatting one of them aside.\n\nAbout five or six hundred feet up, Kaladin changed to a half Lashing, so he slowed and hovered in the sky. Beneath, that red-eyed parshwoman was gesturing and screaming, though Kaladin couldn't hear her. Storms. He hoped this wouldn't mean trouble for Sah and the others." }, { "from": "human", "value": "He had an excellent view of the city-the streets filled with figures, now making for shelter in buildings." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Other groups rushed to the city from all directions. Even after spending so much time with them, his first reaction was one of discomfort. So many parshmen together in one place? It was unnatural.\n\nThis impression bothered him now as it never would have before.\n\nHe eyed the stormwall, which he could see approaching in the far distance. He still had time before it arrived.\n\nHe'd have to fly up above the storm to avoid being caught in its winds. But then what?\n\n\"Urithiru is out there somewhere, to the west,\" Kaladin said. \"Can you guide us there?\"\n\n\"How would I do that?\"\n\n\"You've been there before.\"\n\n\"So have you.\"\n\n\"You're a force of nature, Syl,\" Kaladin said. \"You can feel the storms. Don't you have some kind of... location sense?\"\n\n\"You're the one from this realm,\" she said, batting away another gloryspren and hanging in the air beside him, folding her arms. \"Besides, I'm less a force of nature and more one of the raw powers of creation transformed by collective human imagination into a personification of one of their ideals.\" She grinned at him.\n\n\"Where did you come up with that?\"\n\n\"Dunno. Maybe I heard it somewhere once. Or maybe I'm just smart.\"\n\n\"We'll have to make for the Shattered Plains, then,\" Kaladin said. \"We can strikeout for one of the larger cities in southern Alethkar, swap gemstones there, and hopefully have enough to hop over to the warcamps.\"\n\nThat decided, he tied his gemstone pouch to his belt, then glanced down and tried to make a final estimate of troop numbers and parshman fortifications. It felt odd to not worry about the storm, but he'd just move up over it once it arrived." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "From up here, Kaladin could seethe great trenches cut into the stones to divert away floodwaters after a storm. Though most of the parshmen had fled for shelter, some remained below, craning necks and staring up at him. He read betrayal in their postures, though he couldn't even tell if these were members of Khen's group or not.\n\n\"What?\" Syl asked, alighting on his shoulder.\n\n\"I can't help but feel a kinship to them, Syl.\"\n\n\"They conquered the city. They're Voidbringers.\"\n\n\"No, they're people. And they're angry, with good reason.\" A gust of wind blew across him, making him drift to the side. \"I know that feeling. It burns in you, worms inside your brain until you forget everything but the injustice done to you. It's how I felt about Elhokar. Sometimes a world of rational explanations can become meaningless in the face of that all-consuming desire to get what you deserve.\"\n\n\"You changed your mind about Elhokar, Kaladin. You saw what was right.\"\n\n\"Did I? Did I find what was right, or did I just finally agree to see things the way you wanted?\"\n\n\"Killing Elhokar was wrong.\"\n\n\"And the parshmen on the Shattered Plains that I killed? Murdering them wasn't wrong?\"\n\n\"You were protecting Dalinar.\"\n\n\"Who was assaulting their homeland.\"\n\n\"Because they killed his brother.\"\n\n\"Which, for all we know, they did because they saw how King Gavilar and his people treated the parshmen.\" Kaladin turned toward Syl, who sat on his shoulder, one leg tucked beneath her. \"So what's the difference, Syl? What is the difference between Dalinar attacking the parshmen, and these parshmen conquering that city?\"" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Extende the story in collaboration with the author.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, knights radiant\nAuthor: Brandon Sanderson\nTitle: Oathbringer\nChapter: 42" }, { "from": "human", "value": "She cried out in an alien tongue." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Moash dropped his spear and grabbed his knife. She tried to shove him away, Lashing him again, stronger this time. He grunted, but hung on, and got his knife up and rammed it into her chest.\n\nOrange Parshendi blood poured around his hand, spraying into the cold night as they continued to spin in the air. Moash hung on tight and pushed the knife farther.\n\nShe didn't heal, as Kaladin would have. Her eyes stopped glowing, and the dark light vanished.\n\nThe body grew limp. A short time later, the force pulling Moash upward ran out. He dropped the five feet to the ground, her body cushioning his fall.\n\nOrange blood coated him, steaming in the chill air. He seized his spear again, fingers slick with blood, and pointed it at the three remaining Voidbringers, who regarded him with stunned expressions.\n\n\"Bridge Four, you bastards,\" Moash growled.\n\nTwo of the Voidbringers turned toward the third, the other woman, who looked Moash up and down.\n\n\"You can probably kill me,\" Moash said, wiping a hand on his clothes to improve his grip. \"But I'll take one of you with me. At least one.\"\n\nThey didn't seem angry that he'd killed their friend. Storms though, did things like these even have emotions? Shen had often just sat around staring. He locked eyes with the woman at the center. Her skin was white and red, not a bit of black in it. The paleness of that white reminded him of the Shin, who always looked sickly to Moash.\n\n\"You,\" she said in accented Alethi, \"have passion.\"\n\nOne of the others handed her Graves's Shardblade. She held it up, inspecting it by the firelight. Then she rose into the air. \"You may choose,\" she said to him. \"Die here, or accept defeat and give up your weapons.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Moash clung to the spear in the shadow of that figure, her clothing rippling in the air. Did they think he'd actually trust them?\n\nBut then... did he really think he could stand against three of them?\n\nWith a shrug, he tossed aside the spear. He summoned his Blade. After all those years dreaming of one of these, he'd finally received one. Kaladin had given it to him. And what good had come of it? He obviously couldn't be trusted with such a weapon.\n\nSetting his jaw, Moash pressed his hand to the gemstone, and willed the bond to break. The gemstone at its pommel flashed, and he felt an icy coolness wash through him. Back to being a darkeyes.\n\nHe tossed the Blade to the ground. One of the Voidbringers took it. Another flew off, and Moash was confused as to what was happening. A short time later, that one returned with six more. Three attached ropes to the Shardplate bundles, then flew off, hauling the heavy armor into the air after them. Why not Lash it?\n\nMoash thought fora moment they were actually going to leave him there, but finally two others grabbed him-one arm each-and hauled him into the air." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Veil lounged in a tavern tent with her men. Her boots upon a table, chair tipped back, she listened to the life bubbling around her. People drinking and chatting, others strolling the path outside, shouting and joking. She enjoyed the warm, enveloping buzz of fellow humans who had turned this tomb of rock into something alive again.\n\nIt still daunted her to contemplate the size of the tower. How had anyone built a place this big? It could gobble upmost cities Veil had seen without having to loosen its belt.\n\nWell, best not to think about that. You needed to sneak low, beneath all the questions that distracted scribes and scholars. That was the only way to get anything useful done.\n\nInstead she focused on the people. Their voices blended together, and collectively they became a faceless crowd. But the grand thing about people was that you could also choose to focus on particular faces, really see them, and find a wealth of stories. So many people with so many lives, each a separate little mystery. Infinite detail, like Pattern. Look close at his fractal lines, and you'd realize each little ridge had an entire architecture of its own. Look close at a given person, and you'd see their uniqueness-see that they didn't quite match whatever broad category you'd first put them in.\n\n\"So...\" Red said, talking to Ishnah. Veil had brought three of her men today, with the spy woman to train them. So Veil could listen, learn, and try to judge if this woman was trustworthy-or if she was some kind of plant.\n\n\"This is great,\" Red continued, \"but when do we learn the stuff with the knives? Not that I'm eager to kill anyone. Just... you know...\"\n\n\"I know what?\" Ishnah asked." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Knives are deevy,\" Red said.\n\n\"Deevy?\" Veil asked, opening her eyes.\n\nRed nodded. \"Deevy. You know. Incredible, or neat, but in a smooooth way.\"\n\n\"Everyone knows that knives are deevy,\" Gaz added.\n\nIshnah rolled her eyes. The short woman wore her havah with hand covered, and her dress had alight touch of embroidery. Her poise and dress indicated she was a darkeyed woman of relatively high social standing.\n\nVeil drew more attention, and not just because of her white jacket and hat. It was the attention of men assessing whether they wanted to approach her, which they didn't do with Ishnah. The way she carried herself, the prim havah, kept them back.\n\nVeil sipped her drink, enjoying the wine.\n\n\"You've heard lurid stories, I'm sure,\" Ishnah said. \"But espionage is not about knives in alleys. I'd barely know what to do with myself if I had to stab someone.\"\n\nThe three men deflated.\n\n\"Espionage,\" Ishnah continued, \"is about the careful gathering of information. Your task is to observe, but to not be observed. You must be likable enough that people talk to you, but not so interesting that they remember you.\"\n\n\"Well, Gaz is out,\" Red said.\n\n\"Yeah,\" Gaz said, \"it's a curse to be so storming interesting.\"\n\n\"Would you two shut up?\" Vathah said. The lanky soldier had leaned in, cup of cheap wine left untouched. \"How?\" he asked. \"I'm tall. Gaz has one eye. We'll be remembered.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"You need to learn to channel attention toward superficial traits you can change, and away from traits you cannot." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Red, if you wore an eye patch, that detail would stick in their minds. Vathah, I can teach you how to slouch so your height isn't noticeable-and if you add an unusual accent, people will describe you by that. Gaz, I could put you in a tavern and have you lie on the table in a feigned drunken stupor. Nobody will notice the eye patch; they'll ignore you as a drunkard.\n\n\"That is beside the point. We must begin with observation. If you are to be useful, you need to be able to make quick assessments of a location, memorize details, and be able to report back. Now, close your eyes.\"\n\nThey reluctantly did so, Veil joining them.\n\n\"Now,\" Ishnah said. \"Can any of you describe the tavern's occupants? Without looking, mind you.\"\n\n\"Uh...\" Gaz scratched at his eye patch. \"There's acute one at the bar. She might be Thaylen.\"\n\n\"What color is her blouse?\"\n\n\"Hm. Well, it's low cut, and she's grown some nice rockbuds... uh...\"\n\n\"There's this really ugly guy with an eye patch,\" Red said. \"Short, annoying type. Drinks your wine when you aren't looking.\"\n\n\"Vathah?\" Ishnah asked. \"What about you?\"\n\n\"I think there were some guys at the bar,\" he said. \"They were in... Sebarial uniforms? And maybe half the tables were occupied. I couldn't say by who.\"\n\n\"Better,\" Ishnah said. \"I didn't expect you to be able to do this. It's human nature to ignore these things. I'll train you though, so that-\"\n\n\"Wait,\" Vathah said. \"What about Veil? What does she remember?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Three men at the bar,\" Veil said absently. \" Older man with whitening hair, and two soldiers, probably related, judging by those hooked noses. The younger one is drinking wine; the older one is trying to pickup the woman Gaz noticed. She's not Thaylen, but she's wearing Thaylen dress with a deep violet blouse and a forest-green skirt. I don't like the pairing, but she seems to. She's confident, used to playing with the attention of men. But I think she came here looking for someone, because she's ignoring the soldier and keeps glancing over her shoulder.\n\n\"The barkeep is an older man, short enough that he stands on boxes when he fills orders. I bet he hasn't been a barkeep long. He hesitates when someone orders, and he has to glance over the bottles, reading their glyphs before he finds the right one. There are three barmaids-one is on break-and fourteen customers other than us.\" She opened her eyes. \"I can tell you about them.\"\n\n\"Won't be necessary,\" Ishnah said as Red clapped softly. \"Very impressive, Veil, though I should note that there are fifteen other customers, not fourteen.\"\n\nVeil started, then glanced around the tent room again, counting-as she'd done in her head just a moment ago. Three at that table... four over there... two women standing together by the door...\n\nAnd a woman she'd missed, nestled into a chair by a small table at the back of the tent. She wore simple clothing, a skirt and blouse of Alethi peasant design. Had she intentionally chosen clothing that blended in with the white of the tent and brown of the tables? And what was she doing there?\n\nTaking notes, Veil thought with a spike of alarm. The woman had carefully hidden a little notebook in her lap. \"Who is she?\" Veil hunkered down. \"Why is she watching us?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Not us specifically,\" Ishnah said. \"There will be dozens like her in the market, moving like rats, gathering what information they can. She might be independent, selling tidbits she finds, but likely she's employed by one of the highprinces. That's the job I used to do. I'd guess from the people she's watching that she's been told to gather a report on the mood of the troops.\"\n\nVeil nodded and listened intently as Ishnah started training the men in memory tricks. She suggested they should learn glyphs, and use some ploy-like making marks on their hands-to help them keep track of information. Veil had heard of some of these tricks, including the one Ishnah talked about, the so-called mind museum.\n\nMost interesting were Ishnah's tips on how to tell what was relevant to report, and how to find it. She talked about listening for the names of highprinces and for common words used as stand-ins for more important matters, and about how to listen for someone who had just the right amount of drink in them to say things they shouldn't. Tone, she said, was key. You could sit five feet from someone sharing important secrets, but miss it because you were focused on the argument at the next table over.\n\nThe state she described was almost meditative-sitting and letting your ears take in everything, your mind latching onto only certain conversations. Veil found it fascinating. But after about an hour of training, Gaz complained that his head felt like he'd had four bottles already. Red was nodding, and the way his eyes were crossed made him seem completely overwhelmed.\n\nVathah though... he'd closed his eyes and was reeling off descriptions of everyone in the room to Ishnah. Veil grinned. For as long as she'd known the man, he'd gone about each of his duties as if he had a boulder tied to his back. Slow to move, quick to find a place to sit down and rest. Seeing this enthusiasm from him was encouraging." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "In fact, Veil was so engaged, she completely missed how much time had passed. When she heard the market bells she cursed softly. \"I'm a storming fool.\"\n\n\"Veil?\" Vathah asked.\n\n\"I've got to get going,\" she said. \"Shallan has an appointment.\" Who would have thought that bearing an ancient, divine mantle of power and honor would involve so many meetings?\n\n\"And she can't make it without you?\" Vathah said.\n\n\"Storms, have you watched that girl? She'd forget her feet if they weren't stuck on. Keep practicing! I'll meetup with you later.\" She pulled on her hat and went dashing through the Breakaway.\n\nA short time later, Shallan Davar-now safely tucked back into a blue havah-strolled through the hallway beneath Urithiru. She was pleased with the work that Veil was doing with the men, but storms, did she have to drink so much? Shallan burned off practically an entire barrel's worth of alcohol to clear her head.\n\nShe took a deep breath, then stepped into the former library room. Here she found not only Navani, Jasnah, and Teshav, but a host of ardents and scribes. May Aladar, Adrotagia from Kharbranth... there were even three stormwardens, the odd men with the long beards who liked to predict the weather. Shallan had heard that they would occasionally use the blowing of the winds to foretell the future, but they never offered such services openly.\n\nBeing near them made Shallan wish fora glyphward. Veil didn't keep any handy, unfortunately. She was basically a heretic, and thought about religion as often as she did seasilk prices in Rall Elorim. At least Jasnah had the backbone to pick aside and announce it; Veil would simply shrug and make some wisecrack. It-" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Mmmm...\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Pattern whispered from her skirt. \"Shallan?\"\n\nRight. She'd been just standing in the doorway, hadn't she? She walked in, unfortunately passing Janala, who was acting as Teshav's assistant. The pretty young woman stood with her nose perpetually in the air, and was the type of person whose very enunciation made Shallan's skin crawl.\n\nThe woman's arrogance was what Shallan didn't like-not, of course, that Adolin had been courting Janala soon before meeting Shallan. She had once tried to avoid Adolin's former romantic partners, but... well, that was like trying to avoid soldiers on a battlefield. They were just kind of everywhere.\n\nA dozen conversations buzzed through the room: talk about weights and measures, the proper placement of punctuation, and the atmospheric variations in the tower. Once she'd have given anything to be in a room like this. Now she was constantly late to the meetings. What had changed?\n\nI know how much a fraud I am, she thought, hugging the wall, passing a pretty young ardent discussing Azish politics with one of the stormwardens. Shallan had barely perused those books that Adolin had brought her. On her other side, Navani was talking fabrials with an engineer in a bright red havah. The woman nodded eagerly. \"Yes, but how to stabilize it, Brightness? With the sails underneath, it will want to spin over, won't it?\"\n\nShallan's proximity to Navani had offered ample opportunity to study fabrial science. Why hadn't she? As it enveloped her-the ideas, the questions, the logic-she suddenly felt she was drowning. Overwhelmed. Everyone in this room knew so much, and she felt insignificant compared to them." }, { "from": "human", "value": "I need someone who can handle this, she thought." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A scholar. Part of me can become a scholar. Not Veil, or Brightness Radiant. But someone-\n\nPattern started humming on her dress again. Shallan backed to the wall. No, this... this washer, wasn't it? Shallan had always wanted to be a scholar, hadn't she? She didn't need another persona to deal with this. Right?\n\n... Right?\n\nThe moment of anxiety passed, and she breathed out, forcing herself to steady. Eventually she pulled a pad of paper and a charcoal pencil out of her satchel, then sought out Jasnah and presented herself.\n\nJasnah cocked an eyebrow. \"Late again?\"\n\n\"Sorry.\"\n\n\"I intended to ask your help understanding some of the translations we're receiving from the Dawnchant, but we haven't time before my mother's meeting starts.\"\n\n\"Maybe I could help you-\"\n\n\"I have a few items to finish up. We can speak later.\"\n\nAn abrupt dismissal, but nothing more than Shallan had come to expect. She walked over to a chair beside the wall and sat down. \"Surely,\" she said softly, \"if Jasnah had known that I'd just confronted a deep insecurity of mine, she'd have shown some empathy. Right?\"\n\n\"Jasnah?\" Pattern asked. \"I do not think you are paying attention, Shallan. She is not very empathetic.\"\n\nShallan sighed.\n\n\"You're empathetic though!\"\n\n\"The pathetic part, at least.\" She steeled herself. \"I belong here, Pattern, don't I?\"\n\n\"Mmm. Yes, of course you do. You'll want to sketch them, right?\"\n\n\"The classic scholars didn't just draw. The Oilsworn knew mathematics-he created the study of ratios in art. Galid was an inventor, and her designs are still used in astronomy today. Sailors couldn't find longitude at sea until the arrival of her clocks. Jasnah's a historian-and more. That's what I want.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Are you sure?\"\n\n\"I think so.\" Problem was, Veil wanted to spend her days drinking and laughing with the men, practicing espionage. Radiant wanted to practice with the sword and spend time around Adolin. What did Shallan want? And did it matter?\n\nEventually Navani called the meeting to order, and people took seats. Scribes on one side of Navani, ardents from a variety of devotaries on the other-and far from Jasnah. As the stormwardens settled down farther around the ring of seats, Shallan noticed Renarin standing in the doorway. He shuffled, peeking in, but not entering. When several scholars turned toward him, he stepped backward, as if their stares were physically forcing him out.\n\n\"I...\" Renarin said. \"Father said I could come... just listen maybe.\"\n\n\"You're more than welcome, Cousin,\" Jasnah said. She nodded for Shallan to get him a stool, so she did-and didn't even protest being ordered about. She could be a scholar. She'd be the best little ward ever.\n\nHead down, Renarin rounded the ring of scholars, keeping a white-knuckled grip on a chain hung from his pocket. As soon as he sat, he started pulling the chain between the fingers of one hand, then the other.\n\nShallan did her best to take notes, and not stray into sketching people instead. Fortunately, the proceedings were more interesting than usual. Navani had most of the scholars here working on trying to understand Urithiru. Inadara reported first-she was a wizened scribe who reminded Shallan of her father's ardents-explaining that her team had been trying to ascertain the meaning of the strange shapes of the rooms and tunnels in the tower." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She went on at length, talking of defensive constructions, air filtration, and the wells. She pointed out groupings of rooms that were shaped oddly, and of the bizarre murals they'd found, depicting fanciful creatures.\n\nWhen she eventually finished, Kalami reported on her team, who were convinced that certain gold and copper metalworks they'd found embedded in walls were fabrials, but they didn't seem to do anything, even with gems attached. She passed around drawings, then moved onto explaining the efforts-failed so far-they'd taken to try to infuse the gemstone pillar. The only working fabrials were the lifts.\n\n\"I suggest,\" interrupted Elthebar, head of the stormwardens, \"that the ratio of the gears used in the lift machinery might be indicative of the nature of those who built it. It is the science of digitology, you see. You can judge much about a man by the width of his fingers.\"\n\n\"And this has to do with gears... how?\" Teshav asked.\n\n\"In every way!\" Elthebar said. \"Why, the fact that you don't know this is a clear indication that you area scribe. Your writing is pretty, Brightness. But you must give more heed to science.\"\n\nPattern buzzed softly.\n\n\"I never have liked him,\" Shallan whispered. \"He acts nice around Dalinar, but he's quite mean.\"\n\n\"So... which attribute of his are we totaling and how many people are in the sample size?\" Pattern asked.\n\n\"Do you think, maybe,\" Janala said, \"we are asking the wrong questions?\"\n\nShallan narrowed her eyes, but checked herself, suppressing her jealousy. There was no need to hate someone simply because they'd been close to Adolin." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was just that something felt... off about Janala. Like many women at court, her laughter sounded rehearsed, contained. Like they used it as a seasoning, rather than actually feeling it.\n\n\"What do you mean, child?\" Adrotagia asked Janala.\n\n\"Well, Brightness, we talk about the lifts, the strange fabrial column, the twisting hallways. We try to understand these things merely from their designs. Maybe instead we should figure out the tower's needs, and then work backward to determine how these things might have met them.\"\n\n\"Hmmm,\" Navani said. \"Well, we know that they grew crops outside. Did some of these wall fabrials provide heat?\"\n\nRenarin mumbled something.\n\nEveryone in the room looked at him. Not a few seemed surprised to hear him speak, and he shrank back.\n\n\"What was that, Renarin?\" Navani asked.\n\n\"It's not like that,\" he said softly. \"They're not fabrials. They're a fabrial.\"\n\nThe scribes and scholars shared looks. The prince... well, he often incited such reactions. Discomforted stares.\n\n\"Brightlord?\" Janala asked. \"Are you perhaps secretly an artifabrian? Studying engineering by night, reading the women's script?\"\n\nSeveral of the others chuckled. Renarin blushed deeply, lowering his eyes farther.\n\nYou'd never laugh like that at any other man of his rank, Shallan thought, feeling her cheeks grow hot. The Alethi court could be severely polite-but that didn't mean they were nice. Renarin always had been a more acceptable target than Dalinar or Adolin.\n\nShallan's anger was a strange sensation. On more than one occasion, she'd been struck by Renarin's oddness. His presence at this meeting was just another example. Was he thinking of finally joining the ardents? And he did that by simply showing up at a meeting for scribes, as if he were one of the women?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "At the same time, how dare Janala embarrass him?\n\nNavani started to say something, but Shallan cut in. \"Surely, Janala, you didn't just try to insult the son of the highprince.\"\n\n\"What? No, no of course I didn't.\"\n\n\"Good,\" Shallan said. \"Because, if you had been trying to insult him, you did a terrible job. And I've heard that you're very clever. So full of wit, and charm, and... other things.\"\n\nJanala frowned at her. \"... Is that flattery?\"\n\n\"We weren't talking of your chest, dear. We're speaking of your mind! Your wonderful, brilliant mind, so keen that it's never been sharpened! So quick, it's still running when everyone else is done! So dazzling, it's never failed to leave everyone in awe at the things you say. So... um...\"\n\nJasnah was glaring at her.\n\n\"... Hmm...\" Shallan held up her notebook. \"I took notes.\"\n\n\"Could we have a short break, Mother?\" Jasnah asked.\n\n\"An excellent suggestion,\" Navani said. \"Fifteen minutes, during which everyone should consider a list of requirements this tower would have, if it were to somehow become self-sufficient.\"\n\nShe rose, and the meeting broke up into individual conversations again.\n\n\"I see,\" Jasnah said to Shallan, \"that you still use your tongue like a bludgeon rather than a knife.\"\n\n\"Yeah.\" Shallan sighed. \"Any tips?\"\n\nJasnah eyed her.\n\n\"You heard what she said to Renarin, Brightness!\"\n\n\"And Mother was about to speak to her about it,\" Jasnah said, \"discreetly, with a judicious word. Instead, you threw a dictionary at her head.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Sorry. She gets on my nerves.\"\n\n\"Janala is a fool, just bright enough to be proud of the wits she has, but stupid enough to be unaware of how outmatched they are.\" Jasnah rubbed her temples. \"Storms. This is why I never take wards.\"\n\n\"Because they give you so much trouble.\"\n\n\"Because I'm bad at it. I have scientific evidence of that fact, and you are but the latest experiment.\" Jasnah shooed her away, rubbing her temples.\n\nShallan, feeling ashamed, walked to the side of the room, while everyone else got refreshments.\n\n\"Mmmm!\" Pattern said as Shallan leaned against the wall, notebook held closer to her chest. \"Jasnah doesn't seem angry. Why are you sad?\"\n\n\"Because I'm an idiot,\" Shallan said. \"And a fool. And... because I don't know what I want.\" Hadn't it been only a week or two ago that she'd innocently assumed she had it figured out? Whatever'it\" was?\n\n\"I can see him!\" said a voice to her side.\n\nShallan jumped and turned to find Renarin staring at her skirt and the pattern there, which blended into her embroidery. Distinct if you knew to look, but easy to miss.\n\n\"He doesn't turn invisible?\" Renarin said.\n\n\"He says he can't.\"\n\nRenarin nodded, then looked up at her. \"Thank you.\"\n\n\"For?\"\n\n\"Defending my honor. When Adolin does that, someone usually gets stabbed. Your way was pleasanter.\"\n\n\"Well, nobody should take that tone with you. They wouldn't dare do it to Adolin. And besides, you're right. This place is one big fabrial.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You feel it too? They keep talking about this device or that device, but that's wrong, isn't it? That's like taking the parts of a cart, without realizing you've got a cart in the first place.\"\n\nShallan leaned in. \"That thing that we fought, Renarin. It could stretch its tendrils all the way up to the very top of Urithiru. I felt its wrongness wherever I went. That gemstone at the center is tied to everything.\"\n\n\"Yes, this isn't only a collection of fabrials. It's many fabrials put together to make one big fabrial.\"\n\n\"But what does it do?\" Shallan asked.\n\n\"It does being a city.\" He frowned. \"Well, I mean, it bees a city.... It does what the city is....\"\n\nShallan shivered. \"And the Unmade was running it.\"\n\n\"Which let us discover this room and the fabrial column,\" Renarin said. \"We might not have accomplished that without it. Always look on the bright side.\"\n\n\"Logically,\" Shallan said, \"the bright side is the only side you can look on, because the other side is dark.\"\n\nRenarin laughed. It brought to mind how her brothers would laugh at what she said. Maybe not because it was the most hilarious thing ever spoken, but because it was good to laugh. That reminded her of what Jasnah had said, though, and Shallan found herself glancing at the woman.\n\n\"I know my cousin is intimidating,\" Renarin whispered to her. \"But you're a Radiant too, Shallan. Don't forget that. We could stand up to her if we wanted to.\"\n\n\"Do we want to?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Renarin grimaced. \"Probably not. So often, she's right, and you just end up feeling like one of the ten fools.\"\n\n\"True, but... I don't know if I can stand being ordered around like a child again. I'm starting to feel crazy. What do I do?\"\n\nRenarin shrugged. \"I've found the best way to avoid doing what Jasnah says is to not be around when she's looking for someone to give orders to.\"\n\nShallan perked up. That made a lot of sense. Dalinar would need his Radiants to go do things, right? She needed to getaway, just until she could figure things out. Go somewhere... like on that mission to Kholinar? Wouldn't they need someone who could sneak into the palace and activate the device?\n\n\"Renarin,\" she said, \"you're a genius.\"\n\nHe blushed, but smiled.\n\nNavani called the meeting together again, and they sat to continue discussing fabrials. Jasnah tapped Shallan's notebook and she did a better job of taking the minutes, practicing her shorthand. It wasn't nearly as irksome now, as she had an exit strategy. An escape route.\n\nShe was appreciating that when she noticed a tall figure striding through the door. Dalinar Kholin cast a shadow, even when he wasn't standing in front of the light. Everyone immediately hushed.\n\n\"Apologies for my tardiness.\" He glanced at his wrist, and the forearm timepiece that Navani had given him. \"Please don't stop because of me.\"\n\n\"Dalinar?\" Navani asked. \"You've never attended a meeting of scribes before.\"\n\n\"I just thought I should watch,\" Dalinar said. \"Learn what this piece of my organization is doing.\" He settled down on a stool outside the ring. He looked like a warhorse trying to perch on a stand meant fora show pony." }, { "from": "human", "value": "They started up again, everyone obviously self-conscious." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She'd have thought that Dalinar would know to stay away from meetings like this, where women and scribes...\n\nShallan cocked her head as she saw Renarin glance at his father. Dalinar responded with a raised fist.\n\nHe came so Renarin wouldn't feel awkward, Shallan realized. It can't be improper or feminine for the prince to be here if the storming Blackthorn decides to attend.\n\nShe didn't miss the way that Renarin actually raised his eyes to watch the rest of the proceedings." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Alone.\n\nThe Voidbringers carried Moash to Revolar, a city in central Alethkar. Once there, they dropped him outside the city and shoved him toward a group of lesser parshmen.\n\nHis arms ached from being carried. Why hadn't they used their powers to Lash him upward and make him lighter, as Kaladin would have?\n\nHe stretched his arms, looking around. He'd been to Revolar many times, working a regular caravan to Kholinar. Unfortunately, that didn't mean he'd seen much of the city. Every city of size had a little huddle of buildings on the outskirts for people like him: modern-day nomads who worked caravans or ran deliveries. The people of the eaves, some had called them. Men and women who hovered close enough to civilization to get out of the weather when it turned bad, but who never really belonged.\n\nFrom the looks of things, Revolar had quite the eaves culture now-too much of one. The Voidbringers seemed to have taken over the entire storming place, exiling the humans to the outskirts.\n\nThe Voidbringers left him without a word, despite having lugged him all this distance. The parshmen who took custody of him here looked like a hybrid between Parshendi warriors and the normal, docile parshmen he'd known from many a caravan run. They spoke perfect Alethi as they shoved him toward a group of humans in a little pen.\n\nMoash settled into wait. Looked like the Voidbringers had patrols scouting the area, grabbing human stragglers. Eventually, the parshmen herded him and the others toward one of the large storm bunkers outside the city-used for housing armies or multiple caravans during highstorms." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Don't make trouble,\" a parshwoman said, specifically eyeing Moash. \"Don't fight, or you'll be killed. Don't run, or you'll be beaten. You're the slaves now.\"\n\nSeveral of the humans-homesteaders, from the looks of it-started weeping. They clutched meager bundles, which parshmen searched through. Moash could read the signs of their loss in their reddened eyes and ragged possessions. The Everstorm had wiped out their farm. They'd come to the big city looking for refuge.\n\nHe had nothing on him of value, not any longer, and the parshmen let him go in before the others. He walked into the bunker, feeling a surreal sense of... abandonment? He'd spent the trip here alternately assuming he'd be executed or interrogated. Instead, they'd made a common slave of him? Even in Sadeas's army, he'd never technically been a slave. Assigned to bridge runs, yes. Sent to die. But he'd never worn the brands on his forehead. He felt at the Bridge Four tattoo under his shirt, on his left shoulder.\n\nThe vast, high-ceilinged storm bunker was shaped like a huge stone loaf. Moash ambled through it, hands stuffed in his coat pockets. Huddled groups of people regarded him with hostility, even though he was just another refugee.\n\nHe'd always been met with hostility, no matter where he storming went. A youth like him, too big and obviously too confident fora darkeyes, had been considered a threat. He'd joined the caravans to give himself something productive to do, encouraged by his grandparents. They'd been murdered for their kindly ways, and Moash... he'd spent his life putting up with looks like that." }, { "from": "human", "value": "A man on his own, a man you couldn't control, was dangerous." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He was inherently frightening, just because of who he was. And nobody would ever let him in.\n\nExcept Bridge Four.\n\nWell, Bridge Four had been a special case, and he'd failed that test. Graves had been right to tell him to cut the patch off. This was who he really was. The man everyone looked at with distrust, pulling their children tight and nodding for him to move along.\n\nHe stalked down the middle of the structure, which was so wide it needed pillars to holdup the ceiling. Those rose like trees, Soulcast right into the rock below. The edges of the building were crowded with people, but the center was kept clear and patrolled by armed parshmen. They'd setup stations with wagons as perches, where parshmen were addressing crowds. Moash went over to one.\n\n\"In case we missed any,\" the parshman shouted, \"experienced farmers should report to Bru at the front end of the chamber. He will assign you a plot of land to work. Today, we also need workers to carry water in the city, and more to clear debris from the last storm. I can take twenty of each.\"\n\nMen started calling out their willingness, and Moash frowned, leaning toward a man nearby. \"They offer us work? Aren't we slaves?\"\n\n\"Yeah,\" the man said. \"Slaves who don't eat unless they work. They let us choose what we want to do, though it's not much of a storming choice. One kind of drudgery or another.\"\n\nWith a start, Moash realized that the man had pale green eyes. Yet he still raised his hand and volunteered to carry water-something that had once been parshman work. Well, that was a sight that couldn't help but brighten a man's day. Moash shoved hands back in pockets and continued through the room, checking each of the three stations where parshmen offered jobs." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Something about these parshmen and their perfect Alethi unsettled him." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Voidbringers were what he'd expected, with their alien accents and dramatic powers. But the ordinary parshmen-many of them looked like Parshendi now, with those taller builds-seemed almost as bewildered at their reversal in fortune as the humans were.\n\nEach of the three stations dealt with a different category of labor. The one at the far end was looking for farmers, women with sewing skill, and cobblers. Food, uniforms, boots. The parshmen were preparing for war. Asking around, Moash learned they'd already grabbed the smiths, fletchers, and armorers-and if you were found hiding skill in any of these three, your whole family would be put on half rations.\n\nThe middle station was for basic labor. Hauling water, cleaning, cooking food. The last station was the most interesting to Moash. This was for hard labor.\n\nHe lingered here, listening to a parshman ask for volunteers to pull wagons of supplies with the army when it marched. Apparently, there weren't enough chulls to move wagons for what was coming.\n\nNobody raised their hands for this one. It sounded like ghastly work, not to mention the fact that it would mean marching toward battle.\n\nThey'll need to press the people into this, Moash thought. Maybe they can roundup some lighteyes and make them trudge across the rock like beasts of burden. He'd like to see that.\n\nAshe left this last station, Moash spotted a group of men with long staffs, leaning against the wall. Sturdy boots, waterskins in holsters tied to their thighs, and a walking kit sewn into the trousers on the other side. He knew from experience what that would carry. A bowl, spoon, cup, thread, needle, patches, and some flint and tinder." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Caravaneers. The long staffs were for slapping chull shells while walking beside them. He'd worn an outfit like that many times, though many of the caravans he'd worked had used parshmen to pull wagons instead of chulls. They were faster.\n\n\"Hey,\" he said, strolling over to the caravaneers. \"Is Guff still around?\"\n\n\"Guff?\" one of the caravaneers said. \"Old wheelwright? Half a reed tall? Bad at cussing?\"\n\n\"That's him.\"\n\n\"I think he's over there,\" the young man said, pointing with his staff. \"In the tents. But there ain't work, friend.\"\n\n\"The shellheads are marching,\" Moash said, thumbing over his shoulder. \"They'll need caravaneers.\"\n\n\"Positions are full,\" another of the men said. \"There was a fight to see who got those jobs. Everyone else will be pulling wagons. Don't draw too much attention, or they'll slap a harness on you. Mark my words.\"\n\nThey smiled in a friendly way to Moash, and he gave them an old caravaneers'salute-close enough to a rude gesture that everyone else mistook it-and strode in the direction they'd pointed. Typical. Caravaneers were a big family-and, like a family, prone to squabbling.\n\nThe'tents\" were really some sections of cloth that had been stretched from the wall to poles driven into buckets of rocks to keep them steady. That made a kind of tunnel along the wall here, and underneath, a lot of older people coughed and sniffled. It was dim, with only the occasional chip on an overturned box giving light.\n\nHe picked out the caravaneers by their accents. He asked after Guff-who was one of the men he'd known back in the day-and was allowed to penetrate deeper along the shadowy tent tunnel. Eventually, Moash found old Guff sitting right in the middle of the tunnel, as if to keep people from going farther. He had been sanding apiece of wood-an axle, by the looks of it." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He squinted as Moash stepped up. \"Moash?\" he said. \"Really? What storming storm brought you here?\"\n\n\"You wouldn't believe me if I told you,\" Moash said, squatting down beside the old man.\n\n\"You were on Jam's caravan,\" Guff said. \"Off to the Shattered Plains; gave you all up for dead. Wouldn't have beta dun chip on you returning.\"\n\n\"A wise enough bet,\" Moash said. He hunched forward, resting his arms on his knees. In this tunnel, the buzz of people outside seemed a distant thing, though only cloth separated them.\n\n\"Son?\" Guff asked. \"Why you here, boy? What do you want?\"\n\n\"I just need to be who I was.\"\n\n\"That makes as much sense as the storming Stormfather playing the flute, boy. But you wouldn't be the first to go off to those Plains and comeback not all right. No you wouldn't. That's the Stormfather's storming own truth, that storming is.\"\n\n\"They tried to break me. Damnation, they did break me. But then he made me again, anew man.\" Moash paused. \"I threw it all away.\"\n\n\"Sure, sure,\" Guff said.\n\n\"I always do that,\" Moash whispered. \"Why must we always take something precious, Guff, and find ourselves hating it? As if by being pure, it reminds us of just how little we deserve it. I held the spear, and I stabbed myself with it....\"\n\n\"The spear?\" Guff asked. \"Boy, you a storming soldier?\"\n\nMoash looked at him with a start, then stood up, stretching, showing his patchless uniform coat." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Guff squinted in the darkness. \"Come with me.\" The old wheelwright rose-with difficulty-and set his piece of wood on his chair. He led Moash with a rickety gait farther into the cloth tunnel, and they entered a portion of the tented area that was more roomlike, the far corner of the large bunker. Here, a group of maybe a dozen people satin furtive conversation, chairs pulled together.\n\nA man at the door grabbed Guff by the arm as he shuffled in. \"Guff? You're supposed to be on guard, fool man.\"\n\n\"I'm storming on storming guard, you pisser,\" Guff said, shaking his arm free. \"The bright wanted to know if we found any soldiers. Well I found a storming soldier, so storm off.\"\n\nThe guard turned his attention to Moash, then flicked his eyes to Moash's shoulder. \"Deserter?\"\n\nMoash nodded. It was true in more ways than one.\n\n\"What's this?\" One of the men stood up, a tall fellow. Something about his silhouette, that bald head, that cut of clothing...\n\n\"Deserter, Brightlord,\" the guard said.\n\n\"From the Shattered Plains,\" Guff added.\n\nThe highlord, Moash realized. Paladar. Vamah's kinsman and regent, a notoriously harsh man. In years past, he had nearly run the city to the ground, driving away many darkeyes who had the right of travel. Not a caravan had passed when someone hadn't complained about Paladar's greed and corruption.\n\n\"From the Shattered Plains, you say?\" Paladar said. \"Excellent. Tell me, deserter, what news is therefrom the highprinces? Do they know of my plight here? Can I expect aid soon?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They put him in charge, Moash thought, spotting other lighteyes. They wore fine clothing-not silks of course, but well-trimmed uniforms. Exceptional boots. There was food aplenty set out at the side of this chamber, while those outside scrounged and did heavy labor.\n\nHe'd begun to hope... But of course that had been stupid. The arrival of the Voidbringers hadn't cast the lighteyes down; the few Moash had seen outside were merely the sacrifices. The fawning darkeyes at the periphery confirmed this. Soldiers, guards, some favored merchants.\n\nTo Damnation with them! They'd been given a chance to escape from the lighteyes, and it had only made them more eager to be servants! In that moment-surrounded by the pettiness that was his own kind-Moash had a revelation.\n\nHe wasn't broken. All of them were broken. Alethi society-lighteyed and dark. Maybe all of humankind.\n\n\"Well?\" the regent demanded. \"Speak up, man!\"\n\nMoash remained silent, overwhelmed. He wasn't the exception, always ruining what he was given. Men like Kaladin were the exception-the very, very rare exception.\n\nThese people proved it. There was no reason to obey lighteyes. They had no power, no authority. Men had taken opportunity and cast it to the crem.\n\n\"I... I think there's something wrong with him, Brightlord,\" the guard said.\n\n\"Yeah,\" Guff added. \"Should maybe have mentioned, he's storming strange in the head now, storming pisser.\"\n\n\"Bah!\" the regent said, pointing at Moash. \"Have that one thrown out. We haven't time for foolishness if we are to restore my place!\" He pointed at Guff. \"Have that one beaten, and post a competent guard next time, Ked, or you'll be next!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Old Guff cried out as they seized him. Moash just nodded. Yes. Of course. That was what they would do.\n\nThe guards took him under the arms and dragged him to the side of the tent. They parted the cloth and hauled him out. They passed a frazzled woman trying to divide a single piece of flatbread between three young, crying children. You could probably hear their weeping from the brightlord's tent, where he had a stack of bread piled high.\n\nThe guards threw him back out into the'street\" that ran down the middle of the large bunker. They told him to stay away, but Moash barely heard. He picked himself up, dusted himself off, then walked to the third of the workstations-the one seeking hard laborers.\n\nThere, he volunteered for the most difficult job they had, pulling wagons of supplies for the Voidbringer army." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Skar the bridgeman ran up one of the ramps outside Urithiru, breath puffing in the cold air as he silently counted his steps to maintain focus. The air was thinner up here at Urithiru, and that made running harder, though he really only noticed it outside.\n\nHe wore full marching pack and gear: rations, equipment, helmet, jerkin, and a shield tied to the back. He carried his spear, and even had some greaves stuck to his legs, held in place by the shape of the metal. All of that weighed almost as much as he did.\n\nHe finally hit the top of the Oathgate platform. Storms, but the center building looked farther away than he remembered. He tried to pickup his pace anyway, and jogged for all he was worth, the pack clinking. Finally-sweating, breath growing ragged-he reached the control building and dashed inside. He finally pulled to a stop, dropping his spear and resting his hands on his knees, gasping for breath.\n\nMost of Bridge Four waited here, some glowing with Stormlight. Of them all, Skar was the only one who-despite two weeks of practice-still hadn't figured out how to draw it in. Well, except for Dabbid and Rlain.\n\nSigzil checked the clock they'd been allocated by Navani Kholin, a device the size of a small box. \"That was about ten minutes,\" he said. \"Just under.\"\n\nSkar nodded, wiping his brow. He'd run over a mile from the center of the market, then crossed the plateau and charged the ramp. Storms. He'd pushed himself too hard.\n\n\"How long,\" he said, gasping, \"how long did it take Drehy?\" The two had set out together." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sigzil glanced at the tall, muscled bridgeman who still glowed with residual Stormlight. \"Under six minutes.\"\n\nSkar groaned, sitting down.\n\n\"The baseline is equally important, Skar,\" Sigzil said, marking glyphs in his notebook. \"We need to know a normal man's abilities to make comparisons. Don't worry though. I'm sure you'll figure out Stormlight soon.\"\n\nSkar flopped backward, looking up. Lopen was walking around on the ceiling of the room. Storming Herdazian.\n\n\"Drehy, you used a quarter of a Basic Lashing, by Kaladin's terminology?\" Sigzil continued, still making notes.\n\n\"Yeah,\" Drehy said. \"I... I know the precise amount, Sig. Strange.\"\n\n\"Which made you half as heavy as usual, when we put you on the scale back in the rooms. But why does a quarter Lashing make you half as heavy? Shouldn't it make you twenty-five percent as heavy?\"\n\n\"Does it matter?\" Drehy asked.\n\nSigzil looked at him as if he were crazy. \"Of course it does!\"\n\n\"I want to try a Lashing at an angle next,\" Drehy said. \"See if I can make it feel like I'm running downhill, no matter which direction I go. Might not need it. Holding Stormlight... it made me feel like I could run forever.\"\n\n\"Well, it's anew record...\" Sigzil mumbled, still writing. \"You beat Lopen's time.\"\n\n\"Did he beat mine?\" Leyten called from the side of the small room where he was inspecting the tiling on the floor.\n\n\"You stopped for food on the way, Leyten,\" Sigzil said. \"Even Rock beat your time, and he was skipping like a girl the last third.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Was Horneater dance of victory,\" Rock said from near Leyten. \"Is very manly.\"\n\n\"Manly or not, it threw off my test,\" Sigzil said. \"At least Skar is willing to pay attention to proper procedure.\"\n\nSkar remained lying on the ground as the others chatted-Kaladin was supposed to come and transport them to the Shattered Plains, and Sigzil had decided to run some tests. Kaladin, as usual, was late.\n\nTeft sat down next to Skar, inspecting him with dark green eyes with bags underneath. Kaladin had named the two of them lieutenants, along with Rock and Sigzil, but their roles had never really settled into that ranking. Teft was the perfect definition of a platoon sergeant.\n\n\"Here,\" Teft said, handing over a chouta-meatballs wrapped in flatbread, Herdazian style. \"Leyten brought food. Eat something, lad.\"\n\nSkar forced himself to sit up. \"I'm not that much younger than you, Teft. I'm hardly a lad.\"\n\nTeft nodded to himself, chewing on his own chouta. Finally, Skar started into his. It was good, not spicy like a lot of Alethi food, but still good. Flavorful.\n\n\"Everyone keeps telling me that I'll'get it soon, \"\" Skar said. \"But what if I don't? There won't be room in the Windrunners fora lieutenant who has to walk everywhere. I'll end up cooking lunch with Rock.\"\n\n\"Ain't nothing wrong with being on the support team.\"\n\n\"Pardon, Sarge, but storm that! Do you know how long I waited to hold a spear?\" Skar picked up the weapon from beside his pack and laid it across his lap. \"I'm good at it. I can fight. Only...\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lopen left the ceiling, rotating to get his legs under him and floating gently to the floor. He laughed as Bisig in turn tried flying up to the ceiling and crashed headfirst into it. Bisig hopped to his feet, looking down at them all, embarrassed. But what did he have to be embarrassed about? He was standing on the ceiling!\n\n\"You were in the military before,\" Teft guessed.\n\n\"No, but not for lack of trying. You heard of the Blackcaps?\"\n\n\"Aladar's personal guards.\"\n\n\"Let's just say they didn't think much of my application.\"\n\nYes, we let darkeyes in. But not runts.\n\nTeft grunted, chewing on his chouta.\n\n\"Said they might reconsider if I equipped myself,\" Skar said. \"Do you know how much armor costs? I was a stupid rocksplitter with visions of battlefield glory.\"\n\nIt used to be they'd never speak about their pasts. That had changed, though Skar couldn't specify exactly when. It came out, as part of the catharsis of having become something greater.\n\nTeft was an addict. Drehy had struck an officer. Eth had been caught planning to desert with his brother. Even simple Hobber had been part of a drunken brawl. Knowing Hobber, he'd probably only gone along with what his squad was doing, but a man had ended up dead.\n\n\"You'd think,\" Teft said, \"that our high and mighty leader would have gotten hereby now. I swear, Kaladin acts more like a lighteyes everyday.\"\n\n\"Don't let him hear you say that,\" Skar said.\n\n\"I'll say what I want,\" Teft snapped. \"If that boy's not going to come, maybe I should be going. I have things to do.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Skar hesitated, glancing up at Teft.\n\n\"Not that,\" Teft growled. \"I've barely touched the stuff in days. You'd think a man had never had a wild night out, the way you're all treating me.\"\n\n\"Didn't say a thing, Teft.\"\n\n\"Knowing what we've suffered, it's insane to think that we wouldn't need something to get us through the day. The moss isn't the problem. It's the storming world going all crazy. That's the problem.\"\n\n\"Sure is, Teft.\"\n\nTeft eyed him, then studied his chouta roll intently. \"So... how long have the men known? I mean, did anyone...\"\n\n\"Not long,\" Skar said quickly. \"Nobody's even thinking about it.\"\n\nTeft nodded, and didn't see through the lie. Truth was, most of them had noticed Teft sneaking off to grind a little moss now and then. It wasn't uncommon in the army. But doing what he'd done-missing duty, selling his uniform, ending up in an alley-that was different. It was the sort of thing that could get you discharged, at best. At worst... well, it might get you assigned to bridge duty.\n\nTrouble was, they weren't common soldiers anymore. They weren't lighteyes either. They were something strange, something that nobody understood.\n\n\"I don't want to talk about this,\" Teft said. \"Look, weren't we discussing how to get you to glow? That's the problem at hand.\"\n\nBefore he could press further, Kaladin Stormblessed finally deigned to arrive, bringing with him the scouts and hopefuls from other bridge crews who had been trying to draw in Stormlight. So far, nobody except men from Bridge Four had managed it, but that included a few that had never actually run bridges: Huio and Punio-Lopen's cousins-and men like Koen from the old Cobalt Guard, who had been recruited into Bridge Four a couple months back. So there was still hope that others could manage it." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Kaladin had brought roughly thirty people beyond those who had already been training with the team. Judging by their uniform patches, this thirty had come from other divisions-and some were lighteyed. Kaladin had mentioned asking General Khal to roundup the most promising potential recruits from throughout the Alethi army.\n\n\"All here?\" Kaladin said. \"Good.\" He strode to the side of the single-roomed control building, a sack of glowing gemstones slung over his shoulder. His magnificent Shardblade appeared in his hand, and he slid it into the keyhole in the chamber wall.\n\nKaladin engaged the ancient mechanism, pushing the sword-and the entire inner wall, which could rotate-toward a specific point marked by murals. The floor began to glow, and outside, Stormlight rose in a swirl around the entire stone plateau.\n\nKaladin locked the Blade into place at the mark on the floor designating the Shattered Plains. When the glow faded, they'd come to Narak.\n\nSigzil left his pack and armor leaning against the wall, and strode out. Best they could determine, the entire stone top of the platform had come with them, swapping places with the one that had been out here.\n\nAt the platform edge, a group of people climbed across a ramp to meet them. A short Alethi woman named Ristina counted out the bridgemen and soldiers as they passed, marking on her ledger.\n\n\"Took you long enough, Brightlord,\" she noted to Kaladin-whose eyes glowed faintly blue. \"The merchants were beginning to complain.\"\n\nIt took Stormlight to power the device-some of the gemstones in Kaladin's sack would have been drained by the process-but curiously, it didn't take much more to swap two groups than it did to travel one way. So they tried to run the Oathgates when they had people on both sides wanting to exchange places." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Tell the merchants when they next come through,\" Kaladin said, \"that the Knights Radiant are not their doormen. They'll want to accustom themselves to waiting, unless they find away to swear the oaths themselves.\"\n\nRistina smirked and wrote it down, as if she were going to pass on that exact message. Skar smiled at that. Nice to see ascribe with a sense of humor.\n\nKaladin led the way through the city of Narak, once a Parshendi stronghold, now an increasingly important human waystop between the warcamps and Urithiru. The buildings here were surprisingly sturdy: well constructed of crem and carved greatshell carapace. Skar had always assumed the Parshendi to be like the nomads who roved between Azir and Jah Keved. He imagined Parshendi who were wild and ferocious, without civilization, hiding in caves for storms.\n\nYet here was a well-built, carefully laid-out city. They'd found a building full of artwork of a style that baffled the Alethi scribes. Parshman art. They'd been painting even while they fought a war. Just like... well, just like ordinary people.\n\nHe glanced at Shen-no, Rlain, it was hard to remember-walking with spear to his shoulder. Skar forgot he was there most of the time, and that made him ashamed. Rlain was as much a member of Bridge Four as anyone else, right? Would he rather have been painting than fighting?\n\nThey passed sentry posts full of Dalinar's soldiers, along with many in red and light blue. Ruthar's colors. Dalinar was putting some of the other soldiers to work, trying to prevent more dustups between soldiers from different princedoms. Without the fighting on the Shattered Plains to keep them focused, the men were getting restless." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They passed a large group of soldiers practicing with bridges on a nearby plateau. Skar couldn't hold back a grin as he saw their black uniforms and helms. Plateau runs had been started again, but with more structure, and the spoils were shared equally among the highprinces.\n\nToday, it was the Blackcaps'turn. Skar wondered if any of them would recognize him. Probably not, even if he had caused quite a ruckus among them. There had been only one logical way to get the equipment he needed for his application: He'd stolen it from the Blackcap quartermaster.\n\nSkar had thought they would praise his ingenuity. He was so eager to be a Blackcap that he'd go to great lengths to join them, right?\n\nWrong. His reward had been a slave brand and eventual sale to Sadeas's army.\n\nHe brushed his fingers across the scars on his forehead. Stormlight had healed the brands of the other men-they'd covered them all up with tattoos anyway-but it seemed another little dig, dividing him from the others. Right now, he was the only fighting man in Bridge Four who still had his slave brand.\n\nWell, him and Kaladin, whose scars wouldn't heal for some reason.\n\nThey reached the training plateau, crossing the old Bridge Four, which was held in place with some Soulcast rock guideposts. Kaladin called a meeting of the officers as several of Rock's children setup a water station. The tall Horneater seemed beyond enthused to have his family working with him.\n\nSkar joined Kaladin, Sigzil, Teft, and Rock. Though they stood close, there was a conspicuous gap where Moash should have been. It felt so wrong to have a member of Bridge Four completely unaccounted for, and Kaladin's silence on the topic hungover them like an executioner's axe." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I'm worried,\" Kaladin said, \"that nobody practicing with us has begun breathing Stormlight.\"\n\n\"It's only been two weeks, sir,\" Sigzil said.\n\n\"True, but Syl thinks several \"feel right,\" though she won't tell me who, as she says it would be wrong.\" Kaladin gestured toward the newcomers. \"I asked Khal to send me another batch of hopefuls because I figured the more people we had, the better our chances of finding new squires.\" He paused. \"I didn't specify they couldn't be lighteyed. Perhaps I should have.\"\n\n\"Don't see why, sir,\" Skar said, pointing. \"That's Captain Colot-good man. He helped us explore.\"\n\n\"Just wouldn't feel right, having lighteyed men in Bridge Four.\"\n\n\"Other than you?\" Skar asked. \"And Renarin. And, well, any of us who earn our own Blades, and maybe Rock, who I think might have been lighteyed among his people, even if he has dark-\"\n\n\"Fine, Skar,\" Kaladin said. \"Point made. Anyway, we don't have a lot of time left before I leave with Elhokar. I'd like to push the recruits harder, see if they're likely to be able to swear the oaths. Any thoughts?\"\n\n\"Shove them off edge of plateau,\" Rock said. \"Those who fly, we let in.\"\n\n\"Any serious suggestions?\" Kaladin asked.\n\n\"Let me run them through some formations,\" Teft said.\n\n\"A good idea,\" Kaladin said. \"Storms, I wish we knew how the Radiants used to handle expansion. Were there recruitment drives, or did they just wait until someone attracted a spren?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"That wouldn't make them a squire though,\" Teft said, rubbing his chin. \"But a full Radiant, right?\"\n\n\"A valid point,\" Sigzil said. \"We have no proof that we squires area step toward becoming full Radiants. We might always be your support team-and in that case, it's not individual skill that matters, but your decision. Maybe that of your spren. You choose them, they serve under you, and then they start drawing in Stormlight.\"\n\n\"Yeah,\" Skar said, uncomfortable.\n\nThey all glanced at him.\n\n\"The first of you that says something placating,\" Skar said, \"gets a fist in the face. Or the stomach, if I can't reach your storming stupid Horneater face.\"\n\n\"Ha!\" Rock said. \"You could hit my face, Skar. I have seen you jump very high. Almost, you seem as tall as regular person when you do that.\"\n\n\"Teft,\" Kaladin said, \"go ahead and run those potential recruits through formations. And tell the rest of the men to watch the sky; I'm worried about more raids on the caravans.\" He shook his head. \"Something about those raids doesn't add up. The warcamps'parshmen, by all reports, have marched to Alethkar. But why would those Fused keep harrying us? They won't have the troops to take advantage of any supply problems they cause.\"\n\nSkar shared a glance with Sigzil, who shrugged. Kaladin talked like this sometimes, differently from the rest of them. He'd trained them in formations and the spear, and they could proudly call themselves soldiers. But they'd only actually fought a few times. What did they know of things like strategy and battlefield tactics?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They broke, Teft jogging off to drill the potential recruits. Kaladin set Bridge Four to studying their flying. They practiced landings, and then did sprints in the air, zipping back and forth information, getting used to changing directions quickly. It was a little distracting, seeing those glowing lines of light shoot through the sky.\n\nSkar attended Kaladin as he observed the recruits doing formations. The lighteyes didn't voice a single complaint about being filed into ranks with darkeyes. Kaladin and Teft... well, all of them really... had a tendency to act as if every lighteyed man was in someway regal. But there were far, far more of them who did normal jobs-though granted, they got paid better for those jobs than a darkeyed man did.\n\nKaladin watched, then glanced at the Bridge Four men in the sky. \"I wonder, Skar,\" he said. \"How important are formations going to be for us, going forward? Can we devise new ones to use in flying? Everything changes when your enemy can attack from all sides....\"\n\nAfter about an hour, Skar went for water, and enjoyed some good-natured ribbing from the others, who landed to grab something to drink. He didn't mind. What you had to watch out for was when Bridge Four didn't torment you.\n\nThe others took off a short time later, and Skar watched them go, launching into the sky. He took along draught of Rock's current refreshment-he called it tea, but it tasted like boiled grain-and found himself feeling useless. Were these people, these new recruits, going to start glowing and take his place in Bridge Four? Would he be shuffled off to other duties, while someone else laughed with the crew and got ribbed for their height?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Storm it, he thought, tossing aside his cup. I hate feeling sorry for myself. He hadn't sulked when the Blackcaps had turned him down, and he wouldn't sulk now.\n\nHe was fishing in his pocket for gemstones, determined to practice some more, when he spotted Lyn sitting on a rock nearby, watching the recruits run formations. She was slouching, and he read frustration in her posture. Well, he knew that feeling.\n\nSkar shouldered his spear and sauntered over. The four other scout women had gone to the water station; Rock let out a bellowing laugh at what one of them said.\n\n\"Not joining in?\" Skar asked, nodding toward the new recruits marching past.\n\n\"I don't know formations, Skar. I've never done drills-never even held a storming spear. Iran messages and scouted the Plains.\" She sighed. \"I didn't pick it up fast enough, did I? He's gone and gotten some new people to test, since I failed.\"\n\n\"Don't be stupid,\" Skar said, sitting beside heron the large rock. \"You're not being forced out. Kaladin just wants to have as many potential recruits as possible.\"\n\nShe shook her head. \"Everyone knows that we're in anew world now-a world where rank and eye color don't matter. Something glorious.\" She looked up at the sky, and the men training there. \"I want to be part of it, Skar. So badly.\"\n\n\"Yeah.\"\n\nShe looked at him, and probably saw it in his eyes. That same emotion. \"Storms. I hadn't even thought, Skar. Must be worse for you.\"\n\nHe shrugged and reached into his pouch, taking out an emerald as big as his thumb. It shone fiercely, even in the bright daylight. \"You ever hear about the first time Captain Stormblessed drew in Light?\"" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Move the story forward in your role as narrative aide.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, knights radiant\nAuthor: Brandon Sanderson\nTitle: Oathbringer\nChapter: 62" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "-From drawer 16-16, amethyst\n\nVeil enjoyed being in a proper city again, even if it was half feral.\n\nMost cities lived on the very edge of civilization. Everyone talked about towns and villages out in the middle of nowhere as if they were uncivilized, but she'd found people in those places pleasant, even-tempered, and comfortable with their quieter way of life.\n\nNot in cities. Cities balanced on the edge of sustainability, always one step from starvation. When you pressed so many people together, their cultures, ideas, and stenches rubbed off on one another. The result wasn't civilization. It was contained chaos, pressurized, bottled up so it couldn't escape.\n\nThere was a tension to cities. You could breathe it, feel it in every step. Veil loved it.\n\nOnce a few streets from the tailor's shop, she pulled down the brim of her hat and held up a page from her sketchbook as if consulting a map. This covered her as she breathed out Stormlight, transforming her features and hair to match those of Veil, instead of Shallan.\n\nNo spren came, screaming to warn of what she'd done. So Lightweaving was different from using fabrials. She'd been fairly certain it was safe, as they'd worn disguises into the city, but she'd wanted to be away from the tailor's shop in case.\n\nVeil strolled down the thoroughfare, long coat rippling around her calves. She decided immediately that she liked Kholinar. She liked how the city rolled across its hills, a lumpy blanket of buildings. She liked how it smelled of Horneater spices in one gust of wind, then of Alethi steamed crabs in the next. Admittedly, those probably weren't proper crabs today, but cremlings." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "That part she didn't like. These poor people. Even in this more affluent area, she could barely walk a quarter block without having to weave around huddles of people. The midblock courtyards were clogged with what had probably been normal villagers not long ago, but who were now impoverished wretches.\n\nThere wasn't much wheeled traffic on the streets. Some palanquins ringed by guards. No carriages. Life, however, did not stop fora war-or even fora second Aharietiam. There was water to draw, clothes to clean. Women's work mostly, as she could see from the large groups of men standing around. With no one really in charge in the city, who would pay men to work forges? To clean streets or chip crem? Even worse, in a city this size, much of the menial labor would have been done by parshmen. Nobody would be eager to leap into take their place.\n\nThe bridgeboy is right though, Veil thought, loitering at an intersection. The city is still being fed. A place like Kholinar could consume itself quickly, once the food or water ran out.\n\nNo, cities were not civilized places. No more than a whitespine was domesticated just because it had a collar around its neck.\n\nA small group of cultists dressed as rotspren limped down the street, the wet red paint on their clothing evocative of blood. Shallan considered these people extreme and alarming, probably crazy, but Veil wasn't convinced. They were too theatrical-and there were too many of them-for all to be truly deranged. This was a fad. Away of dealing with unexpected events and giving some shape to lives that had been turned upside down.\n\nThat didn't mean they weren't dangerous. A group of people all trying to impress one another was always more dangerous than the lone psychopath. So she gave the cultists a wide berth." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Over the next hour, Veil surveyed the city while wending her way in the general direction of the palace. The area with the tailor's shop was the most normal. It had a good functioning market, which she intended to investigate further when not pressed for time. It had parks, and though these had been appropriated by the crowds, the people in them were lively. Family groups-even communities transplanted from outer villages-doing the best they could.\n\nShe passed bunkerlike mansions of the wealthy. Several had been ransacked: gates broken down, window shutters cracked, grounds draped with blankets or shanties. Some lighteyed families, it seemed, hadn't maintained enough guards to withstand the riots.\n\nAnytime Veil's path took her closer to the city walls, she entered sections of the city that were the most cramped, and the most despondent. Refugees just sitting on the streets. Vacant eyes, ragged clothing. People without homes or community.\n\nThe closer she drew to the palace though, the emptier the city became. Even the unfortunates who populated the streets near the walls-where the Voidbringers were raiding-knew to stay away from this area.\n\nThat made the homes of the wealthy herein the palace district seem... out of place. In normal times, living close to the palace would have been a privilege, and every large compound here had private walls that sheltered delicate gardens and ostentatious windows. But now, Veil felt the wrongness of the area as a prickling sensation on her skin. The families living here must have felt it, but they stubbornly remained in their mansions.\n\nShe peeked through the iron gate of one such mansion, and found soldiers on sentry duty: men in dark uniforms whose colors and heraldry she couldn't discern. In fact, when one glanced at her, she couldn't make out his eyes. It was probably just a trick of the light, but... storms. The soldiers had a wrongness about them; they moved oddly, rushing in bursts, like prowling predators. They didn't stop to talk to each other as they passed." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She backed away and continued down the street. The palace was right ahead. Straight on in front of it were the wide steps where she'd meet Kaladin, but she had sometime left. She slipped into a park nearby, the first she'd seen in the city that wasn't clogged with refugees. Towering stumpweight trees-bred overtime for height and spread of leaves-gave a shadowed canopy.\n\nAway from potential prying eyes, she used Stormlight to overlay Veil's features and clothing with those of Lyn. A stronger, more sturdy build, a blue scout's uniform. The hat became a black rain hat, of the type often worn during the Weeping.\n\nShe left the parkas Veil playing apart. She tried to keep this distinction sharp in her mind. She was still Veil. Merely in disguise.\n\nNow, to see what she could find out about the Oathgate. The palace was built on arise overlooking the city, and she slipped through the streets to its eastern side, where she indeed found the Oathgate platform. It was covered in buildings, and was as high as the palace-maybe twenty feet up. It connected to the main palace by a covered walkway that rested atop a small wall.\n\nThey built that walkway right over the ramp, she thought with displeasure. The only other paths up onto the platform were sets of steps cut into the rock, and those were guarded by people in spren costumes.\n\nVeil watched from a safe distance. So the cult was involved in this somehow? Above on the platform, smoke trailed from a large fire, and Veil could hear sounds rising from that direction. Were those... screams?\n\nThe whole place was unnerving, and she shivered, then retreated. She found Kaladin leaning against the base of a statue in a square before the palace steps. Soulcast out of bronze, the statue depicted a figure in Shardplate rising as if from waves." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Hey,\" she said softly. \"It's me. Do you like the boots on this outfit?\" She raised her foot.\n\n\"Do we have to keep bringing that up?\"\n\n\"I was giving you a passcode, bridgeboy,\" she said. \"To prove I'm who I say I am.\"\n\n\"Lyn's face made that clear,\" he said, handing her the king's letter, inside a sealed envelope.\n\nI like him, Veil thought. An... odd thought, in how much stronger that feeling was to Veil than it had been to Shallan. I like that brooding sense he has about him, those dangerous eyes.\n\nWhy did Shallan focus so much on Adolin? He was nice, but also bland. You couldn't tease him without feeling bad, but Kaladin, he glared at you in the most satisfying of ways.\n\nThe part of her that was still Shallan, deep down, was bothered by this line of thinking. So instead, Veil turned her attention to the palace. It was a grand structure, but more like a fortress than she'd pictured. Very Alethi. The bottom floor was a massive rectangle, with the short side facing toward the storm. The upper levels were successively thinner, and a dome rose from the center of the building.\n\nFrom up close, she couldn't make out exactly where the sunlight stopped and the shadow began. Indeed, the air of darkness felt... different from how Urithiru had when the dark spren was there. She kept feeling that she wasn't seeing it all. When she'd glance away and look back, she could swear that something was different. Had that planter moved, the one running along the grand entry steps? Or... had that door always been painted blue?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She took a Memory, then looked away and back, and took another Memory. She wasn't certain what good it would do, as she'd had trouble drawing the palace earlier.\n\n\"Do you see them?\" Kaladin whispered. \"The soldiers, standing between the pillars?\"\n\nShe hadn't. The front of the palace-at the top of the long set of stairs-was set with pillars. Looking closer into the shadows, she saw men in there, gathered beneath the overhang supported by the columns. They stood like statues, their spears upright, never moving.\n\nAnticipationspren rose around Veil, and she jumped. While two of the spren looked normal-like flat streamers-the others were wrong. They waved long, thin tendrils that looked like lashes to whip a servant.\n\nShe shared a glance with Kaladin, then took a Memory of the spren.\n\n\"Shall we?\" Kaladin asked.\n\n\"I shall. You stay here.\"\n\nHe glanced at her.\n\n\"If something goes wrong, I'd rather you be ready out hereto come in and help. Best not to potentially get us both stuck in the grip of one of the Unmade. I'll shout if I need you.\"\n\n\"And if you can't shout? Or if I can't hear you?\"\n\n\"I'll send Pattern.\"\n\nKaladin folded his arms, but nodded. \"Fine. Just be careful.\"\n\n\"I'm always careful.\"\n\nHe raised an eyebrow at her, but he was thinking of Shallan. Veil wasn't as foolhardy.\n\nThe climb up those steps seemed to take far too long. Fora moment she could have sworn they stretched into the sky, toward the eternal void. And then she was atop them, standing before those pillars." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A group of guards approached her.\n\n\"I have a message from the king!\" she said, holding it up. \"To be delivered directly to Her Majesty. I've traveled all the way from the Shattered Plains!\"\n\nThe guards didn't break stride. One opened a door into the palace while the others formed up behind Veil, prodding her forward. She swallowed, sweat chilling her brow, and let them force her to that door. That maw...\n\nShe walked into a grand entryway, marked by marble and a brilliant sphere chandelier. No Unmade. No darkness waiting to consume her. She breathed out, though she could feel something. That phantom eeriness was indeed stronger here. The wrongness. She jumped when one of the soldiers put his hand on her shoulder.\n\nA man in a captainlord's knots left a small room beside the grand chamber. \"What is this?\"\n\n\"Messenger,\" a soldier said. \"From the Shattered Plains.\" Another plucked the letter from her fingers and handed it toward the captainlord. She could see their eyes now, and they seemed ordinary-darkeyed grunts, lighteyed officer.\n\n\"Who was your commander there?\" the captain asked her, looking over the letter, then squinting at the seal. \"Well? I served on the Plains fora few years.\"\n\n\"Captain Colot,\" she said, naming the officer who had joined the Windrunners. He wasn't Lyn's actual commander, but he did have scouts in his team.\n\nThe captainlord nodded, then handed the letter to one of his men. \"Take it to Queen Aesudan.\"\n\n\"I was supposed to deliver it in person,\" Veil said, though she itched to be out of this place. To flee madly, if she were being honest. She had to stay. Whatever she learned here would be of-" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "One of the soldiers ran her through.\n\nIt happened so quickly, she was left gaping at the sword blade protruding through her chest-wet with her blood. He yanked the weapon back out, and Veil collapsed with a groan. She reached for Stormlight, by instinct.\n\nNo... no, do as... as Jasnah did...\n\nPretend. Feign. She stared up at the men in horror, in betrayal, painspren rising around her. One soldier jogged off with the message, but the captain merely walked back toward his post. Not one of the rest said a word as she bled allover the floor, her vision fading...\n\nShe let her eyes close, then took in a short, sharp breath of Stormlight. Just a tiny amount, which she kept within, holding her breath. Enough to keep her alive, heal the wounds inside...\n\nPattern. Please don't go. Don't do anything. Don't hum, don't buzz. Quiet. Stay quiet.\n\nOne of the soldiers picked her up and slung her over his shoulder, then carried her through the palace. She dared cracking a single eye, and found the wide hallway here was lined with dozens upon dozens of soldiers. Just... standing there. They were alive; they'd cough, or shift position. Some leaned back against the wall, but they all kind of stayed in place. Human, but wrong.\n\nThe guard carrying her passed a floor-to-ceiling mirror rimmed in a fancy bronze frame. In it, she glimpsed the guard with Lyn thrown over his shoulder. And beyond that, deep within the mirror, something turned-the normal image fading-and looked toward Shallan with a sudden and surprised motion. It looked like a shadow of a person, only with white spots for eyes." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Veil quickly closed her peeking eye. Storms, what had that been?\n\nDon't shift. Stay perfectly still. Don't even breathe. Stormlight allowed her to survive without air.\n\nThe guard carried her down some steps, then opened a door and walked down a few more. He dropped her none too gently onto the stone and tossed her hat on top of her, then turned and left, closing a door behind him.\n\nVeil waited as long as she could stand before opening her eyes and finding herself in darkness. She took a breath, and nearly choked at the rotten, musty stench. Dreading and suspecting what she might find, she drew in Stormlight and made herself glow.\n\nShe'd been dropped beside a small line of corpses. There were seven of them, three male and four female, wearing fine clothing-but covered in rotspren, their flesh chewed at by cremlings.\n\nHolding in a scream, she scrambled to her feet. Perhaps... perhaps these were some of those lighteyes who'd come to the palace to talk to the queen?\n\nShe snatched her hat and scrambled to the steps. This was the wine cellar, a stone vault cut right into the rock. At the door she finally heard Pattern, who had been talking, though his voice had seemed distant.\n\n\"Shallan? I felt what you told me. Don't go. Shallan, are you well? Oh! The destruction. You destroy somethings, but seeing others destroyed upsets you. Hmmmm....\" He seemed pleased to have figured it out.\n\nShe focused on his voice, something familiar. Not the memory of a sword protruding from her own chest, not the callous way she'd been dumped here and left to rot, not the line of corpses with exposed bones, haunted faces, chewed-out eyes..." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Don't think. Don't see it.\n\nShe shoved it all away, and rested her forehead against the door. Then she carefully eased it open and found an empty stone hallway beyond, with more steps leading upward.\n\nThere were too many soldiers that way. She put on anew illusion, of a servant woman from her sketchbook. Maybe that would be less suspicious. It covered the blood, at least.\n\nShe didn't head back upstairs, but instead took a separate path farther into the tunnels. This turned out to be the Kholin mausoleum, which was lined with another kind of corpse: old kings turned to statues. Their stone eyes chased her down empty tunnels until she found a door that, judging from the sunlight underneath, led out into the city.\n\n\"Pattern,\" she whispered. \"Check for guards outside.\"\n\nHe hummed and slid under the door, then returned a moment later. \"Mmm... There are two.\"\n\n\"Go back, then along the wall slowly to the right,\" she said, infusing him.\n\nHe did so, sliding under the door. A sound she'd created rose from him as he moved away, imitating the captainlord's voice from above, calling for the guards. It wasn't perfect, as she hadn't sketched the man, but it seemed to work as she heard booted feet move off.\n\nShe slipped out, and found herself at the base of the rise that the palace sat upon, a cliff of some twenty feet above her. The guards were distracted, walking to her right, so Veil slipped onto a street nearby, then ran fora short time, thankful to finally have a chance to work off some of her energy.\n\nShe collapsed in the shadow of a hollow building, with the windows broken open and the door missing. Pattern scooted along the ground nearby, joining her. The guards didn't seem to have noticed her." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Go find Kaladin,\" she said to Pattern. \"Bring him here. Warn him that soldiers might be watching him from the palace, and they might come for him.\"\n\n\"Mmmm.\" Pattern slid away from her. She huddled against herself, back to a stonewall, her coat still covered in blood. After a nerve-racking wait, Kaladin stepped onto the street, then hurried up to her. \"Storms!\" he said, kneeling beside her. Pattern slipped off his coat, humming happily. \"Shallan, what happened to you?\"\n\n\"Well,\" she said, \"as a connoisseur of things that have killed me, I think a sword happened.\"\n\n\"Shallan...\"\n\n\"The evil force that rules the palace did not think highly of someone coming with a letter from the king.\" She smiled at him. \"You could say, um, it made that point quite clear.\"\n\nSmile. I need you to smile.\n\nI need what happened to be all right. Something that can simply roll off me.\n\nPlease.\n\n\"Well...\" Kaladin said. \"I'm glad we... took a stab at this anyway.\" He smiled.\n\nIt was all right. Just another day, another infiltration. He helped her to her feet, then looked to check on her wound, and she slapped his hand. The cut was not in an appropriate location.\n\n\"Sorry,\" he said. \"Surgeon's instincts. Back to the hideout?\"\n\n\"Yes, please,\" she said. \"I'd rather not be killed again today. It's quite draining....\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "-From drawer 27-19, topaz\n\nDalinar reached into the dark stone shaft where he'd hidden the assassin's Honorblade. It was still there; he felt the hilt under the lip of stone.\n\nHe expected to feel more upon touching it. Power? A tingling? This was a weapon of Heralds, a thing so ancient that common Shardblades were young by comparison. Yet, as he slipped it free and stood up, the only thing he felt was his own anger. This was the weapon of the assassin who had killed his brother. The weapon used to terrorize Roshar, murder the lords of Jah Keved and Azir.\n\nIt was shortsighted of him to see such an ancient weapon merely as the sword of the Assassin in White. He stepped out into the larger room next door, then regarded the sword in the light of the spheres he had placed on a stone slab there. Sinuous and elegant, this was the weapon of a king. Jezerezeh'Elin.\n\n\"There are some who assumed you were one of the Heralds,\" Dalinar noted to the Stormfather, who rumbled in the back of his mind. \"Jezerezeh, Herald of Kings, Father of Storms.\"\n\nMen say many foolish things, the Stormfather replied. Some name Kelek Stormfather, others Jezrien. I am neither of them.\n\n\"But Jezerezeh was a Windrunner.\"\n\nHe was before Windrunners. He was Jezrien, a man whose powers bore no name. They were simply him. The Windrunners were named only after Ishar founded the orders.\n\n\"Ishi'Elin,\" Dalinar said. \"Herald of Luck.\"\n\nOr of mysteries, the Stormfather said, or of priests. Or of a dozen other things, as men dubbed him. He is now as mad as the rest. More, perhaps." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dalinar lowered the Honorblade, looking eastward toward the Origin. Even through the stonewalls, he knew that was whereto find the Stormfather. \"Do you know where they are?\"\n\nI have told you. I do not see all. Only glimpses in the storms.\n\n\"Do you know where they are?\"\n\nOnly one, he said with a rumble. I... have seen Ishar. He curses meat night, even as he names himself a god. He seeks death. His own. Perhaps that of every man.\n\nIt clicked. \"Stormfather!\"\n\nYes?\n\n\"Oh. Uh, that was a curse.... Never mind. Tezim, the god-priest of Tukar? Is it him? Ishi, Herald of Luck, is the man who has been waging war against Emul?\"\n\nYes.\n\n\"For what purpose?\"\n\nHe is insane. Do not look for meaning in his actions.\n\n\"When... when were you thinking of informing me of this?\"\n\nWhen you asked. When else would I speak of it?\n\n\"When you thought of it!\" Dalinar said. \"You know things that are important, Stormfather!\"\n\nHe just rumbled his reply.\n\nDalinar took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. Spren did not think like men. Anger would not change what the Stormfather told him. But what would?\n\n\"Did you know about my powers?\" Dalinar asked. \"Did you know that I could heal the stone?\"\n\nI knew it once you did it, the Stormfather said. Yes, once you did it, I always knew.\n\n\"Do you know what else I can do?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Of course." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Once you discover it, I will know.\n\n\"But-\"\n\nYour powers will come when you are ready for them, not before, the Stormfather said. They cannot be hurried or forced.\n\nBut do not look toward the powers of others, even those who share your Surges. Their lot is not yours, and their powers are small, petty things. What you did in reknitting those statues was a mere trifle, a party trick.\n\nYours is the power Ishar once held. Before he was Herald of Luck, they called him Binder of Gods. He was the founder of the Oathpact. No Radiant is capable of more than you. Yours is the power of Connection, of joining men and worlds, minds and souls. Your Surges are the greatest of all, though they will be impotent if you seek to wield them for mere battle.\n\nThe words washed over Dalinar, seeming to press him backward with their force. When the Stormfather was done, Dalinar found himself out of breath, a headache coming on. He reflexively drew in Stormlight to heal it, and the small chamber dimmed. That stopped the pain, but it did nothing for his cold sweat.\n\n\"Are there others like me out there?\" he finally asked.\n\nNot right now, and there can ever be only three. One for each of us.\n\n\"Three?\" Dalinar said. \"Three spren who make Bondsmiths. You... and Cultivation are two?\"\n\nThe Stormfather actually laughed. You would have a difficult time making her your spren. I should like to see you try it.\n\n\"Then who?\"\n\nMy siblings need not concern you.\n\nThey seemed of compelling concern, but Dalinar had learned when to avoid pressing an issue. That would only cause the spren to withdraw." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dalinar took the Honorblade in a firm grip, then collected his spheres, one of which had gone dun. \"Have I ever asked how you renew these?\" Dalinar held up the sphere, inspecting the ruby at the center. He'd seen these loose, and had always been surprised by how small they actually were. The glass made them look far larger.\n\nHonor's power, during a storm, is concentrated in one place, the Stormfather said. It pierces all three realms and brings Physical, Cognitive, and Spiritual together momentarily in one. The gemstones, exposed to the wonder of the Spiritual Realm, are lit by the infinite power there.\n\n\"Could you renew this sphere, now?\"\n\nI... do not know. He sounded intrigued. Hold it forth.\n\nDalinar did so, and felt something happen, a tugging on his insides, like the Stormfather straining against their bond. The sphere remained dun.\n\nIt is not possible, the Stormfather said. I am close to you, but the power is not-it still rides the storm.\n\nThat was far more than he usually got from the Stormfather. He hoped he could remember it exactly to repeat to Navani-of course, if the Stormfather was listening, he'd correct Dalinar's mistakes. The Stormfather hated to be misquoted.\n\nDalinar stepped out into the hallway to meet Bridge Four. He held up the Honorblade-a powerful, world-changing artifact. But, like the Shardblades modeled after it, the weapon was useless if he left it hidden.\n\n\"This,\" he said to the men of Bridge Four, \"is the Honorblade your captain recovered.\"\n\nThe twenty-odd men gathered closer, their curious faces reflecting in the metal." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Anyone who holds this,\" Dalinar said, \"will immediately gain the powers of a Windrunner." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Your captain's absence is interrupting your training. Perhaps this, though only one can use it at a time, can mitigate that.\"\n\nThey gaped at the weapon, so Dalinar held it out toward Kaladin's first lieutenant-the bearded older bridgeman named Teft.\n\nTeft reached out, then drew his hand back. \"Leyten,\" he barked. \"You're our storming armorer. You take the thing.\"\n\n\"Me?\" a stocky bridgeman said. \"That's not armor.\"\n\n\"Close enough.\"\n\n\"I...\"\n\n\"Airsick lowlanders,\" Rock the Horneater said, shoving forward and taking the weapon. \"Your soup is cold. That is idiom for \"You are all stupid.\"\" The Horneater hefted it, curious, and his eyes bled to a glassy blue.\n\n\"Rock?\" Teft asked. \"You? Holding a weapon?\"\n\n\"I am not going to swing this thing,\" Rock said, rolling his eyes. \"I will keep him safe. This is all.\"\n\n\"It's a Shardblade,\" Dalinar warned. \"You've trained on those, correct?\"\n\n\"We have, sir,\" Teft said. \"Doesn't mean one of this lot won't storming cut their own feet off. But... I suppose we can use this to heal it if they do. Sigzil, come up with a rotation so we can practice.\"\n\nHeal... Dalinar felt stupid. He'd missed it again. Anyone holding this Blade had the powers of a Radiant. Did that mean they could use Stormlight to heal themselves? If so, that might be a valuable extra use of the weapon.\n\n\"Don't let anyone know you have this,\" Dalinar told them. \"I assume you can learn to dismiss and summon it like an ordinary Shardblade. See what you can discover, then report tome.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"We'll put it to good use, sir,\" Teft promised.\n\n\"Good.\" The clock fabrial on his forearm dinged, and Dalinar stifled a sigh. She'd learned to make it ding? \"If you'll all excuse me, I have to prepare for an appointment with an emperor a thousand miles away.\"\n\nA short time later, Dalinar stood on his balcony. Hands clasped behind his back, he stared out toward the Oathgate transport platforms.\n\n\"I did a great deal of business with the Azish when I was younger,\" Fen said from behind him. \"This might notwork, but it is a much better plan than traditional Alethi strutting.\"\n\n\"I don't like him going alone,\" Navani replied.\n\n\"By all reports,\" Fen said dryly, \"he got stabbed through the chest, lifted a stone roughly the weight often men, then started putting my city back together one rock at a time. I think he'll be fine.\"\n\n\"No amount of Stormlight will help if they simply imprison him,\" Navani said. \"We could be sending him to become a hostage.\"\n\nThey were arguing for his benefit. He had to understand the risks. And he did. He walked over to give Navani alight kiss. He smiled at her, then turned and extended his hand toward Fen, who gave him a paper packet, like a large envelope.\n\n\"This is it, then?\" he asked. \"All three are inhere?\"\n\n\"They're marked with appropriate glyphs,\" Navani said. \"And the spanreed is inside too. They've promised to speak in Alethi during the meeting-you won't have an interpreter from our side, as you insist ongoing alone.\"\n\n\"I do,\" Dalinar said, starting toward the door. \"I want to try Fen's suggestion.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Navani quickly rose and took his arm with her freehand.\n\n\"I assure you,\" he said. \"I will be safe.\"\n\n\"No you won't. But this is no different from a hundred other times you've ridden off to battle. Here.\" She handed him a small box sheathed in cloth.\n\n\"Fabrial?\"\n\n\"Lunch,\" she said. \"There's no telling when those people will feed you.\"\n\nShe'd wrapped it in a glyphward. Dalinar cocked his eyebrow at it, and she shrugged. Can't hurt, right? that seemed to say. She took him in an embrace, held on an extra moment-more than another Alethi might-then stepped back. \"We'll be watching the spanreed. One hour with no communication, and we're coming for you.\"\n\nHe nodded. He couldn't write to them of course, but he could flip the reed on and off to send signals, an old general's trick for when you lacked ascribe.\n\nA short time later, he strode out onto Urithiru's western plateau. Crossing it on his way to the Oathgate, he passed men marching in formations, sergeants shouting orders, runners carrying messages. Two of his Shardbearers-Rust and Serugiadis, men who had the Plate only-practiced with massive Shardbows, launching thick arrows hundreds of yards toward a large straw target that Kaladin had placed for them on a nearby mountainside.\n\nA significant number of the common soldiers sat around holding spheres, staring at them intently. Word had spread that Bridge Four was recruiting. He'd lately noticed numerous men in the hallways holding a sphere'for luck.\" Dalinar even passed a group out here who were talking about swallowing spheres." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Stormfather rumbled with displeasure. They go about this backward. Foolish men. They can't draw in Light and become Radiant; they first must be approaching Radiance, and look for Light to fulfill the promise.\n\nDalinar barked at the men to get back to training, and to not swallow any spheres. They obeyed with a scrambling rush, shocked to find the Blackthorn looming over them. He shook his head, then continued. His path, unfortunately, took him through a mock battle. Two blocks of spearmen pressed against each other on the plateau, straining and grunting, training to hold their formations under stress. Though they carried blunt practice spears, this was mostly shield work.\n\nDalinar saw the warning signs of things going too far. Men were shouting with real acrimony, and angerspren were boiling at their feet. One of the lines wavered, and instead of pulling back, their opponents rammed their shields against them repeatedly.\n\nGreen and white on one side, black and maroon on the other. Sadeas and Aladar. Dalinar cursed and approached the men, shouting for them to pullback. Soon, his call was taken up by captains and commanders. The rear ranks of the two practice blocks pulled away-leaving the contestants at the center to devolve into a brawl.\n\nDalinar shouted, and Stormlight shimmered along the stones before him. Those who hadn't gotten caught up in the fighting jumped back. The rest got stuck in the Stormlight, which glued them to the ground. This caused all but the most furious to stop their fighting.\n\nHe pulled the last few apart and pushed them down, sticking them by their seats to the stone next to their angerspren. The men thrashed, then saw him and froze, looking appropriately chagrined." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I remember being that wrapped up in battle, Dalinar thought. Is it the Thrill? He couldn't remember feeling it for... fora longtime. He would have the men questioned to determine whether any could feel it.\n\nDalinar let the Stormlight evaporate away like luminescent steam. Aladar's officers withdrew their group in an orderly fashion, shouting for the men to start calisthenics. The soldiers from Sadeas's army, however, spat at the ground and heaved themselves to their feet, retreating in sullen bunches, cursing and muttering.\n\nThey're getting worse, Dalinar thought. Under Torol Sadeas, they'd been slovenly and sadistic, but still soldiers. Yes, they tended to brawl, but they'd been quick to obey in battle. So they'd been effective, just not exemplary.\n\nThe new Sadeas banner flew above these men. Meridas Sadeas-Amaram-had changed the glyphpair's design, as was traditional: Sadeas's squat tower had elongated, and the hammer had changed to an axe.\n\nDespite his reputation for running a crisp army, it was obvious he was having trouble controlling these men. He'd never commanded a force this large-and perhaps the murder of their highprince had upset the men to the point that there was nothing Amaram could do.\n\nAladar hadn't been able to provide anything of substance about Torol's murder. The investigation was supposed to be ongoing... but there were no leads. The spren hadn't done it, but they had no idea who had.\n\nI'll need to take action about those soldiers, Dalinar thought. They need something to tire them out, keep them from getting into fights....\n\nPerhaps he had just the thing. He considered that as he finally made his way up the ramp to the proper Oathgate platform, then crossed the empty field to the control building. Jasnah waited within, reading a book and making notes. \"What took you?\" she asked." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Almost had a riot out on the parade ground,\" he said." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Two training formations got interlocked and started bashing one another.\"\n\n\"Sadeas?\"\n\nDalinar nodded.\n\n\"We'll have to do something about them.\"\n\n\"I've been thinking. Maybe some hard labor-strictly supervised-in a ruined city might be just the thing.\"\n\nJasnah smiled. \"How convenient that we're currently providing exactly such assistance to Queen Fen. Work Sadeas's troops to exhaustion, assuming we can keep them under control there.\"\n\n\"I'll start with small batches, to be certain we're not sending more trouble Fen's direction,\" Dalinar said. \"Have you had any news from the king's infiltration team at Kholinar?\" As anticipated, the Stormfather was unable to reach anyone on the team to bring them into a vision-nor would Dalinar dare risk it-but they'd sent several spanreeds with Elhokar and Shallan.\n\n\"None. We'll keep watch and tell you the moment we get any sort of response.\"\n\nDalinar nodded, and shoved down his worry for Elhokar and his son. He had to trust that they'd eventually either accomplish their task, or find away to report what was stopping them.\n\nJasnah summoned her Shardblade. Odd how natural it looked to see Jasnah with a sword. \"You ready?\"\n\n\"I am.\"\n\nThe Reshi girl, Lift, had obtained permission from the Azish court to unlock the Oathgate on their side. The emperor was-at long last-willing to meet with Dalinar in the flesh.\n\nJasnah engaged the device, rotating the inner wall, the floor shimmering. Light flashed outside, and immediately, stuffy heat surged in through the doorways. Apparently a season of summer was well underway in Azir." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It smelled different here. Of exotic spices and more subtle things like unfamiliar woods.\n\n\"Good luck,\" Jasnah said as he stepped out of the room. It flashed behind him as she returned to Urithiru, leaving him to meet the Azish imperial court on his own." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "-From drawer 8-1, amethyst\n\nMemories churned in Dalinar's head as he walked down along corridor outside the Oathgate control building in Azimir, which was covered by a magnificent bronze dome. The Grand Market, as it was called, was an enormous indoor shopping district. That would prove inconvenient when Dalinar needed to use the full Oathgate.\n\nHe couldn't see any of the market currently; the control building-which had been treated as some kind of monument in the market-was now surrounded by a wooden set of walls, and anew corridor. Empty of people, it was lit by sphere lamps along the walls. Sapphires. Coincidence, or a gesture of respect to a Kholin visitor?\n\nAt the end, the hallway opened into a small room populated by a line of Azish soldiers. They wore plated mail, with colorful caps on their heads, greatshields, and very long-handled axes with small heads. The whole group jumped as Dalinar entered, and then shied back, weapons held threateningly.\n\nDalinar held his arms out to the sides, packet from Fen in one hand, food bundle in the other. \"I am unarmed.\"\n\nThey spoke quickly in Azish. He didn't seethe Prime or the little Radiant, though the people in patterned robes were viziers and scions-both were, essentially, Azish versions of ardents. Except here, the ardents were involved in the government far more than was proper.\n\nA woman stepped forward, the many layers of her long, extravagant robes rustling as she walked. A matching hat completed the outfit. She was important, and perhaps planned to interpret for him herself.\n\nTime for my first attack, Dalinar thought. He opened the packet that Fen had given him and removed four pieces of paper." }, { "from": "human", "value": "He presented them to the woman, and was pleased at the shock in her eyes." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She hesitantly took them, then called to some of her companions. They joined her before Dalinar, which made the guards distinctly anxious. A few had drawn triangular kattari, a popular variety of short sword herein the west. He'd always wanted one.\n\nThe ardents withdrew behind the soldiers, speaking animatedly. The plan was to exchange pleasantries in this room, then for Dalinar to immediately return to Urithiru-whereupon they intended to lock the Oathgate from their side. He wanted more. He intended to get more. Some kind of alliance, or at least a meeting with the emperor.\n\nOne of the ardents started reading the papers to the others. The writing was in Azish, a funny language made of little markings that looked like cremling tracks. It lacked the elegant, sweeping verticals of the Alethi women's script.\n\nDalinar closed his eyes, listening to the unfamiliar language. As in Thaylen City, he had a moment of feeling he could almost understand. Stretching, he felt that meaning was close to him.\n\n\"Would you help me understand?\" he whispered to the Stormfather.\n\nWhat makes you think I can?\n\n\"Don't be coy,\" Dalinar whispered. \"I've spoken new languages in the visions. You can make me speak Azish.\"\n\nThe Stormfather rumbled in discontent. That wasn't me, he finally said. It was you.\n\n\"How do I use it?\"\n\nTry touching one of them. With Spiritual Adhesion, you can make a Connection.\n\nDalinar regarded the group of hostile guards, then sighed, waving and miming the act of dumping a drink into his mouth. The soldiers exchanged sharp words, then one of the youngest was pushed forward with a canteen. Dalinar nodded in thanks, then-as he took a drink from the water bottle-grabbed the young man by the wrist and held on." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Stormlight, the rumbling in his mind said.\n\nDalinar pressed Stormlight into the other man, and felt something-like a friendly sound coming from another room. All you had to do was get in. After a careful shove, the door opened, and sounds twisted and undulated in the air. Then, like music changing keys, they modulated from gibberish to sense.\n\n\"Captain!\" cried the young guard that Dalinar held. \"What do I do? He's got me!\"\n\nDalinar let go, and fortunately his understanding of the language persisted. \"I'm sorry, soldier,\" Dalinar said, handing back the canteen. \"I didn't mean to alarm you.\"\n\nThe young soldier stepped back among his fellows. \"The warlord speaks Azish?\" He sounded as surprised as if he'd meta talking chull.\n\nDalinar clasped his hands behind his back and watched the ardents. You insist on thinking of them as ardents, he told himself, because they can read, both male and female. But he was no longer in Alethkar. Despite those bulky robes and large hats, the Azish women wore nothing on their safehands.\n\nSunmaker, Dalinar's ancestor, had argued that the Azish had been in need of civilizing. He wondered if anyone had believed that argument even in those days, or if they'd all seen it for the rationalization it was.\n\nThe viziers and scions finished reading, then turned toward Dalinar, lowering the pages he'd given them. He had heeded Queen Fen's plan, trusting that he couldn't bully his way through Azir with a sword. Instead, he had brought a different kind of weapon.\n\nAn essay.\n\n\"Do you truly speak our language, Alethi?\" the lead vizier called. She had around face, dark brown eyes, and a cap covered in bright patterns. Her greying hair came out the side in a tight braid." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I've had the opportunity to learn it recently,\" Dalinar said." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You are Vizier Noura, I assume?\"\n\n\"Did Queen Fen really write this?\"\n\n\"With her own hand, Your Grace,\" Dalinar said. \"Feel free to contact Thaylen City to confirm.\"\n\nThey huddled to consult again in quiet tones. The essay was a lengthy but compelling argument for the economic value of the Oathgates to the cities that hosted them. Fen argued that Dalinar's desperation to forge an alliance made for the perfect opportunity to secure beneficial and lasting trade deals through Urithiru. Even if Azir had no plans to fully join the coalition, they should negotiate use of the Oathgates and send a delegation to the tower.\n\nIt spent a lot of words saying what was obvious, and was exactly the sort of thing Dalinar had no patience for. Which, hopefully, would make it perfect for the Azish. And if it wasn't quite sufficient... well, Dalinar knew never to go into battle without fresh troops in reserve.\n\n\"Your Highness,\" Noura said, \"as impressed as we are that you cared to learn our language-and even considering the compelling argument presented here-we think it best if...\"\n\nShe trailed off as Dalinar reached in his packet and withdrew a second sheaf of papers, six pages this time. He held them up before the group like a raised banner, then proffered them. A nearby guard jumped back, making his mail jingle.\n\nThe small chamber grew quiet. Finally, a guard accepted the papers and took them to the viziers and scions. A shorter man among them began reading quietly-this one was an extended treatise from Navani, talking about the wonders they'd discovered in Urithiru, formally inviting the Azish scholars to visit and share.\n\nShe made clever arguments about the importance of new fabrials and technology infighting the Voidbringers. She included diagrams of the tents she'd made to help them fight during the Weeping, and explained her theories for floating towers. Then, with Dalinar's permission, she offered a gift: detailed schematics that Taravangian had brought from Jah Keved, explaining the creation of so-called half-shards, fabrial shields that could withstand a few blows from Shardblades." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The enemy is united against us, went her essay's final argument. They have the unique advantages of focus, harmony, and memories that extend far into the past. Resisting them will require our greatest minds, whether Alethi, Azish, Veden, or Thaylen. I freely give state secrets, for the days of hoarding knowledge are gone. Now, we either learn together or we fall individually.\n\nThe viziers finished, then they passed around the schematics, studying them for an extended time. When the group looked back at Dalinar, he could see that their attitude was changing. Remarkably, this was working.\n\nWell, he didn't know much about essays, but he had an instinct for combat. When your opponent was gasping for breath, you didn't let him get backup. You rammed your sword right into his throat.\n\nDalinar reached into his packet and removed the last paper inside: a single sheet written on front and back. He held it up between his first two fingers. The Azish watched it with wide eyes, as if he'd revealed a glowing gemstone of incalculable wealth.\n\nThis time Vizier Noura herself stepped forward and took it. \"\"Verdict,\"\" she read from the top. \"\"By Jasnah Kholin.\"\"\n\nThe others pushed through the guards, gathering around, and began reading it to themselves. Though this was the shortest of the essays, he heard them whispering and marveling over it.\n\n\"Look, it incorporates all seven of Aqqu's Logical Forms!\"\n\n\"That's an allusion to the Grand Orientation. And... storms... she quotes Prime Kasimarlix in three successive stages, each escalating the same quote to a different level of Superior Understanding.\"\n\nOne woman held her hand to her mouth. \"It's written entirely in a single rhythmic meter!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Great Yaezir,\" Noura said. \"You're right.\"\n\n\"The allusions...\"\n\n\"Such wordplay...\"\n\n\"The momentum and rhetoric...\"\n\nLogicspren burst around them in the shape of little stormclouds. Then, practically as one, the scions and viziers turned to Dalinar.\n\n\"This is a work of art,\" Noura said.\n\n\"Is it... persuasive?\" Dalinar asked.\n\n\"It provokes further consideration,\" Noura said, looking to the others, who nodded. \"You actually came alone. We are shocked by that-aren't you worried for your safety?\"\n\n\"Your Radiant,\" Dalinar said, \"has proven to be wise for one so young. I am certain I can depend on her for my safety.\"\n\n\"I don't know that I'd depend on her for anything,\" said one of the men, chuckling. \"Unless it's swiping your pocket change.\"\n\n\"All the same,\" Dalinar said, \"I have come begging you to trust me. This seemed the best proof of my intentions.\" He spread his hands to the sides. \"Do not send me back immediately. Let us talk as allies, not men in a battlefield tent of parley.\"\n\n\"I will bring these essays before the Prime and his formal council,\" Vizier Noura finally said. \"I admit he seems fond of you, despite your inexplicable invasion of his dreams. Come with us.\"\n\nThat would lead him away from the Oathgate, and any chance he had at transferring home in an emergency. But that was what he'd been hoping for.\n\n\"Gladly, Your Grace.\"\n\nThey walked along a twisting path through the dome-covered market-which was now empty, like a ghost town. Many of the streets ended at barricades manned by troops." }, { "from": "human", "value": "They'd turned the Azimir Grand Market into a kind of reverse fortress, intended to protect the city from whatever might come through the Oathgate." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "If troops left the control building, they would find themselves in amaze of confusing streets.\n\nUnfortunately for the Azish, the control building alone was not the gate. A Radiant could make this entire dome vanish, replaced with an army in the middle of Azimir. He'd have to be delicate about how he explained that.\n\nHe walked with Vizier Noura, followed by the other scribes, who passed the essays around again. Noura didn't make small talk with him, and Dalinar maintained no illusions. This trip through the dark indoor streets-with packed market buildings and twisting paths-was meant to confuse him, should he try to remember the way.\n\nThey eventually climbed up to a second level and left through a doorway out onto a ledge along the outside rim of the dome. Clever. From up here, he could see that the ground-floor exits from the market were barricaded or sealed off. The only clearway out was up that flight of steps, onto this platform around the circumference of the large bronze dome, then down another set of steps.\n\nFrom this upper ramp, he could see some of Azimir-and was relieved by how little destruction he saw. Some of the neighborhoods on the west side of the city seemed to have collapsed, but all in all, the city had weathered the Everstorm in good shape. Most of the structures were stone here, and the grand domes-many overlaid with reddish-gold bronze-reflected the sunlight like molten marvels. The people wore colorful clothing, of patterns that scribes could read like a language.\n\nThis summer season was warmer than he was accustomed to. Dalinar turned east. Urithiru lay somewhere in that direction, in the border mountains-far closer to Azir than to Alethkar.\n\n\"This way, Blackthorn,\" Noura said, starting down the wooden ramp. It was constructed upon a woodwork lattice. Seeing those wooden stilts, Dalinar had a moment of surreal memory. It vaguely reminded him of something, of perching above a city and looking down at wooden lattices...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Rathalas, he thought. The Rift. The city that had rebelled. Right. He felt a chill, and the pressure of something hidden trying to thrust itself into his consciousness. There was more to remember about that place.\n\nHe walked down the ramp, and took it as a mark of respect that two entire divisions of troops surrounded the dome. \"Shouldn't those men be on the walls?\" Dalinar asked. \"What if the Voidbringers attack?\"\n\n\"They've withdrawn through Emul,\" Noura said. \"Most of that country is on fire by now, due to either the parshmen or Tezim's armies.\"\n\nTezim. Who was a Herald. Surely he wouldn't side with the enemy, would he? Perhaps the best thing they could hope for was a war between the Voidbringers and the armies of a mad Herald.\n\nRickshaws waited for them below. Noura joined him in one. It was novel, being pulled by a man acting like a chull. Though it was faster than a palanquin, Dalinar found it far less stately.\n\nThe city was laid out in a very orderly manner. Navani had always admired that. He watched for more signs of destruction, and while he found few, a different oddity struck him. Masses of people standing in clumps, wearing colorful vests, loose trousers or skirts, and patterned caps. They shouted about unfairness, and though they looked angry, they were surrounded by logicspren.\n\n\"What's all this?\" Dalinar asked.\n\n\"Protestors.\" She looked to him, and obviously noted his confusion. \"They've lodged a formal complaint, rejecting an order to exit the city and work the farms. This gives them a one-month period to make their grievances known before being forced to comply.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"They can simply disobey an imperial order?\"\n\n\"I suppose you'd merely march everyone out at swordpoint. Well, we don't do things that way here. There are processes. Our people aren't slaves.\"\n\nDalinar found himself bristling; she obviously didn't know much about Alethkar, if she assumed all Alethi darkeyes were like chulls to be herded around. The lower classes had along and proud tradition of rights related to their social ranking.\n\n\"Those people,\" he said, realizing something, \"have been ordered to the fields because you lost your parshmen.\"\n\n\"Our fields haven't yet been planted,\" Noura said, eyes growing distant. \"It's like they knew the very best time to cripple us by leaving. Carpenters and cobblers must be pressed into manual labor, just to prevent a famine. We might feed ourselves, but our trades and infrastructure will be devastated.\"\n\nIn Alethkar, they hadn't been as fixated on this, as reclaiming the kingdom was more pressing. In Thaylenah, the disaster had been physical, the city ravaged. Both kingdoms had been distracted from a more subversive disaster, the economic one.\n\n\"How did it happen?\" Dalinar asked. \"The parshmen leaving?\"\n\n\"They gathered in the storm,\" she said. \" Leaving homes and walking right out into it. Some reports said the parshmen claimed to hear the beating of drums. Other reports-these are all very contradictory-speak of spren guiding the parshmen.\n\n\"They swarmed the city gates, threw them open in the rain, then moved out onto the plain surrounding the city. The next day, they demanded formal economic redress for improper appropriation of their labors. They claimed the subsection of the rules exempting parshmen from wages was extralegal, and put a motion through the courts. We were negotiating-a bizarre experience, I must say-before some of their leaders got them marching off instead.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Interesting." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Alethi parshmen had acted Alethi-immediately gathering for war. The Thaylen parshmen had taken to the seas. And the Azish parshmen... well, they'd done something quintessentially Azish. They had lodged a complaint with the government.\n\nHe had to be careful not to dwell on how amusing that sounded, if only because Navani had warned him not to underestimate the Azish. Alethi liked to joke about them-insult one of their soldiers, it was said, and he'd submit a form requesting an opportunity to swear at you. But that was a caricature, likely about as accurate as Noura's own impression of his people always doing everything by the sword and spear.\n\nOnce at the palace, Dalinar tried to follow Noura and the other scribes into the main building-but soldiers instead gestured him toward a small outbuilding.\n\n\"I was hoping,\" he called after Noura, \"to speak with the emperor in person.\"\n\n\"Unfortunately, this petition cannot be granted,\" she said. The group left him and strode into the grand palace itself, a majestic bronze building with bulbous domes.\n\nThe soldiers sequestered him in a narrow chamber with a low table at the center and nice couches along the sides. They left him inside the small room alone, but took up positions outside. It wasn't quite a prison, but he obviously wasn't to be allowed to roam either.\n\nHe sighed and sat on a couch, dropping his lunch to the table beside some bowls of dried fruit and nuts. He took the spanreed out and sent a brief signal to Navani that meant time, the agreed sign that he was to be given another hour before anyone panicked.\n\nHe rose and began pacing. How did men suffer this? In battle, you won or lost based on strength of arms. At the end of the day, you knew where you stood." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "This endless talking left him so uncertain. Would the viziers dismiss the essays? Jasnah's reputation seemed to be powerful even here, but they'd seemed less impressed by her argument than by the way she expressed it.\n\nYou've always worried about this, haven't you? the Stormfather said in his mind.\n\n\"About what?\"\n\nThat the world would come to be ruled by pens and scribes, not swords and generals.\n\n\"I...\" Blood of my fathers. That was true.\n\nWas that why he insisted on negotiating himself? Why he didn't send ambassadors? Was it because deep down, he didn't trust their gilded words and intricate promises, all contained in documents he couldn't read? Pieces of paper that were somehow harder than the strongest Shardplate?\n\n\"The contests of kingdoms are supposed to be a masculine art,\" he said. \"I should be able to do this myself.\"\n\nThe Stormfather rumbled, not truly in disagreement. Justin... amusement?\n\nDalinar finally settled onto one of the couches. Might as well eat something... except his cloth-wrapped lunch lay open, crumbs on the table, the wooden curry box empty save fora few drips. What on Roshar?\n\nHe slowly looked up at the other couch. The slender Reshi girl perched not on the seat, but upon the backrest. She wore an oversized Azish robe and cap, and was gnawing on the sausage Navani had packed with the meal, to be cut into the curry.\n\n\"Kind of bland,\" she said.\n\n\"Soldier's rations,\" Dalinar said. \"I prefer them.\"\n\n\"\"Cuz you're bland?\"\n\n\"I prefer not to let a meal become a distraction. Were you inhere all along?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She shrugged, continuing to eat his food. \"You said something earlier. About men?\"\n\n\"I... was beginning to realize that I'm uncomfortable with the idea of scribes controlling the fates of nations. The things women write are stronger than my military.\"\n\n\"Yeah, that makes sense. Lots of boys is afraid of girls.\"\n\n\"I'm not-\"\n\n\"They say it changes when you grow up,\" she said, leaning forward. \"I wouldn't know, because I ain't going to grow. I figured it out. I just gotta stop eatin\". People that don't eat, don't get bigger. Easy.\"\n\nShe said it all around mouthfuls of his food.\n\n\"Easy,\" Dalinar said. \"I'm sure.\"\n\n\"I'm gonna start any day now,\" she said. \"You want that fruit, or...\"\n\nHe leaned forward, pushing the two bowls of dried fruit toward her. She attacked them. Dalinar leaned back in the seat. This girl seemed so out of place. Though she was lighteyed-with pale, clear irises-that didn't matter as much in the west. The regal clothing was too big on her, and she didn't take care to keep her hair pulled back and tucked up under the cap.\n\nThis entire room-this entire city, really-was an exercise in ostentation. Metal leaf coated domes, the rickshaws, even large portions of the walls of this room. The Azish owned only a few Soulcasters, and famously one could make bronze.\n\nThe carpeting and couches displayed bright patterns of orange and red. The Alethi favored solid colors, perhaps some embroidery. The Azish preferred their decorations to look like the product of a painter having a sneezing fit." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "In the middle of it all was this girl, who looked so simple. She swam through ostentation, but it didn't stick to her.\n\n\"I listened to what they're sayin\" in there, tight-butt,\" the girl said. \"Before comin'here. I think they're gonna deny you. They gots a finger.\"\n\n\"I should think they have many fingers.\"\n\n\"Nah, this is an extra one. Dried out, looks like it belonged to some gramma's gramma, but it's actually from an emperor. Emperor Snot-a-Lot or-\"\n\n\"Snoxil?\" Dalinar asked.\n\n\"Yeah. That's him.\"\n\n\"He was Prime when my ancestor sacked Azimir,\" Dalinar said with a sigh. \"It's a relic.\" The Azish could be a superstitious lot, for all their claims about logic and essays and codes of law. This relic was probably being used during their discussions as a reminder of the last time the Alethi had been in Azir.\n\n\"Yeah, well, all I know is he's dead, so he ain't got to worry about... about...\"\n\n\"Odium.\"\n\nThe Reshi girl shivered visibly.\n\n\"Could you go and talk to the viziers?\" Dalinar asked. \"Tell them that you think supporting my coalition is a good idea? They listened to you when you asked to unlock the Oathgate.\"\n\n\"Nah, they listened to Gawx,\" she said. \"The geezers that run the city don't like me much.\"\n\nDalinar grunted. \"Your name is Lift, right?\"\n\n\"Right.\"\n\n\"And your order?\"\n\n\"More food.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I meant your order of Knights Radiant. What powers do you have?\"\n\n\"Oh. Um... Edgedancer? I slip around and stuff.\"\n\n\"Slip around.\"\n\n\"It's real fun. Except when I run into things. Then it's only kinda fun.\"\n\nDalinar leaned forward, wishing-again-he could go in and talk to all those fools and scribes.\n\nNo. For once, trust in someone else, Dalinar.\n\nLift cocked her head. \"Huh. You smell like her.\"\n\n\"Her?\"\n\n\"The crazy spren who lives in the forest.\"\n\n\"You've met the Nightwatcher?\"\n\n\"Yeah... You?\"\n\nHe nodded.\n\nThey sat there, uncomfortable, until the young girl handed one of her bowls of dried fruit toward Dalinar. He took apiece and chewed it in silence, and she took another.\n\nThey ate the entire bowl, saying nothing until the door opened. Dalinar jumped. Noura stood in the doorway, flanked by other viziers. Her eyes flickered toward Lift, and she smiled. Noura didn't seem to think as poorly of Lift as the little girl indicated.\n\nDalinar stood up, feeling a sense of dread. He prepared his arguments, his pleas. They had to-\n\n\"The emperor and his council,\" Noura said, \"have decided to accept your invitation to visit Urithiru.\"\n\nDalinar cutoff his objection. Did she say accept?\n\n\"The Prime of Emul has almost reached Azir,\" Noura said. \" He brought the Sage with him, and they should be willing to join us. Unfortunately, following the parshman assault, Emul is a fraction of what it once was. I suspect he will be eager for any and every source of aid, and will welcome this coalition of yours." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"The prince of Tashikk has an ambassador-his brother-in the city." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He'll come as well, and the princess of Yezier is reportedly coming in person to plead for aid. We'll see about her. I think she simply believes Azimir will be safer. She lives here half the year anyway.\n\n\"Alm and Desh have ambassadors in the city, and Liafor is always eager to join whatever we do, as long as they can cater the storming meetings. I can't speak for Steen-they're a tricky bunch. I doubt you want Tukar's priest-king, and Marat is overrun. But we can bring a good sampling of the empire to join your discussions.\"\n\n\"I...\" Dalinar stammered. \"Thank you!\" It was actually happening! As they'd hoped, Azir was the linchpin.\n\n\"Well, your wife writes a good essay,\" Noura said.\n\nHe started. \"Navani's essay was the one that convinced you? Not Jasnah's?\"\n\n\"Each of the three arguments were weighed favorably, and the reports from Thaylen City are encouraging,\" Noura said. \"That had no small part in our decision. But while Jasnah Kholin's writing is every bit as impressive as her reputation suggests, there was something... more authentic about Lady Navani's plea.\"\n\n\"She is one of the most authentic people I know.\" Dalinar smiled like a fool. \"And she is good at getting what she wants.\"\n\n\"Let me lead you back to the Oathgate. We will be in contact about the Prime's visit to your city.\"\n\nDalinar collected his spanreed and bade farewell to Lift, who stood on the back of the couch and waved to him. The sky looked brighter as the viziers accompanied him back to the dome that housed the Oathgate. He could hear them speaking eagerly as they entered the rickshaws; they seemed to be embracing this decision with gusto, now that it had been made." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dalinar passed the trip quietly, worried that he might say something brutish and ruin things. Once they entered the market dome, he did take the opportunity to mention to Noura that the Oathgate could be used to transport everything there, including the dome itself.\n\n\"I'm afraid that it's a larger security threat than you know,\" he finished saying to her as they reached the control building.\n\n\"What would it do,\" she said, \"if we built a structure halfway across the plateau perimeter? Would it slice the thing in two? What if a person is half on, half off?\"\n\n\"That we don't know yet,\" Dalinar said, fumbling the spanreed on and off in a pattern to send the signal that would bring Jasnah back through the Oathgate to fetch him.\n\n\"I'll admit,\" Noura said softly as the other viziers chatted behind, \"I'm... not pleased at being overruled. I am the emperor's loyal servant, but I do not like the idea of your Radiants, Dalinar Kholin. These powers are dangerous, and the ancient Radiants turned traitor in the end.\"\n\n\"I will convince you,\" Dalinar said. \"We will prove ourselves to you. All I need is a chance.\"\n\nThe Oathgate flashed, and Jasnah appeared inside. Dalinar bowed to Noura in respect, then stepped backward into the building.\n\n\"You are not what I expected, Blackthorn,\" Noura said.\n\n\"And what did you expect?\"\n\n\"An animal,\" she said frankly. \"A half-man creature of war and blood.\"\n\nSomething about that struck him. An animal... Echoes of memories shuddered inside of him.\n\n\"I was that man,\" Dalinar said. \"I've merely been blessed with enough good examples to make me aspire to something more.\" He nodded to Jasnah, who repositioned her sword, rotating the inner wall to initiate the transfer and take them back to Urithiru." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Navani waited outside the building. Dalinar stepped out and blinked at the sunlight, chilled by the mountain cold. He smiled broadly at her, opening his mouth to tell her what her essay had done.\n\nAn animal... An animal reacts when it is prodded...\n\nMemories.\n\nYou whip it, and it becomes savage.\n\nDalinar stumbled.\n\nHe vaguely heard Navani crying out, yelling for help. His vision spun, and he fell to his knees, feeling an overwhelming nausea. He clawed at the stone, groaning, breaking fingernails. Navani... Navani was calling fora healer. She thought he'd been poisoned.\n\nIt wasn't that. No, it was far, far worse.\n\nStorms. He remembered. It came crashing down on him, the weight of a thousand boulders.\n\nHe remembered what had happened to Evi. It had started in a cold fortress, in highlands once claimed by Jah Keved.\n\nIt had ended at the Rift." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Extend the story in collaboration with the author.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, knights radiant\nAuthor: Brandon Sanderson\nTitle: Oathbringer\nChapter: 74" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He stalked through the darkness toward his own camp on the field. There was another army here. Sadeas's actual soldiers; they'd arrived ahead of schedule. Another few hours, and Tanalan's ploy wouldn't have worked.\n\nDalinar dragged Oathbringer behind him; it made a soft scraping sound as it cut a line in the stone. He numbly heard soldiers talking by the bonfire ahead, and one called something out. Dalinar ignored them, each step relentless, as he passed into their light. A pair of young soldiers in blue crowed their challenges until cutting off and lowering spears, gaping.\n\n\"Stormfather,\" one of them said, stumbling back. \"Kelek and the Almighty himself!\"\n\nDalinar continued through camp. Noise stirred at his passing, men crying of visions of the dead and of Voidbringers. He made for his command tent. The eternity it took to get there seemed the same length as the others. How could he cross so many miles in the same time as it took to go the few feet to a simple tent? Dalinar shook his head, seeing red at the sides of his vision.\n\nWords broke through the canvas of the tent. \"Impossible. The men are spooked. They... No, it's simply not possible.\"\n\nThe flaps burst apart, revealing a man with fine clothing and wavy hair. Sadeas gaped, then stumbled to the side, holding the flap for Dalinar, who did not break stride. He walked straight in, Oathbringer slicing a ribbon in the ground.\n\nInside, generals and officers gathered by the grim light of a few sphere lanterns. Evi, comforted by Brightness Kalami, was weeping, though Ialai studied the table full of maps. All eyes turned toward Dalinar." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"How?\" Teleb asked. \"Blackthorn? We sent a team of scouts to inform you as soon as Tanalan turned onus and cast our soldiers off his walls. Our force reported all men lost, an ambush...\"\n\nDalinar hefted Oathbringer and slammed it down into the stone ground beside him, then sighed at finally being able to release the burden. He placed his palms on the sides of the battle table, hands crusted in blood. His arms were covered in it too.\n\n\"You sent the same scouts,\" he whispered, \"who first spied on the caravan, and reported seeing a Shardbearer leading it?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Teleb said.\n\n\"Traitors,\" Dalinar said. \"They're working with Tanalan.\" He couldn't have known that Dalinar would parley with him. Instead, the man had somehow bribed away members of the army, and had intended to use their reports to coax Dalinar into a hurried ride to the south. Into a trap.\n\nIt had all been set in motion before Dalinar had spoken to Tanalan. Planned well in advance.\n\nTeleb barked out orders for the scouts to be imprisoned. Dalinar leaned down over the battle maps on the table. \"This is a map fora siege,\" he whispered.\n\n\"We...\" Teleb looked to Sadeas. \"We figured that the king would want time to comedown himself. To, um, avenge you, Brightlord.\"\n\n\"Too slow,\" Dalinar said, his voice ragged.\n\n\"Highprince Sadeas proposed... another option,\" Teleb said. \"But the king-\"\n\nDalinar looked to Sadeas.\n\n\"They used my name to betray you,\" Sadeas said, then spat to the side. \"We will suffer rebellions like this time and time again unless they fear us, Dalinar.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Dalinar nodded slowly." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"They must bleed,\" he whispered. \"I want them to suffer for this. Men, women, children. They must know the punishment for broken oaths. Immediately.\"\n\n\"Dalinar?\" Evi stood up. \"Husband?\" She stepped forward, toward the table.\n\nThen he turned toward her, and she stopped. Her unusual, pale Westerner skin grew even more starkly white. She stepped backward, pulling her hands toward her chest, and gaped at him, horrified, fearspren growing up from the ground around her.\n\nDalinar glanced toward a sphere lantern, which had a polished metal surface. The man who looked back seemed more Voidbringer than man, face crusted over with blackened blood, hair matted with it, blue eyes wide, jaw clenched. He was sliced with what seemed to be a hundred wounds, his padded uniform in tatters.\n\n\"You shouldn't do this,\" Evi said. \"Rest. Sleep, Dalinar. Think about this. Give it a few days.\"\n\nSo tired...\n\n\"The entire kingdom thinks us weak, Dalinar,\" Sadeas whispered. \"We took too long to put this rebellion down. You have never listened tome before, but listen now. You want to prevent this sort of thing from happening again? You must punish them. Everyone.\"\n\n\"Punish them...\" Dalinar said, the Thrill rising again. Pain. Anger. Humiliation. He pressed his hands against the map table to steady himself. \"The Soulcaster that my brother sent. She can make two things?\"\n\n\"Grain and oil,\" Teleb said.\n\n\"Good. Set her to work.\"\n\n\"More food supplies?\"\n\n\"No, oil. As much as we have gemstones for. Oh, and someone take my wife to her tent so she may recover from her unwarranted grief. Everyone else, gather round. In the morning, we make Rathalas an example. I promised Tanalan that his widows would weep for what I did here, but that is too merciful for what they've done tome." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I intend to so thoroughly ruin this place that for ten generations, nobody will dare build here for fear of the spirits who will haunt it. We will make a pyre of this city, and there shall be no weeping for its passing, for none will remain to weep.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dalinar agreed to change clothing. He washed his face and arms, and let a surgeon look at his wounds.\n\nThe red mist was still there, coloring his vision. He would not sleep. It wouldn't let him.\n\nAbout an hour after he'd arrived in camp, he trudged back to the command tent, cleaned but not particularly refreshed.\n\nThe generals had drawn up anew set of battle plans to take the city walls, as instructed by Sadeas. Dalinar inspected and made a few changes, but told them to suspend making plans to march down into the city and clear it. He had something else in mind.\n\n\"Brightlord!\" a messenger woman said, arriving at the tent. She stepped in. \"An envoy is leaving the city. Flying the flag of truce.\"\n\n\"Shoot them dead,\" Dalinar said calmly.\n\n\"Sir?\"\n\n\"Arrows, woman,\" Dalinar said. \"Kill anyone who comes out of the city, and leave their bodies to rot.\"\n\n\"Um, yes, Brightlord.\" The messenger ducked away.\n\nDalinar looked up toward Sadeas, who still wore his Shardplate, glittering in the spherelight. Sadeas nodded in approval, then gestured to the side. He wanted to speak in private.\n\nDalinar left the table. He should hurt more. Shouldn't he? Storms... he was so numb, he could barely feel anything, aside from that burning within, simmering deep down. He stepped with Sadeas out of the tent.\n\n\"I've been able to stall the scribes,\" Sadeas whispered, \"as you ordered. Gavilar doesn't know that you live. His orders from before were to wait and lay siege.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"My return supersedes his distant orders,\" Dalinar said. \"The men will know that. Even Gavilar wouldn't disagree.\"\n\n\"Yes, but why keep him ignorant of your arrival?\"\n\nThe last moon was close to setting. Not long until morning. \"What do you think of my brother, Sadeas?\"\n\n\"He's exactly what we need,\" Sadeas said. \"Hard enough to lead a war; soft enough to be beloved during peace. He has foresight and wisdom.\"\n\n\"Do you think he could do what needs to be done here?\"\n\nSadeas fell silent. \"No,\" he finally said. \"No, not now. I wonder if you can either. This will be more than just death. It will be complete destruction.\"\n\n\"A lesson,\" Dalinar whispered.\n\n\"A display. Tanalan's plan was clever, but risky. He knew his chances of winning here depended upon removing you and your Shards from the battle.\" He narrowed his eyes. \"You thought those soldiers were mine. You actually believed I'd betray Gavilar.\"\n\n\"I worried.\"\n\n\"Then know this, Dalinar,\" Sadeas said, low, his voice like stone grinding stone. \"I would cutout my own heart before betraying Gavilar. I have no interest in being king-it's a job with little praise and even less amusement. I mean for this kingdom to stand for centuries.\"\n\n\"Good,\" Dalinar said.\n\n\"Honestly, I worried that you would betray him.\"\n\n\"I almost did, once. I stopped myself.\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"Because,\" Dalinar said. \"There has to be someone in this kingdom capable of doing what needs to be done, and it can't be the man sitting on the throne. Continue to hold the scribes back; it will be better if my brother can reasonably disavow what we're about to do.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Something will leak out soon,\" Sadeas said. \"Between our two armies, there are too many spanreeds. Storming things are getting so cheap, most of the officers can afford to buy a pair to manage their households from a distance.\"\n\nDalinar strode back into the tent, Sadeas following. Oathbringer still sat where he'd stuck it into the stones, though an armorer had replaced the gemstone for him.\n\nHe pulled the Blade from the rock. \"Time to attack.\"\n\nAmaram turned from where he stood with the other generals. \"Now, Dalinar? At night?\"\n\n\"The bonfires on the wall should be enough.\"\n\n\"To take the wall fortifications, yes,\" Amaram said. \"But Brightlord, I don't relish fighting down into those vertical streets in the night.\"\n\nDalinar shared a look with Sadeas. \"Fortunately, you won't have to. Send the word for the men to prepare the oil and flaming brands. We march.\"\n\nHighmarshal Perethom took the orders and began organizing specifics. Dalinar lifted Oathbringer on his shoulder. Time to bring you home.\n\nIn under a half hour, men charged the walls. No Shardbearers led this time; Dalinar was too weak, and his Plate was in shambles. Sadeas never did like exposing himself too early, and Teleb couldn't rush in alone.\n\nThey did it the mundane way, sending men to be crushed by stones or impaled by arrows as they carried ladders. They broke through eventually, securing a section of the wall in a furious, bloody fight.\n\nThe Thrill was an unsatisfied lump inside Dalinar, but he was wrung out, worn down. So he continued to wait until finally, Teleb and Sadeas joined the fight and routed the last of the defenders, sending them down from the walls toward the chasm of the city itself." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I need a squad of elites,\" Dalinar said softly to a nearby messenger. \"And my own barrel of oil. Have them meet me inside the walls.\"\n\n\"Yes, Brightlord,\" the young boy said, then ran off.\n\nDalinar strode across the field, passing fallen men bloody and dead. They'd died almost in ranks where waves of arrows had struck. He also passed a cluster of corpses in white, where the envoy had been slaughtered earlier. Warmed by the rising sun, he passed through the now-open gates of the wall and entered the ring of stone that surrounded the Rift.\n\nSadeas met him there, faceplate up, cheeks even redder than normal from exertion. \"They fought like Voidbringers. More vicious than last time, I'd say.\"\n\n\"They know what is coming,\" Dalinar said, walking toward the cliff edge. He stopped halfway there.\n\n\"We checked it fora trap this time,\" Sadeas noted.\n\nDalinar continued forward. The Rifters had gotten the better of him twice now. He should have learned the first time. He stopped at the edge of the cliff, looking down at a city built on platforms, rising up along the widening sides of the rift of stone. It was little wonder they thought so highly of themselves as to resist. Their city was grand, a monument of human ingenuity and grit.\n\n\"Burn it,\" Dalinar said.\n\nArchers gathered with arrows ready to ignite, while other men rolled up barrels of oil and pitch to give extra fuel.\n\n\"There are thousands of people in there, sir,\" Teleb said softly from his side. \"Tens of thousands.\"\n\n\"This kingdom must know the price of rebellion. We make a statement today.\"\n\n\"Obey or die?\" Teleb asked." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The same deal I offered you, Teleb. You were smart enough to take it.\"\n\n\"And the common people in there, the ones who didn't get a chance to choose aside?\"\n\nSadeas snorted from nearby. \"We will prevent more deaths in the future by letting every brightlord in this kingdom know the punishment for disobedience.\" He took a report from an aide, then stepped up to Dalinar. \"You were right about the scouts who turned traitor. We bribed one to turn on the others, and will execute the rest. The plan was apparently to separate you from the army, then hopefully kill you. Even if you were simply delayed, the Rift was hoping their lies would prompt your army into a reckless attack without you.\"\n\n\"They weren't counting on your swift arrival,\" Dalinar said.\n\n\"Or your tenacity.\"\n\nThe soldiers unplugged barrels of oil, then began dropping them down, soaking the upper levels of the city. Flaming brands followed-starting struts and walkways on fire. The very foundations of this city were flammable.\n\nTanalan's soldiers tried to organize a fightback out of the Rift, but they'd surrendered the high ground, expecting Dalinar to do as he had before, conquering and controlling.\n\nHe watched as the fires spread, flamespren rising in them, seeming larger and more... angry than normal. He then walked back-leaving a solemn Teleb-to gather his remaining elites. Captainlord Kadash had fifty for him, along with two barrels of oil.\n\n\"Follow,\" Dalinar said, walking around the Rift on its east side, where the fracture was narrow enough to cross on a short bridge.\n\nScreams below. Then cries of pain. Calls for mercy. People flooded from buildings, shouting in terror, fleeing on walkways and steps toward the basin below. Many buildings burned, trapping others inside." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dalinar led his squad along the northern rim of the Rift until they reached a certain location. His armies waited hereto kill any soldiers who tried to breakout, but the enemy had concentrated their assault on the other side, then been mostly beaten back. The fires hadn't reached up here yet, though Sadeas's archers had killed several dozen civilians who had tried to flee in this direction.\n\nFor now, the wooden ramp down into the city was clear. Dalinar led his group down one level to a location he remembered so well: the hidden door set into the wall. It was metal now, guarded by a pair of nervous Rifter soldiers.\n\nKadash's men shot them down with shortbows. That annoyed Dalinar; all of this fighting, and nothing with which to feed the Thrill. He stepped over one of the corpses, then tried the door, which was no longer hidden. It was still locked tight. Tanalan had decided to go with security instead of secrets, this time.\n\nUnfortunately for them, Oathbringer had come home. Dalinar easily cutoff the steel hinges. He stepped back as the door slammed forward onto the walkway, shaking the wood.\n\n\"Light those,\" he said, pointing to the barrels. \"Roll them down and burnout anyone hiding inside.\"\n\nThe men hurried to obey, and soon the tunnel of rock had fitful black smoke pouring from it. Nobody tried to flee, though he thought he heard cries of pain inside. Dalinar watched as long as he could, until soon the smoke and heat drove him back.\n\nThe Rift behind him was becoming a pit of darkness and fire. Dalinar retreated up the ramp to the stones above. Archers lit the final walkways and ramps behind him. It would belong before people decided to resettle here. Highstorms were one thing, but there was a more terrible force upon the land. And it carried a Shardblade." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Those screams... Dalinar passed lines of soldiers who waited along the northern rim in silent horror; many wouldn't have been with Dalinar and Gavilar during the early years of their conquest, when they'd allowed pillaging and ransacking of cities. And for those who did remember... well, he'd often found an excuse to stop things like this before.\n\nHe drew his lips to a line, and shoved down the Thrill. He would not let himself enjoy this. That single sliver of decency he could keep back.\n\n\"Brightlord!\" a soldier said, waving to him. \"Brightlord, you must see this!\"\n\nJust below the cliff here-one tier down into the city-was a beautiful white building. A palace. Farther out along the walkways, a group of people fought to reach the building. The wooden walkways were on fire, and preventing their access. Shocked, Dalinar recognized Tanalan the younger from their encounter earlier.\n\nTrying to get into his home? Dalinar thought. Figures darkened the building's upper windows; a woman and children. No. Trying to get to his family.\n\nTanalan hadn't been hiding in the saferoom after all.\n\n\"Throw a rope,\" Dalinar said. \"Bring Tanalan up here, but shoot down the bodyguards.\"\n\nThe smoke billowing out of the Rift was growing thick, lit red by the fires. Dalinar coughed, then stepped back as his men letdown a rope to the platform below, a section that wasn't burning. Tanalan hesitated, then took it, letting Dalinar's men haul him up. The bodyguards were sent arrows when they tried to climb up a nearby burning ramp.\n\n\"Please,\" Tanalan said, clothing ashen from the smoke, as he was hauled up over the stone rim. \"My family. Please.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Dalinar could hear them screaming below." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He whispered an order, and his elites pushed back the regular Kholin troops from the area, opening up a wide half-circle against the burning rift, where only Dalinar and his closest men were able to observe the captive.\n\nTanalan slumped on the ground. \"Please...\"\n\n\"I,\" Dalinar said softly, \"am an animal.\"\n\n\"What-\"\n\n\"An animal,\" Dalinar said, \"reacts as it is prodded. You whip it, and it becomes savage. With an animal, you can start a tempest. Trouble is, once it's gone feral, you can't just whistle it back to you.\"\n\n\"Blackthorn!\" Tanalan screamed. \"Please! My children.\"\n\n\"I made a mistake years ago,\" Dalinar said. \"I will not be so foolish again.\"\n\nAnd yet... those screams.\n\nDalinar's soldiers seized Tanalan tightly as Dalinar turned from the man and walked back to the pit of fire. Sadeas had just arrived with a company of his own men, but Dalinar ignored them, Oathbringer still held against his shoulder. Smoke stung Dalinar's nose, his eyes watering. He couldn't see across the Rift to the rest of his armies; the air warped with heat, colored red.\n\nIt was like looking into Damnation itself.\n\nDalinar released along breath, suddenly feeling his exhaustion even more deeply. \"It is enough,\" he said, turning toward Sadeas. \"Let the rest of the people of the city escape out the mouth of the canyon below. We have sent our signal.\"\n\n\"What?\" Sadeas said, hiking over. \"Dalinar-\"\n\nAloud series of cracks interrupted him. An entire section of the city nearby collapsed into the flames. The palace-and its occupants-crashed down with it, a tempest of sparks and splintering wood." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No!\" Tanalan shouted. \"NO!\"\n\n\"Dalinar...\" Sadeas said. \"I prepared a battalion below, with archers, per your orders.\"\n\n\"My orders?\"\n\n\"You said to \"Kill anyone who comes out of the city and leave their bodies to rot.\" I had men stationed below; they've launched arrows in at the city struts, burned the walkways leading down. This city burns from both directions-from underneath and from above. We can't stop it now.\"\n\nWood cracked as more sections of city collapsed. The Thrill surged, and Dalinar pushed it away. \"We've gone too far.\"\n\n\"Nonsense! Our lesson won't mean much if people can merely walkaway.\" Sadeas glanced toward Tanalan. \"Last loose end is this one. We don't want him getting away again.\" He reached for his sword.\n\n\"I'll do it,\" Dalinar said. Though the concept of more death was starting to sicken him, he steeled himself. This was the man who had betrayed him.\n\nDalinar stepped closer. To his credit, Tanalan tried to leap to his feet and fight. Several elites shoved the traitor back down to the ground, though Captainlord Kadash himself was just standing at the side of the city, looking down at the destruction. Dalinar could feel that heat, so terrible. It mirrored a sense within him. The Thrill... incredibly... was not satisfied. Still it thirsted. It didn't seem... didn't seem it could be satiated.\n\nTanalan collapsed, blubbering.\n\n\"You should not have betrayed me,\" Dalinar whispered, raising Oathbringer. \"At least this time, you didn't hide in your hole. I don't know who you let take cover there, but know they are dead. I took care of that with barrels of fire.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Tanalan blinked, then started laughing with a frantic, crazed air. \"You don't know? How could you not know? But you killed our messengers. You poor fool. You poor, stupid fool.\"\n\nDalinar seized him by the chin, though the man was still held by his soldiers. \"What?\"\n\n\"She came to us,\" Tanalan said. \"To plead. How could you have missed her? Do you track your own family so poorly? The hole you burned... we don't hide there anymore. Everyone knows about it. Now it's a prison.\"\n\nIce washed through Dalinar, and he grabbed Tanalan by the throat and held, Oathbringer slipping from his fingers. He strangled the man, all the while demanding that he retract what he'd said.\n\nTanalan died with a smile on his lips. Dalinar stepped back, suddenly feeling too weak to stand. Where was the Thrill to bolster him? \"Go back,\" he shouted at his elites. \"Search that hole. Go...\" He trailed off.\n\nKadash was on his knees, looking woozy, a pile of vomit on the rock before him. Some elites ran to try to do as Dalinar said, but they shied away from the Rift-the heat rising from the burning city was incredible.\n\nDalinar roared, standing, pushing toward the flames. However, the fire was too intense. Where he had once seen himself as an unstoppable force, he now had to admit exactly how small he was. Insignificant. Meaningless.\n\nOnce it's gone feral, you can't just whistle it back to you.\n\nHe fell to his knees, and remained there until his soldiers pulled him-limp-away from the heat and carried him to his camp." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Six hours later, Dalinar stood with hands clasped behind his back-partially to hide how badly they were shaking-and stared at a body on the table, covered in a white sheet.\n\nBehind him in the tent, some of his scribes whispered. A sound like swishing swords on the practice field. Teleb's wife, Kalami, led the discussion; she thought that Evi must have defected. What else could explain why the burned corpse of a highprince's wife had been found in an enemy safehouse?\n\nIt fit the narrative. Showing uncharacteristic determination, Evi had drugged the guard protecting her. She'd snuck away in the night. The scribes wondered how long Evi had been a traitor, and if she'd helped recruit the group of scouts who had betrayed Dalinar.\n\nHe stepped forward, resting his fingers on the smooth, too-white sheet. Fool woman. The scribes didn't know Evi well enough. She hadn't been a traitor-she'd gone to the Rift to plead for them to surrender. She'd seen in Dalinar's eyes that he wouldn't spare them. So, Almighty help her, she'd gone to do what she could.\n\nDalinar barely had the strength to stand. The Thrill had abandoned him, and that left him broken, pained.\n\nHe pulled back the corner of the sheet. The left side of Evi's face was scorched, nauseating, but the right side had been down toward the stone. It was oddly untouched.\n\nThis is your fault, he thought at her. How dare you do this? Stupid, frustrating woman.\n\nThis was not his fault, not his responsibility.\n\n\"Dalinar,\" Kalami said, stepping up. \"You should rest.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"She didn't betray us,\" Dalinar said firmly.\n\n\"I'm sure eventually we'll know what-\"\n\n\"She did not betray us,\" Dalinar snapped. \"Keep the discovery of her body quiet, Kalami. Tell the people... tell them my wife was slain by an assassin last night. I will swear the few elites who know to secrecy. Let everyone think she died a hero, and that the destruction of the city today was done in retribution.\"\n\nDalinar set his jaw. Earlier today, the soldiers of his army-so carefully trained over the years to resist pillaging and the slaughter of civilians-had burned a city to the ground. It would ease their consciences to think that first, the highlady had been murdered.\n\nKalami smiled at him, a knowing-even self-important-smile. His lie would serve a second purpose. As long as Kalami and the head scribes thought they knew a secret, they'd be less likely to dig for the true answer.\n\nNot my fault.\n\n\"Rest, Dalinar,\" Kalami said. \"You are in pain now, but as the highstorm must pass, all mortal agonies will fade.\"\n\nDalinar left the corpse to the ministrations of others. Ashe departed, he strangely heard the screams of those people in the Rift. He stopped, wondering what it was. Nobody else seemed to notice.\n\nYes, that was distant screaming. In his head, maybe? They all seemed children to his ears. The ones he'd abandoned to the flames. A chorus of the innocent pleading for help, for mercy.\n\nEvi's voice joined them." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "-From drawer 30-20, first emerald\n\nKaladin dashed across the street. \"Wait!\" he shouted. \"One more here!\"\n\nAhead, a man with a thin mustache struggled to close a thick wooden door. It stuck partway open, however, giving just enough time for Kaladin to slip through.\n\nThe man swore at him, then pulled the door shut. Made of dark stumpweight wood, it made a muffled thunk. The man did up the locks, then stepped back and let three younger men place a thick bar into the settings.\n\n\"Cutting that close, armsman,\" the mustachioed man said, noting the Wall Guard patch on Kaladin's shoulder.\n\n\"Sorry,\" Kaladin said, handing the man a few spheres as a cover charge. \"But the storm is still a few minutes away.\"\n\n\"Can't be too careful with this new storm,\" the man said. \"Be glad the door got stuck.\"\n\nSyl sat on the hinges, legs hanging over the sides. Kaladin doubted it had been luck; sticking people's shoes to the stone was a classic windspren trick. Still, he did understand the doorman's hesitance. Everstorms didn't quite match up with scholarly projections. The previous one had arrived hours earlier than anyone had guessed it would. Fortunately, they tended to blow in slower than highstorms. If you knew to watch the sky, there was time to find shelter.\n\nKaladin ran his hand through his hair and started deeper into the winehouse. This was one of those fashionable places that-while technically a stormshelter-was used only by rich people who had come to spend the storm enjoying themselves. It had a large common room and thick walls of stone blocks. No windows, of course. A bartender kept people liquored near the back, and a number of booths ringed the perimeter." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He spotted Shallan and Adolin sitting in a booth at the side. She wore her own face, but Adolin looked like Meleran Khal, a tall, bald man around Adolin's height. Kaladin lingered, watching Shallan laugh at something Adolin said, then poke him-with her safehand-in the shoulder. She seemed completely enthralled by him. And good for her. Everyone deserved something to give them light, these days. But... what about the glances she shot him on occasion, times when she didn't quite seem to be the same person? A different smile, an almost wicked look to her eyes...\n\nYou're seeing things, he thought to himself. He strode forward and caught their attention, settling into the booth with a sigh. He was off duty, and free to visit the city. He'd told the others he'd find his own shelter for the storm, and only had to be back in time for evening post-storm patrol.\n\n\"Took you long enough, bridgeboy,\" Adolin said.\n\n\"Lost track of time,\" Kaladin said, tapping the table. He hated being in stormshelters. They felt too much like prisons.\n\nOutside, thunder announced the Everstorm's arrival. Most people in the city would be inside their homes, the refugees instead in public stormshelters.\n\nThis for-pay shelter was sparsely occupied, only a few of the tables or booths in use. That would give privacy to talk, fortunately, but it didn't bode well for the proprietor. People didn't have spheres to waste.\n\n\"Where's Elhokar?\" Kaladin asked.\n\n\"Elhokar is working on last-minute plans through the storm,\" Adolin said. \"He's decided to reveal himself tonight to the lighteyes he's chosen. And... he's done a good job, Kal. We'll at least have some troops because of this. Fewer than I'd like, but something.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And maybe another Knight Radiant?\" Shallan asked, glancing at Kaladin. \"What have you found?\"\n\nHe quickly caught them upon what he'd learned: The Wall Guard might have a Soulcaster, and was definitely producing food somehow. It had seized emerald stores in the city-a fact he'd recently discovered.\n\n\"Azure is... tough to read,\" Kaladin finished. \"She visits the barracks every night, but never talks about herself. Men report seeing her sword cut through stone, but it has no gemstone. I think it might bean Honorblade, like the weapon of the Assassin in White.\"\n\n\"Huh,\" Adolin said, sitting back. \"You know, that would explain a lot.\"\n\n\"My platoon has dinner with her tonight, after evening patrol,\" Kaladin said. \"I intend to see what I can learn.\"\n\nA serving girl came for orders, and Adolin bought them wine. He knew about lighteyed drinks and-without needing to be told-ordered something without a touch of alcohol for Kaladin. He'd be on duty later. Adolin did get Shallan a cup of violet, to Kaladin's surprise.\n\nAs the serving girl left with the order, Adolin reached out toward Kaladin. \"Let me see your sword.\"\n\n\"My sword?\" Kaladin said, glancing toward Syl, who was huddling near the back of the booth and humming softly to herself. Away of ignoring the sounds of the Everstorm, which rumbled beyond the stones.\n\n\"Not that sword,\" Adolin said. \"Your side sword.\"\n\nKaladin glanced down to where the sword stuck out beside his seat. He'd almost forgotten he was wearing the thing, which was a relief. The first few days, he'd bumped the sheath into everything. He unbuckled it and set it on the table for Adolin." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Good blade,\" the prince said. \"Well maintained. It was in this condition when they assigned it to you?\"\n\nKaladin nodded. Adolin drew it and held it up.\n\n\"It's a little small,\" Shallan noted.\n\n\"It's a one-handed sword, Shallan. Close-range infantry weapon. A longer blade would be impractical.\"\n\n\"Longer... like Shardblades?\" Kaladin asked.\n\n\"Well, yes, they break all kinds of rules.\" Adolin waved the sword through a few motions, then sheathed it. \"I like this highmarshal of yours.\"\n\n\"It's not even her weapon,\" Kaladin said, taking it back.\n\n\"You boys done comparing your swords?\" Shallan asked. \"Because I've found something.\" She thumped a large book onto the table. \"One of my contacts finally tracked down a copy of Hessi's Mythica. It's a newer book, and has been poorly received. It attributes distinct personalities to the Unmade.\"\n\nAdolin lifted the cover, peeking in. \"So... anything about swords in it?\"\n\n\"Oh hush,\" she said, and batted his arm in a playful-and somewhat nauseating-way.\n\nYes, it was uncomfortable to watch the two of them. Kaladin liked them both... just not together. He forced himself to look around the room, which was occupied by lighteyes trying to drink away the sounds of the storm. He tried not to think of refugees who would be packed into stuffy public shelters, clutching their meager possessions and hoping some of what they were forced to leave behind would survive the storm.\n\n\"The book,\" Shallan said, \" claims there were nine Unmade. That matches the vision Dalinar saw, though other reports speak often Unmade. They're likely ancient spren, primal, from the days before human society and civilization." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The book claims the nine rampaged during the Desolations, but says not all were destroyed at Aharietiam. The author insists that some are active today; I find her vindicated-obviously-by what we've experienced.\"\n\n\"And there's one of these in the city,\" Adolin said.\n\n\"I think...\" Shallan said. \"I think there might be two, Adolin. Sja-anat, the Taker of Secrets, is one. Again, Dalinar's visions mention her. Sja-anat's touch corrupted other spren-and we're seeing the effects of that here.\"\n\n\"And the other one?\" Adolin asked.\n\n\"Ashertmarn,\" Shallan said softly. She slipped a little knife from her satchel and began to absently carve at the top of the table. \"The Heart of the Revel. The book has less to say on him, though it speaks of how he leads people to indulge in excess.\"\n\n\"Two Unmade,\" Kaladin said. \"Are you sure?\"\n\n\"Sure as I can be. Wit confirmed the second, and the way the queen acted leading up to the riots seems an obvious sign. As for the Taker of Secrets, we can seethe corrupted spren ourselves.\"\n\n\"How do we fight two?\" Kaladin asked.\n\n\"How do we fight one?\" Adolin said. \"In the tower, we didn't so much fight the thing as frighten it off. Shallan can't even say how she did that. What does the book say about fighting them?\"\n\n\"Nothing.\" Shallan shrugged, blowing at her little carving on the table. It was of a corrupted gloryspren in the shape of a cube, which another patron had attracted. \"The book says if you see a spren the wrong color, you're supposed to immediately move to another town.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"There's kind of an army in the way,\" Kaladin said.\n\n\"Yes, amazingly your stench hasn't cleared them out yet.\" Shallan started leafing through her book.\n\nKaladin frowned. Comments like that were part of what confused him about Shallan. She seemed perfectly friendly one moment, then she'd snap at him the next, while pretending it was merely part of normal conversation. But she didn't talk like that to others, not even in jest.\n\nWhat is wrong with you, woman? he thought. They'd shared something intimate, in the chasms back on the Shattered Plains. A highstorm huddled together, and words. Was she embarrassed by that? Was that the reason she snapped at him sometimes?\n\nIf that was so, how did one explain the other times, when she watched him and grinned? When she winked, in a sly way?\n\n\"Hessi reports stories of the Unmade not only corrupting spren, but corrupting people,\" Shallan was saying. \"Maybe that's what's happening with the palace. We'll know more after infiltrating the cult tonight.\"\n\n\"I don't like you going alone,\" Adolin said.\n\n\"I won't be alone. I'll have my team.\"\n\n\"One washwoman and two deserters,\" Kaladin said. \"If Gaz is anything to judge by, Shallan, you shouldn't put too much trust in those men.\"\n\nShallan raised her chin. \"At least my soldiers knew when to getaway from the warcamps, as opposed to just standing around letting people fling arrows at them.\"\n\n\"We trust you, Shallan,\" Adolin said, eyeing Kaladin as if to say, Drop it. \"And we really need a look at that Oathgate.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"What if I can't open it?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Shallan asked. \"What then?\"\n\n\"We have to retreat back to the Shattered Plains,\" Kaladin said.\n\n\"Elhokar won't leave his family.\"\n\n\"Then Drehy, Skar, and I rush the palace,\" Kaladin said. \"We fly in at night, enter through the upper balcony, grab the queen and the young prince. We do it all right before the highstorm comes, then the lot of us fly back to Urithiru.\"\n\n\"And leave the city to fall,\" Adolin said, drawing his lips to a line.\n\n\"Can the city hold?\" Shallan asked. \"Maybe until we can get back with areal army, marched out here?\"\n\n\"That would take months,\" Adolin said. \"And the Wall Guard is... what? Four battalions?\"\n\n\"Five in total,\" Kaladin said.\n\n\"Five thousand men?\" Shallan asked. \"So few?\"\n\n\"That's large fora city garrison,\" Adolin said. \"The point of fortifications is to let a small number hold against a much larger force. But the enemy has an unexpected advantage. Voidbringers who can fly, and a city infested with their allies.\"\n\n\"Yeah,\" Kaladin said. \"The Wall Guard is earnest, but they won't be able to withstand a dedicated assault. There are tens of thousands of parshmen out there-and they're close to attacking. We don't have much time left. The Fused will sweep into secure portions of the wall, and their armies will follow. If we're going to hold this city, we'll need Radiants and Shardbearers to even the odds.\"\n\nKaladin and Shallan shared a look. Their Radiants were not a battle-ready group, not yet. Storms. His men had barely taken to the skies. How could they be expected to fight those creatures who flew so easily upon the winds? How could he protect this city and protect his men?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They fell silent, listening to the room shake with the sounds of thunder outside. Kaladin finished his drink, wishing it were one of Rock's concoctions instead, and flicked away an odd cremling that he spotted clinging to the side of the bench. It had a multitude of legs, and a bulbous body, with a strange tan pattern on its back.\n\nDisgusting. Even with the stresses to the city, the proprietor could at least keep this place clean.\n\nOnce the storm finally blew itself out, Shallan stepped from the winehouse, holding Adolin's arm. She watched Kaladin hurry off toward the barracks for evening patrol.\n\nShe should probably be equally eager to get going. She still had to steal some food today-enough to satisfy the Cult of Moments when she approached them later in the evening. That should be easy enough. Vathah had taken to planning operations under Ishnah's guidance, and was proving quite proficient.\n\nStill, she lingered, enjoying Adolin's presence. She wanted to be here, with him, before it was time to be Veil. She... well, she didn't much care for him. Too clean-cut, too oblivious, too expected. She was fine with him as anally, but wasn't the least bit interested romantically.\n\nShallan held his arm, walking with him. People already moved through the city, cleaning up-more so they could scavenge than out of civic duty. They reminded her of cremlings that emerged after a storm to feast on the plants. Indeed, nearby, ornamental rockbuds spat out vines in clusters beside doorways. A splatter of green vines and unfurling leaves, set against the brown city canvas.\n\nOne patch nearby had been struck-and burned away-by the Everstorm's red lightning." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I need to show you the Impossible Falls sometime,\" Adolin said. \"If you watch them from the right angles, it looks like the water is flowing down along the tiers, then somehow right up onto the top again....\"\n\nAs they walked, she had to step over a dead mink sticking half out of a broken tree trunk. Not the most romantic of strolls, but it was good to hold onto Adolin's arm-even if he had to wear a false face.\n\n\"Hey!\" Adolin said. \"I didn't get to look through the sketchbook. You said you were going to show me.\"\n\n\"I brought the wrong one, remember? I had to carve on the table.\" She grinned. \"Don't think I missed you going up and paying for the damage when I wasn't looking.\"\n\nHe grunted.\n\n\"People carve on bar tables. It happens all the time.\"\n\n\"Sure, sure. It was a good carving too.\"\n\n\"And you still think I shouldn't have done it.\" She squeezed his arm. \"Oh, Adolin Kholin. You are your father's son. I won't do it again, all right?\"\n\nHe was blushing. \"I,\" he said, \"was promised sketches. I don't care if it's the wrong sketchbook. I feel like I haven't seen any of your pictures forages.\"\n\n\"There's nothing good in this one,\" she said, digging in her satchel. \"I've been distracted lately.\"\n\nHe still made her hand it over, and secretly she was pleased. He started flipping through the more recent pictures, and though he noted the ones of strange spren, he idled most on the sketches of refugees she'd done for her collection. A mother with her daughter, sitting in shadow, but with her face looking toward the horizon and the hints of arising sun. A thick-knuckled man sweeping the area around his pallet on the street. A young woman, lighteyed and hanging out a window, hair drifting free, wearing only a nightgown with her hand tied in a pouch." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Shallan,\" he said, \"these are amazing! Some of the best work you've ever done.\"\n\n\"They're just quick sketches, Adolin.\"\n\n\"They're beautiful,\" he said, looking at another, where he stopped. It was a picture of him in one of his new suits.\n\nShallan blushed. \"Forgot that was there,\" she said, trying to get the sketchbook back. He lingered on the picture, then finally succumbed to her prodding and handed it back. She let out a sigh of relief. It wasn't that she'd be embarrassed if he saw the sketch of Kaladin on the next page-she did sketches of all kinds of people. But best to end on the picture of Adolin. Veil had been seeping through on that other one.\n\n\"You're getting better, if that's possible.\"\n\n\"Maybe. Though I don't know how much I can credit myself with the progress. Words of Radiance says that a lot of Lightweavers were artists.\"\n\n\"So the order recruited people like you.\"\n\n\"Or the Surgebinding made them better at sketching, giving them an unfair advantage over other artists.\"\n\n\"I have an unfair advantage over other duelists. I have had the finest training since childhood. I was born strong and healthy, and my father's wealth gave me some of the best sparring partners in the world. My build gives me reach over other men. Does that mean I don't deserve accolades when I win?\"\n\n\"You don't have supernatural help.\"\n\n\"You still had to work hard. I know you did.\" He put his arm around her, pulling her closer as they walked. Other Alethi couples kept their distance in public, but Adolin had been raised by a mother with a fondness for hugs. \"You know, there's this thing my father complains about. He asked what the use of Shardblades was.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Um... I think they're pretty obviously for cutting people up. Without cutting them, actually. So-\"\n\n\"But why only swords? Father asks why the ancient Radiants never made tools for the people.\" He squeezed her shoulder. \"I love that your powers make you a better artist, Shallan. Father was wrong. The Radiants weren't just soldiers! Yes, they created incredible weapons, but they also created incredible art! And maybe once this war is done, we can find other uses for their powers.\"\n\nStorms, his enthusiasm could be intoxicating. As they walked toward the tailor's shop, she was loath to part with him, though Veil did need to get on with her day's work.\n\nI can be anyone, Shallan thought, noticing a few joyspren blowing past, like a swirl of blue leaves. I can become anything. Adolin deserved someone far better than her. Could she... become that someone? Craft for him the perfect bride, a woman that looked and acted as befitted Adolin Kholin?\n\nIt wouldn't be her. The real her was a bruised and sorry thing, painted up all pretty, but inside a horrid mess. She already put a face over that for him. Why not go a few steps farther? Radiant... Radiant could be his perfect bride, and she did like him.\n\nThe thought made Shallan feel cold inside.\n\nOnce they were close enough to the tailor's shop that she didn't worry about him being safe as he walked back on his own, Shallan forced herself to pullout of his grip. She held his hand a moment with her freehand. \"I need to be going.\"\n\n\"You aren't to meet the cult until sunset.\"\n\n\"I need to steal some food first to pay them.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Still, he held to her hand." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What do you do out there, Shallan? Who do you become?\"\n\n\"Everyone,\" she said. Then she reached up and kissed him on the cheek. \"Thank you for being you, Adolin.\"\n\n\"Everyone else was taken already,\" he mumbled.\n\nNever stopped me.\n\nHe watched her until she ducked around a corner, heart thumping. Adolin Kholin in her life was like a warm sunrise.\n\nVeil started to seep out, and she was forced to acknowledge that sometimes she preferred the storm and the rain to the sun.\n\nShe checked at the drop point, inside a corner of a building that was now rubble. Here, Red had deposited a pack that contained Veil's outfit. She grabbed it and went hunting a good place to change.\n\nThe end of the world had come, but that seemed most true after a storm. Refuse strewn about, people who hadn't gotten to shelters moaning from fallen shacks or alongside streets.\n\nIt was like each storm tried to wipe them off Roshar, and they only remained through sheer grit and luck. Now, with two storms, it was even worse. If they defeated the Voidbringers, would the Everstorm remain? Had it begun to erode their society in away that-win the war or not-would eventually end with them all swept out to sea?\n\nShe felt her face changing as she walked, draining Stormlight from her satchel. It rose in her like a flaring flame, before dimming to an ember as she became the people from the sketches Adolin had seen.\n\nThe poor man who tried doggedly to keep the area around his little pallet clean, as if to try to maintain some control over an insane world." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The lighteyed girl who wondered what had happened to the joy of adolescence. Instead of her wearing her first havah to a ball, her family was forced to take in dozens of relatives from neighboring towns, and she spent the days locked away because the streets weren't safe.\n\nThe mother with a child, sitting in darkness, looking toward the horizon and a hidden sun.\n\nFace after face. Life afterlife. Overpowering, intoxicating, alive. Breathing, and crying, and laughing, and being. So many hopes, so many lives, so many dreams.\n\nShe unbuttoned her havah up the side, then let it fall. She dropped her satchel, which thumped from the heavy book inside. She stepped forward in only her shift, safehand uncovered, feeling the wind on her skin. She was still wearing an illusion, one that didn't disrobe, so nobody could see her.\n\nNobody could see her. Had anyone ever seen her? She stopped on the street corner, wearing shifting faces and clothing, enjoying the sensation of freedom, clothed yet naked skin shivering at the wind's kiss.\n\nAround her, people ducked away into buildings, frightened.\n\nJust another spren, Shallan/Veil/ Radiant thought. That's what I am. Emotion made carnal.\n\nShe lifted her hands to the sides, exposed, yet invisible. She breathed the breaths of a city's people.\n\n\"Mmm...\" Pattern said, unweaving himself from her discarded dress. \"Shallan?\"\n\n\"Maybe,\" she said, lingering.\n\nFinally, she let herself slip fully into Veil's persona. She immediately shook her head and fetched the clothing and satchel. She was lucky it hadn't been stolen. Foolish girl. They didn't have time for prancing around from poem to poem." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Veil found a secluded location beside a large gnarled tree whose roots spread all the way along the wall in either direction. She quickly rearranged her underclothing, then put on her trousers and did up her shirt. She pulled on her hat, checked herself in a hand mirror, then nodded.\n\nRight, then. Time to meetup with Vathah.\n\nHe was waiting at the inn where Wit had once stayed. Radiant retained hope that she'd meet him again there, fora more thorough interrogation. In the private room, away from the eyes of the fretting innkeeper, Vathah laid out a couple of spheres to light the maps he'd purchased. They detailed the manor she intended to hit this afternoon.\n\n\"They call it the Mausoleum,\" Vathah explained as Veil sat. He showed her an artist's sketch he'd purchased, which was of the building's grand hall. \"Those statues are all Soulcast, by the way. They're favored servants of the house, turned to storming stone.\"\n\n\"It's a sign of honor and respect among lighteyes.\"\n\n\"It's creepy,\" Vathah said. \"When I die, burn my corpse upright good. Don't leave me staring for eternity while your descendants sip their tea.\"\n\nVeil nodded absently, placing Shallan's sketchbook on the table. \"Pick an alias from this. This map says the larder is on the outside wall. Time is tight, so we might want to do this one the easy way. Have Red make a distraction, then use Shallan's Blade to cut us an opening right into the food.\"\n\n\"You know, they're said to have quite the fortune at the Mausoleum. The Tenet family riches are...\" He trailed off as he saw her expression. \"No riches, then.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"We get the food to pay the cult, then we get out.\"\n\n\"Fine.\" He settled on the image of the man sweeping around his pallet, staring at it. \"You know, when you reformed me from banditry, I figured I was done with stealing.\"\n\n\"This is different.\"\n\n\"Different how? We stole mostly food back then too, Brightness. Just wanted to stay alive and forget.\"\n\n\"And do you still want to forget?\"\n\nHe grunted. \"No, suppose I don't. Suppose I sleep a little better now at night, don't I?\"\n\nThe door opened and the innkeeper bustled in, holding drinks. Vathah yelped, though Veil turned with a droll expression. \"I believe,\" she said, \"I wanted to not be interrupted.\"\n\n\"I brought drinks!\"\n\n\"Which is an interruption,\" Veil said, pointing out the door. \"If we're thirsty, we'll ask.\"\n\nThe innkeeper grumbled, then backed out the door, carrying his tray. He's suspicious, Veil thought. He thinks we were up to something with Wit, and wants to find out what.\n\n\"Time to move these meetings to another location, eh, Vathah?\" She looked back at the table.\n\nAnd found someone else sitting there.\n\nVathah was gone, replaced by a bald man with thick knuckles and a well-kept smock. Shallan glanced at the picture on the table, then at the drained sphere beside it, then back at Vathah.\n\n\"Nice,\" she said. \"But you forgot to do the back of the head, the part not in the drawing.\"\n\n\"What?\" Vathah asked, frowning." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She showed him the hand mirror.\n\n\"Why'd you put his face on me?\"\n\n\"I didn't,\" Veil said, standing. \"You panicked and this happened.\"\n\nVathah prodded at his face, still looking in the mirror, confused.\n\n\"I'll bet the first few times are always accidents,\" Veil said. She tucked the mirror away. \"Gather this stuff up. We'll do the mission as planned, but tomorrow you're relieved of infiltration duty. I'll want you practicing with your Stormlight instead.\"\n\n\"Practicing...\" He finally seemed to get it, his brown eyes opening widely. \"Brightness! I'm no storming Radiant.\"\n\n\"Of course not. You're probably a squire-I think most orders had them. You might become something more. I think Shallan was making illusions off and on for years before she said the oaths. But then, it's all kind of muddled in her head. I had my sword when I was very young, and...\"\n\nShe took a deep breath. Fortunately, Veil hadn't lived through those days.\n\nPattern hummed in warning.\n\n\"Brightness...\" Vathah said. \"Veil, you really think that I...\"\n\nStorms, he seemed like he was going to cry.\n\nShe patted him on the shoulder. \"We don't have time to waste. The cult will be waiting for me in four hours, and expect a nice payment of food. You going to be all right?\"\n\n\"Sure, sure,\" he said. The illusion finally dropped, and the image of Vathah himself so emotional was even more striking. \"I can do this. Let's go steal from some rich people and give to some crazy people instead.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "-From drawer 30-20, second emerald\n\nVeil had exposed herself.\n\nThat nagged at her as the wagon-filled with spoils from the robbery-rolled toward the appointed meeting place with the cult. She nestled in the back, against a bag of grain, feet upon a paper-wrapped haunch of cured pork.\n\n\"Swiftspren\" was Veil, as she was the one who had been seen distributing the food. Therefore, to enter this revel, she would have to go as herself.\n\nThe enemy knew what she looked like. Should she have created anew persona, a false face, to not expose Veil?\n\nBut Veil is a false face, apart of her said. You could always abandon her.\n\nShe strangled that part of her, smothered it deep. Veil was too real, too vital, to abandon. Shallan would be easier.\n\nFirst moon was up by the time they reached the steps to the Oathgate platform. Vathah rolled the wagon into place, and Veil hopped off, coat rippling around her. Two guards here were dressed as flamespren, with golden and red tassels. Their muscular builds, and those two spears set near the steps, hinted these men might have been soldiers before joining the cult.\n\nA woman bustled between them, wearing a flat white mask with eyeholes but no mouth or other features. Veil narrowed her eyes; the mask reminded her of Iyatil, Mraize's master in the Ghostbloods. But it was a very different shape.\n\n\"You were told to come alone, Swiftspren,\" the woman said.\n\n\"You expected me to unload all of this on my own?\" Veil waved to the back of the wagon." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"We can handle it,\" the woman said smoothly, stepping over as one of the guards held up a torch-not a sphere lamp-and the other lowered the wagon's tailgate." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Mmmm...\"\n\nVeil turned sharply. That hum...\n\nThe guards started unloading the food.\n\n\"You can take all but the two bags marked with red,\" Veil said, pointing. \"I need those for my rounds visiting the poor.\"\n\n\"I wasn't aware this was a negotiation,\" the cultist said. \"You asked for this. You've been leaving whispers through the city that you want to join the revel.\"\n\nWit's work, apparently. She'd have to thank him.\n\n\"Why are you here?\" the cultist asked, sounding curious. \"What is it you want, Swiftspren, so-called hero of the markets?\"\n\n\"I just... keep hearing this voice. It says that this is the end, that I should give into it. Embrace the time of spren.\" She turned toward the Oathgate platform; an orange glow was rising from the top. \"The answers are up there, aren't they?\"\n\nFrom the corner of her eye, she saw the three nod to one another. She'd passed some kind of test.\n\n\"You may climb the steps to enlightenment,\" the cultist in white told her. \"Your guide will meet you at the top.\"\n\nShe tossed her hat to Vathah and met his eyes. Once the unloading was through, he'd pull away and setup a few streets farther off, where he could watch the edge of the Oathgate platform. If she had trouble, she would throw herself off, counting on Stormlight to heal her after falling.\n\nShe started up the steps.\n\nKaladin normally liked the feeling of the city after a storm. Clean and fresh, washed of grime and refuse.\n\nHe'd done evening patrol, checking over their beat to see everything was all right following the storm. Now he stood on the top of the wall, waiting for the rest of his squad, who were still stowing their equipment. The sun had barely set, and it was time for dinner." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Below, he picked outbuildings newly scarred from lightning strikes. A pod of corrupted windspren danced past, trailing intense red light. Even the smell of the air was wrong somehow. Moldy and sodden.\n\nSyl sat quietly on his shoulder until Beard and the others piled into the stairwell. He finally joined them, walking down below to the barrack, where both platoons-his and the one they shared the space with-were gathering for dinner. Roughly twenty of the men from the other platoon would be on wall duty tonight, but everyone else was present.\n\nNot long after Kaladin arrived, the two platoon captains called their men to muster. Kaladin fell into line between Beard and Ved, and together they saluted as Azure stepped into the doorway. She was arrayed for battle as always, with her breastplate, chain, and cloak.\n\nTonight, she decided to do a formal inspection. Kaladin held attention with the others as she walked down their lines and commented quietly to the two captains. She looked over a few swords, and asked several of the men if they needed anything. Kaladin felt as if he'd stood in similar lines a hundred times, sweating and hoping that the general would find everything in order.\n\nThey always did. This wasn't the type of inspection that was intended to actually find problems-this was a chance for the men to showoff for their highmarshal. They swelled as she told them they'just might be the finest platoons of fighting men I've ever had the privilege of leading.\" Kaladin was certain he'd heard those exact words from Amaram.\n\nTrite or not, the words inspired the men. They gave the highmarshal shouts of approval once they were given leave to break ranks. Perhaps the number of'finest platoons\" in the army went up during times of war, when everyone craved a morale boost." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Kaladin walked to the officers'table." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It hadn't taken much work to get himself invited to dine with the highmarshal. Noro really wanted him promoted to lieutenant, and most of the others were too intimidated by Azure to sit at her table.\n\nThe highmarshal hung her cloak and strange sword on a peg. She kept her gloves on, and though he couldn't see her chest because of the breastplate, that face and build were obviously female. She was also very Alethi, with the skin tone and hair, her eyes a glimmering light orange.\n\nShe must have spent time as a mercenary out west, Kaladin thought. Sigzil had once told him that women fought in the west, particularly among mercenaries.\n\nThe meal was simple curried grain. Kaladin took a bite, well acquainted by now with the aftertaste of Soulcast grain. A lingering staleness. The curry helped, but the cooks had used the boiled-off starch of the grain to thicken it, so it had some of the same flavor.\n\nHe'd been placed relatively far from the center of the table, where Azure conversed with the two platoon captains. Eventually, one excused himself to use the privy.\n\nKaladin thought fora moment, then picked up his plate and moved down the table to settle into the open spot.\n\nVeil reached the top of the platform, entering what felt like a little village. The monastery structures here were much smaller-yet far nicer-than the ones on the Shattered Plains had been. A cluster of fine stonework structures with slanted, wedge-shaped roofs, the points toward the Origin.\n\nOrnamental shalebark grew around the bases of most of the buildings, cultivated and carved into swirling patterns. Veil took a Memory for Shallan, but her focus was on the firelight coming from farther inward. She couldn't seethe control building. All of these other structures were in the way. She could seethe palace off to her left, glowing in the night with windows lit. It connected to the Oathgate platform by a covered walkway called the Sunwalk. A small group of soldiers, visible in the darkness only as shadows, guarded the way across." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Close to her-at the top of the steps-a rotund man sat along a shalebark ridge." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He had short hair and light green eyes, and gave her an affable grin. \"Welcome! I'm your guide tonight, for your first time at the revel! It can be... ah, disorienting.\"\n\nThose are ardent robes, Veil noted. Ripped, stained from what appeared to be a variety of foods.\n\n\"Everyone who comes up here,\" he said, hopping off his seat, \"is reborn. Your name is now... um...\" He pulled apiece of paper from his pocket. \"Where did I write that? Well, suppose it isn't important. Your name is Kishi. Doesn't that sound nice? Good job getting up here. This is where you'll find the real fun in the city.\"\n\nHe shoved his hands back in his pockets and looked down one of the roadways, then his shoulders slumped. \"Anyway,\" he said. \"Let's get going. Lots of reveling to do tonight. Always so much reveling to be done...\"\n\n\"And you are?\"\n\n\"Me? Oh, um, Kharat is what they named me. I think? I forget.\" He ambled forward without waiting to see if she followed.\n\nShe did, eager to get to the center. However, just past the first building, she reached the revel-and had to stop to take it in. A bonfire burned right on the ground, flames crackling and whipping in the wind, bathing Veil in heat. Corrupted flamespren, vivid blue and somehow more jagged, danced inside of it. Tables lined the walkway here, piled with food. Candied meats, stacks of flatbread crusted with sugar, fruits and pastries.\n\nA variety of people passed by, occasionally scooping food off the tables with their bare hands. They laughed and shouted. Many had been ardents, marked by brown robes. Others were lighteyes, though their clothing had... decayed? It seemed a fitting word for these suits with missing jackets, havah dresses whose skirts were ragged from brushing the ground. Safehand sleeves ripped off at the shoulder and discarded somewhere." }, { "from": "human", "value": "They moved like fish in a school, flowing from right to left." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She picked out soldiers, both lighteyed and dark, in the remnants of uniforms. They seemed to take no note of her or Kharat standing to the side.\n\nShe'd have to cut through the stream of people to get farther inward to the Oathgate control building. She started to do so, but Kharat took her by the arm, steering her to join the flow of people.\n\n\"We have to stay to the outer ring,\" he said. \"No going inward for us, nope. Be happy. You get... you get to enjoy the end of the world in style....\"\n\nShe reluctantly let herself be pulled along. It was probably best to do around of the platform anyway. However, not long after starting, she began to hear the voice.\n\nLet go.\n\nGive up your pain.\n\nFeast. Indulge.\n\nEmbrace the end.\n\nPattern hummed on her coat, his sound lost to the many people laughing and drinking. Kharat stuck his fingers into some kind of creamy dessert, taking it by the handful. His eyes had glazed over, and he muttered to himself as he pushed the food into his mouth. Though others laughed and even danced, most showed that same glassy look.\n\nShe could feel Pattern's vibrations on her coat. It seemed to counteract the voices, clearing her head. Kharat handed her a cup of wine he'd scooped from a table. Who set this all up? Where were the servants?\n\nThere was just so much food. Tables and tables of it. People moved in buildings they passed, engaging in other carnal delights. Veil tried to slip across the stream of revelers, but Kharat kept hold of her.\n\n\"Everyone wants to go inward their first time,\" he said. \"You aren't allowed. Enjoy this. Enjoy the feeling. It's not our fault, right? We didn't fail her. We were only doing what she asked. Don't cause a storm, girl. Nobody wants that....\"" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Proceed with the plot in your role as storytelling partner.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, knights radiant\nAuthor: Brandon Sanderson\nTitle: Oathbringer\nChapter: 96" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"We of Tashikk,\" the ambassador said, \"are more interested in the discovery of these glorious portals. The Alethi have invited us here and told us we're part of a grand coalition. We would respectfully inquire how often we will have use of these gates, and how to negotiate tariffs.\"\n\nImmediately, the room exploded with conversation.\n\n\"Our gate,\" Au-nak said, \"in our historical homeland is being used without our permission. And while we thank the Alethi for securing it for us-\"\n\n\"If there is to be war,\" Fen said, \"then it's a bad time to be discussing tariffs. We should just agree to free trade.\"\n\n\"Which would help your merchants, Fen,\" Sebarial called. \"How about asking them to help the rest of us outwith some free wartime supplies?\"\n\n\"Emul-\" the Emuli Prime began.\n\n\"Wait,\" the Yezier princess said. \"Shouldn't we be concerned about Iri and Rira, who seem to have completely fallen in with the enemy?\"\n\n\"Please,\" Navani said, interrupting the mess of conversations. \"Please. Let's do this in an orderly way. Perhaps before deciding whereto fight, we could discuss how to best equip ourselves against the enemy threat?\" She looked to Taravangian. \"Your Majesty, can you tell us more about the shields your scholars in Jah Keved are creating?\"\n\n\"Yes. They... they are strong.\"\n\n\"... How strong?\" Navani prompted.\n\n\"Very strong. Er, yes. Strong enough.\" He scratched his head and looked at her helplessly. \"How... how strong do you need them to be?\"\n\nShe drew in a deep breath. He wasn't having a good day. Her mother had been like that, lucid on some days, barely cognizant on others." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The half-shards,\" Navani said, addressing the room, \"will give us an edge against the enemy. We have given the plans to the Azish scholars; I'm looking forward to pooling our resources and studying the process.\"\n\n\"Could it lead to Shardplate?\" Queen Fen asked.\n\n\"Possibly,\" Navani said. \"But the more I study what we've discovered herein Urithiru, the more I've come to realize that our image of the ancients having fantastic technology was deeply flawed. An exaggeration at best, perhaps a fancy.\"\n\n\"But Shards...\" Fen said.\n\n\"Manifestations of spren,\" Jasnah explained. \"Not fabrial technology. Even the gemstones we discovered, containing words of ancient Radiants during the days when they left Urithiru, were crude-if used in away we hadn't yet explored. All this time we've been assuming that we lost great technology in the Desolations, but it seems we are far, far more advanced than the ancients ever were. It is the process of bonding spren that we lost.\"\n\n\"Not lost,\" the Azish Prime said. \"Abandoned.\"\n\nHe looked toward Dalinar, who satin a relaxed posture. Not slumped, but not stiff either-a posture that somehow read as, \"I'm in control here. Don't pretend otherwise.\" Dalinar loomed over a room even when trying to be unobtrusive. That furrowed brow darkened his blue eyes, and the way he rubbed his chin evoked the image of a man contemplating whom to execute first.\n\nThe attendees had arranged their seats roughly in a circle, but most of them faced Dalinar, who sat by Navani's chair. After everything that had happened, they didn't trust him.\n\n\"The ancient oaths are spoken once more,\" Dalinar said. \"We are again Radiant. This time, we will not abandon you. I vow it.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Noura the vizier whispered in the Azish Prime's ear, and he nodded before speaking. \"We are still very concerned about the powers in which you dabble. These abilities... who is to say that the Lost Radiants were wrong in abandoning them? They were frightened of something, and they locked these portals fora reason.\"\n\n\"It is too late to turn back from this now, Your Majesty,\" Dalinar said. \"I have bonded the Stormfather himself. We must either use these abilities, or crumple beneath the invasion.\"\n\nThe Prime sat back, and his attendants seemed... concerned. They whispered among themselves.\n\nBring order from the chaos, Navani thought. She gestured toward the bridgemen and Lift. \"I understand your concern, but surely you have read our reports of the oaths these Radiants follow. Protection. Remembering the fallen. Those oaths are proof that our cause is just, our Radiants trustworthy. The powers are in safe hands, Your Majesty.\"\n\n\"I think,\" Ialai declared, \"we should stop dancing around and patting ourselves on the back.\"\n\nNavani spun to face Ialai. Don't sabotage this, she thought, meeting the woman's eyes. Don't you dare.\n\n\"We are here,\" Ialai continued, \"to focus our attention. We should be discussing whereto invade to gain the best position for an extended war. Obviously, there is only one answer. Shinovar is a bounteous land. Their orchards grow without end; the land is so mild that even the grass has grown relaxed and fat. We should seize that land to supply our armies.\"\n\nThe others in the room nodded as if this were a perfectly acceptable line of conversation. With one targeted arrow, Ialai Sadeas proved what everyone whispered-that the Alethi were building a coalition to conquer the world, not just protect it." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The Shin mountains present a historical problem,\" said the Tashikki ambassador. \"Attacking across or through them is basically impossible.\"\n\n\"We have the Oathgates now,\" Fen said. \"Not to bring up that particular problem again, but has anyone investigated whether the Shin one can be opened? Having Shinovar as a redoubt, difficult to invade conventionally, would help secure our position.\"\n\nNavani cursed Ialai softly. This would only reinforce the Azish worry that the gates were dangerous. She tried to rein the discussion in, but it slipped away from her again.\n\n\"We need to know what the Oathgates do!\" Tashikk was saying. \"Could the Alethi not share with us everything they've discovered regarding them?\"\n\n\"What about your people?\" Aladar shot back. \"They are the great traders in information. Could you share with us your secrets?\"\n\n\"All Tashikki information is freely available.\"\n\n\"At a huge price.\"\n\n\"We need-\"\n\n\"But Emul-\"\n\n\"This whole thing is going to be a mess,\" Fen said. \"I can see it already. We need to be able to trade freely, and Alethi greed could destroy this.\"\n\n\"Alethi greed?\" Ialai demanded. \"Are you trying to see how far you can push us? Because I assure you Dalinar Kholin will not be intimidated by a bunch of merchants and bankers.\"\n\n\"Please,\" Navani said into the growing uproar. \"Quiet.\"\n\nNobody seemed to notice. Navani breathed out, then cleared her mind.\n\nOrder from chaos. How could she bring order to this chaos? She stopped fretting, and tried to listen to them. She studied the chairs they'd brought, the tone of their voices. Their fears, hidden behind what they demanded or requested." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The shape of it started to make sense to her. Right now, this room was full of building materials. Pieces of a fabrial. Each monarch, each kingdom, was one piece. Dalinar had gathered them, but he hadn't formed them.\n\nNavani stepped up to the Azish Prime. People quieted as, shockingly, she bowed to him.\n\n\"Your Excellency,\" she said, upon rising. \"What would you say is the Azish people's greatest strength?\"\n\nHe glanced at his advisors as her words were translated, but they gave him no answer. Rather, they seemed curious to know what he'd say.\n\n\"Our laws,\" he finally replied.\n\n\"Your famed bureaucracy,\" Navani said. \"Your clerks and scribes-and by extension, the great information centers of Tashikk, the timekeepers and stormwardens of Yezier, the Azish legions. You are the greatest organizers on Roshar. I've long envied your orderly approach to the world.\"\n\n\"Perhaps this is why your essay was so well received, Brightness Kholin,\" the emperor said, sounding completely sincere.\n\n\"In light of your skill, I wonder. Would anyone in this room complain if a specific task were assigned to your scribes? We need procedures. A code of how our kingdoms are to interact, and how we're to share resources. Would you of Azir be willing to create this?\"\n\nThe viziers looked shocked, then immediately began talking to one another in hushed, excited tones. The looks of delight on their faces were enough proof that yes indeed, they'd be willing.\n\n\"Now, wait,\" Fen interjected. \"Are you talking of laws? That we all have to follow?\" Au-nak nodded eagerly in agreement." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"More and less than laws,\" Navani said." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"We need codes to guide our interactions-as proven by today. We must have procedures on how we hold meetings, how to give each persona turn. How we share information.\"\n\n\"I don't know if Thaylenah can agree to even that.\"\n\n\"Well, surely you'd want to see what the codes contained first, Queen Fen,\" Navani said, strolling toward her. \"After all, we are going to need to administrate trade through the Oathgates. I wonder, who has excellent expertise in shipping, caravans, and trade in general...?\"\n\n\"You'd give that to us?\" Fen asked, completely taken aback.\n\n\"It seems logical.\"\n\nSebarial choked softly on the snacks he'd been eating, and Palona pounded him on the back. He'd wanted that job. That will teach you to show up late to my meeting and make only wisecracks, Navani noted.\n\nShe glanced at Dalinar, who seemed worried. Well, he always seemed worried lately.\n\n\"I'm not giving you the Oathgates,\" Navani said to Fen. \"But someone has to oversee trade and supplies. It would be a natural match for the Thaylen merchants-so long as a fair agreement can be reached.\"\n\n\"Huh,\" Fen said, settling back. She glanced at her consort, who shrugged.\n\n\"And the Alethi?\" the petite Yezier princess asked. \"What of you?\"\n\n\"Well, we do excel atone thing,\" Navani said. She looked to Emul. \"Would you accept help from our generals and armies to help you secure what is left of your kingdom?\"\n\n\"By every Kadasix that has ever been holy!\" Emul said. \"Yes, of course! Please.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I have several scribes who are experts in fortification,\" Aladar suggested from his seat behind Dalinar and Jasnah." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"They could survey your remaining territory and give you advice on securing it.\"\n\n\"And recovering what we've lost?\" Emul asked.\n\nIalai opened her mouth to speak, perhaps to extol the virtues of Alethi warmongering again.\n\nJasnah cut her off, speaking decisively. \"I propose we entrench ourselves first. Tukar, Iri, Shinovar... each of these looks tempting to attack, but what goodwill that do if we stretch ourselves too far? We should focus on securing our lands as they now stand.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Dalinar said. \"We shouldn't be asking ourselves,\"Where should we strike? \"but instead,\"Where will our enemy strike next? '\"\n\n\"They've secured three positions,\" Highprince Aladar said. \"Iri, Marat... and Alethkar.\"\n\n\"But you sent an expedition,\" Fen said. \"To reclaim Alethkar.\"\n\nNavani caught her breath, glancing at Dalinar. He nodded slowly.\n\n\"Alethkar has fallen,\" Navani said. \"The expedition failed. Our homeland is overrun.\"\n\nNavani had expected this to prompt another burst of conversation, but instead it was greeted only by stunned silence.\n\nJasnah continued for her. \"The last of our armies have retreated into Herdaz or Jah Keved, harried and confused by enemies who can fly-or by the sudden attacks of shock troops of parshmen. Our only holdouts are on the southern border, by the sea. Kholinar has fallen completely; the Oathgate is lost to us. We've locked it on our side, so that it cannot be used to reach Urithiru.\"\n\n\"I'm sorry,\" Fen said.\n\n\"My daughter is correct,\" Navani said, trying to project strength while admitting that they had become a nation of refugees. \"We should apply our efforts first toward making sure no more nations fall.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"My homeland-\" the prime of Emul began.\n\n\"No,\" Noura said in thickly accented Alethi. \"I'm sorry, but no. If the Voidbringers had wanted your last nibble of land, Vexil, they'd have taken it. The Alethi can help you secure what you have, and it seems generous of them to do so. The enemy brushed past you to gather in Marat, conquering only what was necessary on the way. Their eyes are turned elsewhere.\"\n\n\"Oh my!\" Taravangian said. \"Could they... becoming for me?\"\n\n\"It does seem a reasonable assumption,\" Au-nak said. \"The Veden civil war left the country in ruin, and the border between Alethkar and Jah Keved is porous.\"\n\n\"Maybe,\" Dalinar said. \"I've fought on that border. It's not as easy a battlefield as it would seem.\"\n\n\"We must defend Jah Keved,\" Taravangian said. \"When the king gave me the throne, I promised I'd care for his people. If the Voidbringers attack us...\"\n\nThe worry in his voice gave Navani an opportunity. She stepped back into the center of the room. \"We won't allow that to happen, will we?\"\n\n\"I will send troops to your aid, Taravangian,\" Dalinar said. \"But one army can be construed as an invading force, and I am not intending to invade my allies, even in appearance. Can we not mortar this alliance with a show of solidarity? Will anyone else help?\"\n\nThe Azish Prime regarded Dalinar. Behind him, the viziers and scions conducted a private conversation by writing on pads of paper. When they finished, Vizier Noura leaned forward and whispered to the emperor, who nodded." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"We will send five battalions to Jah Keved,\" he said." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"This will prove an important test of mobility through the Oathgates. King Taravangian, you will have the support of Azir.\"\n\nNavani released along breath in relief.\n\nShe gave leave for the meeting to take a pause, so that people could enjoy refreshment-though most would probably spend it strategizing or relaying events to their various allies. The highprinces became a flurry of motion, breaking into individual houses to converse.\n\nNavani settled down in her seat beside Dalinar.\n\n\"You've promised away a great deal,\" he noted. \"Giving Fen control of trade and supply?\"\n\n\"Administration is different from control,\" Navani said. \"But either way, did you think you were going to make this coalition work without giving something up?\"\n\n\"No. Of course not.\" He stared outward. That haunted expression made her shiver. What did you remember, Dalinar? And what did the Nightwatcher do to you?\n\nThey needed the Blackthorn. She needed the Blackthorn. His strength to quiet the sick worry inside of her, his will to forge this coalition. She took his hand in hers, but he stiffened, then stood up. He did that whenever he felt he was growing too relaxed. It was as if he was looking for danger to face.\n\nShe stood up beside him. \"We need to get you out of the tower,\" she decided. \"To get anew perspective. Visit someplace new.\"\n\n\"That,\" Dalinar said, voice hoarse, \"would be good.\"\n\n\"Taravangian was speaking of having you tour Vedenar personally. If we're going to send Kholin troops into the kingdom, it would make sense for you to get a feel for the situation there.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Very well.\"\n\nThe Azish called for her, asking for clarification on what direction she wanted them to take with their coalition bylaws. She left Dalinar, but couldn't leave off worrying about him. She'd have to burn a glyphward today. A dozen of them, for Elhokar and the others. Except... part of the problem was that Dalinar claimed nobody was watching the prayers as they burned, sending twisting smoke to the Tranquiline Halls. Did she believe that? Truly?\n\nToday, she'd taken a huge step toward unifying Roshar. Yet she felt more powerless than ever." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "-From Hessi's Mythica, page 89\n\nKaladin remembered holding a dying woman's hand.\n\nIt had been during his days as a slave. He remembered crouching in the darkness, thick forest underbrush scratching his skin, the night around him too quiet. The animals had fled; they knew something was wrong.\n\nThe other slaves didn't whisper, shift, or cough in their hiding places. He'd taught them well.\n\nWe have to go. Have to move.\n\nHe tugged on Nalma's hand. He'd promised to help the older woman find her husband, who had been sold to another household. That wasn't supposed to be legal, but you could getaway with doing all kinds of things to slaves with the right brands, especially if they were foreign.\n\nShe resisted his tug, and he could understand her hesitance. The underbrush was safe, for the moment. It was also too obvious. The brightlords had chased them in circles for days, getting closer and closer. Stay here, and the slaves would be captured.\n\nHe tugged again, and she passed the signal to the next slave, all the way down the line. Then she clung to his hand as he led them-as quietly as he could-toward where he remembered a game trail.\n\nGetaway.\n\nFind freedom. Find honor again.\n\nIt had to be out there somewhere.\n\nThe snapping sound of the trap closing sent a jolt through Kaladin. A year later, he'd still wonder how he missed stepping in it himself.\n\nIt got Nalma instead. She yanked her hand from his as she screamed.\n\nHunters'horns moaned in the night. Light burst from newly unshielded lanterns, showing men in uniforms among the trees. The other slaves broke, bursting out of the underbrush like game for sport. Next to Kaladin, Nalma's leg was caught in a fierce steel trap-a thing of springs and jaws that they wouldn't even use on a beast, for fear of ruining the sport. Her tibia jutted through her skin." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Oh, Stormfather,\" Kaladin whispered as painspren writhed around them. \"Stormfather!\" He tried to stanch the blood, but it spurted between his fingers. \"Stormfather, no. Stormfather!\"\n\n\"Kaladin,\" she said through clenched teeth. \"Kaladin, run...\"\n\nArrows cut down several of the fleeing slaves. Traps caught two others. In the distance, a voice called, \"Wait! That's my property you're cutting down.\"\n\n\"A necessity, Brightlord,\" a stronger voice said. The local highlord. \"Unless you want to encourage more of this behavior.\"\n\nSo much blood. Kaladin uselessly made a bandage as Nalma tried to push him away, to make him run. He took her hand and held it instead, weeping as she died.\n\nAfter killing the others, the brightlords found him still kneeling there. Against reason, they spared him. They said it was because he hadn't run with the others, but in truth they'd needed someone to bear warning to the other slaves.\n\nRegardless of the reason, Kaladin had lived.\n\nHe always did.\n\nThere was no underbrush herein Shadesmar, but those old instincts served Kaladin well as he crept toward the lighthouse. He'd suggested that he scout ahead, as he didn't trust this dark land. The others had agreed. With Lashings, he could getaway most easily in an emergency-and neither Adolin nor Azure had experience scouting. Kaladin didn't mention that most of his practice sneaking had come as a runaway slave.\n\nHe focused on staying low to the ground, trying to use rifts in the black stone to hide his approach. Fortunately, stepping silently wasn't difficult on this glassy ground." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The lighthouse was a large stone tower topped by an enormous bonfire. It threw a flagrant orange glow over the point of the peninsula. Where did they get the fuel for that thing?\n\nHe drew closer, accidentally startling a burst of lifespren, which shot up from some crystalline plants, then floated back down. He froze, but heard no sounds from the lighthouse.\n\nOnce he got a little closer, he settled down to watch fora while, to see if he could spot anything suspicious. He sorely missed the diaphanous form Syl had in the Physical Realm; she could have reported back to the others what he'd seen, or even scouted into the building herself, invisible to all but the right eyes.\n\nAfter a short time, something crawled out of the beads of the ocean near him: around lurglike creature with a fat, bulbous body and squat legs. About the size of a toddler, it hopped close to him, then tipped the entire top half of its head backward. Along tongue shot up in the air from the gaping mouth; it began to flap and wave.\n\nStorms. An anticipationspren? They looked like streamers on his side, but those... those were waving tongues? What other simple, stable parts of his life were complete lies?\n\nTwo more anticipationspren joined the first, clustering near him and deploying their long, wagging tongues. He kicked at them. \"Shoo.\" Deceptively solid, they refused to budge, so he tried calming himself, hoping it would banish them. Finally, he just continued forward, his three bothersome attendants hopping behind. That sorely undermined the stealth of his approach, making him more nervous-which in turn made the anticipationspren even more eager to stick with him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "He managed to reach the wall of the tower, where he might have expected the heat of the enormous fire to be oppressive." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Instead, he could barely feel it. Notably, the flames caused his shadow to behave normally, extending behind him instead of pointing toward the sun.\n\nHe took a breath, then glanced up through the open-shuttered window, into the ground floor of the lighthouse.\n\nInside, he saw an old Shin man-with furrowed, wrinkled skin and a completely bald head-sitting in a chair, reading by spherelight. A human? Kaladin couldn't decide if that was a good signor not. The old man began to turn a page in his book, then froze, looking up.\n\nKaladin ducked down, heart thumping. Those stupid anticipationspren continued to crowd nearby, but their tongues shouldn't be visible through the window-\n\n\"Hello?\" an accented voice called from inside the lighthouse. \"Who's out there? Show yourself!\"\n\nKaladin sighed, then stood up. So much for his promise to do some stealthy reconnaissance.\n\nShallan waited with the others in the shadow of a strange rock growth. It looked something like a mushroom made from obsidian, the height of a tree; she thought she'd seen its like before, during one of her glimpses into Shadesmar. Pattern said it was alive, but'very, very slow.\"\n\nThe group waited, pensive, as Kaladin scouted. She hated sending him alone, but Shallan knew nothing about that sort of work. Veil did. But Veil... still felt broken, from what had happened in Kholinar. That was dangerous. Where would Shallan hide now? As Radiant?\n\nFind the balance, Wit had said. Accept the pain, but don't accept that you deserved it....\n\nShe sighed, then got out her sketchbook and started drawing some of the spren they'd seen." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"So,\" Syl said, sitting on a rock nearby and swinging her legs. \"I've always wondered. Does the world look weird to you, or normal?\"\n\n\"Weird,\" Pattern said. \"Mmm. Same as for everyone.\"\n\n\"I guess neither of us technically have eyes,\" Syl said, leaning back and looking up at the glassy canopy of their tree-mushroom shelter. \"We're each a bit of power made manifest. We honorspren mimic Honor himself. You Cryptics mimic... weird stuff?\"\n\n\"The fundamental underlying mathematics by which natural phenomena occur. Mmm. Truths that explain the fabric of existence.\"\n\n\"Yeah. Weird stuff.\"\n\nShallan lowered her pencil, looking with dissatisfaction at the attempt she'd made at drawing a fearspren. It looked like a child's scribble.\n\nVeil was seeping out.\n\nThat has always been you, Shallan. You just have to admit it. Allow it.\n\n\"I'm trying, Wit,\" she whispered.\n\n\"You all right?\" Adolin asked, kneeling beside her, putting his hand on her back, then rubbing her shoulders. Storms, that felt good. They'd walked entirely too far these last few days.\n\nHe glanced at her sketchpad. \"More... what did you call it? Abstractionalism?\"\n\nShe snapped the sketchpad closed. \"What is taking that bridgeman so long?\" She glanced over her shoulder, which interrupted Adolin. \"Don't stop,\" she added, \"or I will murder you.\"\n\nHe chuckled and continued working at her shoulders. \"He'll be fine.\"\n\n\"You were worried about him yesterday.\"\n\n\"He's got battle fatigue, but an objective will help with that. We have to watch him when he's sitting around doing nothing, not when he's got a specific mission.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"If you say so.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She nodded toward Azure, who stood by the coast, staring across the ocean of beads. \"What do you make of her?\"\n\n\"That uniform is well tailored,\" Adolin said, \"but the blue doesn't work with her skin. She needs a lighter shade. The breastplate is overly much, like she's trying to prove something. I do like the cape though. I've always wanted to justify wearing one. Father gets away with it, but I never could.\"\n\n\"I wasn't asking fora wardrobe assessment, Adolin.\"\n\n\"Clothing says a lot about people.\"\n\n\"Yeah? What happened to the fancy suit you got in Kholinar?\"\n\nHe looked down-which stopped the massaging of shoulders for an unacceptable count of three, so she growled at him.\n\n\"It didn't fit me anymore,\" he said, resuming the massage. \"But you do raise an important problem. Yes, we need to find food and drink. But if I have to wear the same uniform this entire trip, you won't have to murder me. I'll commit suicide.\"\n\nShallan had almost forgotten that she was hungry. How odd. She sighed, closing her eyes and trying not to melt too much into the feeling of his touch.\n\n\"Huh,\" Adolin said a short time later. \"Shallan, what do you suppose that is?\"\n\nShe followed his nod and spotted an odd little spren floating through the air. Bone-white and brown, it had wings extending to the sides and long tresses fora tail. In front of its body hovered a cube.\n\n\"Looks like those gloryspren we saw earlier,\" she noted. \"Only the wrong color. And the shape of the head is...\"\n\n\"Corrupted!\" Syl said. \"That's one of Odium's!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Ashe stepped inside the lighthouse, Kaladin's instincts drove him to check to either side of the doorway for anyone waiting in ambush. The room seemed empty save for furniture, the Shin man, and some strange pictures on the walls. The place smelled of incense and spices.\n\nThe Shin man snapped his book closed. \"Cutting it close, aren't you? Well, let us begin! We haven't much time.\" He stood up, proving himself to be rather short. His odd clothing had puffed out portions on the arms, the trousers very tight. He walked to a door at the side of the chamber.\n\n\"I should fetch my companions,\" Kaladin said.\n\n\"Ah, but the very best readings happen at the beginning of the highstorm!\" The man checked a small device that he took from his pocket. \"Only two minutes off.\"\n\nA highstorm? Azure had said they didn't need to worry about those in Shadesmar.\n\n\"Wait,\" Kaladin said, stepping after the little man-who had entered a room built up against the base of the lighthouse. It had large windows, but its main feature was a small table at the center. That held something lumpish covered by a black cloth.\n\nKaladin found himself... curious. That was good, after the darkness of the last few days. He stepped in, glancing to the sides again. One wall contained a picture of people kneeling before a bright white mirror. Another was a cityscape at dusk, with a group of low houses clustered before an enormous wall that had light glowing beyond it.\n\n\"Well, let's begin!\" the man said. \"You have come to witness the extraordinary, and I shall provide it. The price is a mere two marks of Stormlight. You shall be greatly rewarded in kind-both in dreams and luster!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I should really get my friends....\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Kaladin said.\n\nThe man whipped the cloth off the table, revealing a large crystalline globe. It glowed with a powerful light, bathing the room in luminescence. Kaladin blinked against it. Was that Stormlight?\n\n\"Are you balking at the price?\" the man said. \"What is the money to you? Potential? If you never spend it, you gain nothing by having it. And the witness of what is to come will far recompense you for small means expended!\"\n\n\"I...\" Kaladin said, raising his hand against the light. \"Storms, man. I have no idea what you're talking about.\"\n\nThe Shin man frowned, face lit from below like the globe. \"You came here fora fortune, didn't you? To the Rii Oracle? You wish me to seethe unwalked paths-during the highstorm, when realms blend.\"\n\n\"A fortune? You mean foretelling the future?\" Kaladin felt a bitter taste in his mouth. \"The future is forbidden.\"\n\nThe old man cocked his head. \"But... isn't this why you came to see me?\"\n\n\"Storms, no. I'm looking for passage. We heard that ships come by here.\"\n\nThe old man rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed. \"Passage? Why didn't you say so? And I was really enjoying the speech. Ah well. A ship? Let me check my calendars. I think supplies are coming soon....\"\n\nHe bustled past Kaladin, muttering to himself.\n\nOutside, the sky rippled with light. The clouds shimmered, gaining a strange, ethereal luminescence. Kaladin gaped, then glanced back at the little man, who had fetched a ledger from aside table." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"That...\" Kaladin said. \"Is that what a highstorm looks like on this side?\"\n\n\"Hmmm? Oh, new, are you? How have you gotten into Shadesmar, but not seen a storm pass? Did you come directly from the perpendicularity?\" The old man frowned. \"Not a lot of people coming through there anymore.\"\n\nThat light. The bright sphere on the table-as large as a man's head, and glowing with a milky light-shifted colors, matching the pearlescent ripples above. There was no gemstone inside that globe. And the light seemed different. Transfixing.\n\n\"Here now,\" the man said as Kaladin stepped forward, \"don't touch that. It's only for properly trained fo-\"\n\nKaladin rested his hand on the sphere.\n\nAnd felt himself get carried away by the storm.\n\nShallan and the others dodged for cover, but too slowly. The strange spren flitted right under their small canopy.\n\nOverhead, the clouds started to ripple with a vibrant set of colors.\n\nThe corrupted gloryspren landed on Shallan's arm. Odium suspects that you survived, a voice said in her mind. That... that was the voice of the Unmade from the mirror. Sja-anat. He thinks something strange happened to the Oathgate because of our influence-we've never managed to Enlighten such powerful spren before. It's believable that something odd might happen. I lied, and said I think you were sent far, far from the point of transfer.\n\nHe has minions in this realm, and they will be told to hunt you. So take care. Fortunately, he doesn't know that you're a Lightweaver-he thinks you are an Elsecaller for some reason." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I will do what I can, but I'm not sure he trusts meany longer.\n\nThe spren fluttered away.\n\n\"Wait!\" Shallan said. \"Wait, I have questions!\"\n\nSyl tried to snatch it, but it dodged and was soon out over the ocean.\n\nKaladin rode the storm.\n\nHe'd done this before, in dreams. He'd even spoken to the Stormfather.\n\nThis felt different. He rode in a shimmering, rippling surge of colors. Around him, the clouds streamed past at incredible speed, coming alight with those colors. Pulsing with them, as if to a beat.\n\nHe couldn't feel the Stormfather. He couldn't see a landscape beneath him. Just shimmering colors, and clouds that faded into... light.\n\nThen a figure. Dalinar Kholin, kneeling someplace dark, surrounded by nine shadows. A flash of glowing red eyes.\n\nThe enemy's champion was coming. Kaladin knew in that moment-an overpowering sensation thrumming through him-that Dalinar was in terrible, terrible danger. Without help, the Blackthorn was doomed.\n\n\"Where!\" Kaladin screamed to the light as it began to fade. \"When! How do I reach him!\"\n\nThe colors diminished.\n\n\"Please!\"\n\nHe saw a flash of a vaguely familiar city. Tall, built along the stones, it had a distinctive pattern of buildings at the center. A wall and an ocean beyond.\n\nKaladin dropped to his knees in the fortuneteller's room. The little Shin man batted Kaladin's hand from the glowing sphere. \"-rtune seers like myself. You'll ruin it, or...\" He trailed off, then took Kaladin's head, turning it toward him. \"You saw something!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Kaladin nodded weakly.\n\n\"How? Impossible. Unless... you're Invested. What Heightening are you?\" He squinted at Kaladin. \"No. Something else. Merciful Domi... A Surgebinder? It has begun again?\"\n\nKaladin stumbled to his feet. He glanced at the large globe of light, which the lighthouse keeper covered up again with the black cloth, then put his hand to his forehead, which had begun thumping with pain. What had that been? His heart still raced with anxiety.\n\n\"I... I need to go get my friends,\" he said.\n\nKaladin satin the main room of the lighthouse, in the chair Riino-the Shin lighthouse keeper-had occupied earlier. Shallan and Adolin negotiated with him on the other side of the room, Pattern looming over Shallan's shoulder and making the fortuneteller nervous. Riino had food and supplies for trade, though it would cost them infused spheres. Apparently, Stormlight was the only commodity that mattered on this side.\n\n\"Charlatans like him aren't uncommon, where I come from,\" Azure said, resting with her back against the wall near Kaladin. \"People who claim to be able to seethe future, living off people's hopes. Your society was right to forbid them. The spren do likewise, so his kind have to live off in places like this, hoping people will be desperate enough to come to them. Probably gets some business with each ship that comes through.\"\n\n\"I saw something, Azure,\" Kaladin said, still trembling. \"It was real.\" His limbs felt drained, like the aftereffect of lifting weights fora long period.\n\n\"Maybe,\" Azure said. \"Those types use dusts and powders that grant euphoria, making you think you've seen something. Even the gods of my land catch only glimpses of the Spiritual Realm-and in all my life, I've only met one human I believe truly understood it. And he might actually be a god. I'm not sure.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Wit,\" Kaladin said." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The man that brought you the metal that protected your Soulcaster.\"\n\nShe nodded.\n\nWell, Kaladin had seen something. Dalinar...\n\nAdolin walked over and handed Kaladin a squat metal cylinder. He used a device-provided by the Shin man-to break open the top. There were some fish rations inside. Kaladin poked at the chunks with his finger, then inspected the container.\n\n\"Canned food,\" Azure noted. \"It's extremely convenient.\"\n\nKaladin's stomach rumbled, so he dug into the fish with the spoon Adolin provided. The meat tasted salty, but was good-far better than something Soulcast. Shallan joined them, trailed by Pattern, while the lighthouse keeper bustled off to fetch some supplies they'd traded for. The man glanced at the doorway, where the spren of Adolin's Blade stood, silent like a statue.\n\nOut through the room's window, Kaladin could see Syl standing on the coast, watching out over the sea of beads. Her hair doesn't ripple here, he thought. In the Physical Realm it often waved as if being brushed by an unseen breeze. Here, it acted like the hair of a human.\n\nShe hadn't wanted to enter the lighthouse for some reason. What was that about?\n\n\"The lighthouse keeper says a ship will be arriving anytime now,\" Adolin said. \"We should be able to buy passage.\"\n\n\"Mmm,\" Pattern said. \"The ship is going to Celebrant. Mmm. A city on the island.\"\n\n\"Island?\"\n\n\"It's a lake on our side,\" Adolin said. \"Called the Sea of Spears, in the southeast of Alethkar. By the ruins... of Rathalas.\" He drew his lips to a line and glanced away." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What?\" Kaladin asked.\n\n\"Rathalas was where my mother was killed,\" Adolin said. \"Assassinated by rebels. Her death drove my father into a fury. We almost lost him to the despair.\" He shook his head, and Shallan rested her hand on his arm. \"It's... not a pleasant event to think about. Sadeas burned the city to the ground in retribution. My father gets a strange, distant expression whenever someone mentions Rathalas. I think he blames himself for not stopping Sadeas, even though he was mad with grief at the time, wounded and incoherent from an attempt on his own life.\"\n\n\"Well, there's still a spren city on this side,\" Azure said. \"But it's in the wrong direction. We need to beheading west-toward the Horneater Peaks-not south.\"\n\n\"Mmm,\" Pattern said. \"Celebrant is a prominent city. In it, we could find passage wherever we wish to go. And the lighthouse keeper doesn't know when a ship going the right way might pass here.\"\n\nKaladin put his fish down, then gestured at Shallan. \"Can I have some paper?\"\n\nShe let him have a sheet from her sketchpad. With an unpracticed hand, he drew out the buildings he'd seen in his momentary... whatever it had been. I've seen this pattern before. From above.\n\n\"That's Thaylen City,\" Shallan said. \"Isn't it?\"\n\nThat's right, Kaladin thought. He'd only visited once, opening the city's Oathgate. \"I saw this, in the vision I explained to you.\" He glanced at Azure, who seemed skeptical.\n\nKaladin could still feel his emotion from the vision, that thrumming sense of anxiety. The sure knowledge that Dalinar was in grave danger. Nine shadows. A champion who would lead the enemy forces..." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The Oathgate in Thaylen City is open and working,\" Kaladin said. \"Shallan and I saw to that. And since the Oathgate in Kholinar brought us to Shadesmar, theoretically another-one that isn't corrupted by the Unmade-could get us back.\"\n\n\"Assuming I can figure out how to work it on this side,\" Shallan said. \"That's a pretty daunting assumption.\"\n\n\"We should try to reach the perpendicularity in the Peaks,\" Azure said. \"It's the only sure way back.\"\n\n\"The lighthouse keeper says he thinks something strange is happening there,\" Shallan said. \"Ships from that direction have never ended up arriving.\"\n\nKaladin rested his fingers on the sketch he'd done. He needed to get to Thaylen City. It didn't matter how. The darkness inside him seemed to retreat.\n\nHe had a purpose. A goal. Something to focus on other than the people he'd lost in Kholinar.\n\nProtect Dalinar.\n\nKaladin returned to eating his fish, and the group settled into wait for the ship. It took a few hours, during which the clouds steadily faded in color, before growing plain white again. On the other side, the highstorm had completed its passing.\n\nEventually, Kaladin saw something out on the horizon, beyond where Syl sat on the rocks. Yes, that was a ship, sailing in from the west. Except... it didn't have a sail. Had he even felt wind in Shadesmar? He didn't think so.\n\nThe ship crashed through the ocean of beads, surging toward the lighthouse. It employed no sail, no mast, and no oars. Instead, it was pulled from the front by an elaborate rigging attached to a group of incredible spren. Long and sinuous, they had triangular heads and floated on multiple sets of rippling wings." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Storms... they pulled the ship like chulls. Flying, majestic chulls with undulating bodies. He'd never seen anything like it.\n\nAdolin grunted from where he stood by the window. \"Well, at least we'll be traveling in style.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "-From Hessi's Mythica, page 90\n\nSzeth of Shinovar left the Skybreaker fortress with the twenty other squires. The sun approached the clouded horizon to the west, gilding the Purelake red and gold. Those calm waters, strangely, now sprouted dozens of long wooden poles.\n\nOf various heights ranging from five to thirty feet, these poles appeared to have been jammed into fissures in the lake bottom. Each had an odd knobby shape at the top.\n\n\"This is a test of martial competence,\" Master Warren said. The Azish man looked strange in the garb of a Marabethian lawkeeper, chest bare and shoulders draped with the short, patterned cloak. The Azish were normally so proper, overly encumbered with robes and hats. \"We must train to fight, if the Desolation truly has begun.\"\n\nWithout Nin's guidance to confirm, they spoke of the Desolation in'if's and\" might's.\n\n\"Each pole is topped with a group of bags bearing powders of a different color,\" Warren continued. \" Fight by throwing those-you cannot use other weapons, and you cannot leave the contest area marked by the poles.\n\n\"I will call time over when the sunsets. We will tally the number of times each squire's uniform was marked by one of the bags of powder. You lose four points for each different color on your uniform, and an additional point for each repeated hit from a color. The winner is the one who has lost the fewest points. Begin.\"\n\nSzeth drew in Stormlight and Lashed himself into the air with the others. Though he didn't care if he won arbitrary tests of competence, the chance to dance the Lashings-for once without needing to cause death and destruction-called to him. This would be like those days in his youth, spent training with the Honorblades." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He soared upward about thirty feet, then used a half Lashing to hover. Yes, the tops of the poles each bore a collection of small pouches tied on by strings. He Lashed himself past one, snatching a pouch, which let out a puff of pink dust as it came off in his hand. He now saw why the squires had been told to wear a white shirt and trousers today.\n\n\"Excellent,\" Szeth said as the other squires scattered, grabbing pouches.\n\nWhat? the sword asked. Szeth carried it on his back, tied securely in place, at an angle from which he could not draw the weapon. I don't understand. Where is the evil?\n\n\"No evil today, sword-nimi. Just a challenge.\"\n\nHe hurled the pouch atone of the other squires, hitting her square in the shoulder, and the resulting dust colored her shirt in that spot. Notably, the master had said that only color on the uniform would be counted, so holding the pouches and dusting one's own fingers was fine. Similarly, hitting each other in the face gained no advantage.\n\nThe others took quickly to the game; soon pouches were being flung in all directions. Each pole bore only a single color, encouraging competitors to move about to hit others with as many colors as possible. Joret tried hovering in one spot anyway, dominating one pole to prevent others from hitting him with its color. Sitting still made him a target, however, and his uniform was quickly covered in spots.\n\nSzeth dove, then pulled himself up with an expert Lashing so that he swooped, skimming the surface of the Purelake. He grabbed a pole as he passed, bending it out of Cali's reach as she went by above.\n\nI'm down too low, Szeth realized as bags of dust fell toward him. Too easy a target." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He twisted back and forth, executing a complex maneuver that manipulated both Lashings and the wind of his passing. Pouches smacked the water near him.\n\nHe pulled upward. Lashing wasn't like the flight of a swallow-instead, it was like tying oneself to strings, a puppet to be yanked about. It was easy to lose control, as evidenced by the awkward motions of the newer squires.\n\nAs Szeth gained height, Zedzil fell in behind him, holding a pouch in each hand. Szeth added a second Lashing upward, then a third. His Stormlight lasted so much longer than it had before-he could only assume that Radiants were more efficient than those who used Honorblades for the powers.\n\nHe shot upward like an arrow, windspren joining and twisting around him. Zedzil followed, but when he tried to throw a pouch at Szeth, the wind was too great. The pouch fell backward immediately, striking Zedzil on his own shoulder.\n\nSzeth dropped into a dive, and Zedzil followed until Szeth snatched a green bag from a pole and tossed it over his shoulder, hitting Zedzil again. The younger man cursed, then shot away to find easier prey.\n\nStill, this combat proved to be a surprising challenge. Szeth had rarely fought in the air itself, and this contest felt similar to when he'd battled the Windrunner in the skies. He twisted among the poles, dodging pouches-even snatching one from the air before it hit him-and found he was enjoying himself.\n\nThe screams from the shadows seemed dim, less pressing. He wove between thrown pouches, dancing above a lake painted by the hues of a setting sun, and smiled.\n\nThen immediately felt guilty. He had left tears, blood, and terror in his wake like a personal seal. He had destroyed monarchies, families-innocent and guilty alike. He could not be happy. He was only a tool of retribution. Not redemption, for he dared not believe in such." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "If he was to be forced to keep living, it should not be a life that anyone would ever envy.\n\nYou think like Vasher, the sword said in his head. Do you know Vasher? He teaches swords to people now, which is funny because VaraTreledees always says Vasher isn't any good with the sword.\n\nSzeth rededicated himself to the fight, not for joy but for practicality. Unfortunately, his momentary distraction earned him his first hit. A dark blue pouch struck, its circle stark on his white shirt.\n\nHe growled, soaring upward with a pouch in each hand. He flung them with precision, hitting one squire in the back, then another in the leg. Nearby, four of the older squires flew information. They would chase an isolated squire, swarming him or her with a flurry of eight pouches, often scoring six or seven hits while rarely getting hit themselves.\n\nAs Szeth zoomed past, they fixated on him, perhaps because his uniform was nearly pristine. He immediately Lashed himself upward-canceling his lateral Lashing-to try to get above the pack. These were well practiced with their powers, however, and not so easily put off.\n\nIf he continued straight upward, they'd merely chase him until he ran out of Stormlight. Already his reserves were low, as each squire had only been given enough to last through the contest. If he double-or triple-Lashed himself too often, he'd run out early.\n\nThe sun was slipping inch by inch out of sight. Not much time left; he simply needed to last.\n\nSzeth dove to the side, moving quickly and erratically. Only one of the pack chasing him chanced a throw; the others knew to wait fora better shot. Szeth's swoop took him straight toward a pole, but it held no pouches. Fari looked like he had gathered them all up to hoard the color." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "So Szeth grabbed the pole itself.\n\nHe pushed it to the side, bending it until it snapped, leaving him with a pole some ten feet long. He lightened it with a partial Lashing upward, then tucked it under his arm.\n\nA quick glance over the shoulder showed that the four teammates were still tailing him. The one who had thrown earlier had grabbed two new pouches and was catching up to the others with a double Lashing.\n\nMake a stand, the sword suggested. You can take them.\n\nFor once, Szeth agreed. He zoomed down until he was near the water, his passing causing a trail of ripples on the surface. Younger squires dodged out of his way, flinging dust bags, but missing because of his speed.\n\nHe deliberately Lashed himself to the side in a smooth, predictable turn. It was exactly the opportunity the pack had been waiting for, and they started throwing at him. But he was no frightened child, to be intimidated and overwhelmed by superior numbers. He was the Assassin in White. And this was but a game.\n\nSzeth spun and began batting the pouches away with his staff. He even managed to hit the last one back into the face of the leader of the group, a man named Ty.\n\nIt wouldn't count as a mark, but the dust got in Ty's eyes, causing him to blink and slow. The group expended most of their pouches, which let Szeth-Lashed now directly toward them-get close.\n\nAnd nobody should ever let him get too close.\n\nHe dropped his staff and grabbed a squire by her shirt, using her as a shield from an opportunist outside the group, who was throwing crimson bags. Szeth spun with her, then kicked her toward a companion. They slammed together, trailing streaks of red dust. He grabbed another squire from the pack, trying to Lash him away." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The man's body resisted the Lashing, however. People bearing Stormlight were more difficult to Lash-something Szeth was only now coming to understand. He could, however, Lash himself backward, hauling the man with him. When he let go, the squire had trouble adjusting to the change in momentum, and jolted in the air, letting himself get hit by a half dozen bags from outsiders.\n\nSzeth zipped away, running dangerously low on Stormlight. Only another few minutes...\n\nBeneath him, Ty called to the others, pointing up at Szeth. The obvious current winner. Only one strategy made sense at this point.\n\n\"Get him!\" Ty shouted.\n\nOh, good! the sword said.\n\nSzeth Lashed himself downward-which proved wise, as many of the squires shot up past him, assuming he'd try to stay high. No, his best defense while outnumbered was confusion. He got among them, a storm of pouches targeting him. Szeth did what he could to avoid them, zipping one way, then the other-but there were too many attacks. The poorly aimed ones were the most dangerous, as moving out of the way of a well-placed attack almost always took him into the path of an errant one.\n\nOne pouch struck his back, followed by a second. A third hit his side. Dust flew all around as the squires hit each other too. That was his hope: that even as he took hits, they would take more.\n\nHe soared up, then dove again, causing the others to dodge like sparrows before a hawk. He flew along the water, scattering fish in the waning light, then shot upward to-\n\nHis Stormlight ran out." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "His glow vanished. The tempest within died. Before the sun could set, the cold took him. Szeth arced in the air, and was pummeled with a dozen different pouches. He dropped through the cloud of multicolored dust, leaving an afterimage from his loosely fastened spirit.\n\nHe splashed into the Purelake.\n\nFortunately, he hadn't been too high, so the landing was only mildly painful. He hit the bottom of the shallow lake; then when he stood up, the others hit him with another round of pouches. No mercy from this group.\n\nThe last sliver of the sun vanished, and Master Warren shouted an end to the test. The others streaked away, their Stormlight conspicuous in the dimming light.\n\nSzeth stood waist-deep in water.\n\nWow, the sword said. I kind of feel bad for you.\n\n\"Thank you, sword-nimi. I...\"\n\nWhat were those two spren floating nearby, shaped as small slits in the air? They separated the sky, like wounds in skin, exposing a black field full of stars. When they moved, the substance of reality bent around them.\n\nSzeth bowed his head. He no longer ascribed to spren any particular religious significance, but he could still be in awe of these. He might have lost this contest, but he seemed to have impressed the highspren.\n\nOr had he lost? What exactly had the rules been?\n\nThoughtful, he ducked under the water, swimming in the shallow lake back toward the bank. He climbed out, water streaming from his clothing as he walked up to the others. The masters had brought out bright sphere lanterns, along with food and refreshment. A Tashikki squire was recording the points while two masters adjudicated what counted as a'hit\" and what did not." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Szeth suddenly felt frustrated by their games. Nin had promised him the opportunity to cleanse Shinovar. What time was therefor games? The moment had come for him to ascend to a rank beyond all of this.\n\nHe walked up to the masters. \"I am sorry to have won this contest, as I did the one with the prison.\"\n\n\"You?\" Ty said, incredulous. Ty had five spots on him. Not bad. \"You got hit at least two dozen times.\"\n\n\"I believe,\" Szeth replied, \"that the rules stated the winner was the one with the fewest marks on his uniform.\" He held his hands to the side, showing his white clothing, washed clean during his swim.\n\nWarren and Ki shared a look. She nodded with a hint of a smile.\n\n\"There is always one,\" Warren said, \"who notices that. Remember that while loopholes are to be exploited, Szeth-son-Neturo, they are dangerous to rely upon. Still, you have done well. Both in your performance, and in seeing this hole in the rules.\" He glanced into the night, squinting at the two highspren, who seemed to have made themselves visible to Warren as well. \"Others agree.\"\n\n\"He used a weapon,\" one of the older squires said, pointing. \"He broke the rules!\"\n\n\"I used a pole to block pouches,\" Szeth said. \"But I did not attack anyone with it.\"\n\n\"You attacked me!\" said the woman he'd thrown at someone else.\n\n\"Physical contact was not forbidden, and I cannot help it if you are unable to control your Lashings when I release you.\"\n\nThe masters didn't object. Indeed, Ki leaned into Warren. \"He is beyond the skill of these. I hadn't realized...\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Warren looked back to him. \"You shall soon have your spren, gauging by this performance.\"\n\n\"Not soon,\" Szeth said. \"Right now. I shall say the Third Ideal this night, choosing to follow the law. I-\"\n\n\"No,\" a voice interrupted.\n\nA figure stood upon the low wall surrounding the order's stone courtyard. Skybreakers gasped, holding up lanterns, illuminating a man with dark Makabaki skin highlighted by a white crescent birthmark on his right cheek. Unlike the others, he wore a striking uniform of silver and black.\n\nNin-son-God, Nale, Nakku, Nalan-this man had a hundred different names and was revered across all Roshar. The Illuminator. The Judge. A founder of humankind, defender against the Desolations, a man ascended to divinity.\n\nThe Herald of Justice had returned.\n\n\"Before you swear, Szeth-son-Neturo,\" Nin said, \"there are things you need to understand.\" He looked across the Skybreakers. \"Things you all must understand. Squires, masters, gather our gemstone reserves and mobile packs. We will leave most of the squires. They leak Stormlight too much, and we have along way to go.\"\n\n\"Tonight, Just One?\" Ki asked.\n\n\"Tonight. It is time for you to learn the two greatest secrets that I know.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "-From Hessi's Mythica, page 121\n\nWhen Kaladin awoke on the ship in Shadesmar, the others were already up. He sat, bleary-eyed on his bunk, listening to beads crash outside the hull. There almost seemed... a pattern or rhythm to them? Or was he imagining things?\n\nHe shook his head, standing and stretching. He had slept fitfully, slumber interrupted by thoughts of his men dying, of Elhokar and Moash, of worries for Drehy and Skar. The darkness blanketed his feelings, making him lethargic. He hated that he was the last to rise. That was always a bad sign.\n\nHe used the facilities, then forced himself to climb up the steps. The vessel had three levels. The bottom was the hold. The next level, the lower deck, was for the cabins, where the humans had been given a spot for them all to share.\n\nThe uppermost deck was open to the sky, and was populated by spren. Syl said they were lightspren, but the common name was Reachers. They looked like humans with strange bronze skin-metallic, as if they were living statues. Both men and women wore rugged jackets and trousers. Actual human clothing, not merely imitations of it like Syl wore.\n\nThey didn't carry weapons other than knives, but the ship had wicked harpoons clipped in racks at the sides of the deck. Seeing those made Kaladin infinitely more comfortable; he knew exactly whereto go fora weapon.\n\nSyl stood near the bow, watching out over the sea of beads again. He almost missed spotting her at first because her dress was red, instead of its normal white-blue. Her hair had changed to black, and... and her skin was flesh colored-tan, like Kaladin's. What on Roshar?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He crossed the deck toward her, stumbling as the ship crashed through a swell in the beads. Storms, and Shallan said this was more smooth than some boats she'd been on? Several Reachers passed, calmly managing the large riggings and harnesses that attached to the spren who pulled the craft.\n\n\"Ah, human,\" one of the Reachers said as Kaladin passed. That was the captain, wasn't it? Captain Ico? He resembled a Shin man, with large, childlike eyes made of metal. He was shorter than the Alethi, but sturdy. He wore the same tan clothing as the others, sporting a multitude of buttoned pockets.\n\n\"Come with me,\" Ico told Kaladin, then crossed the deck without waiting fora response. They didn't speak much, these Reachers.\n\nKaladin sighed, then followed the captain back to the stairwell. Aline of copper plating ran down the inside wall of the stairwell-and Kaladin had seen a similar ornamentation on the deck. He'd assumed it was decorative, but as the captain walked, he rested his fingers on the metal in an odd way.\n\nTouching a plate with the tips of his fingers, Kaladin felt a distinct vibration. They passed the quarters of the ordinary spren sailors. They didn't sleep, but they did seem to enjoy their breaks from work, swinging quietly in hammocks, often reading.\n\nIt didn't bother him to see male Reachers with books-spren were obviously similar to ardents, who were outside of common understandings of male and female. At the same time... spren, reading? How odd.\n\nWhen they reached the hold, the captain turned on a small oil lamp-so far as Kaladin could tell, he didn't use a flaming brand to create the fire. How did it work? It seemed foolhardy to use fire for light with so much wood and cloth around." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Why not use spheres for light?\" Kaladin asked him.\n\n\"We have none,\" Ico said. \"Stormlight fades too quickly on this side.\"\n\nThat was true. Kaladin's team carried several larger unset gemstones, which would hold Stormlight for weeks-but the smaller spheres would run out after a week or so without seeing a storm. They'd been able to trade the chips and marks to the lighthouse keeper in exchange for barter supplies-mostly cloth-to buy passage on this ship.\n\n\"The lighthouse keeper wanted the Stormlight,\" Kaladin said. \"He kept it in some kind of globe.\"\n\nCaptain Ico grunted. \"Foreign technology,\" he said. \"Dangerous. Draws the wrong spren.\" He shook his head. \"At Celebrant, the moneychangers have perfect gemstones that can hold the light indefinitely. Similar.\"\n\n\"Perfect gemstones? Like, the Stone of Ten Dawns?\"\n\n\"I don't know of this thing. Light in a perfect stone doesn't run out, so you can give Stormlight to the moneychangers. They use devices to transfer it from smaller gemstones to their perfect ones. Then they give you credit to spend in the city.\"\n\nThe hold was closely packed with barrels and boxes that were lashed to the walls and floor. Kaladin could barely squeeze through. Ico selected a rope-handled box from a stack, then asked Kaladin to pull it out as Ico resettled the boxes that had been atop it, then relashed them.\n\nKaladin spent the time thinking about perfect gemstones. Did such a thing exist on his side? If there really were flawless stones that could hold Stormlight without ever running out, that seemed important to know. It could mean the difference between life and death for Radiants during the Weeping." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Once Ico was done resettling the cargo, he gestured for Kaladin to help him pickup the box they'd removed. They maneuvered it out of the hold and up onto the top deck. Here, the captain knelt and opened the box, which revealed a strange device that looked a little like a coatrack-although only about three feet tall. Made entirely of steel, it had dozens of small metal prongs extending from it, like the branches of a tree-only it had a metal basin at the very bottom.\n\nIco fished in a pocket and took out a small box, from which he removed a handful of glass beads like those that made up the ocean. He placed one of them into a hole in the center of the device, then waved toward Kaladin. \"Stormlight.\"\n\n\"For what?\"\n\n\"For you to live.\"\n\n\"Are you threatening me, Captain?\"\n\nIco sighed and regarded him with a suffering expression. Very human in its nature. It seemed the look of a man talking to a child. The spren captain waved his hand, insistent, so Kaladin took a diamond mark from his pocket.\n\nCradling the sphere in one hand, Ico touched the glass bead he'd put in the fabrial. \"This is a soul,\" he said. \"Soul of water, but very cold.\"\n\n\"Ice?\"\n\n\"Ice from a high, high place,\" he said. \"Ice that has never melted. Ice that has never known warmth.\" The light in Kaladin's sphere dimmed as Ico concentrated. \"You know how to manifest souls?\"\n\n\"No,\" Kaladin said.\n\n\"Some of your kind do,\" he said. \"It is rare. Rare among us too. The gardeners among the cultivationspren are best at it. I am unpracticed.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The ocean bead expanded and grew cloudy, looking like ice. Kaladin got a distinct sense of coldness from it.\n\nIco handed back the diamond mark, now partially drained, then dusted off his hands and stood up, pleased.\n\n\"What does it do?\" Kaladin asked.\n\nIco nudged the device with his foot. \"It gets cold now.\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"Cold makes water,\" he said. \"Water collects in that basin. You drink, and don't die.\"\n\nCold makes water? It didn't seem to be making any water that Kaladin could see. Ico hiked off to survey the spren steering the ship, so Kaladin knelt beside the device, trying to understand. Eventually, he spotted drops of water collecting on the'branches\" of the device. They ran down the metal and gathered in the basin.\n\nHuh. When the captain had said-during their initial negotiations-that he could provide water for human passengers, Kaladin had assumed the ship would have some barrels in the hold.\n\nThe device took about a half hour to make a small cup of water, which Kaladin drank as a test-the basin had a spigot and a detachable tin cup. The water was cool but flavorless, unlike rainwater. How did coldness make water though? Was this melting ice in the Physical Realm somehow, and bringing it here?\n\nAshe was sipping the water, Syl walked over-her skin, hair, and dress still colored like those of a human. She stopped next to him, placed her hands on her hips, and went into full pout.\n\n\"What?\" Kaladin asked.\n\n\"They won't let me ride one of the flying spren.\"\n\n\"Smart.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Insufferable.\"\n\n\"Why on Roshar would you look atone of those things and think, \"You know what, I need to get on its back\"?\"\n\nSyl looked at him as if he were crazy. \"Because they can fly.\"\n\n\"So can you. Actually, so can I.\"\n\n\"You don't fly, you fall the wrong way.\" She unfolded her arms so that she could fold them immediately again and huff loudly. \"You're telling me you're not even curious what it's like to climb on one of those things?\"\n\n\"Horses are bad enough. I'm not about to get onto something that doesn't even have legs.\"\n\n\"Where's your sense of adventure?\"\n\n\"I dragged it outback and clubbed it senseless forgetting me into the army. What have you done to your skin and hair, by the way?\"\n\n\"It's a Lightweaving,\" she said. \"I asked Shallan, because I didn't want rumors of an honorspren spreading from the ship's crew.\"\n\n\"We can't waste Stormlight on something like that, Syl.\"\n\n\"We used a mark that was running out anyway!\" she said. \"So it was worthless to us; it would have been depleted by the time we arrived. So it's wasting nothing.\"\n\n\"What if there's an emergency?\"\n\nShe stuck her tongue out at him, then at the sailors at the front of the ship. Kaladin returned the little tin cup to its place on the side of the device, then settled with his back to the ship railing. Shallan sat across the deck near the flying spren, doing sketches.\n\n\"You should go talk to her,\" Syl said, sitting next to him." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Help continue the narrative for the writer.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, knights radiant\nAuthor: Brandon Sanderson\nTitle: Oathbringer\nChapter: 99" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Insufferable.\"\n\n\"Why on Roshar would you look atone of those things and think, \"You know what, I need to get on its back\"?\"\n\nSyl looked at him as if he were crazy. \"Because they can fly.\"\n\n\"So can you. Actually, so can I.\"\n\n\"You don't fly, you fall the wrong way.\" She unfolded her arms so that she could fold them immediately again and huff loudly. \"You're telling me you're not even curious what it's like to climb on one of those things?\"\n\n\"Horses are bad enough. I'm not about to get onto something that doesn't even have legs.\"\n\n\"Where's your sense of adventure?\"\n\n\"I dragged it outback and clubbed it senseless forgetting me into the army. What have you done to your skin and hair, by the way?\"\n\n\"It's a Lightweaving,\" she said. \"I asked Shallan, because I didn't want rumors of an honorspren spreading from the ship's crew.\"\n\n\"We can't waste Stormlight on something like that, Syl.\"\n\n\"We used a mark that was running out anyway!\" she said. \"So it was worthless to us; it would have been depleted by the time we arrived. So it's wasting nothing.\"\n\n\"What if there's an emergency?\"\n\nShe stuck her tongue out at him, then at the sailors at the front of the ship. Kaladin returned the little tin cup to its place on the side of the device, then settled with his back to the ship railing. Shallan sat across the deck near the flying spren, doing sketches.\n\n\"You should go talk to her,\" Syl said, sitting next to him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"About wasting Stormlight?\" Kaladin said. \"Yes, perhaps I should. She does seem inclined to be frivolous with who she expends it for.\"\n\nSyl rolled her eyes.\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"Don't go lecture her, silly. Chat with her. About life. About fun things.\" Syl nudged him with her foot. \"I know you want to. I can feel that you do. Be glad I'm the wrong kind of spren, or I would probably be licking your forehead or something to get at your emotions.\"\n\nThe ship surged against a wave of beads. The souls of things in the physical world.\n\n\"Shallan is betrothed to Adolin,\" Kaladin said.\n\n\"Which isn't an oath,\" Syl said. \"It's a promise to maybe make an oath sometime.\"\n\n\"It's still not the sort of thing you play around with.\"\n\nSyl rested her hand on his knee. \"Kaladin. I'm your spren. It's my duty to make sure that you're not alone.\"\n\n\"Is that so? Who decided?\"\n\n\"I did. And don't give me excuses about not being lonely, or about'only needing your brothers in arms. \"You can't lie tome. You feel dark, sad. You need something, someone, and she makes you feel better.\"\n\nStorms. It felt like Syl and his emotions were double-teaming him. One smiled with encouragement, while the other whispered terrible things. That he'd always be alone. That Tarah had been right to leave him.\n\nHe filled another cup with as much water as he could get from the basin, then carried it toward Shallan. The pitching of the ship almost made him dump the cup overboard." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Shallan glanced up as he eased down beside her, his back resting against the deck's railing. He handed her the cup. \"It makes water,\" he said, thumbing at the device. \"By getting cold.\"\n\n\"Condensation? How fast does it go? Navani would be interested in that.\" She sipped the water, holding it in her gloved safehand-which was strange to see on her. Even when they'd traveled the bottoms of the chasms together, she'd worn a very formal havah.\n\n\"You walk like they do,\" she said absently, finishing her sketch of one of the flying beasts.\n\n\"They?\"\n\n\"The sailors. You keep your balance well. You'd have been at home as a sailor yourself, I suspect. Unlike some others.\" She nodded toward Azure, who stood across the deck, holding onto the railing for dear life and occasionally shooting distrusting glares at the Reachers. Either she did not like being on a ship, or she did not trust the spren. Perhaps both.\n\n\"May I?\" Kaladin asked, nodding toward Shallan's sketch. She shrugged, so he took the sketchpad and studied her pictures of the flying beasts. As always, they were excellent. \"What does the text say?\"\n\n\"Just some theorizing,\" she said, flipping back a page in her notebook. \"I lost my original of this picture, so this is kind of crude. But have you ever seen something like these arrowhead spren here?\"\n\n\"Yeah...\" Kaladin said, studying her drawing of a skyeel flying with arrowhead spren moving around it. \"I've seen them near greatshells.\"\n\n\"Chasmfiends, skyeels, anything else that should be heavier than it actually is. Sailors call them luckspren on our side.\" She gestured with the cup toward the front of the ship, where sailors managed the flying beasts. \"They call these \"mandras,\" but the arrowhead shapes on their heads are the same shape as luckspren. These are bigger, but I think they-or something like them-help skyeels fly.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Chasmfiends don't fly.\"\n\n\"They kind of do, mathematically. Bavamar did the calculations on Reshi greatshells, and found they should be crushed by their own weight.\"\n\n\"Huh,\" Kaladin said.\n\nShe started to get excited. \"There's more. Those mandras, they vanish sometimes. Their keepers call it'dropping. \"I think they must begetting pulled into the Physical Realm. It means you can never use only one mandra to pull a ship, no matter how small that ship. And you can't take them-or most other spren-too far from human population centers on our side. They waste away and die for reasons people here don't understand.\"\n\n\"Huh. So what do they eat?\"\n\n\"I'm not sure,\" Shallan said. \"Syl and Pattern talk about feeding off emotions, but there's something else that...\" She trailed off as Kaladin flipped to the next page in her notebook. It seemed like an attempt at drawing Captain Ico, but was incredibly juvenile. Basically just a stick figure.\n\n\"Did Adolin get hold of your sketchbook?\" he asked.\n\nShe snatched the book from him and closed it. \"I was just trying out a different style. Thanks for the water.\"\n\n\"Yes, I had to walk all the way from over there. At least seven steps.\"\n\n\"Easily ten,\" Shallan said. \"And on this precarious deck. Very dangerous.\"\n\n\"Practically as bad as fighting the Fused.\"\n\n\"Could have stubbed your toe. Or gotten a splinter. Or pitched over the side and been lost to the depths, buried by a thousand thousand beads and the weight of the souls of an infinite number of forgotten objects.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Or... that.\"\n\n\"Highly unlikely,\" Shallan agreed. \"They keep this deck well maintained, so there really aren't any splinters.\"\n\n\"With my luck, I'd find one anyway.\"\n\n\"I had a splinter once,\" Shallan noted. \"It eventually got out of hand.\"\n\n\"You... you did not just say that.\"\n\n\"Yes, you obviously imagined it. What a sick, sick mind you have, Kaladin.\"\n\nKaladin sighed, then nodded to the sailors. \"They do walkabout barefoot. Have you noticed that? Something about the copper lines set into the deck.\"\n\n\"The copper vibrates,\" Shallan said. \"And they keep touching it. I think they might be using it to communicate somehow.\"\n\n\"That would explain why they don't talk much,\" Kaladin said. \"I'd have expected them to watch us a little more than they do. They don't seem that curious about us.\"\n\n\"Which is odd, considering how interesting Azure is.\"\n\n\"Wait. Just Azure?\"\n\n\"Yes. In that polished breastplate and striking figure, with her talk of chasing bounties and traveling worlds. She's deeply mysterious.\"\n\n\"I'm mysterious,\" Kaladin said.\n\n\"I used to think you were. Then I found out you don't like good puns-it's truly possible to know too much about somebody.\"\n\nHe grunted. \"I'll try to be more mysterious. Take up bounty hunting.\" His stomach growled. \"Starting with a bounty on lunch, maybe.\"\n\nThey'd been promised two meals a day, but considering how long it had taken Ico to remember they needed water, perhaps he should ask.\n\n\"I've been trying to track our speed,\" Shallan said, flipping through her notebook. She went quickly through the pages, and he could see that-oddly-they alternated between expert renditions and comically bad ones." }, { "from": "human", "value": "She landed on a map she'd made of this region in Shadesmar." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Alethi rivers were now peninsulas, and the Sea of Spears was an island, with the city named Celebrant on the western side. The river peninsulas meant that in order to get to the city, the ship had to swing to the west. Shallan had marked their path with a line.\n\n\"It's hard to gauge our progress, but I'd guess that we're moving faster than the average ship in our world. We can go directly where we want without worrying about the winds, for one thing.\"\n\n\"So... two more days?\" Kaladin asked, guessing based on her marks.\n\n\"More or less. Quick progress.\"\n\nHe moved his fingers down, toward the bottom of her map. \"Thaylen City?\" he asked, tapping one point she'd marked.\n\n\"Yes. On this side, it will be on the edge of a lake of beads. We can guess the Oathgate will reflect there as a platform, like the one we left in Kholinar. But how to activate it...\"\n\n\"I want to try. Dalinar is in danger. We need to get to him, Shallan. In Thaylen City.\"\n\nShe glanced at Azure, who maintained that was the wrong direction to go. \"Kaladin... I don't know if we can trust what you saw. It's dangerous to presume you know the future-\"\n\n\"I didn't seethe future,\" Kaladin said quickly. \"It wasn't like that. It was like soaring the sky with the Stormfather. I just know... I know I have to get to Dalinar.\"\n\nShe still seemed skeptical. Perhaps he'd told them too much of the lighthouse keeper's theatrics.\n\n\"We'll see, once we get to Celebrant.\" Shallan closed her map, then squirmed, glancing back at the railing they'd been leaning against. \"Do you suppose they have chairs anywhere? These railings aren't very comfortable for sitting against.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Probably not.\"\n\n\"What do you even call these things?\" Shallan said, tapping the railing. \"A deck wall?\"\n\n\"No doubt they've made up some obscure nautical word,\" Kaladin said. \"Everything on a ship has odd names. Port and starboard instead of left and right. Galley instead of kitchen. Nuisance instead of Shallan.\"\n\n\"There was a name... railing? Deck guard? No, wale. It's called a wale.\" She grinned. \"I don't really like how it feels to sit against this wale, but I'm sure I'll eventually get over it.\"\n\nHe groaned softly. \"Really?\"\n\n\"Vengeance for calling me names.\"\n\n\"Name. One name. And it was more a declaration of fact than an attack.\"\n\nShe punched him lightly in the arm. \"It's good to see you smiling.\"\n\n\"That was smiling?\"\n\n\"It was the Kaladin equivalent. That scowl was almost jovial.\" She smiled at him.\n\nSomething felt warm within him at being near her. Something felt right. It wasn't like with Laral, his boyhood crush. Or even like with Tarah, his first real romance. It was something different, and he couldn't define it. He only knew he didn't want it to stop. It pushed back the darkness.\n\n\"Down in the chasms,\" he said, \"when we were trapped together, you talked about your life. About... your father.\"\n\n\"I remember,\" she said softly. \"In the darkness of the storm.\"\n\n\"How do you do it, Shallan? How do you keep smiling and laughing? How do you keep from fixating on the terrible things that have happened?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I cover them up. I have this uncanny ability to hideaway anything I don't want to think about. It... it's getting harder, but for most things I can just...\" She trailed off, staring straight ahead. \"There. Gone.\"\n\n\"Wow.\"\n\n\"I know,\" she whispered. \"I'm crazy.\"\n\n\"No. No, Shallan! I wish I could do the same.\"\n\nShe looked at him, brow wrinkling. \"You're crazy.\"\n\n\"How nice would it be, if I could simply shove it all away? Storms.\" He tried to imagine it. Not spending his life worrying about the mistakes he'd made. Not hearing the constant whispers that he wasn't good enough, or that he'd failed his men.\n\n\"This way, I'll never face it,\" Shallan said.\n\n\"It's better than being unable to function.\"\n\n\"That's what I tell myself.\" She shook her head. \"Jasnah said that power is an illusion of perception. Act like you have authority, and you often will. But pretending fragments me. I'm too good at pretending.\"\n\n\"Well, whatever you're doing, it's obviously working. If I could smother these emotions, I'd do so eagerly.\"\n\nShe nodded, but fell silent, then resisted all further attempts to draw her into conversation." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "-From Hessi's Mythica, page 140\n\nDalinar remembered almost everything now. Though he still hadn't recovered the details of his meeting with the Nightwatcher, the rest was as fresh as anew wound, dripping blood down his face.\n\nThere had been so many more holes in his mind than he'd realized. The Nightwatcher had ripped apart his memories like the fabric of an old blanket, then sewn anew quilt out of it. In the intervening years he'd thought himself mostly whole, but now all those scars had been ripped free and he could seethe truth.\n\nHe tried to put all of that out of his mind as he toured Vedenar, one of the great cities of the world, known for its amazing gardens and lush atmosphere. Unfortunately, the city had been devastated by the Veden civil war, then the subsequent arrival of the Everstorm. Even along the sanitized path he walked for the tour, they passed scorched buildings, piles of rubble.\n\nHe couldn't help but think of what he'd done to Rathalas. And so, Evi's tears accompanied him. The cries of dying children.\n\nHypocrite, they said. Murderer. Destroyer.\n\nThe air smelled of salt and was filled with the sounds of waves smashing on cliffs outside the city. How did they live with that constant roaring? Did they never know peace? Dalinar tried to listen politely as Taravangian's people led him into a garden, full of low walls overgrown with vines and shrubs. One of few that hadn't been destroyed in the civil war.\n\nThe Vedens loved ostentatious greenery. Not a subtle people, all brimming with passion and vice.\n\nThe wife of one of the new Veden highprinces eventually led Navani off to inspect some paintings. Dalinar was instead led to a small garden square, where some Veden lighteyes were chatting and drinking wine. A low wall on the eastern side here allowed for the growth of all kinds of rare plants in a jumble, which was the current horticultural fashion. Lifespren bobbed among them." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "More small talk? \"Excuse me,\" Dalinar said, nodding toward a raised gazebo. \"I'm going to take a moment to survey the city.\"\n\nOne of the lighteyes raised his hand. \"I can show-\"\n\n\"No thank you,\" Dalinar said, then started up the steps to the gazebo. Perhaps that had been too abrupt. Well, at least it fit his reputation. His guards had the sense to remain below, at the foot of the steps.\n\nHe reached the top, trying to relax. The gazebo gave him a nice view of the cliffs and the sea beyond. Unfortunately, it let him seethe rest of the city-and storms, it was not in good shape. The walls were broken in places, the palace nothing more than rubble. Huge swaths of the city had burned, including many of the platelike terraces that had been Veden showpieces.\n\nOut beyond-on the fields north of the city-black scars on the rock still showed where heaps of bodies had been burned following the war. He tried to turn away from all that and lookout at the peaceful ocean. But he could smell smoke. That wasn't good. In the years following Evi's death, smoke had often sent him descending into one of his worse days.\n\nStorms. I'm stronger than this. He could fight it. He wasn't the man he'd been all those years ago. He forced his attention toward the stated purpose of visiting the city: surveying the Veden martial capabilities.\n\nMany of the living Veden troops were barracked in storm bunkers right inside the city walls. From reports he'd heard earlier, the civil war had brought incredible losses. Even baffling ones. Many armies would break after suffering ten percent casualties, but here-reportedly-the Vedens had continued fighting after losing more than half their numbers." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Perhaps they'd been driven mad by the persistent crashing of those waves. And... what else did he hear?\n\nMore phantom weeping. Taln's palms! Dalinar drew a deep breath, but smelled only smoke.\n\nWhy must I have these memories? he thought, angry. Why did they suddenly return?\n\nMixing with those emotions was a growing fear for Adolin and Elhokar. Why hadn't they sent word? If they'd escaped, wouldn't they have flown to safety-or at the very least, found a spanreed? It seemed ridiculous to assume multiple Radiants and Shardbearers were trapped in the city, unable to flee. But the alternative was to worry that they hadn't survived. That he'd sent them to die.\n\nDalinar tried to stand, straight-backed and at attention, beneath the weight of it all. Unfortunately, he knew too well that if you locked your knees and stood too straight, you risked fainting. Why was it that trying to stand tall should make you so much more likely to fall?\n\nHis guards at the base of the stone hill parted to let Taravangian-in his characteristic orange robes-shuffle through. The old man carried an enormous diamond-shaped kite shield, large enough to cover his entire left side. He climbed up to the gazebo, then sat down on one of the benches, panting.\n\n\"Did you want to see one of these, Dalinar?\" he asked after a moment, holding out the shield.\n\nGlad for the distraction, Dalinar took the shield, hefting it. \"Half-shard?\" he said, noting a steel box-with a gemstone inside-fastened to the inner surface.\n\n\"Indeed,\" Taravangian said. \"Crude devices. There are legends of metal that can block a Shardblade. A metal that falls from the sky. Silver, but somehow lighter. I should like to see that, but for now we can use these.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dalinar grunted.\n\n\"You know how they make fabrials, don't you?\" Taravangian asked. \"Enslaved spren?\"\n\n\"Spren can't be'enslaved' anymore than a chull can.\"\n\nThe Stormfather rumbled distantly in his mind.\n\n\"That gemstone,\" Taravangian said, \"imprisons the kind of spren that gives things substance, the kind that holds the world together. We have entrapped in that shield something that, at another time, might have blessed a Knight Radiant.\"\n\nStorms. He couldn't deal with a philosophical problem like this today. He tried to change the topic. \"You seem to be feeling better.\"\n\n\"It's a good day for me. I feel better than I have recently, but that can be dangerous. I'm prone to thinking about mistakes I've made.\" Taravangian smiled in his kindly way. \"I try to tell myself that at the very least, I made the best choice I could, with the information I had.\"\n\n\"Unfortunately, I'm certain I didn't make the best choices I could,\" Dalinar said.\n\n\"But you wouldn't change them. If you did, you'd be a different person.\"\n\nI did change them, Dalinar thought. I erased them. And I did become a different person. Dalinar set the shield beside the old man.\n\n\"Tell me, Dalinar,\" Taravangian said. \"You've spoken of your disregard for your ancestor, the Sunmaker. You called him a tyrant.\"\n\nLike me.\n\n\"Let us say,\" Taravangian continued, \"you could snap your fingers and change history. Would you make it so that the Sunmaker lived longer and accomplished his desire, uniting all of Roshar under a single banner?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Turn him into more of a despot?\" Dalinar said. \"That would have meant him slaughtering his way all across Azir and into Iri. Of course I wouldn't wish that.\"\n\n\"But what if it left you, today, in command of a completely unified people? What if his slaughter let you save Roshar from the Voidbringer invasion?\"\n\n\"I... You'd be asking me to consign millions of innocents to the pyre!\"\n\n\"Those people are long dead,\" Taravangian whispered. \"What are they to you? Numbers in a scribe's footnote. Yes, the Sunmaker was a monster. However, the current trade routes between Herdaz, Jah Keved, and Azir were forged by his tyranny. He brought culture and science back to Alethkar. Your modern Alethi cultural eruption can be traced directly back to what he did. Morality and law are built upon the bodies of the slain.\"\n\n\"I can't do anything about that.\"\n\n\"No, no. Of course you can't.\" Taravangian tapped the half-shard shield. \"Do you know how we capture spren for fabrials, Dalinar? From spanreeds to heatrials, it's all the same. You lure the spren with something it loves. You give it something familiar to draw it in, something it knows deeply. In that moment, it becomes your slave.\"\n\nI... I really can't think about this right now. \"Excuse me,\" Dalinar said, \"I need to go check on Navani.\"\n\nHe strode from the gazebo and down the steps, bustling past Rial and his other guards. They followed, towed in his wake like leaves after a strong gust of wind. He entered the city, but didn't go looking for Navani. Perhaps he could visit the troops." }, { "from": "human", "value": "He walked back along the street, trying to ignore the destruction." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Even without it though, this city felt off to him. The architecture was very like Alethi architecture, nothing like the flowery designs of Kharbranth or Thaylenah-but many buildings had plants draping and dangling from every window. It was strange to walk along streets full of people who looked Alethi but spoke a foreign tongue.\n\nEventually Dalinar reached the large stormshelters right inside the city walls. Soldiers had setup tent cities next to them, temporary bivouacs they could tear down and carry into one of the loaflike bunkers for storms. Dalinar found himself growing calmer as he walked among them. This was familiar; this was the peace of soldiers at work.\n\nThe officers here welcomed him, and generals took him on tours of the bunkers. They were impressed by his ability to speak their language-something he'd gained early in his visit to the city, using his Bondsmith abilities.\n\nAll Dalinar did was nod and ask the occasional question, but somehow he felt like he was accomplishing something. At the end, he entered a breezy tent near the city gates, where he met with a group of wounded soldiers. Each had survived when his entire platoon had fallen. Heroes, but not the conventional type. It took being a soldier to understand the heroism of simply being willing to continue after all your friends had died.\n\nThe last inline was an elderly veteran who wore a clean uniform and a patch fora defunct platoon. His right arm was missing, his jacket sleeve tied off, and a younger soldier led him up to Dalinar. \"Look, Geved. The Blackthorn himself! Didn't you always say you wanted to meet him?\"\n\nThe older man had one of those stares that made him seem like he could see right through you. \"Brightlord,\" he said, and saluted. \"I fought your army at Slickrock, sir. Brightlord Nalanar's second infantry. Storming fine battle that was, sir.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Storming fine indeed,\" Dalinar said, saluting him back. \"I figured your forces had us at three different points.\"\n\n\"Those were good times, Brightlord. Good times. Before everything went wrong...\" His eyes glazed over.\n\n\"What was it like?\" Dalinar asked softly. \"The civil war, the battle here, at Vedenar?\"\n\n\"It was a nightmare, sir.\"\n\n\"Geved,\" the younger man said. \"Let's go. They have food-\"\n\n\"Didn't you hear him?\" Geved said, pulling his remaining arm out of the boy's grip. \"He asked. Everyone dances around me, ignoring it. Storms, sir. The civil war was a nightmare.\"\n\n\"Fighting other Veden families,\" Dalinar said, nodding.\n\n\"It wasn't that,\" Geved said. \"Storms! We squabble as much as you do, sir. Pardon that. But I ain't ever felt bad fighting my own. It's what the Almighty wants, right? But that battle...\" He shuddered. \"Nobody would stop, Brightlord. Even when it should have been done. They just kept right on fighting. Killing because they felt like killing.\"\n\n\"It burned in us,\" another wounded man said from by the food table. The man wore an eye patch and looked like he hadn't shaved since the battle. \"You know it, Brightlord, don't you? That river inside of you, pulling your blood all up into your head and making you love each swing. Making it so that you can't stop, no matter how tired you are.\"\n\nThe Thrill.\n\nIt started to glow inside Dalinar. So familiar, so warm, and so terrible. Dalinar felt it stir, like... like a favorite axehound, surprised to hear its master's voice after so long." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He hadn't felt it in what seemed like an eternity. Even back on the Shattered Plains, when he'd last felt it, it had seemed to be weakening. Suddenly that made sense. It wasn't that he'd been learning to overcome the Thrill. Instead, it had left him.\n\nTo come here.\n\n\"Did others of you feel this?\" Dalinar asked.\n\n\"We all did,\" another of the men said, and Geved nodded. \"The officers... they rode about with teeth clenched in rictus grins. Men shouted to keep the fight, maintain the momentum.\"\n\nIt's all about momentum.\n\nOthers agreed, talking about the remarkable haze that had covered the day.\n\nLosing any sense of peace he'd gained from the inspections, Dalinar excused himself. His guards raced to keep up as he fled-moving even faster as a newly arrived messenger called to him, saying he was needed back at the gardens.\n\nHe wasn't ready. He didn't want to face Taravangian, or Navani, or especially Renarin. Instead, he climbed the city wall. Inspect... inspect the fortifications. That was why he'd come.\n\nFrom the top, he could again see those large sections of the city, burned and broken in the war.\n\nThe Thrill called to him, distant and thin. No. No. Dalinar marched along the wall, passing soldiers. To his right, waves crashed against the rocks. Shadows moved in the shallows, beasts two or three times as big as a chull, their shells peeking from the depths between waves.\n\nIt seemed that Dalinar had been four people in his life. The bloodlusty warrior, who killed wherever he was pointed, and the consequences could go to Damnation." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The general, who had feigned distinguished civility-when secretly, he'd longed to get back on the battlefield so he could shed more blood.\n\nThird, the broken man. The one who paid for the actions of the youth.\n\nThen finally, the fourth man: most false of them all. The man who had given up his memories so he could pretend to be something better.\n\nDalinar stopped, resting one hand on the stones. His guards assembled behind him. A Veden soldier approached from the other direction along the wall, calling out in anger. \"Who are you? What are you doing up here?\"\n\nDalinar squeezed his eyes shut.\n\n\"You! Alethi. Answer me. Who let you scale this fortification?\"\n\nThe Thrill stirred, and the animal inside him wanted to lash out. A fight. He needed a fight.\n\nNo. He fled again, hurrying down a tight, constricting stone stairwell. His breathing echoed against the walls, and he nearly stumbled and tripped down the last flight.\n\nHe burst out onto the street, sweating, surprising a group of women carrying water. His guards piled out after him. \"Sir?\" Rial asked. \"Sir, are you... Is everything...?\"\n\nDalinar sucked in Stormlight, hoping it would drive away the Thrill. It didn't. It seemed to complement the sensation, driving him to act.\n\n\"Sir?\" Rial said, holding out a canteen that smelled of something strong. \"I know you said I shouldn't carry this, but I did. And... and you might need it.\"\n\nDalinar stared at that canteen. A pungent scent rose to envelop him. If he drank that, he could forget the whispers. Forget the burned city, and what he'd done to Rathalas. And to Evi." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "So easy...\n\nBlood of my fathers. Please. No.\n\nHe spun away from Rial. He needed rest. That was all, just rest. He tried to keep his head up and slow his pace as he marched back toward the Oathgate.\n\nThe Thrill nipped at him from behind.\n\nIf you become that first man again, it will stop hurting. In your youth, you did what needed to be done. You were stronger then.\n\nHe growled, spinning and flinging his cloak to the side, looking for the voice that had spoken those words. His guards shied back, gripping their spears tightly. The beleaguered inhabitants of Vedenar scurried away from him.\n\nIs this leadership? To cry each night? To shake and tremble? Those are the actions of a child, not a man.\n\n\"Leave me alone!\"\n\nGive me your pain.\n\nDalinar looked toward the sky and let out a raw bellow. He charged through the streets, no longer caring what people thought when they saw him. He needed to be away from this city.\n\nThere. The steps up to the Oathgate. The people of this city had once made a garden out of its platform, but that had been cleared away. Ignoring the long ramp, Dalinar took the steps two at a time, Stormlight lending him endurance.\n\nAt the top, he found a cluster of guards in Kholin blue standing with Navani and a smattering of scribes. She immediately strode over. \"Dalinar, I tried toward him off, but he was insistent. I don't know what he wants.\"\n\n\"He?\" Dalinar asked, puffing from his near run.\n\nNavani gestured toward the scribes. For the first time, Dalinar noticed that several among them wore the short beards of ardents. But those blue robes? What were those?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Curates, he thought, from the Holy Enclave in Valath. Technically, Dalinar himself was ahead of the Vorin religion-but in practice, the curates guided church doctrine. The staves they bore were wound with gemstones, more ornate than he'd expected. Hadn't most of that pomp been done away with at the fall of the Hierocracy?\n\n\"Dalinar Kholin!\" one said, stepping forward. He was young for an ardentia leader, perhaps in his early forties. His square beard was streaked with a few lines of grey.\n\n\"I am he,\" Dalinar said, shrugging off Navani's touch to his shoulder. \"If you would speak with me, let us retire to a place more private-\"\n\n\"Dalinar Kholin,\" the ardent said, louder. \"The council of curates declares you a heretic. We cannot tolerate your insistence that the Almighty is not God. You are hereby proclaimed excommunicate and anathema.\"\n\n\"You have no right-\"\n\n\"We have every right! The ardents must watch the lighteyes so that you steer your subjects well. That is still our duty, as outlined in the Covenants of Theocracy, witnessed for centuries! Did you really think we would ignore what you've been preaching?\"\n\nDalinar gritted his teeth as the stupid ardent began outlining Dalinar's heresies one by one, demanding that he deny them. The man stepped forward, close enough now that Dalinar could smell his breath.\n\nThe Thrill stirred, sensing a fight. Sensing blood.\n\nI'm going to kill him, apart of Dalinar thought. I have to run now, or I will kill this man. It was as clear to him as the sun's light." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "So he ran.\n\nHe dashed to the Oathgate control building, frantic with the need to escape. He scrambled up to the keyhole, and only then remembered that he didn't have a Shardblade that could operate this device.\n\nDalinar, the Stormfather rumbled. Something is wrong. Something I cannot see, something hidden tome. What are you sensing?\n\n\"I have to getaway.\"\n\nI will not be a sword to you. We spoke of this.\n\nDalinar growled. He felt something he could touch, something beyond places. The power that bound worlds together. His power.\n\nWait, the Stormfather said. This is not right!\n\nDalinar ignored him, reaching beyond and pulling power through. Something bright white manifested in his hand, and he rammed it into the keyhole.\n\nThe Stormfather groaned, a sound like thunder.\n\nThe power made the Oathgate work, regardless. As his guards called his name outside, Dalinar flipped the dial that would make only the small building transport-not the entire plateau-then pushed the keyhole around the outside of the room, using the power as a handhold.\n\nA ring of light flashed around the structure, and cold wind poured in through the doorways. He stumbled out onto a platform before Urithiru. The Stormfather pulled back from him, not breaking the bond, but withdrawing his favor.\n\nThe Thrill flooded into replace it. Even this faraway. Storms! Dalinar couldn't escape it.\n\nYou can't escape yourself, Dalinar, Evi's voice said in his mind. This is who you are. Accept it.\n\nHe couldn't run. Storms... he couldn't run.\n\nBlood of my fathers. Please. Please, help me." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But... to whom was he praying?\n\nHe staggered down from the platform in a daze, ignoring questions from soldiers and scribes alike. He made his way to his room, increasingly desperate to find away-anyway-to hide from Evi's condemning voice.\n\nIn his rooms, he pulled a book off the shelf. Bound in hogshide, with thick paper. He held The Way of Kings as if it were a talisman that would drive back the pain.\n\nIt did nothing. Once this book had saved him, but now it seemed useless. He couldn't even read its words.\n\nDropping the book, he stumbled out of the room. No conscious thought led him to Adolin's chambers or drove him to ransack the younger man's room. But he found what he'd hoped, a bottle of wine kept fora special occasion. Violet, prepared in its strength.\n\nThis represented that third man he'd been. Shame, frustration, and days spent in a haze. Terrible times. Times he'd given up part of his soul in order to forget.\n\nBut storms, it was either this or start killing again. He raised the bottle to his lips." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "-From Hessi's Mythica, page 143\n\nAdolin tugged at the jacket, standing in Captain Ico's cabin. The spren had lent the room to him fora few hours.\n\nThe jacket was too short, but was the biggest the spren had. Adolin had cutoff the trousers right below the knees, then tucked the bottoms into his long socks and tall boots. He rolled the sleeves of the jacket up to match, approximating an old style from Thaylenah. The jacket still looked too baggy.\n\nLeave it unbuttoned, he decided. The rolled sleeves look intentional that way. He tucked his shirt in, pulled the belt tight. Good by contrast? He studied it in the captain's mirror. It needed a waistcoat. Those, fortunately, weren't too hard to fake. Ico had provided a burgundy coat that was too small for him. He removed the collar and sleeves, stitched the rough edges under, then slit it up the back.\n\nHe was just finishing it up with some laces on the back when Ico checked in on him. Adolin buttoned on the improvised waistcoat, threw on the jacket, then presented himself with hands at his sides.\n\n\"Very nice,\" Ico said. \"You look like an honorspren going to a Feast of Light.\"\n\n\"Thanks,\" Adolin said, inspecting himself in the small mirror. \"The jacket needs to be longer, but I don't trust myself to letdown the hems.\"\n\nIco studied him with metal eyes-bronze, with holes for the pupils, like Adolin had seen done for some statues. Even the spren's hair appeared sculpted in place. Ico could almost have been a Soulcast king from an age long past." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You were a ruler among your kind, weren't you?\" Ico asked. \"Why did you leave? The humans we get here are refugees, merchants, or explorers. Not kings.\"\n\nKing. Was Adolin a king? Surely his father would decide not to continue with the abdication, now that Elhokar had passed.\n\n\"No answer?\" Ico said. \"That is fine. But you were a ruler among them. I can read it in you. Highborn status is important to humans.\"\n\n\"Maybe a little too important, eh?\" Adolin said, adjusting the neck scarf he'd made from his handkerchief.\n\n\"That is true,\" Ico said. \"You are all human-and so none of you, regardless of birth, can be trusted with oaths. A contract to travel, this is fine. But humans will betray trust if it is given to them.\" The spren frowned, then seemed to grow embarrassed, glancing away. \"That was rude.\"\n\n\"Rudeness doesn't necessarily imply untruth though.\"\n\n\"I did not mean an insult, regardless. You are not to be blamed. Betraying oaths is simply your nature, as a human.\"\n\n\"You don't know my father,\" Adolin said. Still, the conversation left him uncomfortable. Not because of Ico's words-spren tended to say odd things, and Adolin didn't take offense.\n\nMore, he felt his own growing worry that he might actually have to take the throne. He'd grownup knowing it could happen, but he'd also grownup wishing-desperately-that it never would. In his quiet moments, he'd assumed this hesitance was because a king couldn't apply himself to things like dueling and... well... enjoying life." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "What if it went deeper? What if he'd always known inconsistency lurked within him? He couldn't keep pretending he was the man his father wanted him to be.\n\nWell, it was moot anyway-Alethkar, as a nation, had fallen. He accompanied Ico back out of the captain's cabin onto the deck, walking over to Shallan, Kaladin, and Azure, who stood by the starboard wale. Each wore a shirt, trousers, and jacket they'd bought off the Reachers with dun spheres. Dun gemstones weren't worth nearly as much on this side, but apparently trade with the other side did happen, so they had some value.\n\nKaladin gaped at Adolin, looking down at his boots, then up at the neck scarf, then focusing on the waistcoat. That befuddled expression alone made the work worthwhile.\n\n\"How?\" Kaladin demanded. \"Did you sew that?\"\n\nAdolin grinned. Kaladin looked like a man trying to wear his childhood suit; he'd never button that coat across his broad chest. Shallan fit her shirt and jacket better from a pure measurements standpoint, but the cut wasn't flattering. Azure looked far more... normal without her dramatic breastplate and cloak.\n\n\"I'd practically kill fora skirt,\" Shallan noted.\n\n\"You're kidding,\" Azure said.\n\n\"No. I'm getting tired of the way trousers rub my legs. Adolin, could you sew me a dress? Maybe stitch the legs of these trousers together?\"\n\nHe rubbed his chin, which had begun to sprout a blond beard. \"It doesn't work that way-I can't magic more cloth out of nothing. It...\"\n\nHe trailed off as, overhead, the clouds suddenly rippled, glowing with a strange mother-of-pearl iridescence. Another highstorm, their second since arriving in Shadesmar. The group stopped and stared up at the dramatic light show. Nearby, the Reachers seemed to stand up more straight, move about their sailing duties more vigorously." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"See,\" Azure said. \"I told you. They must feed off it, somehow.\"\n\nShallan narrowed her eyes, then grabbed her sketchbook and stalked over to begin interviewing some of the spren. Kaladin trailed away to join his spren at the prow of the ship, where she liked to stand. Adolin often noticed him looking southward, as if anxiously wishing the ship to move more quickly.\n\nHe lingered by the side of the ship, watching the beads crash away below. When he looked up, he found Azure studying him. \"Did you really sew that?\" she asked.\n\n\"There wasn't much sewing involved,\" Adolin said. \"The scarf and jacket hide most of the damage I did to the waistcoat-which used to be a smaller jacket.\"\n\n\"Still,\" she said. \"An unusual skill fora royal.\"\n\n\"And how many royals have you known?\"\n\n\"More than some might assume.\"\n\nAdolin nodded. \"I see. And are you enigmatic on purpose, or is it kind of an accidental thing?\"\n\nAzure leaned against the ship's wale, breeze blowing her short hair. She looked more youthful when not wearing the breastplate and cloak. Mid-thirties, maybe. \"A little of both. I discovered when I was younger that being too open with strangers... went poorly for me. But in answer to your question, I have known royals. Including one woman who left it behind. Throne, family, responsibilities...\"\n\n\"She abandoned her duty?\" That was practically inconceivable.\n\n\"The throne was better served by someone who enjoyed sitting on it.\"\n\n\"Duty isn't about what you enjoy. It's about doing what is demanded of you, in serving the greater good. You can't just abandon responsibility because you feel like it.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Azure glanced at Adolin, and he felt himself blush. \"Sorry,\" he said, looking away. \"My father and my uncle might have... instilled me with a little passion on the topic.\"\n\n\"It's all right,\" Azure said. \"Maybe you're right, and maybe there's something in me that knows it. I always find myself in situations like in Kholinar, leading the Wall Guard. I get too involved... then abandon everyone....\"\n\n\"You didn't abandon the Wall Guard, Azure,\" Adolin said. \"You couldn't have prevented what happened.\"\n\n\"Perhaps. I can't help feeling that this is merely one in along string of duties abdicated, of burdens set down, perhaps to disastrous results.\" For some reason, she put her hand on the pommel of her Shardblade when she said that. Then she looked up at Adolin. \"But of all the things I've walked away from, the one I don't regret is allowing someone else to rule. Sometimes, the best way to do your duty is to let someone else-someone more capable-try carrying it.\"\n\nSuch a foreign idea. Sometimes you took up a duty that wasn't yours, but abandoning one? Just... giving it to someone else?\n\nHe found himself musing on that. He nodded his thanks to Azure as she excused herself to get something to drink. He was still standing there when Shallan returned from interviewing-well, interrogating-the Reachers. She took his arm, and together they watched the shimmering clouds fora while.\n\n\"I look terrible, don't I?\" she finally asked, nudging him in the side. \"No makeup, with hair that hasn't been washed in days, and now wearing a dumpy set of worker's clothing.\"\n\n\"I don't think you're capable of looking terrible,\" he said, pulling her closer. \"In all their color, even those clouds can't compete.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "They passed through a sea of floating candle flames, which represented a village on the human side." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The flames were huddled together in patches. Hiding from the storm.\n\nEventually the clouds faded-but they were supposedly near the city now, so Shallan got excited, watching for it. Finally, she pointed to land on the horizon.\n\nCelebrant nestled not far down its coast. As they drew closer, they spotted other ships entering or leaving the port, each pulled by at least two mandras.\n\nCaptain Ico walked over. \"We'll soon arrive. Let's go get your deadeye.\"\n\nAdolin nodded, patting Shallan on the back, and followed Ico down to the brig, a small room far aft in the cargo hold. Ico used keys to unlock the door, revealing the spren of Adolin's sword sitting on a bench inside. She looked at him with those haunting scratched-out eyes, her string face void of emotion.\n\n\"I wish you hadn't locked her inhere,\" Adolin said, stooping down to peer through the squat doorway.\n\n\"Can't have them on deck,\" Ico said. \"They don't watch where they're walking and falloff. I'm not going to spend days trying to fish out a lost deadeye.\"\n\nShe moved to join Adolin, then Ico reached over to shut the cell.\n\n\"Wait!\" Adolin said. \"Ico, I saw something moving back there.\"\n\nIco locked the door and hung the keys on his belt. \"My father.\"\n\n\"Your father?\" Adolin said. \"You keep your father locked up?\"\n\n\"Can't stand the thought of him wandering around somewhere,\" Ico said, eyes forward. \"Have to keep him locked away though. He'll go searching for the human carrying his corpse, otherwise. Walk right off the deck.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Your father was a Radiant spren?\"\n\nIco started toward the steps up to the deck. \"It is rude to ask about such ones.\"\n\n\"Rudeness doesn't imply untruth though, right?\"\n\nIco turned and regarded him, then smiled wanly and nodded toward Adolin's spren. \"What is she to you?\"\n\n\"A friend.\"\n\n\"A tool. You use her corpse on the other side, don't you? Well, I won't blame you. I've heard stories of what they can do, and I am a pragmatic person. Just... don't pretend she is your friend.\"\n\nBy the time they reached the deck, the ship was approaching the docks. Ico started calling orders, though his crew clearly knew what to do already.\n\nThe Celebrant docks were wide and large, longer than the city. Ships pulled in along stone piers, though Adolin couldn't figure out how they got back out again. Hook the mandras to the stern and pull them out that way?\n\nThe shore was marked by long warehouses set in rows, which marred the view of the city proper, in Adolin's opinion. The ship drew up at a berth on a specific pier, guided by a Reacher with semaphore. Ico's sailors unlatched apiece of the hull, which unfolded to steps, and a sailor hiked down immediately to greet another group of Reachers. These began unlatching the mandras with long hooks, leading them away.\n\nAs each flying spren was released from the rigging, the ship sank a little farther into the bead ocean. Eventually, it seemed to settle onto some braces and steady there.\n\nPattern came over, humming to himself and meeting the rest of them as they gathered on the deck. Ico stepped up, gesturing. \"A deal fulfilled, and a bond kept.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Thank you, Captain,\" Adolin said, shaking Ico's hand. Ico returned the gesture awkwardly. He obviously knew what to do, but was unpracticed at it. \"You're sure you won't take us the rest of the way to the portal between realms?\"\n\n\"I'm certain,\" Ico said firmly. \"The region around Cultivation's Perpendicularity has gained a poor reputation of late. Too many ships vanishing.\"\n\n\"What about Thaylen City?\" Kaladin asked. \"Could you take us there?\"\n\n\"No. I unload goods here, and then head east. Away from trouble. And if you'll accept a little advice, stay in Shadesmar. The Physical Realm is not a welcoming place these days.\"\n\n\"We'll take that under advisement,\" Adolin said. \"Is there anything we should know about the city?\"\n\n\"Don't stray too far outside; with human cities nearby, there will be angerspren in the area. Try not to draw too many lesser spren, and maybe see if you can find a place to tie up that deadeye of yours.\" He pointed. \" The dock registrar is that building ahead of us, with the blue paint. There you'll find a list of ships willing to take on passengers-but you'll have to go to each one individually and make sure they are equipped to take humans, and haven't already booked all their cabins.\n\n\"The building next to that is a moneychanger, where you can trade Stormlight for notes of exchange.\" He shook his head. \"My daughter used to work there, before she ran off chasing stupid dreams.\"\n\nHe bade them farewell, and the group of travelers walked down the gangway onto the docks. Curiously, Syl still wore an illusion, making her face an Alethi tan, her hair black, her clothing red. Was being an honorspren really that big a deal?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"So,\" Adolin said as they reached the pier, \"how are we going to do this? In the city, I mean.\"\n\n\"I've counted out our marks,\" Shallan said, holding up a bag of spheres. \"It's been long enough since they were renewed, they'll almost certainly lose their Stormlight in the next few days. A few have already gone out. We might as well trade for supplies-we can keep the broams and the larger gemstones for Surgebinding.\"\n\n\"First stop is the moneychanger, then,\" Adolin said.\n\n\"After that, we should see if we can buy more rations,\" Kaladin said, \"just in case. And we need to look for passage.\"\n\n\"But to where?\" Azure said. \"The perpendicularity, or Thaylen City?\"\n\n\"Let's see what our options are,\" Adolin decided. \"Maybe there will be a ship to one destination, but not the other. Let's send one group to inquire with ships, and another to get supplies. Shallan, do you have a preference which you'd rather do?\"\n\n\"I'll look for passage,\" she said. \"I have experience with it-I made a lot of trips when chasing down Jasnah.\"\n\n\"Sounds good,\" Adolin said. \"We should put one Radiant in each group, so bridgeboy and Syl, you'll go with me. Pattern and Azure will go with Shallan.\"\n\n\"Maybe I should help Shallan-\" Syl began.\n\n\"We'll need a spren with us,\" Adolin said. \"To explain culture here. Let's go trade in those spheres first, though.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "-From Hessi's Mythica, page 144\n\nKaladin hiked through the city with Adolin and Syl. The moneychanging had gone quickly, and they'd left the spren of Adolin's sword with the others. After Shallan had taken the deadeye's hand, she had remained behind.\n\nReaching this city marked a welcome step forward, toward finally getting out of this place and reaching Dalinar. Unfortunately, a brand-new city full of unknown threats didn't encourage him to relax.\n\nThe city wasn't as densely populated as most human ones, but the variety of spren was stunning. Reachers like Ico and his sailors were common, but there were also spren that looked much like Adolin's sword-at least before she'd been killed. They were made entirely of vines, though they had crystal hands and wore human clothing. Equally common were spren with inky black skin that shone with a variety of colors when light hit them right. Their clothing seemed part of them, like that of the Cryptics and honorspren.\n\nA small group of Cryptics passed nearby, huddling close together as they walked. Each had ahead with a slightly different pattern. There were other spren with skin like cracked stone, molten light shining from within. Still others had skin the color of old white ashes-and when Kaladin saw one of these point toward something, the skin stretching at the joint of his arm disintegrated and blew away, revealing the joint and knobs of the humerus. The skin quickly regrew.\n\nThe variety reminded Kaladin of the costumes of the Cult of Moments-though he didn't spot a single honorspren. And it didn't seem like the other spren mixed much. Humans were rare enough that the three of them-including Syl, imitating an Alethi-turned heads." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Buildings were constructed using bricks in a variety of colors or blocks of many different types of stone." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Each building was a hodgepodge of materials with no pattern Kaladin could determine.\n\n\"How do they get building materials?\" Kaladin asked as they followed the moneychanger's instructions toward the nearby market. \"Are there quarries on this side?\"\n\nSyl frowned. \"I...\" She cocked her head. \"You know, I'm not sure. I think maybe we make it appear on this side, somehow, from yours? Like Ico did with the ice?\"\n\n\"They seem to wear whatever,\" Adolin said, pointing. \"That's an Alethi officer's coat over an Azish scribe's vest. Tashikki wrap worn with trousers, and there's almost a full Thaylen tlmko, but they're missing the boots.\"\n\n\"No children,\" Kaladin noticed.\n\n\"There have been a few,\" Syl said. \"They just don't look little, like human children.\"\n\n\"How does that even work?\" Adolin said.\n\n\"Well, it's certainly less messy than your method!\" She scrunched her face up. \"We're made of power, bits of gods. There are places where that power coalesces, and parts start to be aware. You go, and then comeback with a child? I think?\"\n\nAdolin chuckled.\n\n\"What?\" Kaladin asked.\n\n\"That's actually not that different from what my nanny told me when I asked her where children come from. A nonsense story about parents baking anew child out of crem clay.\"\n\n\"It doesn't happen often,\" Syl said as they passed a group of the ash-colored spren sitting around a table and watching the crowds. They eyed the humans with overt hostility, and one flicked fingers toward Kaladin. Those fingers exploded to bits of dust, leaving bones that grew back the flesh." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Raising children doesn't happen often?\" Adolin asked.\n\nSyl nodded. \"It's rare. Most spren will go hundreds of years without doing it.\"\n\nHundreds of years. \"Storms,\" Kaladin whispered, considering it. \"Most of these spren are that old?\"\n\n\"Or older,\" Syl said. \"But aging isn't the same with spren. Like time isn't. We don't learn as fast, or change much, without a bond.\"\n\nTowers in the city's center showed the time byway of fires burning in a set of vertical holes-so they could judge how to meet back with the others in an hour, as agreed. The market turned out to be mostly roofless stalls open to the air, with goods piled on tables. Even in comparison to the improvised market of Urithiru, this seemed... ephemeral to Kaladin. But there were no stormwinds to worry about here, so it probably made sense.\n\nThey passed a clothing stall, and of course Adolin insisted on stopping. The oily spren who managed the place had an odd, very terse way of talking, with a strange use of words. But it did speak Alethi, unlike most of Ico's crew.\n\nKaladin waited for the prince to finish, until Syl stepped up and presented herself in an oversized poncho tied with a belt. On her head she wore a large, floppy hat.\n\n\"What's that?\" Kaladin asked.\n\n\"Clothes!\"\n\n\"Why do you need clothes? Yours are builtin.\"\n\n\"Those are boring.\"\n\n\"Can't you change them?\"\n\n\"Takes Stormlight, on this side,\" she said. \"Plus, the dress is part of my essence, so I'm actually walking around naked all the time.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It's not the same.\"\n\n\"Easy for you to say. We bought you clothing. You have three sets!\"\n\n\"Three?\" he said, looking down at his clothing. \"I have my uniform, and this one Ico gave me.\"\n\n\"Plus the one you're wearing underneath that one.\"\n\n\"Underwear?\" Kaladin said.\n\n\"Yeah. That means you have three sets of clothing, while I have none.\"\n\n\"We need two sets so one can be washed while we wear the other.\"\n\n\"Just so you won't be stinky.\" She rolled her eyes in an exaggerated way. \"Look, you can give these to Shallan when I get bored with them. You know she likes hats.\"\n\nThat was true. He sighed, and when Adolin returned with another set of underclothing for each of them-along with a skirt for Shallan-Kaladin had him haggle for the clothing Syl was wearing too. The prices were shockingly cheap, using a tiny fraction of the money from their writ.\n\nThey continued on, passing stalls that sold building materials. According to the signs Syl could read, some items were far more expensive than others. Syl seemed to think the difference had to do with how permanent the thing was in Shadesmar-which made Kaladin worry for the clothing they'd bought.\n\nThey found a place selling weapons, and Adolin tried to negotiate while Kaladin browsed. Some kitchen knives. A few hand axes. And sitting in a locked, glass-topped box, along thin silvery chain.\n\n\"You like?\" the shopkeeper asked. She was made of vines-her face formed as if from green string-and wore a havah with a crystal safehand exposed. \"Only a thousand broams of Stormlight.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"A thousand broams?\" Kaladin asked. He looked down at the box, which was locked to the table and guarded by small orange spren that looked like people. \"No thanks.\" The pricing here really was bizarre.\n\nThe swords proved more expensive than Adolin wanted, but he did buy them two harpoons-and Kaladin felt a lot more secure once one was placed in his hands. Walking on, Kaladin noted that Syl was hunkered down in her oversized poncho, her hair tucked into the collar and her hat pulled down to shadow her face. It seemed like she didn't trust Shallan's illusion to keep her from being recognized as an honorspren.\n\nThe food stall they found had mostly more'cans\" like those on the ship. Adolin started haggling, and Kaladin settled in for another wait, scanning those who passed on the pathway for danger. He found his eyes drawn, however, to a stall across from them. Selling art.\n\nKaladin had never had much time for art. Either the picture depicted something useful-like a map-or it was basically pointless. And yet, nestled among the paintings for display was a small one painted from thick strokes of oil. White and red, with lines of black. When he looked away, he found himself drawn back toward it, studying the way the highlights played off those dark lines.\n\nLike nine shadows... he thought. With a figure kneeling in the middle...\n\nThe ashen spren waved excitedly, pointing to the east and then making a cutting motion. She spoke a language Shallan couldn't understand, but fortunately Pattern could interpret.\n\n\"Ah...\" he said. \"Mmm, yes. I see. She will not sail back to Cultivation's Perpendicularity. Mmm. No, she will not go.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Same excuse?\" Shallan asked.\n\n\"Yes. Voidspren sailing warships and demanding tribute from any who approach. Oh! She says she would rather trade with honorspren than take another trip to the perpendicularity. I think this is an insult. Ha ha ha. Mmm...\"\n\n\"Voidspren,\" Azure said. \"Can she at least explain what that means?\"\n\nThe ashen spren began speaking quickly after Pattern asked. \"Hmm... There are many varieties, she says. Some of golden light, others are red shadows. Curious, yes. And it sounds like some of the Fused are with them-men with shells that can fly. I did not know this.\"\n\n\"What?\" Azure prompted.\n\n\"Shadesmar has been changing these last months,\" Pattern explained. \"Voidspren have arrived mysteriously just west of the Nexus of Imagination. Near Marat or Tukar on your side. Hmm... and they have sailed up and seized the perpendicularity. She says, ahem, \"You need but spit into a crowd, and you'll find one, these days. ' Ha ha ha. I do not think she actually has spit.\"\n\nShallan and Azure shared a look as the sailor retreated onto her ship, to which mandras were being harnessed. The spren of Adolin's sword lingered nearby, seeming content to stay where told. Passersby looked away from her, as if embarrassed to see her there.\n\n\"Well, the dock registrar was right,\" Azure said, folding her arms. \"No ships sailing toward the peaks or toward Thaylen City. Those destinations are too close to enemy holdings.\"\n\n\"Maybe we should try for the Shattered Plains instead,\" Shallan said. That meant going east-a direction ships were more likely to travel, these days. It would mean going away from both what Kaladin and Azure wanted, but at least it would be something." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "If they got there, she'd still need to find away to engage the Oathgate on this side. What if she failed? She imagined them trapped in some far-off location, surrounded by beads, slowly starving....\n\n\"Let's keep asking the ships on our list,\" she said, leading the way. The next ship inline was along, stately vessel made of white wood with golden trim. Its entire presentation seemed to say, Good luck affording me. Even the mandras being led toward it from one of the warehouses wore gold harnesses.\n\nAccording to the list from the dock registrar, this was heading someplace called Lasting Integrity-which was to the southwest. That was kind of the direction Kaladin wanted to go, so Shallan had Pattern stop one of the grooms and ask if the captain of the ship would be likely to take human passengers.\n\nThe groom, a spren that looked like she was made of fog or mist, merely laughed and walked off as if she'd heard a grand joke.\n\n\"I suppose,\" Azure said, \"we should take that fora no.\"\n\nThe next ship inline was a sleek vessel that looked fast to Shallan's untrained eyes. A good choice, the registrar had noted, and likely to be welcoming toward humans. Indeed, a spren working on the deck waved as they approached. He put one booted foot upon the side of his ship and looked down with a grin.\n\nWhat kind of spren, Shallan thought, has skin like cracked rock? He glowed deep within, as if molten on the inside. \"Humans?\" he called in Veden, reading Shallan's hair as a sign of her heritage. \"You're far from home. Or close, I suppose, just in the wrong realm!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"We're looking for passage,\" Shallan called up." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Where are you sailing?\"\n\n\"East!\" he said. \"Toward Freelight!\"\n\n\"Could we potentially negotiate passage?\"\n\n\"Sure!\" he called down. \"Always interesting to have humans aboard. Just don't eat my pet chicken. Ha! But negotiations will have to wait. We've got an inspection soon. Comeback in a half hour.\"\n\nThe dock registrar had mentioned this; an official inspection of the ships happened at first hour everyday. Shallan and the team backed off, and she suggested returning to their meeting place near the dock registrar. As they approached, Shallan could see that Ico's ship was already under inspection by a dock official-another spren made of vines and crystal.\n\nMaybe we could convince Ico to take us, if we just tried harder. Perhaps-\n\nAzure's breath caught and she grabbed Shallan by the shoulder, yanking her into an alley between two warehouses, out of sight of the ship. \"Damnation!\"\n\n\"What?\" Shallan demanded as Pattern and, lethargically, Adolin's spren joined them.\n\n\"Lookup there,\" Azure said. \"Talking with Ico, on the poop deck.\"\n\nShallan frowned, then peeked out, spotting what she'd missed earlier: A figure stood up there, with the marbled skin of a parshman. He floated afoot or two off the deck next to Ico, looming like astern tutor over a foolish student.\n\nThe spren with the vines and crystal body walked up, reporting to this one.\n\n\"Perhaps,\" Azure said, \"we should have asked who runs the inspections.\"\n\nKaladin's harpoon drew nervous glances as he crossed the pathway between stalls, to get a closer look at the painting." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Can spren even be hurt in this realm? apart of him wondered. The sailors wouldn't carry harpoons if things couldn't be killed on this side, right? He'd have to ask Syl, once she was done interpreting for Adolin.\n\nKaladin stepped up to the painting. The ones beside it showed far more technical prowess-they were capable portraits, perfectly capturing their human subjects. This one was sloppy by comparison. It looked like the painter had simply taken a knife covered in paint and slopped it onto the canvas, making general shapes.\n\nHaunting, beautiful shapes. Mostly reds and whites, but with a figure at the center, throwing out nine shadows...\n\nDalinar, he thought. I failed Elhokar. After all we went through, after the rains and confronting Moash, I've failed. And I lost your city.\n\nHe reached up his fingers to touch the painting.\n\n\"Marvelous, isn't it!\" a spren said.\n\nKaladin jumped, sheepishly lowering his fingers. The proprietor of this stall was a Reacher woman, short, with a bronze ponytail.\n\n\"It's a unique piece, human,\" she said. \"From the far-off Court of Gods, a painting intended only fora divinity to see. It is exceptionally rare that one escapes being burned at the court, and makes its way onto the market.\"\n\n\"Nine shadows,\" Kaladin said. \"The Unmade?\"\n\n\"This is apiece by Nenefra. It is said that each person who sees one of his masterworks sees something different. And to think, I charge such a minuscule price. Only three hundred broams' worth of Stormlight! Truly, times are difficult in the art market.\"" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Advance the storyline as the writer's tale partner.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, knights radiant\nAuthor: Brandon Sanderson\nTitle: Oathbringer\nChapter: 102" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Can spren even be hurt in this realm? apart of him wondered. The sailors wouldn't carry harpoons if things couldn't be killed on this side, right? He'd have to ask Syl, once she was done interpreting for Adolin.\n\nKaladin stepped up to the painting. The ones beside it showed far more technical prowess-they were capable portraits, perfectly capturing their human subjects. This one was sloppy by comparison. It looked like the painter had simply taken a knife covered in paint and slopped it onto the canvas, making general shapes.\n\nHaunting, beautiful shapes. Mostly reds and whites, but with a figure at the center, throwing out nine shadows...\n\nDalinar, he thought. I failed Elhokar. After all we went through, after the rains and confronting Moash, I've failed. And I lost your city.\n\nHe reached up his fingers to touch the painting.\n\n\"Marvelous, isn't it!\" a spren said.\n\nKaladin jumped, sheepishly lowering his fingers. The proprietor of this stall was a Reacher woman, short, with a bronze ponytail.\n\n\"It's a unique piece, human,\" she said. \"From the far-off Court of Gods, a painting intended only fora divinity to see. It is exceptionally rare that one escapes being burned at the court, and makes its way onto the market.\"\n\n\"Nine shadows,\" Kaladin said. \"The Unmade?\"\n\n\"This is apiece by Nenefra. It is said that each person who sees one of his masterworks sees something different. And to think, I charge such a minuscule price. Only three hundred broams' worth of Stormlight! Truly, times are difficult in the art market.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I...\"\n\nHaunting images from Kaladin's vision overlapped the stark wedges of paint on the canvas. He needed to reach Thaylen City. He had to be thereon time-\n\nWhat was that disturbance behind him?\n\nKaladin shook out of his reverie and glanced over his shoulder, just in time to see Adolin jogging toward him.\n\n\"We have a problem,\" the prince said.\n\n\"How could you not mention this!\" Shallan said to the little spren at the registrar office. \"How could you neglect to point out that Voidspren ruled the city?\"\n\n\"I thought everyone knew!\" he said, vines curling and moving at the corners of his face. \"Oh dear. Oh my! Anger is not helpful, human. I am a professional. It is not my job to explain things you should already know!\"\n\n\"He's still on Ico's ship,\" Azure said, looking out the office window. \"Why is he still on Ico's ship?\"\n\n\"That is odd,\" the spren said. \"Each inspection usually takes only thirteen minutes!\"\n\nDamnation. Shallan breathed out, trying to calm herself. Coming back to the registrar had been a calculated risk. He was probably working with the Fused, but they hoped to intimidate him into talking.\n\n\"When did it happen?\" Shallan asked. \"My spren friend told us this was a free city.\"\n\n\"It's been months now,\" the vine spren said. \"Oh, they don't have firm control here, mind you. Just a few officials, and promises from our leaders to follow. Two Fused check in onus now and then. I think the other is quite insane. Kyril-who is running the inspections-well, he might be mad too, actually. You see, when he gets angry-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Damnation!\" Azure cursed.\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"He just set Ico's ship on fire.\"\n\nKaladin ran back across the street to find Syl a center of activity. She had pulled her oversized hat down to obscure her face, but a collection of spren stood around the food stall, pointing at her and talking.\n\nKaladin shoved his way through, took Syl by the arm, and pulled her away from the stall. Adolin followed, holding his harpoon in one hand and a sack of food in the other. He looked threateningly toward the spren in the gathered crowd, who didn't give chase.\n\n\"They recognize you,\" Kaladin said to Syl. \"Even with the illusory skin color.\"\n\n\"Uh... maybe...\"\n\n\"Syl.\"\n\nShe held to her hat with one hand, her other arm in his hand as he towed her through the street. \"So... you know how I mentioned I snuck away from the other honorspren...\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"So, there might have been an enormous reward for my return. Posted in basically every port in Shadesmar, with my description and some pictures. Um... yeah.\"\n\n\"You've been forgiven,\" Kaladin said. \"The Stormfather has accepted your bond tome. Your siblings are watching Bridge Four, investigating potential bonds themselves!\"\n\n\"That's kind of recent, Kaladin. And I doubt I've been forgiven-the others on the Shattered Plains wouldn't talk tome. As far as they're concerned, I'm a disobedient child. There's still an incredible reward in Stormlight to be given to the person that delivers me to the honorspren capital, Lasting Integrity.\"\n\n\"And you didn't think this was important to tell me?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Sure I did. Right now.\"\n\nThey stopped to allow Adolin to catch up. The spren back at the food stall were still talking. Storms. This news would spread throughout Celebrant before long.\n\nKaladin glared at Syl, who pulled down into the oversized poncho she'd bought. \"Azure is a bounty hunter,\" she said in a small voice. \"And I'm... I'm kind of like a spren lighteyes. I didn't want you to know. In case you hated me, like you hate them.\"\n\nKaladin sighed, taking her by the arm again and pulling her toward the docks.\n\n\"I should have known this disguise wouldn't work,\" she added. \"I'm obviously too beautiful and interesting to hide.\"\n\n\"News of this might make it hard to get passage,\" Kaladin said. \"We...\" He stopped in the street. \"Is that smoke up ahead?\"\n\nThe Fused touched down on the quay, tossing Ico to the ground of the docks. Behind, Ico's ship had become a raging bonfire-the other sailors and inspectors scrambled down the gangway in a frantic jumble.\n\nShallan watched from the window. Her breath caught as the Fused lifted a few inches off the ground, then glided toward the registrar's building.\n\nShe sucked in Stormlight by reflex. \"Look frightened!\" she said to the others. She grabbed Adolin's spren by the arm and pulled her to the side of the clerk's room.\n\nThe Fused burst in and found them cringing, wearing the faces of sailors that Shallan had sketched. Pattern was the oddest one, his strange head needing to be covered by a hat to have any semblance of looking realistic." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Please don't notice we're the same sailors as on the ship. Please.\n\nThe Fused ignored them, gliding up to the frightened vine spren behind the desk.\n\n\"That ship was hiding human criminals,\" Pattern whispered, translating the Fused's conversation with the registrar. \"They had a hydrator and remnants of human food-eaten-on the deck. There are two or three humans, one honorspren, and one inkspren. Have you seen these criminals?\"\n\nThe vine spren cringed down by the desk. \"They went to the market for needed supplies. They asked me for ships that would get them passage to the perpendicularity.\"\n\n\"You hid this from me?\"\n\n\"Why does everyone assume I'll just tell them things? Oh, I need questions, not assumptions!\"\n\nThe Fused regarded him with a cold glare. \"Put that out,\" he said, gesturing toward the fire. \"Use the city's sand stores, if needed.\"\n\n\"Yes, great one. If I might say, starting fires on the docks is an unwise-\"\n\n\"You may not say. When you finish putting out the fire, clear your things from this office. You are to be replaced immediately.\"\n\nThe Fused charged out of the room, letting in the scent of smoke. Ico's ship foundered, the blaze flaring high. Nearby, sailors from other ships were frantically trying to control their mandras and move their vessels away.\n\n\"Oh, oh my,\" said the spren behind the desk. He looked to them. \"You... you area Radiant? The old oaths are spoken again?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Shallan said, helping Adolin's spren to her feet.\n\nThe frightened little spren sat up straighter. \"Oh, glorious day. Glorious! We have waited so long for the honor of men to return!\" He stood up and gestured. \"Go, please! Get on a ship. I will stall, yes I will, if that one comes back. Oh, but go quickly!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Kaladin sensed something on the air.\n\nPerhaps it was the flapping of clothing, familiar to him after hours spent riding the winds. Perhaps it was the postures of the people farther down the street. He reacted before he understood what it was, grabbing Syl and Adolin, pulling them all into a tent at the edge of the market.\n\nA Fused soared past outside, its shadow trailing behind, pointing the wrong direction.\n\n\"Storms!\" Adolin said. \"Nice work, Kal.\"\n\nThe tent was occupied only by a single bewildered spren made of smoke, looking odd in a green cap and what seemed to be Horneater clothing.\n\n\"Out,\" Kaladin said, the smell of smoke on the air filling him with dread. They hurried down an alleyway between warehouses, out onto the docks.\n\nFarther down, Ico's ship burned brilliantly. There was chaos on the docks as spren ran in all directions, shouting in their strange language.\n\nSyl gasped, pointing at a ship bedecked in white and gold. \"We have to hide. Now.\"\n\n\"Honorspren?\" Kaladin asked.\n\n\"Yeah.\"\n\n\"Pull down your hat, go back into the alley.\" Kaladin scanned the crowd. \"Adolin, do you seethe others?\"\n\n\"No,\" he said. \"Ishar's soul! There's no water to put that fire out. It will burn for hours. What happened?\"\n\nOne of Ico's sailors stepped from the crowd. \"I saw a flash from something the Fused was holding. I think he intended to frighten Ico, but started the fire by accident.\"\n\nWait, Kaladin thought. Was that Alethi? \"Shallan?\" he asked as four Reachers gathered around." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I'm right here,\" said a different one." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"We are in trouble. The only ship that might have agreed to give us passage is that one there.\"\n\n\"The one sailing away at full speed?\" Kaladin said with a sigh.\n\n\"Nobody else would consider taking us on,\" Azure said. \"And they were all heading the wrong directions anyway. We're about to be stranded.\"\n\n\"We could try fighting our way onto a ship,\" Kaladin said. \"Take control of it, maybe?\"\n\nAdolin shook his head. \"I think that would take long enough-and make enough trouble-that the Fused would find us.\"\n\n\"Well, maybe I could fight him,\" Kaladin said. \"Only one enemy. I should be able to take him.\"\n\n\"Using all our Stormlight in the process?\" Shallan asked.\n\n\"I'm just trying to think of something!\"\n\n\"Guys,\" Syl said. \"I might have an idea. A great bad idea.\"\n\n\"The Fused went looking for you,\" Shallan said to Kaladin. \"It flew to the market.\"\n\n\"It passed us.\"\n\n\"Guys?\"\n\n\"Not for long though. It's going to turnaround soon.\"\n\n\"Turns out Syl has a bounty on her head.\"\n\n\"Guys?\"\n\n\"We need a plan,\" Kaladin said. \"If nobody...\" He trailed off.\n\nSyl had started running toward the majestic white and gold ship, which was slowly being pulled away from the docks. She threw down her poncho and hat, then screamed up at the ship while running along the pier beside it.\n\n\"Hey!\" she screamed. \"Hey, look down here!\"\n\nThe vessel stopped ponderously, handlers slowing its mandras. Three blue-white honorspren appeared at the side, looking down with utter shock." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Sylphrena, the Ancient Daughter?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "one shouted.\n\n\"That's me!\" she shouted back. \"You'd better catch me before I scamper away! Wow! I'm feeling capricious today. I might just vanish again, off to where nobody can find me!\"\n\nIt worked.\n\nA gangway dropped, and Syl scrambled up onto the ship-followed by the rest of them. Kaladin went last, watching nervously over his shoulder, expecting the Fused to come after them at any moment. It did, but it stopped at the mouth of the alleyway, watching them board the ship. Honorspren gave it pause, apparently.\n\nOnboard, Kaladin discovered that most of the sailors were those spren made of fog or mist. One of these was tying Syl's arms together with rope. Kaladin tried to intervene, but Syl shook her head. \"Not now,\" she mouthed.\n\nFine. He would argue with the honorspren later.\n\nThe ship pulled away, joining others that fled the city. The honorspren didn't pay much mind to Kaladin and the others-though one did take their harpoons, and another went through their pockets, confiscating their infused gemstones.\n\nAs the city grew smaller, Kaladin caught sight of the Fused hovering over the docks, beside the smoke trail of a burning ship.\n\nIt finally streaked off in the other direction." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "-From Hessi's Mythica, page 170\n\nDalinar started awake in an unfamiliar place, lying on a floor of cut stone, his back stiff. He blinked sleepily, trying to orient himself. Storms... where was he?\n\nSoft sunlight shone through an open balcony on the far side of the room, and ethereal motes of dust danced in the streams of light. What were those sounds? They seemed like the voices of people, but muffled.\n\nDalinar stood, then fastened the side of his uniform jacket, which had come undone. It had been... what, three days since his return from Jah Keved? His excommunication from the Vorin church?\n\nHe remembered those days as a haze of frustration, sorrow, agony. And drink. A great deal of drink. He'd been using the stupor to drive away the pain. A terrible bandage for his wounds, blood seeping out on all sides. But so far, it had kept him alive.\n\nI know this room, he realized, glancing at the mural on the ceiling. I saw it in one of my visions. A highstorm must have come while he was passed out.\n\n\"Stormfather?\" Dalinar called, his voice echoing. \"Stormfather, why have you sent me a vision? We agreed they were too dangerous.\"\n\nYes, he remembered this place well. This was the vision where he'd met Nohadon, author of The Way of Kings. Why wasn't it playing out as it had before? He and Nohadon had walked to the balcony, talked fora time, then the vision had ended.\n\nDalinar started toward the balcony, but storms, that light was so intense. It washed over him, making his eyes water, and he had to raise his hand to shield his eyes." }, { "from": "human", "value": "He heard something behind him." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Scratching? He turned-putting his back to the brilliance-and spotted a door on the wall. It swung open easily beneath his touch, and he stepped out of the loud sunlight to find himself in a circular room.\n\nHe shut the door with a click. This chamber was much smaller than the previous one, with a wooden floor. Windows in the walls looked out at a clear sky. A shadow passed over one of these, like something enormous moving in front of the sun. But... how could the sun be pointed this direction too?\n\nDalinar looked over his shoulder at the wooden door. No light peeked underneath it. He frowned and reached for the handle, then paused, hearing the scratching once more. Turning, he saw a large desk, heaped with papers, by the wall. How had he missed that earlier?\n\nA man sat at the desk, lit by a loose diamond, writing with a reed pen. Nohadon had aged. In the previous vision, the king had been young-but now his hair was silver, his skin marked by wrinkles. It was the same man though, same face shape, same beard that came to a point. He wrote with focused concentration.\n\nDalinar stepped over. \"The Way of Kings,\" he whispered. \"I'm watching it be written....\"\n\n\"Actually,\" Nohadon said, \"it's a shopping list. I'll be cooking Shin loaf bread today, if I can get the ingredients. It always breaks people's brains. Grain was not meant to be so fluffy.\"\n\nWhat...? Dalinar scratched at the side of his head.\n\nNohadon finished with a flourish and tossed the pen down. He threw back his chair and stood, grinning like a fool, and grabbed Dalinar by the arms. \"Good to see you again, my friend. You've been having a hard time of it lately, haven't you?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You have no idea,\" Dalinar whispered, wondering who Nohadon saw him as. In the previous vision, Dalinar had appeared as one of Nohadon's advisors. They'd stood together on the balcony as Nohadon contemplated a war to unite the world. A drastic resort, intended to prepare mankind for the next Desolation.\n\nCould that morose figure have really become this spry and eager? And where had this vision come from? Hadn't the Stormfather told Dalinar that he'd seen them all?\n\n\"Come,\" Nohadon said, \"let's go to the market. A little shopping to turn your mind from your troubles.\"\n\n\"Shopping?\"\n\n\"Yes, you shop, don't you?\"\n\n\"I... usually have people to do that for me.\"\n\n\"Ah, but of course you do,\" Nohadon said. \"Very like you to miss a simple joy so you can get to something more \"important.\" Well, come on. I'm the king. You can't very well say no, now can you?\"\n\nNohadon led Dalinar back through the door. The light was gone. They crossed to the balcony, which-last time-had overlooked death and desolation. Now, it looked out on a bustling city full of energetic people and rolling carts. The sound of the place crashed into Dalinar, as if it had been suppressed until that moment. Laughing, chatting, calling. Wagons creaking. Chulls bleating.\n\nThe men wore long skirts, tied at the waists by wide girdles, some of which came all the way up over their stomachs. Above that they had bare chests, or wore simple overshirts. The outfits resembled the takama Dalinar had worn when younger, though of afar, far older style. The tubular gowns on the women were even stranger, made of layered small rings of cloth with tassels on the bottom. They seemed to ripple as they moved." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The women's arms were bare up to the shoulders. No safehand covering. In the previous vision, I spoke the Dawnchant, Dalinar remembered. The words that gave Navani's scholars a starting point to translate ancient texts.\n\n\"How do we get down?\" Dalinar asked, seeing no ladder.\n\nNohadon leaped off the side of the balcony. He laughed, falling and sliding along a cloth banner tied between a tower window and a tent below. Dalinar cursed, leaning forward, worried for the old man-until he spotted Nohadon glowing. He was a Surgebinder-but Dalinar had known that from the last vision, hadn't he?\n\nDalinar walked back to the writing chamber and drew the Stormlight from the diamond that Nohadon had been using. He returned, then heaved himself off the balcony, aiming for the cloth Nohadon had used to break his fall. Dalinar hit it at an angle and used it like a slide, keeping his right foot forward to guide his descent. Near the bottom, he flipped off the banner, grabbing its edge with two hands and hanging therefor an instant before dropping with a thump beside the king.\n\nNohadon clapped. \"I thought you wouldn't do it.\"\n\n\"I have practice following fools in their reckless pursuits.\"\n\nThe old man grinned, then scanned his list. \"This way,\" he said, pointing.\n\n\"I can't believe you're out shopping by yourself. No guards?\"\n\n\"I walked all the way to Urithiru on my own. I think I can manage this.\"\n\n\"You didn't walk all the way to Urithiru,\" Dalinar said. \"You walked to one of the Oathgates, then took that to Urithiru.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Misconception!\" Nohadon said. \"I walked the whole way, though I did require some help to reach Urithiru's caverns. That is no more a cheat than taking a ferry across a river.\"\n\nHe bustled through the market and Dalinar followed, distracted by the colorful clothing everyone was wearing. Even the stones of the buildings were painted in vibrant colors. He'd always imagined the pastas... dull. Statues from ancient times were weathered, and he'd never considered that they might have been painted so brightly.\n\nWhat of Nohadon himself? In both visions, Dalinar had been shown someone he did not expect. The young Nohadon, considering war. Now the elderly one, glib and whimsical. Where was the deep-thinking philosopher who had written The Way of Kings?\n\nRemember, Dalinar told himself, this isn't really him. The person I'm talking to is a construct of the vision.\n\nThough some people in the market recognized their king, his passing didn't cause much of astir. Dalinar spun as he saw something move beyond the buildings, a large shadow that passed between two structures, tall and enormous. He stared in that direction, but didn't see it again.\n\nThey entered a tent where a merchant was selling exotic grains. The man bustled over and hugged Nohadon in away that should have been improper fora king. Then the two started haggling like scribes; the rings on the merchant's fingers flashed as he gestured at his wares.\n\nDalinar lingered near the side of the tent, taking in the scents of the grains in the sacks. Outside, something made a distant thud. Then another. The ground shook, but nobody reacted.\n\n\"Noh-Your Majesty?\" Dalinar asked." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Nohadon ignored him. A shadow passed over the tent. Dalinar ducked, judging the form of the shadow, the sounds of crashing footfalls.\n\n\"Your Majesty!\" he shouted, fearspren growing up around him. \"We're in danger!\"\n\nThe shadow passed, and the footfalls grew distant.\n\n\"Deal,\" Nohadon said to the merchant. \"And well argued, you swindler. Make sure to buy Lani something nice with the extra spheres you got off me.\"\n\nThe merchant bellowed a laughing reply. \"You think you got the worse of that? Storms, Your Majesty. You argue like my grandmother when she wants the last spoonful of jam!\"\n\n\"Did you see that shadow?\" Dalinar asked Nohadon.\n\n\"Have I told you,\" Nohadon replied, \"where I learned to make Shin loaf bread? It wasn't in Shin Kak Nish, if that's what you were going to reply.\"\n\n\"I...\" Dalinar looked in the direction the enormous shadow had gone. \"No. You haven't told me.\"\n\n\"It was at war,\" Nohadon said. \" In the west. One of those senseless battles in the years following the Desolation. I don't even remember what caused it. Someone invaded someone else, and that threatened our trade through Makabakam. So off we went.\n\n\"Well, I ended up with a scouting group on the edge of the Shin border. So you see, I tricked you just now. I said I wasn't in Shin Kak Nish, and I wasn't. But I was right next to it.\n\n\"My troops occupied a small village beneath one of the passes. The matron who cooked for us accepted my military occupation without complaint. She didn't seem to care which army was in charge. She made me bread everyday, and I liked it so much, she asked if I wanted to learn...\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He trailed off. In front of him, the merchant set weights on one side of his large set of scales-representing the amount Nohadon had purchased-then started pouring grain into a bowl on the other side of the scale. Golden, captivating grain, like the light of captured flames. \"What happened to the cook woman?\" Dalinar asked.\n\n\"Something very unfair,\" Nohadon said. \"It's not a happy story. I considered putting it into the book, but decided my story would best be limited to my walk to Urithiru.\" He fell silent, contemplative.\n\nHe reminds me of Taravangian, Dalinar suddenly thought. How odd.\n\n\"You are having trouble, my friend,\" Nohadon said. \"Your life, like that of the woman, is unfair.\"\n\n\"Being a ruler is a burden, not merely a privilege,\" Dalinar said. \"You taught me that. But storms, Nohadon. I can't see anyway out! We've gathered the monarchs, yet the drums of war beat in my ears, demanding. For every step I make with my allies, we seem to spend weeks deliberating. The truth whispers in the back of my mind. I could best defend the world if I could simply make the others do as they should!\"\n\nNohadon nodded. \"So why don't you?\"\n\n\"You didn't.\"\n\n\"I tried and failed. That led me to a different path.\"\n\n\"You're wise and thoughtful. I'm a warmonger, Nohadon. I've never accomplished anything without bloodshed.\"\n\nHe heard them again. The tears of the dead. Evi. The children. Flames burning a city. He heard the fire roar in delight at the feast.\n\nThe merchant ignored them, busy trying to get the grain to balance. The weighted side was still heavier. Nohadon set a finger on the bowl with the grain and pushed down, making the sides even. \"That will do, my friend.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"But-\" the merchant said.\n\n\"Give the excess to the children, please.\"\n\n\"After all that haggling? You know I'd have donated some if you'd asked.\"\n\n\"And miss the fun of negotiating?\" Nohadon said. He borrowed the merchant's pen, then crossed an item off his list. \"There is satisfaction,\" he said to Dalinar, \"in creating a list of things you can actually accomplish, then removing them one at a time. As I said, a simple joy.\"\n\n\"Unfortunately, I'm needed for bigger things than shopping.\"\n\n\"Isn't that always the problem? Tell me, my friend. You talk about your burdens and the difficulty of the decision. What is the cost of a principle?\"\n\n\"The cost? There shouldn't be a cost to being principled.\"\n\n\"Oh? What if making the right decision created a spren who instantly blessed you with wealth, prosperity, and unending happiness? What then? Would you still have principles? Isn't a principle about what you give up, not what you gain?\"\n\n\"So it's all negative?\" Dalinar said. \"Are you implying that nobody should have principles, because there's no benefit to them?\"\n\n\"Hardly,\" Nohadon said. \"But maybe you shouldn't be looking for life to be easier because you choose to do something that is right! Personally, I think life is fair. It's merely that often, you can't immediately see what balances it.\" He wagged the finger he'd used to tip the merchant's scales. \"If you'll forgive a somewhat blatant metaphor. I've grown fond of them. You might say I wrote an entire book about them.\"\n\n\"This... is different from the other visions,\" Dalinar said. \"What's going on?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The thumping from before returned. Dalinar spun, then charged out of the tent, determined to get a look at the thing. He saw it above the buildings, a stone creature with an angular face and red spots glowing deep in its rocky skull. Storms! And he had no weapon.\n\nNohadon stepped from the tent, holding his bag of grain. He looked up and smiled. The creature leaned down, then offered a large, skeletal hand. Nohadon touched it with its own, and the creature stilled.\n\n\"This is quite the nightmare you've created,\" Nohadon said. \"What does that thunderclast represent, I wonder?\"\n\n\"Pain,\" Dalinar said, backing away from the monster. \"Tears. Burdens. I'm a lie, Nohadon. A hypocrite.\"\n\n\"Sometimes, a hypocrite is nothing more than a man who is in the process of changing.\"\n\nWait. Hadn't Dalinar said that? Back when he'd felt stronger? More certain?\n\nOther thumps sounded in the city. Hundreds of them. Creatures approaching from all sides, shadows in the sun.\n\n\"All things exist in three realms, Dalinar,\" Nohadon said. \"The Physical: what you are now. The Cognitive: what you see yourself as being. The Spiritual: the perfect you, the person beyond pain, and error, and uncertainty.\"\n\nMonsters of stone and horror surrounded him, heads cresting roofs, feet crushing buildings.\n\n\"You've said the oaths,\" Nohadon called. \"But do you understand the journey? Do you understand what it requires? You've forgotten one essential part, one thing that without which there can be no journey.\"\n\nThe monsters slammed fists toward Dalinar, and he shouted." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What is the most important step a man can take?\"\n\nDalinar awoke, huddled in his bed in Urithiru, asleep in his clothing again. A mostly empty bottle of wine rested on the table. There was no storm. It hadn't been a vision.\n\nHe buried his face in his hands, trembling. Something bloomed inside of him: a recollection. Not really anew memory-not one he'd completely forgotten. But it suddenly became as crisp as if he'd experienced it yesterday.\n\nThe night of Gavilar's funeral." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "-From Hessi's Mythica, page 203\n\nNavani Kholin had some practice holding a kingdom together.\n\nDuring Gavilar's last days, he had gone strange. Few knew how dark he'd grown, but they had seen the eccentricity. Jasnah had written about that, of course. Jasnah somehow found time to write about everything, from her father's biography, to gender relations, to the importance of chull breeding cycles on the southern slopes of the Horneater Peaks.\n\nNavani strode through the hallways of Urithiru, joined by a nice burly group of Bridge Four Windrunners. As Gavilar had grown more and more distracted, Navani herself had worked to keep squabbling lighteyes from sundering the kingdom. But that had been a different kind of danger from the one she faced today.\n\nToday, her work had implications not only for one nation, but for the entire world. She burst into a room deep within the tower, and the four lighteyes seated there scrambled to their feet-all but Sebarial, who appeared to be flipping through a stack of cards bearing pictures of women in compromising positions.\n\nNavani sighed, then nodded as Aladar gave her a respectful bow, light glinting off his bald head. Not for the first time, Navani wondered if his thin mustache and the tuft of beard on his bottom lip were compensation for his lack of hair. Hatham was there as well: refined, with rounded features and green eyes. As usual, his fashion choices stood out from everyone else. Orange today.\n\nBrightness Bethab had come representing her husband. The men in the army tended to disrespect him for letting her do so-but that ignored the fact that marrying Mishinah for her political acumen had been a wise and calculated move." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The five men of Bridge Four arrayed themselves behind Navani. They had been surprised when she'd asked them to escort her; they didn't yet understand the authority they lent the throne. The Knights Radiant were the new power in the world, and politics swirled around them like eddies in a river.\n\n\"Brightlords and Brightlady,\" Navani said. \"I've come at your request, and am at your service.\"\n\nAladar cleared his throat, sitting. \"You know, Brightness, that we are the most loyal to your husband's cause.\"\n\n\"Or at the least,\" Sebarial added, \"we're the ones hoping to get rich by throwing in our lot with him.\"\n\n\"My husband appreciates the support,\" Navani said, \"regardless of motive. You create a stronger Alethkar, and therefore a stronger world.\"\n\n\"What's left of either one,\" Sebarial noted.\n\n\"Navani,\" Brightlady Bethab said. She was a mousy woman with a pinched face. \"We appreciate that you've taken the initiative in this difficult time.\" There was a glint to her orange eyes, as if she assumed Navani was enjoying her new power. \"But the highprince's absence is not advantageous for morale. We know that Dalinar has returned to his... distractions.\"\n\n\"The highprince,\" Navani said, \"is in mourning.\"\n\n\"The only thing he seems to be mourning,\" Sebarial said, \"is the fact that people won't bring him bottles of wine fast enough for-\"\n\n\"Damnation, Turinad!\" Navani snapped. \"That's enough!\"\n\nSebarial blinked, then pocketed his cards. \"Sorry, Brightness.\"\n\n\"My husband,\" Navani said, \"is still this world's best chance for survival. He will push through his pain. Until then, our duty is to keep the kingdom running.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Hatham nodded, beads on his coat glistening. \"This is, of course, our goal. But Brightness, can you define what you mean by kingdom? You do know that Dalinar... came to us and asked what we thought of this highking business.\"\n\nThat news wasn't commonly known yet. They'd planned an official announcement, and even had Elhokar seal the papers before leaving. Yet Dalinar had delayed. She understood; he wanted to wait until Elhokar and Adolin-who would become Kholin highprince in Dalinar's place-returned.\n\nAnd yet, as more and more time passed, the questions began to grow more pressing. What had happened to them in Kholinar? Where were they?\n\nStrength. They would return.\n\n\"The highking proclamation has not been made official,\" Navani said. \"I think it's best to pretend you don't know about it, for now. And whatever you do, don't mention it to Ialai or Amaram.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" Aladar said. \"But Brightness, we have other problems. Surely you've seen the reports. Hatham does an excellent job as Highprince of Works, but there isn't proper infrastructure. The tower has plumbing, but it keeps getting clogged, and the Soulcasters work themselves to exhaustion dealing with the waste.\"\n\n\"We can't continue pretending the tower can accommodate this population,\" Brightness Bethab said. \"Not without a very favorable supply deal from Azir. Our emerald reserves, despite hunts on the Shattered Plains, are dwindling. Our water carts have to work nonstop.\"\n\n\"Equally important, Brightness,\" Hatham added, \"we might be facing a severe labor shortage. We have soldiers or caravan men filling in hauling water or packing goods, but they don't like it. Menial carrying is beneath them.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"We're running low on lumber,\" Sebarial added. \"I've tried to claim the forests back near the warcamps, but we used to have parshmen to cut them. I don't know if I can afford to pay men to do the work instead. But if we don't start something, Thanadal might try to seize them. He's building himself quite the kingdom in the warcamps.\"\n\n\"This is not a time,\" Hatham said softly, \"when we can afford weak leadership. It is not a time when a would-be king can spend his days locked in his rooms. I'm sorry. We are not in rebellion, but we are very concerned.\"\n\nNavani drew in a breath. Hold it together.\n\nOrder was the very substance of rule. If things were organized, control could be asserted. She just had to give Dalinar time. Even if, deep down, apart of her was angry. Angry that his pain so overshadowed her growing fear for Elhokar and Adolin. Angry that he got to drink himself to oblivion, leaving her to pickup the pieces.\n\nBut she had learned that nobody was strong all the time, not even Dalinar Kholin. Love wasn't about being right or wrong, but about standing up and helping when your partner's back was bowed. He would likely do the same for her someday.\n\n\"Tell us honestly, Brightness,\" Sebarial said, leaning forward. \"What does the Blackthorn want? Is this all secretly away for him to dominate the world?\"\n\nStorms. Even they worried about it. And why shouldn't they? It made so much sense.\n\n\"My husband wants unity,\" Navani said firmly. \"Not dominion. You know as well as I do that we could have seized Thaylen City. That would have led to selfishness and loss. There is no path through conquest to facing our enemy together.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Aladar nodded slowly. \"I believe you, and I believe in him.\"\n\n\"But how do we survive?\" Brightness Bethab said.\n\n\"This tower's gardens once grew food,\" Navani said. \" We will figure out how it was done, and we will grow here again. The tower once flowed with water. The baths and lavatories prove that. We will delve into the secrets of their fabrials, and we will fix the plumbing problems.\n\n\"The tower is above the enemy's storm, supremely defensible and connected to the most important cities in the world. If there is a nation that can stand against the enemy, we will forge it here. With your help and my husband's leadership.\"\n\nThey accepted that. Bless the Almighty, they accepted it. She made a mental note to burn a glyphward in thanks, then finally took a seat. Together, they delved into the tower's most recent list of problems, talking through-as they'd done many times before-the dirty necessities of running a city.\n\nThree hours later, she checked her arm fabrial-a mirror of the one Dalinar carried, with inset clock and newly designed painrials. Three hours and twelve minutes since the meeting had begun. Exhaustionspren had collected to swirl around them all, and she called an end. They'd hashed out their immediate problems, and would summon their various scribes to offer specific revisions.\n\nThis would keep everyone going a little longer. And, bless them, these four did want the coalition to work. Aladar and Sebarial, for all their flaws, had followed Dalinar into the dark of the Weeping and found Damnation waiting there. Hatham and Bethab had been at the advent of the new storm, and could see that Dalinar had been right." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They didn't care that the Blackthorn was a heretic-or even whether he usurped the throne of Alethkar. They cared that he had a plan for dealing with the enemy, long-term.\n\nAfter the meeting broke, Navani walked off down the strata-lined hallway, trailed by her bridgeman guards, two of whom carried sapphire lanterns. \"I do apologize,\" she noted to them, \"for how boring that must have been.\"\n\n\"We like boring, Brightness,\" Leyten-their leader today-said. He was a stocky man, with short, curly hair. \"Hey, Hobber. Anyone try to kill you in there?\"\n\nThe gap-toothed bridgeman grinned his reply. \"Does Huio's breath count?\"\n\n\"See, Brightness?\" Leyten said. \"New recruits might get bored by guard duty, but you'll never find a veteran complaining about a nice quiet afternoon full of not being stabbed.\"\n\n\"I can seethe appeal,\" she said. \"But surely it can't compare with soaring through the skies.\"\n\n\"That's true,\" Leyten said. \"But we have to take turns... you know.\" He meant using the Honorblade to practice Windrunning. \"Kal has to return before we can do more than that.\"\n\nTo a man, they were absolutely certain he'd return, and showed the world jovial faces-though she knew not everything was perfect with them. Teft, for example, had been hauled before Aladar's magistrates two days ago. Public intoxication on firemoss. Aladar had quietly requested her seal to free him.\n\nNo, all was not well with them. But as Navani led them down toward the basement library rooms, a different issue gnawed at her: Brightlady Bethab's implication that Navani was eager for the chance to takeover while Dalinar was indisposed." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Navani was not a fool. She knew how it looked to others. She'd married one king. After he died, she'd immediately gone after the next most powerful man in Alethkar. But she couldn't have people believing she was the power behind the throne. Not only would it undermine Dalinar, but it would grow tedious for her. She had no problem being a wife or mother to monarchs, but to be one herself-storms, what a dark path that would lead them all down.\n\nShe and the bridgemen passed no fewer than six squads of sentries on their way to the library rooms with the murals and-more importantly-the hidden gemstone records. Arriving, she idled in the doorway, impressed by the operation that Jasnah had organized down here since Navani had been forced to step back from the research.\n\nEach gemstone had been removed from its individual drawer, catalogued, and numbered. While one group listened and wrote, others sat at tables, busy translating. The room buzzed with a low hum of discussion and scratching reeds, concentrationspren dotting the air like ripples in the sky.\n\nJasnah strolled along the tables, looking through pages of translations. As Navani entered, the bridgemen gathered around Renarin, who blushed, looking up from his own papers, which were covered in glyphs and numbers. He did lookout of place in the room, the only man in uniform rather than in the robes of an ardent or stormwarden.\n\n\"Mother,\" Jasnah said, not looking up from her papers, \"we need more translators. Do you have any other scribes versed in classical Alethelan?\"\n\n\"I've lent you everyone I have. What is Renarin studying over there?\"\n\n\"Hm? Oh, he thinks there might be a pattern to which stones were stored in which drawers. He's been working on it all day.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And?\"\n\n\"Nothing, which is not surprising. He insists he can find a pattern if he looks hard enough.\" Jasnah lowered her pages and looked at her cousin, who was joking with the men of Bridge Four.\n\nStorms, Navani thought. He truly looks happy. Embarrassed as they ribbed him, but happy. She'd worried when he had first'joined\" Bridge Four. He was the son of a highprince. Decorum and distance were appropriate when dealing with enlisted soldiers.\n\nBut when, before this, had she last heard him laugh?\n\n\"Maybe,\" Navani said, \"we should encourage him to take a break and go outwith the bridgemen for the evening.\"\n\n\"I'd rather keep him here,\" Jasnah said, flipping through her pages. \"His powers need additional study.\"\n\nNavani would talk to Renarin anyway and encourage him to go out more with the men. There was no arguing with Jasnah, anymore than there was arguing with a boulder. You just stepped to the side and went around.\n\n\"The translation goes well,\" Navani asked, \"other than the bottleneck on numbers of scribes?\"\n\n\"We're lucky,\" Jasnah said, \"that the gemstones were recorded so late in the life of the Radiants. They spoke a language we can translate. If it had been the Dawnchant...\"\n\n\"That's close to being cracked.\"\n\nJasnah frowned at that. Navani had thought the prospect of translating the Dawnchant-and writings lost to the shadowdays-would have excited her. Instead, it seemed to trouble her.\n\n\"Have you found anything more about the tower's fabrials in these gemstone records?\" Navani asked.\n\n\"I'll be certain to prepare a report for you, Mother, with details of each and every fabrial mentioned. So far, those references are few. Most are personal histories.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Damnation.\"\n\n\"Mother!\" Jasnah said, lowering her pages.\n\n\"What? I wouldn't have thought you would object to a few strong words now and-\"\n\n\"It's not the language, but the dismissal,\" Jasnah said. \"Histories.\"\n\nOh, right.\n\n\"History is the key to human understanding.\"\n\nHere we go.\n\n\"We must learn from the past and apply that knowledge to our modern experience.\"\n\nLectured by my own daughter again.\n\n\"The best indication of what human beings will do is not what they think, but what the record says similar groups have done in the past.\"\n\n\"Of course, Brightness.\"\n\nJasnah gave her a dry look, then set her papers aside. \"I'm sorry, Mother. I've been dealing with a lot of lesser ardents today. My didactic side might have inflated.\"\n\n\"You have a didactic side? Dear, you hate teaching.\"\n\n\"Which explains my mood, I should think. I-\"\n\nA young scribe called for her from the other side of the room. Jasnah sighed, then went to answer the question.\n\nJasnah preferred to work alone, which was odd, considering how good she was at getting people to do what she wanted. Navani liked groups-but of course, Navani wasn't a scholar. Oh, she knew how to pretend. But all she really did was nudge here and there, perhaps provide an idea. Others did all the real engineering.\n\nShe poked through the papers Jasnah had set aside. Perhaps her daughter had missed something in the translations. To her mind, the only scholarship of importance was stuffy, dusty writings of old philosophers. When it came to fabrials, Jasnah barely knew her pairings from her warnings...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "What was this?\n\nThe glyphs were scrawled in white on the highprince's wall, the paper read. We quickly ascertained the implement of writing to be a stone pried free near the window. This first sign was the roughest of them, the glyphs malformed. The reason for this later became apparent, as Prince Renarin was not versed in writing glyphs, save the numbers.\n\nThe other pages were similar, talking about the strange numbers found around Dalinar's palace in the days leading up to the Everstorm. They'd been made by Renarin, whose spren had given him warning that the enemy was preparing an assault. The poorboy, uncertain of his bond and frightened to speak out, had instead written the numbers where Dalinar would see them.\n\nIt was a little odd, but in the face of everything else, it didn't really register. And... well, it was Renarin. Why had Jasnah collected all of these?\n\nI have a description for you, finally, Jasnah, another said. We've convinced the Radiant that Lift found in Yeddaw to visit Azimir. Though she has not yet arrived, you can find sketches of her spren companion here. It looks like the shimmer you see on a wall when you shine light through a crystal.\n\nTroubled, Navani set the sheets down before Jasnah could return. She got a copy of the translated portions from the gemstones-several young scribes were assigned to making these available-then slipped out to go check on Dalinar." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Only the very most important people were allowed to watch Gavilar's holy interment.\n\nDalinar stood at the front of the small crowd, gathered in the royal catacombs of Kholinar, beneath the stone sight of kings. Fires burned at the sides of the room, a primal light, traditional. Distinctly more alive than the light of spheres, it reminded him of the Rift-but for once, that pain was overpowered by something new. Afresh wound.\n\nThe sight of his brother, lying dead on the slab.\n\n\"Spirit, mind, and body,\" the wizened ardent said, her voice echoing in the stone catacomb. \"Death is the separation of the three. The body remains in our realm, to be reused. The spirit rejoins the pool of divine essence that gave it birth. And the mind... the mind goes to the Tranquiline Halls to find its reward.\"\n\nDalinar's nails bit his skin as he clenched his hands into fists-tight, to keep him from trembling.\n\n\"Gavilar the Majestic,\" the ardent continued, \"first king of Alethkar in the new Kholin Dynasty, thirty-second highprince of the Kholin princedom, heir of the Sunmaker and blessed of the Almighty. His accomplishments will be lauded by all, and his dominion extends to the hereafter. Already he leads men again on the battlefield, serving the Almighty in the true war against the Voidbringers.\"\n\nThe ardent thrust a bony hand toward the small crowd. \"Our king's war has moved to the Tranquiline Halls. The end of our war for Roshar did not end our duty to the Almighty! Think upon your Callings, men and women of Alethkar. Think of how you might learn here, and be of use in the next world.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Jevena would use any available opportunity to preach." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dalinar clenched his hands tighter, angry at her-angry at the Almighty. Dalinar should not have lived to see his brother die. This was not the way it should have gone.\n\nHe felt eyes on his back. Collected highprinces and wives, important ardents, Navani, Jasnah, Elhokar, Aesudan, Dalinar's sons. Nearby, Highprince Sebarial glanced at Dalinar, eyebrows raised. He seemed to be expecting something.\n\nI'm not drunk, you idiot, Dalinar thought. I'm not going to make a scene to amuse you.\n\nThings had been going better lately. Dalinar had started controlling his vices; he'd confined his drinking to monthly trips away from Kholinar, visiting outer cities. He said the trips were to let Elhokar practice ruling without Dalinar looking over his shoulder, as Gavilar had been spending more and more time abroad. But during those trips, Dalinar drank himself to oblivion, letting himself escape the sounds of children crying fora few precious days.\n\nThen, when he returned to Kholinar, he controlled his drinking. And he'd never again yelled at his sons, as he had at poor Renarin during that day on the way back from the Shattered Plains. Adolin and Renarin were the only pure remnant of Evi.\n\nIf you control your drinking when back in Kholinar, apart of him challenged, what happened at the feast? Where were you when Gavilar was fighting for his life?\n\n\"We must use King Gavilar as a model for our own lives,\" the ardent was saying. \"We must remember that our lives are not our own. This world is but the skirmish to prepare us for the true war.\"\n\n\"And after that?\" Dalinar asked, looking up from Gavilar's corpse." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The ardent squinted, adjusting her spectacles. \"Highprince Dalinar?\"\n\n\"After that, what?\" Dalinar said. \"After we win back the Tranquiline Halls? What then? No more war?\"\n\nIs that when we finally get to rest?\n\n\"You needn't worry, Blackthorn,\" Jevena said. \"Once that war is won, the Almighty will certainly provide for you another conquest.\" She smiled comfortingly, then moved onto the ritual sayings. A series of keteks, some traditional, others composed by female family members for the event. Ardents burned the poems as prayers in braziers.\n\nDalinar looked back down at his brother's corpse, which stared upward, lifeless blue marbles replacing his eyes.\n\nBrother, he'd said, follow the Codes tonight. There is something strange upon the winds.\n\nDalinar needed something to drink, storm it.\n\n\"You, always about dreams. My soul weeps. Farewell, weeping soul. My dreams... about, always, You.\"\n\nThe poem slapped him harder than the others. He sought out Navani, and knew instantly that the ketek had been hers. Gazing straight ahead, she stood with one hand on Elhokar's-King Elhokar's-shoulder. So beautiful. Next to her, Jasnah stood with arms wrapped around herself, eyes red. Navani reached toward her, but Jasnah pulled away from the others and stalked off toward the palace proper.\n\nDalinar wished he could do the same, but instead drew himself to attention. It was over. He'd never have a chance to live up to Gavilar's expectations. Dalinar would live the rest of his life as a failure to this man whom he had loved so dearly." }, { "from": "human", "value": "The hall grew still, quiet save for the crinkling sound of paper burning in the fires." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Soulcaster stood up, and old Jevena stepped hastily backward. She wasn't comfortable with what was coming next. None of them were, judging by the shuffling feet, the coughs into hands.\n\nThe Soulcaster might have been male, might have been female. Hard to say, with that hood up over their face. The skin beneath was colored like granite, cracked and chipped, and seemed to glow from within. The Soulcaster regarded the corpse, head cocked, as if surprised to find a body here. They ran their fingers along Gavilar's jaw, then brushed the hair off his forehead.\n\n\"The only part of you that is true,\" the Soulcaster whispered, tapping a stone that had replaced one of the king's eyes. Then, light emerged as the Soulcaster drew their hand from their pocket, revealing a set of gemstones bound into a fabrial.\n\nDalinar didn't look away, despite how the light made his eyes water. He wished... he wished he'd taken a drink or two before coming. Was he really supposed to watch something like this while sober?\n\nThe Soulcaster touched Gavilar on the forehead, and the transformation happened instantly. One moment Gavilar was there. The next he had become a statue.\n\nThe Soulcaster slipped a glove onto their hand while other ardents hurried to remove the wires that had held Gavilar's body in position. They used levers to tip him carefully forward until he was standing, holding a sword with point toward the ground, his other hand outstretched. He stared toward eternity, crown on his head, the curls of his beard and hair preserved delicately in the stone. A powerful pose; the mortuary sculptors had done a fantastic job.\n\nThe ardents pushed him back into an alcove, where he joined the lines of other monarchs-most of them highprinces of the Kholin princedom. He would be forever frozen here, the image of a perfect ruler in his prime. Nobody would think of him as he'd been that terrible night, broken from his fall, his grand dreams cut short by treason." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I'll have vengeance, Mother,\" Elhokar whispered. \"I'll have it!\" The young king spun toward the gathered lighteyes, standing before his father's outstretched stone hand. \"You've each come tome privately to give support. Well, I demand you swear it in public! Today, we make a pact to hunt those who did this. Today, Alethkar goes to war!\"\n\nHe was greeted by stunned silence.\n\n\"I swear it,\" Torol Sadeas said. \"I swear to bring vengeance to the traitorous parshmen, Your Majesty. You can depend upon my sword.\"\n\nGood, Dalinar thought, as others spoke up. This would hold them together. Even in death, Gavilar provided an excuse for unity.\n\nUnable to stand that stone visage any longer, Dalinar left, stomping into the corridor toward the palace proper. Other voices echoed after him as highprinces swore.\n\nIf Elhokar was going to chase those Parshendi back toward the plains, he'd expect the Blackthorn's help. But... Dalinar hadn't been that man for years. He patted his pocket, looking for his flask. Damnation. He pretended he was better these days, kept telling himself he was in the process of finding away out of this mess. Of returning to the man he'd once been.\n\nBut that man had been a monster. Frightening, that nobody had blamed him for the things he'd done. Nobody but Evi, who had seen what the killing would do to him. He closed his eyes, hearing her tears.\n\n\"Father?\" a voice said from behind.\n\nDalinar forced himself to stand upright, turning as Adolin scrambled up to him.\n\n\"Are you well, Father?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Yes,\" Dalinar said. \"I just... need to be alone.\"\n\nAdolin nodded. Almighty above, the boy had turned out well, through little effort of Dalinar's. Adolin was earnest, likable, and a master of the sword. He was truly capable in modern Alethi society, where how you moved among groups was even more important than strength of arm. Dalinar had always felt like a tree stump in those kinds of settings. Too big. Too stupid.\n\n\"Go back,\" Dalinar said. \"Swear for our house on this Vengeance Pact.\"\n\nAdolin nodded, and Dalinar continued onward, fleeing those fires below. Gavilar's stare, judging him. The cries of people dying in the Rift.\n\nBy the time he reached the steps, he was practically running. He climbed one level, then another. Sweating, frantic, he raced through ornate hallways past carved walls, sedate woods, and accusatory mirrors. He reached his chambers and scrabbled in his pockets for the keys. He'd locked the place tight; no more would Gavilar sneak into take his bottles. Bliss waited inside.\n\nNo. Not bliss. Oblivion. Good enough.\n\nHis hands wouldn't stop shaking. He couldn't-It-\n\nFollow the Codes tonight.\n\nDalinar's hands trembled, and he dropped the keys.\n\nThere is something strange upon the winds.\n\nScreams for mercy.\n\nGet out of my head! All of you, get out!\n\nIn the distance, a voice...\n\n\"You must find the most important words a man can say.\"\n\nWhich key was it? He got one into the lock, but it wouldn't turn. He couldn't see. He blinked, feeling dizzy." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Those words came tome from one who claimed to have seen the future,\" the voice said, echoing in the hallway. Feminine, familiar. \" \"How is this possible?\" I asked in return. \"Have you been touched by the void?\"\n\n\"The reply was laughter. \"No, sweet king. The past is the future, and as each man has lived, so must you.\"\n\n\"\"So I can but repeat what has been done before?\"\n\n\"\"In somethings, yes. You will love. You will hurt. You will dream. And you will die. Each man's past is your future. '\n\n\"\"Then what is the point?\" I asked. \"If all has been seen and done?\"\n\n\"\"The question,\" she replied, \"is not whether you will love, hurt, dream, and die. It is what you will love, why you will hurt, when you will dream, and how you will die. This is your choice. You cannot pick the destination, only the path.\"\"\n\nDalinar dropped the keys again, sobbing. There was no escape. He would fall again. Wine would consume him like afire consumed a corpse. Leaving only ash.\n\nThere was noway out.\n\n\"This started my journey,\" the voice said. \" And this begins my writings. I cannot call this book a story, for it fails at its most fundamental to be a story. It is not one narrative, but many. And though it has a beginning, hereon this page, my quest can never truly end.\n\n\"I wasn't seeking answers. I felt that I had those already. Plenty, in multitude, from a thousand different sources. I wasn't seeking \"myself.\" This is a platitude that people have ascribed tome, and I find the phrase lacks meaning." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"In truth, by leaving, I was seeking only one thing.\n\n\"A journey.\"\n\nFor years, it seemed that Dalinar had been seeing everything around him through a haze. But those words... something about them...\n\nCould words give off light?\n\nHe turned from his door and walked down the corridor, searching for the source of the voice. Inside the royal reading room, he found Jasnah with a huge tome set before her at a standing table. She read to herself, turning to the next page, scowling.\n\n\"What is that book?\" Dalinar asked.\n\nJasnah started. She wiped her eyes, smearing the makeup, leaving her eyes... clean, but raw. Holes in a mask.\n\n\"This is where my father got that quote,\" she said. \"The one he...\"\n\nThe one he wrote as he died.\n\nOnly a few knew of that.\n\n\"What book is it?\"\n\n\"An old text,\" Jasnah said. \"Ancient, once well regarded. It's associated with the Lost Radiants, so nobody references it anymore. There has to be some secret here, a puzzle behind my father's last words. A cipher? But what?\"\n\nDalinar settled down into one of the seats. He felt as if he had no strength. \"Will you read it tome?\"\n\nJasnah met his eyes, chewing her lip as she'd always done as a child. Then she read in a clear, strong voice, starting over from the first page, which he'd just heard. He had expected her to stop after a chapter or two, but she didn't, and he didn't want her to.\n\nDalinar listened, rapt. People came to check on them; some brought Jasnah water to drink. For once, he didn't ask them for anything. All he wanted was to listen." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He understood the words, but at the same time he seemed to be missing what the book said. It was a sequence of vignettes about a king who left his palace to goon a pilgrimage. Dalinar couldn't define, even to himself, what he found so striking about the tales. Was it their optimism? Was it the talk of paths and choices?\n\nIt was so unpretentious. So different from the boasts of society or the battlefield. Just a series of stories, their morals ambiguous. It took almost eight hours to finish, but Jasnah never gave any indication she wanted to stop. When she read the last word, Dalinar found himself weeping again. Jasnah dabbed at her own eyes. She had always been so much stronger than he was, but here they shared an understanding. This was their send-off to Gavilar's soul. This was their farewell.\n\nLeaving the book on the lectern, Jasnah walked over to Dalinar as he stood up. They embraced, saying nothing. After a few moments, she left.\n\nHe went to the book, touching it, feeling the lines of the writing stamped into its cover. He didn't know how long he'd been standing there when Adolin peeked in. \"Father? We're planning to send expeditionary forces to the Shattered Plains. Your input would be appreciated.\"\n\n\"I must,\" Dalinar whispered, \"goon a journey.\"\n\n\"Yeah,\" Adolin said. \"It's along way. Might get some hunts in while we're on our way, if there's time. Elhokar wants these barbarians wiped out quickly. We could begone and back in a year.\"\n\nPaths. Dalinar could not choose his end.\n\nBut perhaps his path...\n\nThe Old Magic can change a person, Evi had said. Make something great of them." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dalinar stood up taller. He turned and stepped toward Adolin, seizing him by the shoulder. \"I've been a poor father these last few years,\" Dalinar said.\n\n\"Nonsense,\" Adolin said. \"You-\"\n\n\"I've been a poor father,\" Dalinar repeated, raising his finger. \"To you and your brother both. You should know how proud I am of you.\"\n\nAdolin beamed, glowing like a sphere right after a storm. Gloryspren sprang up around him.\n\n\"We will go to war together,\" Dalinar said. \"Like we did when you were young. I will show you what it is to be a man of honor. But first, I need to take an advance force-without you, I'm afraid-and secure the Shattered Plains.\"\n\n\"We talked about that,\" Adolin said, eager. \"Like your elites, from before. Fast, quick! You'll march-\"\n\n\"Sail,\" Dalinar said.\n\n\"Sail?\"\n\n\"The rivers should be flowing,\" Dalinar said. \"I'll march south, then take a ship to Dumadari. From there, I'll sail to the Ocean of Origins and make landfall at New Natanan. I'll move in toward the Shattered Plains with my force and secure the region, preparing for the rest of you to arrive.\"\n\n\"That would be a sound idea, I guess,\" Adolin said.\n\nIt was sound. Sound enough that when one of Dalinar's ships was delayed-and Dalinar himself remained in port, sending most of his force on without him-nobody would think it strange. Dalinar did get himself into trouble.\n\nHe would swear his men and sailors to secrecy, and travel a few months out of his way before continuing onto the Shattered Plains." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Evi had said the Old Magic could transform a man. It was about time he started trusting her." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "-From Hessi's Mythica, page 224\n\nSzeth of Shinovar flew with the Skybreakers for three days, southward.\n\nThey stopped several times to recover hidden stockpiles in mountain peaks or remote valleys. To find doorways, they often had to hack through five inches of crem. That amount of buildup had probably taken centuries to accumulate, yet Nin spoke of the places as if he'd just left. Atone, he was surprised to find the food long since decayed-though fortunately, the gemstone stockpile there had been hidden in a place where it remained exposed to the storms.\n\nIn these visits, Szeth finally began to grasp how ancient this creature was.\n\nOn the fourth day, they reached Marat. Szeth had been to the kingdom before; he had visited most of Roshar during the years of his exile. Historically, Marat wasn't truly a nation-but neither was it a place of nomads, like the backwaters of Hexi and Tu Fallia. Instead, Marat was a group of loosely connected cities, tribally run, with a highprince at their head-though in the local dialect, he was called'elder brother.\"\n\nThe country made fora convenient waystop between the Vorin kingdoms of the east and the Makabaki ones of the center west. Szeth knew that Marat was rich in culture, full of people as proud as you'd find in any nation-but of almost no value on the political scale.\n\nWhich made it curious that Nin chose to end their flight here. They landed on a plain full of strange brown grass that reminded Szeth of wheat, save for the fact that this pulled down into burrows, leaving visible only the small bob of grain on the top. This was casually eaten by wild beasts that were wide and flat, like walking discs, with claws only on the underside to shove the grain into their mouths." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Move the story forward in your role as narrative aide.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, knights radiant\nAuthor: Brandon Sanderson\nTitle: Oathbringer\nChapter: 111" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "You do not remember. But normally, she hides. Cowardice.\n\n\"Perhaps wisdom,\" Dalinar said. \"The Nightwatcher-\"\n\nIs not her.\n\n\"Yes, you've said. The Nightwatcher is like you. Are there others, though? Spren like you, or the Nightwatcher? Spren that are shadows of gods?\"\n\nThere is... a third sibling. They are not with us.\n\n\"In hiding?\"\n\nNo. Slumbering.\n\n\"Tell me more.\"\n\nNo.\n\n\"But-\"\n\nNo! Leave them alone. You hurt them enough.\n\n\"Fine,\" Dalinar said, setting aside the towel and leaning against the window. The air smelled of salt, reminding him of something not yet clear in his mind. One last hole in his memory. A trip by sea.\n\nAnd his visit to the Valley.\n\nHe glanced at the dresser beside the washbasin, which held a book written in unfamiliar Thaylen glyphs. A little note beside it, in Alethi glyphs, read, \"Pathway. King.\" Fen had left him a gift, a copy of The Way of Kings in Thaylen.\n\n\"I've done it,\" Dalinar said. \"I've united them, Stormfather. I've kept my oath, and have brought men together, instead of dividing them. Perhaps this can be penance in some small way, for the pain I've caused.\"\n\nThe Stormfather rumbled in reply.\n\n\"Did he... care about what we felt?\" Dalinar asked. \"Honor, the Almighty? Did he truly care about men's pain?\"\n\nHe did. Then, I didn't understand why, but now I do. Odium lies when he claims to have sole ownership of passion. The Stormfather paused. I remember... at the end... Honor was more obsessed with oaths. There were times when the oath itself was more important than the meaning behind it. But he was not a passionless monster. He loved humankind. He died defending you." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dalinar found Navani entertaining Taravangian in the common area of their villa. \"Your Majesty?\" Dalinar asked.\n\n\"You could call me Vargo, if you wish,\" Taravangian said, pacing without looking at Dalinar. \"It is what they called meas a youth....\"\n\n\"What's wrong?\" Dalinar asked.\n\n\"I'm just worried. My scholars... It is nothing, Dalinar. Nothing. Silliness. I am... I am well today.\" He stopped and squeezed his pale grey eyes shut.\n\n\"That's good, isn't it?\"\n\n\"Yes. But it is not a day to be heartless. So I worry.\"\n\nHeartless? What did he mean?\n\n\"Do you need to sit out the meeting?\" Navani asked.\n\nTaravangian shook his head quickly. \"Come. Let us go. I will be better... better once we've started. I'm sure.\"\n\nAs Dalinar stepped into the temple's main chamber, he found that he was looking forward to the meeting.\n\nWhat a strange revelation. He'd spent so much of his youth and middle years dreading politics and the endless rambling of meetings. Now he was excited. He could seethe outlines of something grand in this room. The Azish delegation warmly greeted Queen Fen, with Vizier Noura even giving Fen a poem she'd written as thanks for the Thaylen hospitality. Fen's son made a point of sitting next to Renarin and chatting with him. Emperor Yanagawn looked comfortable on his throne, surrounded by allies and friends.\n\nBridge Four joked with the guards of Highprince Aladar, while Lift the Edgedancer perched on a windowsill nearby, listening with a cocked head. In addition to the five scout women in uniform, two women in havahs had joined Bridge Four. They carried notepads and pencils, and had sewn Bridge Four patches to the upper sleeves of their dresses-the place where scribes commonly wore their platoon insignia." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Alethi highprinces, Azish viziers, Knights Radiant, and Thaylen admirals all in one room. The prime of Emul talking tactics with Aladar, who had been aiding the beleaguered country. General Khal and Teshav speaking with the princess of Yezier, who was eyeing Halam Khal-their eldest son-standing tall in his father's Shardplate by the door. There was talk of apolitical union there. It would be the first in centuries between an Alethi and a Makabaki princedom.\n\nUnite them. A voice whispered the words in Dalinar's mind, echoing with the same resonant sound from months ago, when Dalinar had first started seeing the visions.\n\n\"I'm doing so,\" Dalinar whispered back.\n\nUnite them.\n\n\"Stormfather, is that you? Why do you keep saying this tome?\"\n\nI said nothing.\n\nIt was growing hard to distinguish between his own thoughts and what came from the Stormfather. Visions and memories struggled for space in Dalinar's brain. To clear his mind, he strode around the perimeter of the circular temple chamber. Murals on the walls-ones he had healed with his abilities-depicted the Herald Talenelat during several of his many, many last stands against the Voidbringers.\n\nA large map had been mounted on one wall depicting the Tarat Sea and surrounding areas, with markers noting the locations of their fleet. The room quieted as Dalinar stepped up and studied this. He glanced fora moment out the doors of the temple, toward the bay. Already, a few of the faster ships of their fleet had arrived, flying the flags of both Kharbranth and Azir.\n\n\"Your Excellency,\" Dalinar said to Yanagawn. \"Could you share news of your troops?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The emperor gave leave for Noura to report. The main fleet was less than a day away. Their outriders-or scout ships, as she called them-had spotted no indications of the enemy advance. They'd worried that this window between storms would be when the enemy would move, but so far there was no sign.\n\nThe admirals began to discuss how to best patrol the seas while keeping Thaylen City safe. Dalinar was pleased by the conversation, mostly because the admirals seemed to think that the real danger to Thaylen City had passed. A Veden highprince had managed to get afoot scout close enough to Marat to count the ships at the docks. Well over a hundred vessels were waiting in the various coves and ports along the coast. For whatever reason, they weren't ready to launch yet, which was a blessing.\n\nThe meeting progressed, with Fen belatedly welcoming everyone-Dalinar realized he should have let her take charge from the start. She described the defenses in Thaylen City and raised concerns from her guildmasters about Amaram's troops. Apparently they'd been carousing.\n\nAmaram stiffened at that. For all his faults, he liked to run a tight army.\n\nSometime near the end of this discussion, Dalinar noticed Renarin shifting uncomfortably in his seat. As the Azish scribes began explaining their code of rules and guidelines for the coalition, Renarin excused himself in a hoarse voice, and left.\n\nDalinar glanced at Navani, who seemed troubled. Jasnah stood to follow, but was interrupted by ascribe bringing her a small sheaf of documents. She accepted them and moved to Navani's side so they could study them together.\n\nShould we break? Dalinar thought, checking his forearm clock. They'd only been going for an hour, and the Azish were obviously excited by their guidelines." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Stormfather rumbled.\n\nWhat? Dalinar thought.\n\nSomething... something is coming. A storm.\n\nDalinar stood up, looking about the room, half expecting assassins to attack. His sudden motion caught the attention of one of the Azish viziers, a short man with a very large hat.\n\n\"Brightlord?\" the interpreter asked at a word from the vizier.\n\n\"I...\" Dalinar could feel it. \"Something's wrong.\"\n\n\"Dalinar?\" Fen asked. \"What are you talking about?\"\n\nSpanreeds suddenly started blinking throughout the room. A dozen flashing rubies. Dalinar's heart sidestepped. Anticipationspren rose around him, streamers whipping from the ground, as the various scribes grabbed the blinking spanreeds from boxes or belts and set them out to begin writing.\n\nJasnah didn't notice that one of hers was blinking. She was too distracted by what she and Navani were reading.\n\n\"The Everstorm just hit Shinovar,\" Queen Fen finally explained, reading over a scribe's shoulder.\n\n\"Impossible!\" Ialai Sadeas said. \"It has only been five days since the last one! They come at nine-day intervals.\"\n\n\"Yes, well, I think we have enough confirmation,\" Fen said, nodding toward the spanreeds.\n\n\"The storm is too new,\" Teshav said. She pulled her shawl closer as she read. \"We don't know it well enough to truly judge its patterns. The reports from Steen say it is particularly violent this time, moving faster than before.\"\n\nDalinar felt cold.\n\n\"How long until it reaches us?\" Fen asked.\n\n\"Hours yet,\" Teshav said. \"It can take a full day for the highstorm to get from one side of Roshar to the other, and the Everstorm is slower. Usually.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It's moving faster though,\" Yanagawn said through his interpreter. \"How faraway are our ships? How are we going to shelter them?\"\n\n\"Peace, Your Excellency,\" Fen said. \"The ships are close, and the new docks miles farther along the coast are sheltered from both east and west. We merely need to make sure the fleet goes directly there, instead of stopping hereto drop off troops.\"\n\nThe room buzzed with conversations as the various groups received reports from their contacts in Tashikk, who in turn would be relaying information from contacts in Iri, Steen, or even Shinovar.\n\n\"We should break fora short time,\" Dalinar told them. The others agreed, distracted, and separated into groups scattered about the room. Dalinar settled back in his seat, releasing a held breath. \"That wasn't so bad. We can deal with this.\"\n\nThat wasn't it, the Stormfather said. He rumbled, his concerned voice growing very soft as he continued, There's more.\n\nDalinar jumped back to his feet, instincts prompting him to thrust his hand to the side, fingers splayed, to summon a Blade he no longer possessed. Bridge Four responded immediately, dropping food from the table of victuals, grabbing spears. Nobody else seemed to notice.\n\nBut... notice what? No attack came. Conversations continued on all sides. Jasnah and Navani were still huddled side by side, reading. Navani gasped softly, safehand going to her mouth. Jasnah looked at Dalinar, lips drawn to a line.\n\nTheir message wasn't about the storm, Dalinar thought, pulling his chair over to them. \"All right,\" he whispered, though they were far enough from other groups to have some privacy. \"What is it?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"A breakthrough was made in translating the Dawnchant,\" Navani whispered. \"Teams in Kharbranth and the monasteries of Jah Keved have arrived at the news separately, using the seed we provided through the visions. We are finally receiving translations.\"\n\n\"That's good, right?\" Dalinar said.\n\nJasnah sighed. \"Uncle, the piece that historians have been most eager to translate is called the Eila Stele. Other sources claim it is old, perhaps the oldest document in written memory, said to be scribed by the Heralds themselves. From the translation that finally came in today, the carving appears to be the account of someone who witnessed the very first coming of the Voidbringers, long, long ago. Even before the first Desolation.\"\n\n\"Blood of my fathers,\" Dalinar said. Before the first Desolation? The last Desolation had happened more than four thousand years ago. They were speaking of events lost to time. \"And... we can read it?\"\n\n\"\"They came from another world,\"\" Navani said, reading from her sheet. \" 'Using powers that we have been forbidden to touch. Dangerous powers, of spren and Surges. They destroyed their lands and have come to us begging.\n\n\"'We took them in, as commanded by the gods. What else could we do? They were a people forlorn, without home. Our pity destroyed us. For their betrayal extended even to our gods: to spren, stone, and wind.\n\n\"'Beware the otherworlders. The traitors. Those with tongues of sweetness, but with minds that lust for blood. Do not take them in. Do not give them succor. Well were they named Voidbringers, for they brought the void. The empty pit that sucks in emotion. Anew god. Their god." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"\"These Voidbringers know no songs." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They cannot hear Roshar, and where they go, they bring silence. They look soft, with no shell, but they are hard. They have but one heart, and it cannot ever live.\"\"\n\nShe lowered the page.\n\nDalinar frowned. It's nonsense, he thought. Is it claiming that the first parshmen who came to invade had no carapace? But how would the writer know that parshmen should have carapace? And what is this about songs....\n\nIt clicked. \"That was not written by a human,\" Dalinar whispered.\n\n\"No, Uncle,\" Jasnah said softly. \"The writer was a Dawnsinger, one of the original inhabitants of Roshar. The Dawnsingers weren't spren, as theology has often postulated. Nor were they Heralds. They were parshmen. And the people they welcomed to their world, the otherworlders...\"\n\n\"Were us,\" Dalinar whispered. He felt cold, like he'd been dunked in icy water. \"They named us Voidbringers.\"\n\nJasnah sighed. \"I have suspected this fora time. The first Desolation was the invasion of humankind onto Roshar. We came here and seized this land from the parshmen-after we accidentally used Surgebinding to destroy our previous world. That is the truth that destroyed the Radiants.\"\n\nThe Stormfather rumbled in his mind. Dalinar stared at that sheet of paper in Navani's hand. Such a small, seemingly unimportant object to have created such a pit inside of him.\n\nIt's true, isn't it? he thought at the Stormfather. Storms... we're not the defenders of our homeland.\n\nWe're the invaders.\n\nNearby, Taravangian argued softly with his scribes, then finally stood up. He cleared his throat, and the various groups slowly stilled. The Azish contingent had servants pull their chairs back toward the group, and Queen Fen returned to her place, though she didn't sit. She stood, arms folded, looking perturbed." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I have had disconcerting news,\" Taravangian said. \"Over the spanreed, just now. It involves Brightlord Kholin. I don't wish to be objectionable...\"\n\n\"No,\" Fen said. \"I've heard it too. I'm going to need an explanation.\"\n\n\"Agreed,\" Noura said.\n\nDalinar stood up. \"I realize this is troubling. I... I haven't had time to adjust. Perhaps we could adjourn and worry about the storm first? We can discuss this later.\"\n\n\"Perhaps,\" Taravangian said. \"Yes, perhaps. But it is a problem. We have believed that ours is a righteous war, but this news of mankind's origins has me disconcerted.\"\n\n\"What are you talking about?\" Fen said.\n\n\"The news from the Veden translators? Ancient texts, manifesting that humans came from another world?\"\n\n\"Bah,\" Fen said. \"Dusty books and ideas for philosophers. What I want to know about is this highking business!\"\n\n\"Highking?\" Yanagawn asked through an interpreter.\n\n\"I've an essay,\" Fen said, slapping papers against her hand, \"from Zetah the Voiced claiming that before King Elhokar left for Alethkar, he swore to Dalinar to accept him as emperor.\"\n\nNoura the vizier leaped to her feet. \"What?\"\n\n\"Emperor is an exaggeration!\" Dalinar said, trying to reorient toward this unexpected attack. \"It's an internal Alethi matter.\"\n\nNavani stood beside him. \"My son was merely concerned about his political relation to Dalinar. We have prepared an explanation for you all, and our highprinces can confirm that we are not looking to expand our influence to your nations.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"And this?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Noura said, holding up some pages. \"Were you preparing an explanation for this as well?\"\n\n\"What is that?\" Dalinar asked, bracing himself.\n\n\"Accounts of two visions,\" Noura said, \"that you didn't share with us. In which you supposedly met and fraternized with a being known as Odium.\"\n\nBehind Dalinar, Lift gasped. He glanced toward her, and the men of Bridge Four, who were muttering among themselves.\n\nThis is bad, Dalinar thought. Too much. Too fast for me to control.\n\nJasnah leaped to her feet. \"This is obviously a concentrated attempt to destroy our reputation. Someone deliberately released all this information at the same time.\"\n\n\"Is it true?\" Noura asked in Alethi. \"Dalinar Kholin, have you met with our enemy?\"\n\nNavani gripped his arm. Jasnah subtly shook her head: Don't answer that.\n\n\"Yes,\" Dalinar said.\n\n\"Did he,\" Noura asked pointedly, \"tell you you'd destroy Roshar?\"\n\n\"What of this ancient record?\" Taravangian said. \"It claims that the Radiants already destroyed one world. Is that not what caused them to disband? They worried that their powers could not be controlled!\"\n\n\"I'm still trying to wrap my mind around this highking nonsense,\" Fen said. \"How is it merely an'internal Alethi matter'if you've allowed another king to swear to you?\"\n\nEveryone started talking at once. Navani and Jasnah stepped forward, responding to the attacks, but Dalinar only sank into his seat. It was all falling apart. A sword, as keen as any on a battlefield, had been rammed into the heart of his coalition." }, { "from": "human", "value": "This is what you feared, he thought." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A world that turns not upon force of armies, but upon the concerns of scribes and bureaucrats.\n\nAnd in that world, he had just been deftly outflanked." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "-From Hessi's Mythica, page 266\n\nKaladin remembered a woman's kiss.\n\nTarah had been special. The darkeyed daughter of an assistant quartermaster, she had grownup helping with her father's work. Though she was a hundred percent Alethi, she preferred dresses of an old-fashioned Thaylen style, which had an apronlike front with straps over the shoulders and skirts that ended right below the knee. She'd wear a buttoned shirt underneath, often in a bright color-brighter than most darkeyes could afford. Tarah knew how to squeeze the most out of her spheres.\n\nThat day, Kaladin had been sitting on a stump, shirt off, sweating. The evening was growing cold as the sunset, and he basked in the last warmth. His spear resting across his lap, he toyed with a rock of white, brown, and black. Alternating colors.\n\nThe warmth from the sun was mirrored as someone warm hugged him from behind, wrapping her arms across his chest. Kaladin rested a callused hand on Tarah's smooth one, drinking in her scent-of starched uniforms, new leather, and other clean things.\n\n\"You're done early,\" he said. \"I thought there were greenvines to outfit today.\"\n\n\"I have the new girl doing the rest.\"\n\n\"I'm surprised. I know how much you like this part.\"\n\n\"Storms,\" she said, slipping around in front of him. \"They get so embarrassed when you measure them. \"Hold on, kid. I'm not making a pass at you because I'm putting a measuring tape up against your chest, I swear....\"\" She lifted his spear, looking it over with a critical eye, testing the balance. \"I wish you'd let me requisition anew one for you.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I like that one. Took me forever to find one long enough.\"\n\nShe peered along the length of the weapon, to make sure it was straight. She would never trust it, as she hadn't personally requisitioned it for him. She wore green today, under a brown skirt, her black hair tied back in a tail. Slightly plump, with around face and firm build, Tarah's beauty was a subtle thing. Like an uncut gemstone. The more you saw of it-the more you discovered of its natural facets-the more you loved it. Until one day it struck you that you'd never known anything as wonderful.\n\n\"Any young boys among the greenvines?\" Kaladin asked, standing up and pocketing Tien's stone.\n\n\"I didn't notice.\"\n\nHe grunted, waving to Gol-one of the other squadleaders. \"You know I like to watch for kids who might need a little extra looking out for.\"\n\n\"I know, but I was busy. We got a caravan from Kholinar today.\" She leaned close to him. \"There was real flour in one of the packages. I traded in some favors. You know I've been wanting you to try some of my father's Thaylen bread? I thought maybe we'd fix it tonight.\"\n\n\"Your father hates me.\"\n\n\"He's coming around. Besides, he loves anyone who compliments his bread.\"\n\n\"I have evening practice.\"\n\n\"You just got done practicing.\"\n\n\"I just got done warming up.\" He looked to her, then grimaced. \"I organized the evening practice, Tarah. I can't just skip it. Besides, I thought you were going to be busy all evening. Maybe tomorrow, lunch?\"\n\nHe kissed heron the cheek and reclaimed his spear. He'd taken only a step away when she spoke." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I'm leaving, Kal,\" she said from behind.\n\nHe stumbled over his own feet, then spun about. \"What?\"\n\n\"I'm transferring,\" she said. \"They offered me a scribe's job in Mourn's Vault, with the highprince's house. It's a good opportunity, particularly for someone like me.\"\n\n\"But...\" He gaped. \"Leaving?\"\n\n\"I wanted to tell you over dinner, not out herein the cold. It's something I have to do. Father's getting older; he's worried he'll end up being shipped to the Shattered Plains. If I can get work, he can join me.\"\n\nKaladin put a hand to his head. She couldn't just leave, could she?\n\nTarah walked over, stood on the tips of her toes, and kissed him lightly on the lips.\n\n\"Could you... not go?\" he asked.\n\nShe shook her head.\n\n\"Maybe I could get a transfer?\" he said. \"To the highprince's standing house guard?\"\n\n\"Would you do that?\"\n\n\"I...\"\n\nNo. He wouldn't.\n\nNot while he carried that stone in his pocket, not while the memory of his brother dying was fresh in his mind. Not while lighteyed highlords got boys killed in petty fights.\n\n\"Oh, Kal,\" she whispered, then squeezed his arm. \"Maybe someday you'll learn how to be therefor the living, not just for the dead.\"\n\nAfter she left, he got two letters from her, talking about her life in Mourn's Vault. He had paid someone to read them to him.\n\nHe never sent responses. Because he was stupid, because he didn't understand. Because men make mistakes when they're young and angry." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Because she had been right.\n\nKaladin shouldered his harpoon, leading his companions through the strange forest. They'd flown part of the way, but needed to conserve what little Stormlight they had left.\n\nSo, they'd spent the last two days hiking. Trees and more trees, lifespren floating among them, the occasional bobbing souls offish. Syl kept saying that they were lucky they hadn't encountered any angerspren or other predators. To her, this forest was strangely silent, strangely empty.\n\nThe jungle-style trees had given way to taller, more statuesque ones with deep crimson trunks and limbs like burnt-red crystals that, at the ends, burst into small collections of minerals. The rugged obsidian landscape was full of deep valleys and endless towering hills. Kaladin was beginning to worry that-despite the motionless sun to provide an unerring way to gauge their heading-they were going in the wrong direction.\n\n\"Storms, bridgeboy,\" Adolin said, hiking up the incline after him. \"Maybe a break?\"\n\n\"At the top,\" Kaladin said.\n\nWithout Stormlight, Shallan trailed farthest behind, Pattern at her side. Exhaustionspren circled in the air above, like large chickens. Though she tried to push herself, she wasn't a soldier, and often was the biggest limitation to their pace. Of course, without her mapmaking skills and memory of Thaylen City's exact location, they probably wouldn't have any idea which way to go.\n\nFortunately, there was no sign of pursuit. Still, Kaladin couldn't help worrying that they were moving too slowly.\n\nBe there, Tarah had told him. For the living.\n\nHe urged them up this hillside, pasta section of broken ground, where the obsidian had fractured like layers of crem that hadn't hardened properly. Worry pulled him forward. Step after relentless step." }, { "from": "human", "value": "He had to get to the Oathgate." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He would not fail like he had in Kholinar.\n\nA single glowing windspren burst alight next to him as he reached the top of the hill. Cresting it, he found himself overlooking a sea of souls. Thousands upon thousands of candle flames bobbed about in the next valley over, moving above a grand ocean of glass beads.\n\nThaylen City.\n\nAdolin joined him, then finally Shallan and the three spren. Shallan sighed and settled to the ground, coughing softly from the effort of the climb.\n\nAmid the sea of lights were two towering spren, much like the ones they'd seen in Kholinar. One sparkled a multitude of colors while the other shimmered an oily black. Both stood tall, holding spears as long as a building. The sentries of the Oathgate, and they didn't look corrupted.\n\nBeneath them, the device itself manifested as a large stone platform with a wide, sweeping white bridge running over the beads and to the shore.\n\nThat bridge was guarded by an entire army of enemy spren, hundreds-perhaps thousands-strong." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "-From Hessi's Mythica, page 307\n\nDalinar stood alone in the rooms Queen Fen had given him, staring out the window, looking west. Toward Shinovar, far beyond the horizon. A land with strange beasts like horses, chickens. And humans.\n\nHe'd left the other monarchs arguing in the temple below; anything he said only seemed to widen the rifts among them. They didn't trust him. They'd never really trusted him. His deception proved them right.\n\nStorms. He felt furious with himself. He should have released those visions, should have immediately told the others about Elhokar. There had simply been so much piling on top of him. His memories... his excommunication... worry for Adolin and Elhokar...\n\nPart of him couldn't help but be impressed by how deftly he'd been outmaneuvered. Queen Fen worried about Dalinar being genuine; the enemy had delivered perfect proof that Dalinar had hidden political motives. Noura and the Azish worried that the powers were dangerous, whispering of Lost Radiants. To them, the enemy indicated that Dalinar was being manipulated by evil visions. And to Taravangian-who spoke so often of philosophy-the enemy suggested that their moral foundation for the war was a sham.\n\nOr maybe that dart was for Dalinar himself. Taravangian said that a king was justified in doing terrible things in the name of the state. But Dalinar...\n\nFor once, he'd assumed what he was doing was right.\n\nDid you really think you belonged here? the Stormfather asked. That you were native to Roshar?\n\n\"Yes, maybe,\" Dalinar said. \"I thought... maybe we came from Shinovar originally.\"\n\nThat is the land you were given, the Stormfather said. A place where the plants and animals you brought here could grow." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"We weren't able to confine ourselves to what we were given.\"\n\nWhen has any man ever been content with what he has?\n\n\"When has any tyrant ever said to himself, \"This is enough\"?\" Dalinar whispered, remembering words Gavilar had once spoken.\n\nThe Stormfather rumbled.\n\n\"The Almighty kept this from his Radiants,\" Dalinar said. \"When they discovered it, they abandoned their vows.\"\n\nIt is more than that. My memory of all this is... strange. First, I was not fully awake; I was but the spren of a storm. Then I was like a child. Changed and shaped during the frantic last days of a dying god.\n\nBut I do remember. It was not only the truth of humankind's origin that caused the Recreance. It was the distinct, powerful fear that they would destroy this world, as men like them had destroyed the one before. The Radiants abandoned their vows for that reason, as will you.\n\n\"I will not,\" Dalinar said. \"I won't let my Radiants retread the fate of their predecessors.\"\n\nWon't you?\n\nDalinar's attention was drawn to a solemn group of men leaving the temple below. Bridge Four, spears held on slumped shoulders, heads bowed as they quietly marched down the steps.\n\nDalinar scrambled out of his villa and ran down the steps to intercept the bridgemen. \"Where are you going?\" he demanded.\n\nThey halted, falling into ranks at attention.\n\n\"Sir,\" Teft said. \"We thought we'd head back to Urithiru. We left some of the men behind, and they deserve to know about this business with the ancient Radiants.\"\n\n\"What we've discovered doesn't change the fact that we are being invaded,\" Dalinar said." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Invaded by people trying to reclaim their homeland,\" Sigzil said. \"Storms. I'd be mad too.\"\n\n\"We're supposed to be the good guys, you know?\" Leyten said. \"Fighting fora good cause, for once in our storming lives.\"\n\nEchoes of his own thoughts. Dalinar found he couldn't formulate an argument against that.\n\n\"We'll see what Kal says,\" Teft replied. \"Sir. All respect, sir. But we'll see what he says. He knows the right of things, even when the rest of us don't.\"\n\nAnd if he never returns? Dalinar thought. What if none of them return? It had been four weeks. How long could he keep pretending that Adolin and Elhokar were alive out there somewhere? That pain hid behind the rest, taunting him.\n\nThe bridgemen gave Dalinar their unique cross-armed salute, then left without waiting to be dismissed.\n\nIn the past, Honor was able to guard against this, the Stormfather told him. He convinced the Radiants they were righteous, even if this land hadn't originally been theirs. Who cares what your ancestors did, when the enemy is trying to kill you right now?\n\nBut in the days leading to the Recreance, Honor was dying. When that generation of knights learned the truth, Honor did not support them. He raved, speaking of the Dawnshards, ancient weapons used to destroy the Tranquiline Halls. Honor... promised that Surgebinders would do the same to Roshar.\n\n\"Odium claimed the same thing.\"\n\nHe can seethe future, though only cloudily. Regardless, I... understand now as I never did before. The ancient Radiants didn't abandon their oaths out of pettiness. They tried to protect the world. I blame them for their weakness, their broken oaths. But I also understand. You have cursed me, human, with this capacity." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The meeting in the temple seemed to be breaking up. The Azish contingent started down the steps.\n\n\"Our enemy hasn't changed,\" Dalinar said to them. \"The need fora coalition is as strong as ever.\"\n\nThe young emperor, being carried in a palanquin, didn't look at him. Oddly, the Azish didn't make for the Oathgate, instead taking a path down into the city.\n\nOnly Vizier Noura idled to speak to him. \"Jasnah Kholin might be right,\" she said in Azish. \"The destruction of our old world, your secret visions, this business with you being highking-it seems too great a coincidence for it all to come at once.\"\n\n\"Then you can see that we're being manipulated.\"\n\n\"Manipulated by the truth, Kholin,\" she said, meeting his eyes. \"That Oathgate is dangerous. These powers of yours are dangerous. Deny it.\"\n\n\"I cannot. I will not found this coalition on lies.\"\n\n\"You already have.\"\n\nHe drew in a sharp breath.\n\nNoura shook her head. \"We will take the scout ships and join the fleet carrying our soldiers. Then we will wait out this storm. After that... we shall see. Taravangian has said we may use his vessels to return to our empire, without needing to use the Oathgates.\"\n\nShe walked off after the emperor, eschewing the palanquin waiting to carry her.\n\nOthers drifted down the steps around him. Veden highprinces, who gave excuses. Thaylen lighteyes from their guild councils, who avoided him. The Alethi highprinces and scribes expressed solidarity-but Alethkar couldn't do this on its own." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Queen Fen was one of the last to leave the temple.\n\n\"Will you leave me too?\" Dalinar asked.\n\nShe laughed. \"Togo where, old hound? An army is coming this way. I still need your famous Alethi infantry; I can't afford to throw you out.\"\n\n\"Such bitterness.\"\n\n\"Oh, did it show? I'm going to check on the city's defenses; if you decide to join us, we'll beat the walls.\"\n\n\"I'm sorry, Fen,\" Dalinar said, \"for betraying your trust.\"\n\nShe shrugged. \"I don't really think you intend to conquer me, Kholin. But oddly... I can't help wishing I did have to worry. Best I can tell, you've become a good man right in time to bravely sink with this ship. That's commendable, until I remember that the Blackthorn would have long since murdered everyone trying to sink him.\"\n\nFen and her consort climbed into a palanquin. People continued to trickle past, but eventually Dalinar stood alone before the quiet temple.\n\n\"I'm sorry, Dalinar,\" Taravangian said softly from behind. Dalinar turned, surprised to find the old man sitting on the steps. \"I assumed everyone had the same information, and that it would be best to air it. I didn't expect all of this....\"\n\n\"This isn't your fault,\" Dalinar said.\n\n\"And yet...\" He stood up, then walked-slowly-down the steps. \"I'm sorry, Dalinar. I fear I can no longer fight beside you.\"\n\n\"Why?\" Dalinar said. \"Taravangian, you're the most pragmatic ruler I've met! Aren't you the one who talked tome about the importance of doing what was politically necessary!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And that is what I must do now, Dalinar. I wish I could explain. Forgive me.\"\n\nHe ignored Dalinar's pleas, limping down the stairs. Moving stiffly, the old man climbed into a palanquin and was carried away.\n\nDalinar sank down on the steps.\n\nI tried my best to hide this, the Stormfather said.\n\n\"So we could continue living a lie?\"\n\nIt is, in my experience, the thing men do best.\n\n\"Don't insult us.\"\n\nWhat? Is this not what you've been doing, these last six years? Pretending that you aren't a monster? Pretending you didn't kill her, Dalinar?\n\nDalinar winced. He made a fist, but there was nothing here he could fight. He dropped his hand to his side, shoulders drooping. Finally, he climbed to his feet and quietly trudged up the stone steps to his villa.\n\nTHE END OF\n\nPart Four" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Teft could function.\n\nYou learned how to do that. How to cling to the normal parts of your life so that people wouldn't be too worried. So that you wouldn't be too undependable.\n\nHe stumbled sometimes. That eroded trust, to the point where it was hard to keep telling himself that he could handle it. He knew, deep down, that he'd end up alone again. The men of Bridge Four would tire of digging him out of trouble.\n\nBut for now, Teft functioned. He nodded to Malata, who was working the Oathgate, then led his men across the platform and down the ramp toward Urithiru. They were a subdued group. Few grasped the meaning of what they'd learned, but they all sensed that something had changed.\n\nMade perfect sense to Teft. It couldn't be easy, now, could it. Not in his storming life.\n\nA winding path through corridors and a stairwell led them back toward their barracks. As they walked, a woman appeared in the hallway beside Teft, roughly his height, glowing with soft blue-white light. Storming spren. He pointedly did not look at her.\n\nYou have Words to speak, Teft, she said in his mind.\n\n\"Storm you,\" he muttered.\n\nYou have started on this path. When will you tell the others the oaths you have sworn?\n\n\"I didn't-\"\n\nShe turned away from him suddenly, becoming alert, looking down the corridor toward the Bridge Four barracks.\n\n\"What?\" Teft stopped. \"Something wrong?\"\n\nSomething is very wrong. Run quickly, Teft!\n\nHe charged out in front of the men, causing them to shout after him. He scrambled to the door into their barracks and threw it open." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The scent of blood immediately assaulted him. The Bridge Four common room was in shambles, and bloodstained the floor. Teft shouted, rushing through the room to find three corpses near the back. He dropped his spear and fell to his knees beside Rock, Bisig, and Eth.\n\nStill breathing, Teft thought, feeling at Rock's neck. Still breathing. Remember Kaladin's training, you fool.\n\n\"Check the others!\" he shouted as more bridgemen joined him. He pulled off his coat and used it on Rock's wounds; the Horneater was sliced up good, a half dozen cuts that looked like they'd come from a knife.\n\n\"Bisig's alive,\" Peet called. \"Though... storms, that's a Shardblade wound!\"\n\n\"Eth...\" Lopen said, kneeling beside the third body. \"Storms...\"\n\nTeft hesitated. Eth had been the one carrying the Honorblade today. Dead.\n\nThey came for the Blade, he realized.\n\nHuio-who was better at field medicine than Teft-took over ministering to Rock. Blood on his hands, Teft stumbled back.\n\n\"We need Renarin,\" Peet said. \"It's Rock's best chance!\"\n\n\"But where did he go?\" Lyn said. \"He was at the meeting, but left.\" She looked toward Laran, one of the other former messengers-fastest among them. \"Run for the guard post! They should have a spanreed to contact the Oathgate!\"\n\nLaran dashed out of the room. Nearby, Bisig groaned. His eyes fluttered open. His entire arm was grey, and his uniform had been sliced through.\n\n\"Bisig!\" Peet asked. \"Storms, what happened!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Thought... thought it was one of us,\" Bisig muttered. \"I didn't really look-until he attacked.\" He leaned back, groaning, closing his eyes. \"He had on a bridgeman coat.\"\n\n\"Stormfather!\" Leyten said. \"Did you seethe face?\"\n\nBisig nodded. \"Nobody I recognize. A short man, Alethi. Bridge Four coat, lieutenant's knots on the shoulder...\"\n\nLopen, nearby, frowned, then glanced toward Teft.\n\nA Bridge Four officer's coat, worn as a disguise. Teft's coat, which he'd sold weeks ago in the market. To get a few spheres.\n\nHe stumbled back as they hovered around Rock and Bisig, then fled through a falling patch of shamespren into the hallway outside." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "THE COST\n\nFIVE AND A HALF YEARS AGO\n\nDalinar came to himself, gasping, in the cabin of a stormwagon. Heart pounding, he spun about, kicking aside empty bottles and lifting his fists. Outside, the riddens of a storm washed the walls with rain.\n\nWhat in the Almighty's tenth name had that been? One moment, he'd been lying in his bunk. The next, he had been... Well, he didn't rightly remember. What was the drink doing to him now?\n\nSomeone rapped on his door.\n\n\"Yes?\" Dalinar said, his voice hoarse.\n\n\"The caravan is preparing to leave, Brightlord.\"\n\n\"Already? The rain hasn't even stopped yet.\"\n\n\"I think they're, um, eager to be rid of us, sir.\"\n\nDalinar pushed open the door. Felt stood outside, a lithe man with long, drooping mustaches and pale skin. Had to have some Shin blood in him, judging by those eyes.\n\nThough Dalinar hadn't expressly said what he intended to do out herein Hexi, his soldiers seemed to understand. Dalinar wasn't sure whether he should be proud of their loyalty, or scandalized by how easily they accepted his intention to visit the Nightwatcher. Of course, one of them-Felt himself-had been this way before.\n\nOutside, the caravan workers hitched up their chulls. They'd agreed to drop him off here, along their path, but refused to take him farther toward the Valley.\n\n\"Can you get us the rest of the way?\" Dalinar asked.\n\n\"Sure,\" Felt said. \"We're less than a day off.\"\n\n\"Then tell the good caravan master that we will take our wagons and split from him here. Pay him what he asked, Felt, and then some on top.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"If you say so, Brightlord. Seems that having a Shardbearer along with him should be payment enough.\"\n\n\"Explain that, in part, we're buying his silence.\"\n\nDalinar waited until the rain had mostly stopped, then threw on his coat and stepped out to join Felt, walking at the front of the wagons. He didn't feel like being cooped up any longer.\n\nHe'd expected this land to look like the Alethi plains. After all, the windswept flatlands of Hexi were not unlike those of his homeland. Yet strangely, there wasn't a rockbud insight. The ground was covered in wrinkles, like frozen ripples in a pond, perhaps two or three inches deep. They were crusty on the stormward side, covered with lichen. On the leeward side, grass spread on the ground, flattened.\n\nThe sparse trees here were scrawny, hunched-over things with thistle leaves. Their branches bent so far leeward, they almost touched the ground. It was like one of the Heralds had strolled through this place and bent everything sideways. The nearby mountainsides were bare, blasted and scoured raw.\n\n\"Not far now, sir,\" Felt said. The short man barely came up to the middle of Dalinar's chest.\n\n\"When you came before,\" Dalinar said. \"What... what did you see?\"\n\n\"To be frank, sir, nothing. She didn't come tome. Doesn't visit everyone, you see.\" He clapped his hands, then breathed on them. It had been winter, lately. \"You'll want to go in right after dark. Alone, sir. She avoids groups.\"\n\n\"Any idea why she didn't visit you?\"\n\n\"Well, best I could figure, she doesn't like foreigners.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I might have trouble too.\"\n\n\"You're a little less foreign, sir.\"\n\nUp ahead, a group of small dark creatures burst from behind a tree and shot into the air, clumped together. Dalinar gaped at their speed and agility. \"Chickens?\" he said. Little black ones, each the size of a man's fist.\n\nFelt chuckled. \"Yes, wild chickens range this far east. Can't see what they'd be doing on this side of the mountains though.\"\n\nThe chickens eventually picked another bent-over tree and settled in its branches.\n\n\"Sir,\" Felt said. \"Forgive me for asking, but you sure you want to do this? You'll be in her power, in there. And you don't get to pick the cost.\"\n\nDalinar said nothing, feet crunching on fans of weeds that trembled and rattled when he touched them. There was so much emptiness herein Hexi. In Alethkar, you couldn't go more than a day or two without running into a farming village. They hiked fora good three hours, during which Dalinar felt both an anxiety to be finished and-at the same time-a reluctance to progress. He had enjoyed his recent sense of purpose. Simultaneously, his decision had given him excuses. If he was going to the Nightwatcher anyway, then why fight the drink?\n\nHe'd spent much of the trip intoxicated. Now, with the alcohol running out, the voices of the dead seemed to chase him. They were worst when he tried to sleep, and he felt a dull ache behind his eyes from poor rest.\n\n\"Sir?\" Felt eventually asked. \"Look there.\" He pointed to a thin strip of green painting the windswept mountainside." }, { "from": "human", "value": "As they continued, Dalinar got a better view." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The mountains split into a valley here, and since the opening pointed to the northeast, foothills shielded the interior from highstorms.\n\nSo plant life had exploded inside. Vines, ferns, flowers, and grasses grew together in a wall of underbrush. Trees stretched above them, and these weren't the durable stumpweights of his homeland. These were gnarled, tall, and twisted, with branches that wound together. They were overgrown with draping moss and vines, lifespren bobbing about them in plenitude.\n\nIt all piled atop itself, reeds and branches sticking out in all directions, ferns so overgrown with vines that they drooped beneath the weight. It reminded Dalinar of a battlefield. A grand tapestry, depicting people locked in mortal combat, each one struggling for advantage.\n\n\"How does one enter?\" Dalinar asked. \"How do you pass through that?\"\n\n\"There are some trails,\" Felt said. \"If you look hard enough. Shall we camp here, sir? You can scout out a path tomorrow, and make your final decision?\"\n\nHe nodded, and they setup at the edge of the breach, close enough he could smell the humidity inside. They setup the wagons as a barrier between two trees, and the men soon had tents assembled. They were quick to get afire going. There was a... feeling to the place. Like you could hear all of those plants growing. The valley shivered and cracked. When wind blew out, it was hot and muggy.\n\nThe sunset behind the mountains, plunging them into darkness. Soon after, Dalinar started inward. He couldn't wait another day. The sound of it lured him. The vines rustling, moving as tiny animals scampered between them. Leaves curling. The men didn't call after him; they understood his decision." }, { "from": "human", "value": "He stepped into the musty, damp valley, vines brushing his head." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He could barely see in the darkness, but Felt had been right-trails revealed themselves as vines and branches bent away from him, allowing Dalinar entrance with the same reluctance as guards allowing an unfamiliar man into the presence of their king.\n\nHe had hoped for the Thrill to aid him here. This was a challenge, was it not? He felt nothing, not even a hint.\n\nHe trudged through the darkness, and suddenly felt stupid. What was he doing here? Chasing a pagan superstition while the rest of the highprinces gathered to punish Gavilar's killers? He should beat the Shattered Plains. That was where he'd change himself, where he would go back to the man he'd been before. He wanted to escape the drink? He just needed to summon Oathbringer and find someone to fight.\n\nWho knew what was out therein this forest? If he were a bandit, this was certainly where he would setup. People must flock here. Damnation! He wouldn't be surprised to discover that someone had started all this simply to draw in unsuspecting marks.\n\nWait. What was that? A sound different from scurries in the underbrush or vines withdrawing. He stopped in place, listening. It was...\n\nWeeping.\n\nOh, Almighty above. No.\n\nHe heard a boy weeping, pleading for his life. It sounded like Adolin. Dalinar turned from the sound, searching the darkness. Other screams and pleas joined that one, people burning as they died.\n\nIna moment of panic, he turned to run back the way he'd come. He immediately tripped in the underbrush.\n\nHe collapsed against rotten wood, vines twisting under his fingers. People screamed and howled all around, the sounds echoing in the near-absolute darkness." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Frantic, he summoned Oathbringer and stumbled to his feet, then began slashing, trying to clear space. Those voices. All around him!\n\nHe pushed pasta tree trunk, fingers digging into the hanging moss and wet bark. Was the entrance this way?\n\nSuddenly he saw himself in the Unclaimed Hills, fighting those traitorous parshmen. He saw himself killing, and hacking, and murdering. He saw his lust, eyes wide and teeth clenched in a dreadful grin. A skull's grin.\n\nHe saw himself strangling Elhokar, who had never possessed his father's poise or charm. Dalinar took the throne. It should have been his anyway.\n\nHis armies poured into Herdaz, then Jah Keved. He became a king of kings, a mighty conqueror whose accomplishments far overshadowed those of his brother. Dalinar forged a unified Vorin empire that covered half of Roshar. An unparalleled feat!\n\nAnd he saw them burn.\n\nHundreds of villages. Thousands upon thousands of people. It was the only way. If a town resisted, you burned it to the ground. You slaughtered any who fought back, and you left the corpses of their loved ones to feed the scavengers. You sent terror before you like a storm until your enemies surrendered.\n\nThe Rift would be but the first in along line of examples. He saw himself standing upon the heaped corpses, laughing. Yes, he had escaped the drink. He had become something grand and terrible.\n\nThis was his future.\n\nGasping, Dalinar dropped to his knees in the dark forest and allowed the voices to swarm around him. He heard Evi among them, crying as she burned to death, unseen, unknown. Alone. He let Oathbringer slip from his fingers and shatter to mist." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The crying faded until it was distant.\n\nSon of Honor... anew sound whispered on the winds, a voice like the rustling of the trees.\n\nHe opened his eyes to find himself in a tiny clearing, bathed in starlight. A shadow moved in the darkness beyond the trees, accompanied by the noise of twisting vines and blowing grass.\n\nHello, human. You smell of desperation. The feminine voice was like a hundred overlapping whispers. The elongated figure moved among the trees ringing the clearing, stalking him like a predator.\n\n\"They... they say you can change a man,\" Dalinar said, weary.\n\nThe Nightwatcher seeped from the darkness. She was a dark green mist, vaguely shaped like a crawling person. Too-long arms reached out, pulling her along as she floated above the ground. Her essence, like a tail, extended far behind her, weaving among tree trunks and disappearing into the forest.\n\nIndistinct and vaporous, she flowed like a river or an eel, and the only part of her with any specific detail washer smooth, feminine face. She glided toward him until her nose was mere inches from his own, her silken black eyes meeting his. Tiny hands sprouted from the misty sides of her head. They reached out, taking his face and touching it with a thousand cold-yet gentle-caresses.\n\nWhat is it you wish of me? the Nightwatcher asked. What boon drives you, Son of Honor? Son of Odium?\n\nShe started to circle him. The tiny black hands kept touching his face, but their arms stretched out, becoming tentacles.\n\nWhat would you like? she asked. Renown? Wealth? Skill? Would you like to be able to swing a sword and never tire?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No,\" Dalinar whispered.\n\nBeauty? Followers? I can feed your dreams, make you glorious.\n\nHer dark mists wrapped around him. The tiny tendrils tickled his skin. She brought her face right up to his again. What is your boon?\n\nDalinar blinked tears, listening to the sounds of the children dying in the distance, and whispered a single word.\n\n\"Forgiveness.\"\n\nThe Nightwatcher's tendrils dodged away from his face, like splayed fingers. She leaned back, pursing her lips.\n\nPerhaps it is possessions you wish, she said. Spheres, gemstones. Shards. A Blade that bleeds darkness and cannot be defeated. I can give it to you.\n\n\"Please,\" Dalinar said, drawing in a ragged breath. \"Tell me. Can I... can I ever be forgiven?\"\n\nIt wasn't what he'd intended to request.\n\nHe couldn't remember what he'd intended to request.\n\nThe Nightwatcher curled around him, agitated. Forgiveness is no boon. What should I do to you. What should I give you? Speak it, human. I-\n\nTHAT IS ENOUGH, CHILD.\n\nThis new voice startled them both. If the Nightwatcher's voice was like whispering wind, this one was like tumbling stones. The Nightwatcher backed away from him in a sharp motion.\n\nHesitant, Dalinar turned and found a woman with brown skin-the color of darkwood bark-standing at the edge of the clearing. She had a matronly build and wore a sweeping brown dress.\n\nMother? the Nightwatcher said. Mother, he came tome. I was going to bless him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "THANK YOU, CHILD, the woman said. BUT THIS BOON IS BEYOND YOU. She focused on Dalinar. YOU MAY ATTEND ME, DALINAR KHOLIN.\n\nNumbed by the surreal spectacle, Dalinar stood up. \"Who are you?\"\n\nSOMEONE BEYOND YOUR AUTHORITY TO QUESTION. She strode into the forest, and Dalinar joined her. Moving through the underbrush seemed easier now, though the vines and branches pulled toward the strange woman. Her dress seemed to meld with it all, the brown cloth becoming bark or grass.\n\nThe Nightwatcher curled along beside them, her dark mist flowing through the holes in the underbrush. Dalinar found her distinctly unnerving.\n\nYOU MUST FORGIVE MY DAUGHTER, the woman said. THIS IS THE FIRST TIME IN CENTURIES I'VE COME PERSONALLY TO SPEAK WITH ONE OF YOU.\n\n\"Then this isn't how it happens every time?\"\n\nOF COURSE NOT. I LET HER HOLD COURT HERE. The woman brushed her fingers through the Nightwatcher's misty hair. IT HELPS HER UNDERSTAND YOU.\n\nDalinar frowned, trying to make sense of all this. \"What... why did you choose to come out now?\"\n\nBECAUSE OF THE ATTENTION OTHERS PAY YOU. AND WHAT DID I TELL YOU OF DEMANDING QUESTIONS?\n\nDalinar shut his mouth.\n\nWHY HAVE YOU COME HERE, HUMAN? DO YOU NOT SERVE HONOR, THE ONE YOU CALL ALMIGHTY? LOOK UNTO HIM FOR FORGIVENESS." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I asked the ardents,\" Dalinar said. \"I didn't get what I wanted.\"\n\nYOU GOT WHAT YOU DESERVED. THE TRUTH YOU HAVE CRAFTED FOR YOURSELVES.\n\n\"I am doomed then,\" Dalinar whispered, stopping in place. He could still hear those voices. \"They weep, Mother.\"\n\nShe looked back at him.\n\n\"I hear them when I close my eyes. All around me, begging me to save them. They're driving me mad.\"\n\nShe contemplated him, the Nightwatcher twining around her legs, then around Dalinar's, then back again.\n\nThis woman... she was more than he could see. Vines from her dress curled into the earth, permeating everything. In that moment he knew that he was not seeing her, but instead a fragment with which he could interact.\n\nThis woman extended into eternity.\n\nTHIS WILL BE YOUR BOON. I WILL NOT MAKE OF YOU THE MAN YOU CAN BECOME. I WILL NOT GIVE YOU THE APTITUDE, OR THE STRENGTH, NOR WILL I TAKE FROM YOU YOUR COMPULSIONS.\n\nBUT I WILL GIVE YOU... A PRUNING. A CAREFUL EXCISION TO LET YOU GROW. THE COST WILL BE HIGH.\n\n\"Please,\" Dalinar said. \"Anything.\"\n\nShe stepped back to him. IN DOING THIS, I PROVIDE FOR HIM A WEAPON. DANGEROUS, VERY DANGEROUS. YET, ALL THINGS MUST BE CULTIVATED. WHAT I TAKE FROM YOU WILL GROW BACK EVENTUALLY. THIS IS PART OF THE COST." }, { "from": "human", "value": "IT WILL DOME WELL TO HAVE APART OF YOU, EVEN IF YOU ULTIMATELY BECOME HIS." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "YOU WERE ALWAYS BOUND TO COME TOME. I CONTROL ALL THINGS THAT CAN BE GROWN, NURTURED.\n\nTHAT INCLUDES THE THORNS.\n\nShe seized him, and the trees descended, the branches, the vines. The forest curled around him and crept into the crevices around his eyes, under his fingernails, into his mouth and ears. Into his pores.\n\nA BOON AND A CURSE, the Mother said. THAT IS HOW IT IS DONE. I WILL TAKE THESE THINGS FROM YOUR MIND. AND WITH THEM, I TAKE HER.\n\n\"I...\" Dalinar tried to speak as plant life engulfed him. \"Wait!\"\n\nRemarkably, the vines and branches stopped. Dalinar hung there, speared by vines that had somehow pushed through his skin. There was no pain, but he felt the tendrils writhing inside his very veins.\n\nSPEAK.\n\n\"You'll take...\" He spoke with difficulty. \"You'll take Evi from me?\"\n\nALL MEMORIES OF HER. THIS IS THE COST. SHOULD I FORBEAR?\n\nDalinar squeezed his eyes shut. Evi...\n\nHe had never deserved her.\n\n\"Do it,\" he whispered.\n\nThe vines and branches surged forward and began to rip away pieces of him from the inside.\n\nDalinar crawled from the forest the next morning. His men rushed to him, bringing water and bandages, though strangely he needed neither.\n\nBut he was tired. Very, very tired.\n\nThey propped him in the shade of his stormwagon, exhaustionspren spinning in the air. Malli-Felt's wife-quickly scribed a note via spanreed back to the ship." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dalinar shook his head, memory fuzzy. What... what had happened? Had he really asked for forgiveness?\n\nHe couldn't fathom why. Had he felt that bad for failing... He stretched for the word. For failing...\n\nStorms. His wife. Had he felt so bad for failing her by letting assassins claim her life? He searched his mind, and found that he couldn't recall what she looked like. No image of her face, no memories of their time together.\n\nNothing.\n\nHe did remember these last few years as a drunkard. The years before, spent in conquest. In fact, everything about his past seemed clear except her.\n\n\"Well?\" Felt said, kneeling beside him. \"I assume it... happened.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Dalinar said.\n\n\"Anything we need to know about?\" he asked. \"I once heard of a man who visited here, and from then on, every person he touched fell upward instead of down.\"\n\n\"You needn't worry. My curse is for me alone.\" How strange, to be able to remember scenes where she had been, but not remember... um... storms take him, her name.\n\n\"What was my wife's name?\" Dalinar asked.\n\n\"Shshshsh?\" Felt said. It came out as a blur of sounds.\n\nDalinar started. She'd been taken completely? Had that... that been the cost? Yes... grief had caused him to suffer these last years. He'd suffered a breakdown at losing the woman he loved.\n\nWell, he assumed that he'd loved her. Curious.\n\nNothing.\n\nIt seemed that the Nightwatcher had taken memories of his wife, and in so doing, given him the boon of peace. However, he did still feel sorrow and guilt for failing Gavilar, so he wasn't completely healed. He still wanted a bottle to numb the grief of losing his brother." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He would break that habit. When men abused drink under his command, he'd found that the solution was to work them hard, and not let them taste strong wines. He could do the same to himself. It wouldn't be easy, but he could manage it.\n\nDalinar relaxed, but felt like something else was missing inside of him. Something he couldn't identify. He listened to his men breaking camp, telling jokes now that they could leave. Beyond that, he heard rustling leaves. And beyond that, nothing. Shouldn't he have heard...\n\nHe shook his head. Almighty, what a foolish quest this had been. Had he really been so weak that he needed a forest spren to relieve his grief?\n\n\"I need to be in communication with the king,\" Dalinar said, standing. \"Tell our men at the docks to contact the armies. By the time I arrive, I want to have battle maps and plans for the Parshendi conquest.\"\n\nHe'd moped long enough. He had not always been the best of brothers, or the best of lighteyes. He'd failed to follow the Codes, and that had cost Gavilar his life.\n\nNever again.\n\nHe straightened his uniform and glanced at Malli. \"Tell the sailors that while they're in port, they're to find mean Alethi copy of a book called The Way of Kings. I'd like to hear it read tome again. Last time, I wasn't in my right mind.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "-From the Eila Stele\n\nA spry ocean wind blew in through the window, shaking Dalinar's hair as he stood in his villain Thaylen City. The wind was sharply chill. Crisp. It didn't linger, but passed him by, turning the pages of his book with a quiet ruffling sound.\n\nIt fled from the Everstorm.\n\nCrimson. Furious. Burning. The Everstorm's clouds flowed in from the west. Like blood billowing in water, each new thunderhead spurted from the one behind it, hemorrhaging fits of lightning. And beneath the storm-within its shadow, and upon those tempestuous seas-ships dotted the waves.\n\n\"Ships?\" he whispered. \"They sailed during the storm?\"\n\nHe controls it, the Stormfather said, his voice diminutive-like the pattering of rain. He uses it, as Honor once used me.\n\nSo much for stopping the enemy in the ocean. Dalinar's fledgling armada had fled to take shelter from the storm, and the enemy had sailed in uncontested. The coalition had shattered anyway; they wouldn't defend this city.\n\nThe storm slowed as it darkened the bay in front of Thaylen City-then seemed to stop. It dominated the sky to the west, but strangely did not proceed. Enemy ships landed in its shadow, many ramming right up onto the shores.\n\nAmaram's troops flooded out of the gates to seize the ground between bay and city; there wasn't enough room for them to maneuver on top of the wall. The Alethi were field troops, and their best chance of victory would involve hitting the parshmen while they disembarked. Behind them, Thaylen troops mounted the wall, but they were not veterans. Their navy had always been their strength." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dalinar could faintly hear General Khal on the street below, shouting for runners and scribes to send word to Urithiru, calling up the Alethi reinforcements. Too slow, Dalinar thought. Suitably deploying troops could take hours, and though Amaram was hustling his men, they weren't going to get together in time fora proper assault on the ships.\n\nAnd then there were the Fused, dozens of which launched into the skies from the ships. He imagined his armies bottlenecked as they left the Oathgate, assaulted from the air as they tried to fight through the streets to reach the lower portion of the city.\n\nIt came together with a frightening beauty. Their armada fleeing the storm. Their armies unprepared. The sudden evaporation of support...\n\n\"He's planned for everything.\"\n\nIt is what he does.\n\n\"You know, Cultivation warned me that my memories would return. She said she was \"pruning\" me. Do you know why she did that? Did I have to remember?\"\n\nI do not know. Is it relevant?\n\n\"That depends upon the answer to a question,\" Dalinar said. He carefully closed the book atop the dresser before the window, then felt the symbols on its cover. \"What is the most important step that a man can take?\"\n\nHe straightened his blue uniform, then slipped the tome off the table. With The Way of Kings a comfortable weight in his hand, he stepped out the door and into the city.\n\n\"All this way,\" Shallan whispered, \"and they're already here?\"\n\nKaladin and Adolin stood like two statues to either side of her, their faces twin stoic masks. She could seethe Oathgate distinctly; that round platform at the edge of the bridge was the exact size of the control buildings." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "As the author's co-writer, advance the plot.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, knights radiant\nAuthor: Brandon Sanderson\nTitle: Oathbringer\nChapter: 116" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dalinar could faintly hear General Khal on the street below, shouting for runners and scribes to send word to Urithiru, calling up the Alethi reinforcements. Too slow, Dalinar thought. Suitably deploying troops could take hours, and though Amaram was hustling his men, they weren't going to get together in time fora proper assault on the ships.\n\nAnd then there were the Fused, dozens of which launched into the skies from the ships. He imagined his armies bottlenecked as they left the Oathgate, assaulted from the air as they tried to fight through the streets to reach the lower portion of the city.\n\nIt came together with a frightening beauty. Their armada fleeing the storm. Their armies unprepared. The sudden evaporation of support...\n\n\"He's planned for everything.\"\n\nIt is what he does.\n\n\"You know, Cultivation warned me that my memories would return. She said she was \"pruning\" me. Do you know why she did that? Did I have to remember?\"\n\nI do not know. Is it relevant?\n\n\"That depends upon the answer to a question,\" Dalinar said. He carefully closed the book atop the dresser before the window, then felt the symbols on its cover. \"What is the most important step that a man can take?\"\n\nHe straightened his blue uniform, then slipped the tome off the table. With The Way of Kings a comfortable weight in his hand, he stepped out the door and into the city.\n\n\"All this way,\" Shallan whispered, \"and they're already here?\"\n\nKaladin and Adolin stood like two statues to either side of her, their faces twin stoic masks. She could seethe Oathgate distinctly; that round platform at the edge of the bridge was the exact size of the control buildings." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Hundreds upon hundreds of strange spren stood in the lake of beads that marked the shore of Thaylen City. They looked vaguely humanoid, though they were twisted and odd, like shimmering dark light. More the scribbled outlines of people, like drawings she'd done in a maddened state.\n\nOn the shore, a large dark mass of living red light surged across the obsidian ground. It was something more terrible than all of these-something that made her eyes hurt to look upon. And as if that weren't enough, a half dozen Fused passed overhead, then landed on the bridge that led to the Oathgate platform.\n\n\"They knew,\" Adolin said. \"They led us herewith that cursed vision.\"\n\n\"Be wary,\" Shallan whispered, \"of anyone who claims to be able to seethe future.\"\n\n\"No. No, that wasn't from him!\" Kaladin looked between them, frantic, and finally turned to Syl for support. \"It was like when the Stormfather... I mean...\"\n\n\"Azure warned us from this path,\" Adolin said.\n\n\"And what else could we have done?\" Kaladin said, then hushed his voice, pulling back with the rest of them into the shadowed concealment of the trees. \"We couldn't go to the Horneater Peaks, like Azure wanted. The enemy waits there too! Everyone says their ships patrol there.\" Kaladin shook his head. \"This was our only option.\"\n\n\"We don't have enough food to return...\" Adolin said.\n\n\"Even if we did,\" Syl whispered, \"where would we go? They hold Celebrant. They're watching this Oathgate, so they're probably watching the others....\"\n\nShallan sank down on the obsidian ground. Pattern put his hand on her shoulder, humming softly with concern. Her body yearned for Stormlight to wash away her fatigue. Light could make an illusion, change this world into something else-at least fora few moments-so she could pretend..." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Kaladin is right,\" Syl said. \"We can't back down now. Our remaining gemstones won't last much longer.\"\n\n\"We have to try,\" Kaladin said with a nod.\n\n\"Try what, Kal?\" Adolin said. \"Take on an army of Voidbringers by ourselves?\"\n\n\"I don't know how the portal works,\" Shallan added. \"I don't even know how much Stormlight it might require.\"\n\n\"We'll... we'll try something,\" Kaladin said. \"We have Stormlight still. An illusion? A distraction? We could get you to the Oathgate, and you could... find out how to free us.\" He shook his head. \"We can make it work. We have to.\"\n\nShallan bowed her head, listening to Pattern hum. Some problems could not be fixed with a lie.\n\nJasnah carefully stepped out of the way of a troop of soldiers running for the Oathgate. She had been informed via spanreed that troops were gathering in Urithiru to come help. Unfortunately, they would soon have to acknowledge what she already knew.\n\nThaylen City was lost.\n\nTheir adversary had played this hand too well. That angered her, but she kept that emotion in check. At the very least, she hoped that Amaram's band of malcontents would soak up arrows and spears long enough to let the Thaylen civilians evacuate.\n\nLightning from the storm lit the city red.\n\nFocus. She had to focus on what she could do, not what she had failed to do. First, she had to see that her uncle didn't get himself killed fighting a useless battle. Second, she needed to help evacuate Thaylen City; she had already warned Urithiru to prepare for refugees." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Both these goals would wait a short time as she dealt with a matter even more pressing.\n\n\"The facts align,\" Ivory said. \"The truth that has always been, will now soon manifest to all.\" He rode upon the high collar of her dress, tiny, holding on with one hand. \"You are correct. A traitor is.\"\n\nJasnah undid the buttons on her safehand sleeve and pinned it back, exposing the gloved hand underneath. In preparation, she'd also worn a scout's yellow and gold havah, with shorter skirts slit at the sides and front, trousers underneath. Sturdy boots.\n\nShe turned out of the path of another group of cursing soldiers and strode up the steps to the doorway of the temple of Pailiah'Elin. True to the information she'd been given, she found Renarin Kholin kneeling on the floor inside, head bowed. Alone.\n\nA spren rose from his back, bright red, shimmering like the heat of a mirage. A crystalline structure, like a snowflake, though it dripped light upward toward the ceiling. In her pouch, she carried a sketch of the proper spren of the Truthwatchers.\n\nAnd this was something different.\n\nJasnah put her hand to the side, then-taking a deep breath-summoned Ivory as a Shardblade.\n\nVenli hopped down from the ship's improvised gangway. The city before her was yet another marvel. Built up the side of a mountain, it looked almost like it had been cut from the stone-sculpted like the winds and rain had shaped the Shattered Plains.\n\nHundreds of singers streamed around her. Hulking Fused walked among them, bearing carapace armor as impressive as any Shardplate. Some of the ordinary singers wore warform-but unlike their Alethi counterparts, they had not been through combat training." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Azish, Thaylen, Marati... a host of nationalities, these newly awakened singers were frightened, uncertain. Venli attuned Agony. Would they force her to march to the front line? She didn't have much battle training either; even with a form of power, she'd be cut to ribbons.\n\nLike my people, on the field of Narak, who were sacrificed to birth the Everstorm. Odium seemed very quick to expend the lives of both listener and singer.\n\nTimbre pulsed to Peace in her pouch, and Venli rested her hand on it. \"Hush,\" she whispered to Agony. \"Hush. Do you want one of them to hear you?\"\n\nTimbre reluctantly softened her pulsings, though Venli could still feel a faint vibration from her pouch. And that... that relaxed her. She almost thought that she could hear the Rhythm of Peace herself.\n\nOne of the hulking Fused called for her. \"You! Listener woman! Come!\"\n\nVenli attuned the Rhythm of Destruction. She would not be intimidated by these, gods though they be. She stepped up to this one and kept her head high.\n\nThe Fused handed her a sword in a sheath. She took it, then attuned Subservience. \"I've used an axe before, but not-\"\n\n\"Carry it,\" he said, eyes glowing softly red. \"You may need to defend yourself.\"\n\nShe did not object further. There was a fine line between respectful confidence and defiance. She belted the sword on her slender body, wishing she had some carapace.\n\n\"Now,\" the Fused said to Conceit, striding forward and expecting her to keep up, \"tell me what this little one is saying.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Venli followed him to a gathering of singers in workform, holding spears. She had been speaking to the Fused in the ancient language, but these were speaking in Thaylen.\n\nI'm an interpreter, she thought, relaxing. That's why they wanted me on the battlefield.\n\n\"What was it,\" Venli said to Derision, addressing the one the Fused had indicated, \"you wished to say to the holy one?\"\n\n\"We...\" The singer licked his lips. \"We aren't soldiers, ma'am. We're fishers. What are we doing here?\" Though a shade of the Rhythm of Anxiety laced his words, his cringing form and face were the stronger indication. He spoke and acted like a human.\n\nShe interpreted.\n\n\"You are hereto do as you are told,\" the Fused told them, through Venli. \"In return, you are rewarded with further opportunities to serve.\" Though his rhythm was Derision, he didn't seem angry. More... as if he were lecturing a child.\n\nShe passed that along, and the sailors looked to each other, shuffling uncomfortably.\n\n\"They wish to object,\" she told the Fused. \"I can read it in them.\"\n\n\"They may speak,\" he said.\n\nShe prompted them, and their leader looked down, then spoke to Anxiety. \"It's just that... Thaylen City? This is our home. We're expected to attack it?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" the Fused said after Venli interpreted. \"They enslaved you. They tore your families apart, treated you like dumb animals. Do you not thirst for vengeance?\"\n\n\"Vengeance?\" the sailor said, looking to his fellows for support. \"We're glad to be free. But... I mean... some of them treated us pretty nice. Can't we just go settle somewhere, and leave the Thaylens alone?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No,\" the Fused said. Venli interpreted, then jumped to follow him as he stalked off.\n\n\"Great one?\" she asked to Subservience.\n\n\"These have the wrong Passion,\" he said. \"The ones who attacked Kholinar did so gladly.\"\n\n\"The Alethi area warlike people, great one. It's not surprising they passed this onto their slaves. And perhaps these were better treated?\"\n\n\"They were slaves for far too long. We need to show them a better way.\"\n\nVenli stuck close to the Fused, happy to have found one that was both sane and reasonable. He didn't shout at the groups they visited, many of whom shared similar complaints. He merely had her repeat the same sorts of phrases.\n\nYou must seize vengeance, little ones. You must earn your Passion.\n\nQualify yourselves for greater service, and you will be elevated to the place of a Regal, given a form of power.\n\nThis land was yours long ago, before they stole it. You have been trained to be docile. We will teach you to be strong again.\n\nThe Fused remained calm, but fierce. Like a smoldering fire. Controlled, but ready to burst alight. He eventually walked to join some of his fellows. Around them, the singer army formed up awkwardly, coating the land just east of the bay. Alethi troops mustered across a short battlefield, banners flapping. They had archers, heavy infantry, light infantry, even some outriders on horses.\n\nVenli hummed to Agony. This was going to be a slaughter.\n\nShe suddenly felt something odd. Like a rhythm, but oppressive, demanding. It shook the very air, and the ground beneath her feet trembled. Lightning in the clouds behind seemed to flash to this rhythm, and in a moment she saw that the area around her was filled with ghostly spren." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Those are the spirits of the dead, she realized. Fused who haven't yet chosen a body. Most were twisted to the point that she barely recognized them as singers. Two were roughly the size of buildings.\n\nOne dominated even these: a creature of swirling violence, tall as a small hill, seemingly made up entirely of red smoke. She could see these overlaid on the real world, but somehow knew they would be invisible to most. She could see into the other world. That happened sometimes right before...\n\nA blistering heat shone behind her.\n\nVenli braced herself. She usually only saw him during the storms. But... this was a storm. It hovered behind, immobile, churning the seas.\n\nLight crystallized beside her, forming an ancient parshman with a face marbled gold and white, and a regal scepter he carried like a cane. For once, his presence didn't vaporize her immediately.\n\nVenli released a relieved breath. This was more an impression than his true being. Still, power streamed from him like the tendrils of a vinebud waving in the wind, vanishing into infinity.\n\nOdium had come to personally supervise this battle.\n\nTeft hid.\n\nHe couldn't face the others. Not after... after what he'd done.\n\nRock and Bisig bleeding. Eth dead. The room destroyed. The Honorblade stolen.\n\nHe had... he had on a Bridge Four... uniform....\n\nTeft scrambled through the rock hallways, passing shamespren in bursts, looking fora place where nobody could see him. He'd done it again, to yet another group that trusted him. Just like with his family, whom he'd sold out in a misguided attempt at righteousness. Just like with his squad in Sadeas's army, whom he'd abandoned for his addiction. And now... and now Bridge Four?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He tripped on an uneven bit of stone in the dark hallway and fell, grunting, scraping his hand against the floor. He groaned, then lay there, knocking his head against the stone.\n\nWould that he could find someplace hidden, and squeeze inside, never ever to be found again.\n\nWhen he looked up, she was standing there. The woman made of light and air, with curls of hair that vanished into mist.\n\n\"Why are you following me?\" Teft growled. \"Go pick one of the others. Kelek! Pick anyone but me.\"\n\nHe rose and pushed past her-she had barely any substance-and continued down the hallway. Light from ahead showed that he'd accidentally made his way to the outer ring of the tower, where windows and balconies overlooked the Oathgate platforms.\n\nHe stopped by a stone doorway, puffing, holding on with a hand that bled from the knuckles.\n\n\"Teft.\"\n\n\"You don't want me. I'm broken. Pick Lopen. Rock. Sigzil. Damnation, woman. I...\"\n\nWhat was that?\n\nDrawn by faint sounds, Teft walked into the empty room. Those sounds... Shouts?\n\nHe walked out onto the balcony. Below, figures with marbled skin flooded across one of the Oathgate platforms, the one that led to Kholinar. That was supposed to be locked, unusable.\n\nScouts and soldiers began to shout in panic down below. Urithiru was under attack.\n\nPuffing from her run, Navani scrambled up the last few steps onto the wall of Thaylen City. Here, she found Queen Fen's retinue. Finally.\n\nShe checked her arm clock. If only she could find a fabrial that would manipulate exhaustion, not just pain. Wouldn't that be something. There were exhaustionspren, after all..." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Navani strode along the wall walk toward Fen." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Below, Amaram's troops flew the new Sadeas banner: the axe and the tower, white on forest green. Anticipationspren and fearspren-the eternal attendants of the battlefield-grew up around them. Sadeas's men were still streaming through the gates, but already blocks of archers moved forward. They'd soon start pelting the disorganized parshman army.\n\nThat storm though...\n\n\"The enemy only keeps coming,\" Fen said as Navani approached, her admirals making room. \"I'll soon get to judge your famed Alethi troops firsthand-as they fight an impossible battle.\"\n\n\"Actually,\" Navani said, \"we're better off than it looks. The new Sadeas is a renowned tactician. His soldiers are well rested and-if lacking indiscipline-known for their tenacity. We can attack the enemy before it finishes deploying. Then, if they rebound and overwhelm us with numbers, we can pullback into the city until we get reinforcements.\"\n\nKmakl, Fen's consort, nodded. \"This is winnable, Fen. We might even be able to capture some of our ships back.\"\n\nThe ground shook. Fora moment, Navani felt that she was on a swaying ship. She cried out, grabbing the battlement to keep from falling.\n\nOut in the field, between the enemy troops and the Alethi ones, the ground shattered. Lines and cracks split the stone, and then an enormous stone arm pulled itself from the ground-the fractures having outlined its hand, forearm, elbow, and upper arm.\n\nA monster easily thirty feet tall pulled itself from the stone, dropping chips and dust on the army below. Like a skeleton made of rock, it had a wedge-shaped head with deep, molten red eyes." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Venli got to watch the thunderclasts awaken.\n\nAmong the waiting spirits were two larger masses of energy-souls so warped, so mangled, they didn't seem singer at all. One crawled into the stone ground, somehow inhabiting it like a spren taking residence in a gemheart. The stone became its form.\n\nThen it ripped itself free of the rock. Around her, the parshmen stumbled back in awe, so surprised that they actually drew spren. The thing loomed over the human forces, while its companion climbed into the stone ground, but didn't rip out immediately.\n\nThere was one other, mightier than even these. It was out in the water of the bay, but when she looked into the other world, she couldn't help but glance toward it. If those two lesser souls had created such daunting stone monsters, then what was that mountain of power?\n\nIn the Physical Realm, the Fused knelt and bowed their heads toward Odium. So they could see him too. Venli knelt quickly, knocking her knees against the stone. Timbre pulsed to Anxiety, and Venli put her hand on the pouch, squeezing it. Quiet. We can't fight him.\n\n\"Turash,\" Odium said, resting fingers upon the shoulder of the Fused she had been following. \"Old friend, you look well in this new body.\"\n\n\"Thank you, master,\" Turash said.\n\n\"Your mind holds firm, Turash. I am proud of you.\" Odium waved toward Thaylen City. \"I have prepared a grand army for our victory today. What do you think of our prize?\"\n\n\"An excellent position of great import, even without the Oathgate,\" Turash said. \"But I fear for our armies, master.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Oh?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Odium asked.\n\n\"They are weak, untrained, and frightened. Many may refuse to fight. They don't crave vengeance, master. Even with the thunderclast, we maybe outmatched.\"\n\n\"These?\" Odium asked, looking over his shoulder at the gathered singers. \"Oh, Turash. You think too small, my friend! These are not my army. I brought them hereto watch.\"\n\n\"Watch what?\" Venli asked, looking up. She cringed, but Odium paid her no mind. Odium held his hands to the sides, yellow-gold power streaming behind his figure like a wind made visible. Beyond him, in the other place, that red churning power became more real. It was pulled into this realm completely, and the ocean boiled.\n\nSomething came surging out. Something primeval, something Venli had felt but never truly known. Red mist. Ephemeral, like a shadow you see on a dark day and mistake for something real. Charging red horses, angry and galloping. The forms of men, killing and dying, shedding blood and reveling in it. Bones piled atop one another, making a hill upon which men struggled.\n\nThe red mist climbed up from the surging waves, rolling out onto an empty section of rock, northward along the rim of the water. It brought to her a lust for the battlefield. A beautiful focus, a Thrill for the fight.\n\nThe largest of the spren, the roiling mass of red light, vanished from Shadesmar.\n\nKaladin gasped and walked closer to the outer edge of the trees, feeling that power vacate this place and... go to the other?\n\n\"Something's happening,\" he said to Adolin and Shallan, who were still discussing what to do. \"We might have an opening!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They joined him and watched as the strange army of spren began to vanish too, winking out in waves.\n\n\"The Oathgate?\" Shallan asked. \"Maybe they're using it?\"\n\nIn moments, only the six Fused remained, guarding the bridge.\n\nSix, Kaladin thought. Can I defeat six?\n\nDid he need to?\n\n\"I can challenge them as a distraction,\" he said to the others. \"Maybe we can use some illusions as well? We can draw them off while Shallan sneaks over and figures out how to work the Oathgate.\"\n\n\"I suppose we don't have any other choice,\" Adolin said. \"But...\"\n\n\"What?\" Kaladin said, urgent.\n\n\"Aren't you worried about where that army went?\"\n\n\"Passion,\" Odium said. \"There is great Passion here.\"\n\nVenli felt cold.\n\n\"I've prepared these men for decades,\" Odium said. \"Men who want nothing so much as something to break, to gain vengeance against the one who killed their highprince. Let the singers watch and learn. I've prepared a different army to fight for us today.\"\n\nAhead of them on the battlefield, the human ranks slumped, their banner wavering. A man in glittering Shardplate, sitting upon a white horse, led them.\n\nDeep within his helm, something started glowing red.\n\nThe dark spren flew toward the men, finding welcoming bodies and willing flesh. The red mist made them lust, made their minds open. And the spren, then, bonded to the men, slipping into those open souls.\n\n\"Master, you have learned to inhabit humans?\" Turash said to Subservience." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Spren have always been able to bond with them, Turash,\" Odium said. \"It merely requires the right mindset and the right environment.\"\n\nTen thousand Alethi in green uniforms gripped their weapons, their eyes glowing a deep, dangerous red.\n\n\"Go,\" Odium whispered. \"Kholin would have sacrificed you! Manifest your anger! Kill the Blackthorn, who murdered your highprince. Set your Passion free! Give me your pain, and seize this city in my name!\"\n\nThe army turned and-led by a Shardbearer in gleaming Plate-attacked Thaylen City." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "-From the Eila Stele\n\nKaladin thought he could hear the wind as he stepped from beneath the obsidian trees. Syl said this place had no wind. Yet was that the tinkling of glass leaves as they quivered? Was that the sigh of cool, fresh air coursing around him?\n\nHe'd come far in the last half year. He seemed a man distant from the one who carried bridges against Parshendi arrows. That man had welcomed death, but now-even on the bad days, when everything was cast in greys-he defied death. It could not have him, for while life was painful, life was also sweet.\n\nHe had Syl. He had the men of Bridge Four. And most importantly, he had purpose.\n\nToday, Kaladin would protect Dalinar Kholin.\n\nHe strode toward the sea of souls that marked the existence of Thaylen City on the other side. Many of those souls' flames, in ranks, had turned sharply red. He shivered to think what that meant. He stepped up onto the bridge, beads churning below, and reached the highest point in its arc before the enemy noticed him.\n\nSix Fused turned and rose into the air, arraying to regard him. They raised long spears, then looked to the sides, seeming shocked.\n\nOne man, alone?\n\nKaladin set one foot back-gently scraping the tip of his boot against the white marble bridge-and fell into a combat posture. He hooked the harpoon in a one-handed underarm grip, letting out along breath.\n\nThen he drew in all of his Stormlight, and burst alight.\n\nWithin the power's embrace, a lifetime's worth of moments seemed to snap into place. Throwing Gaz to the ground in the rain. Screaming in defiance while charging at the front of abridge. Coming awake in the practice grounds during the Weeping. Fighting the assassin on the stormwall." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Fused leaped for him, trailing long cloaks and robes. Kaladin Lashed himself straight upward, and took to the sky for the first time in what had been far, far too long.\n\nDalinar stumbled as the ground shook again. A second sequence of cracks sounded outside. He was too lowdown in the city now to see past the city wall, but he feared he knew what that breaking stone must signify. A second thunderclast.\n\nViolet fearspren sprouted from the streets all around as civilians shouted and screamed. Dalinar had made his way down through the central section of the city-the part called the Ancient Ward-and had just entered the Low Ward, the bottom portion nearest the city wall. The steps behind him were filling with people who fled upward, toward the Oathgate.\n\nAs the trembling subsided, Dalinar grabbed the arm of a young mother who was pounding frantically on the door of a building. He sent her running up the steps with her child in her arms. He needed these people off the streets, preferably taking shelter at Urithiru, so they wouldn't get caught between clashing armies.\n\nDalinar felt his age as he jogged past the next row of buildings, still clutching The Way of Kings under his arm. He had barely any spheres on him, an oversight, but neither did he have Plate or Blade. This would be his first battle in many, many years without Shards. He'd insisted on stepping out of those boots, and would have to let Amaram and other Shardbearers command the field.\n\nHow was Amaram faring? Last Dalinar had seen, the highprince had been arranging his archers-but from this low in the city, Dalinar couldn't seethe troops outside.\n\nA sudden feeling slammed into him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was focus and passion. An eager energy, a warmth, a promise of strength.\n\nGlory.\n\nLife.\n\nTo Dalinar, this thirst for the battle felt like the attentions of a lover you'd turned away long ago. The Thrill was here. His old, dear friend.\n\n\"No,\" he whispered, sagging against a wall. The emotion struck him harder than the earthquake had. \"No.\"\n\nThe taste was so, so appealing. It whispered that he could save this city all on his own. Let the Thrill in, and the Blackthorn could return. He didn't need Shards. He only needed this passion. Sweeter than any wine.\n\nNo.\n\nHe shoved the Thrill aside, scrambling to his feet. Ashe did, however, a shadow moved beyond the wall. A monster of stone, one of the beasts from his visions, standing some thirty feet tall-looming over the twenty-foot city wall. The thunderclast clasped its hands together, then swung them low, crashing them through the city wall, flinging out chunks of stone.\n\nDalinar leaped toward cover, but a falling boulder pounded into him, crushing him into a wall.\n\nBlackness.\n\nFalling.\n\nPower.\n\nHe gasped, and Stormlight flooded into him-he shook awake to find his arm pinned by the boulder, rocks and dust falling on a rubble-strewn street before him. And... not just rubble. He coughed, realizing some of those lumps were bodies coated in dust, lying motionless.\n\nHe struggled to pull his arm from under the boulder. Nearby, the thunderclast kicked at the broken wall, opening a hole. Then it stepped through, footfalls shaking the ground, approaching the shelf that made up the front of the Ancient Ward." }, { "from": "human", "value": "A massive stone foot thumped to the ground by Dalinar." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Storms! Dalinar hauled on his arm, heedless of the pain or the damage to his body, and finally got it free. The Stormlight healed him as he crawled away, ducking as the monster ripped the roof off a building at the front of the Ancient Ward and sent debris raining down.\n\nThe Gemstone Reserve? The monster cast the roof aside, and several Fused that he'd missed before-they were riding on its shoulders-slipped down into the building. Dalinar was torn between heading for the battlefield outside, and investigating whatever was going on here.\n\nAny idea what they're after? he asked the Stormfather.\n\nNo. This is odd behavior.\n\nIna flash decision, Dalinar yanked his book out from under some rubble nearby, then went running backup the now-empty steps to the Ancient Ward, dangerously close to the thunderclast.\n\nThe monster released a sudden piercing roar, like a thunderclap. The shock wave almost knocked Dalinar off his feet again. Ina fit of rage, the titanic creature attacked the Gemstone Reserve, ripping apart its walls and innards, tossing chunks backward. A million sparkling bits of glass caught the sunlight as they fell over the city, the wall, and beyond.\n\nSpheres and gemstones, Dalinar realized. All the wealth of Thaylenah. Scattered like leaves.\n\nThe thing seemed increasingly angry as it pounded the area around the reserve. Dalinar put his back to a wall as two Fused darted past, led by what appeared to be a glowing yellow spren. These two Fused didn't seem to be able to fly, but there was a startling grace to their motion. They slid along the stone street with no apparent effort, as if the ground were greased." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dalinar gave chase, squeezing pasta group of scribes huddled in the street, but before he could catch up, the Fused attacked one palanquin among the many trying to move through the crowds. They knocked it over, shoving aside the porters, and dug inside.\n\nThe Fused ignored Dalinar's shouts. They soon streaked away-one tucking a large object under its arm. Dalinar drew in Stormlight from some fleeing merchants, then ran the rest of the distance to the palanquin. Amid the wreckage he found a young Thaylen woman alongside an elderly man who appeared to have been previously wounded, judging by the bandages.\n\nDalinar helped the dazed young woman to a sitting position. \"What did they want?\"\n\n\"Brightlord?\" she said in Thaylen. She blinked, then seized his arm. \"The King's Drop... a ruby. They tried to steal it before, and now, now they've taken it!\"\n\nA ruby? A simple gemstone? The porters attended to the old man, who was barely conscious.\n\nDalinar looked over his shoulder at the retreating thunderclast. The enemy had ignored the wealth of the Gemstone Reserve. Why would they want a specific ruby? He was about to press for more details when something else drew his attention. From this higher vantage, he could see through the hole the thunderclast had broken in the wall.\n\nFigures outside with glowing red eyes arrayed themselves on the battlefield-but they weren't parshmen.\n\nThose were Sadeas uniforms.\n\nJasnah moved into the temple, gripping her Shardblade, stepping on slippered feet. The red spren rising from Renarin-like a snowflake made of crystal and light-seemed to sense her and panicked, disappearing into Renarin with a puff." }, { "from": "human", "value": "A spren is, Ivory said." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The wrong spren is.\n\nRenarin Kholin was a liar. He was no Truthwatcher.\n\nThat is a spren of Odium, Ivory said. Corrupted spren. But... a human, bonded to one? This thing is not.\n\n\"It is,\" Jasnah whispered. \"Somehow.\"\n\nShe was now close enough to hear Renarin whispering. \"No... Not Father. No, please...\"\n\nShallan wove Light.\n\nA simple illusion, recalled from the pages of her sketchpad: some soldiers from the army, people from Urithiru, and some of the spren she'd sketched on her trip. Around twenty individuals in total.\n\n\"Taln's nails,\" Adolin said as Kaladin shot upward through the sky. \"The bridgeboy is really into it.\"\n\nKaladin drew away four of the Fused, but two remained behind. Shallan added an illusion of Azure to her group, then some of the Reachers she'd drawn. She hated using up so much Stormlight-what if she didn't have enough left to get through the Oathgate?\n\n\"Good luck,\" she whispered to Adolin. \"Remember, I won't be controlling these directly. They will make only rudimentary motions.\"\n\n\"We'll be fine.\" Adolin glanced at Pattern, Syl, and the spren of his sword. \"Right, guys?\"\n\n\"Mmmm,\" Pattern said. \"I do not like being stabbed.\"\n\n\"Wise words, friend. Wise words.\" Adolin gave Shallan a kiss, then they took off running toward the bridge. Syl, Pattern, and the deadeye followed-as did the illusions, which were bound to Adolin." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "This force drew the attention of the last two Fused. As those were distracted, Shallan slipped over to the base of the bridge, then eased herself down into the beads. She crossed silently beneath the bridge, using precious Stormlight to make herself a safe walking platform with one of the beads she'd found while on Honor's Path.\n\nShe made her way across to the small island platform that represented the Oathgate on this side. Two enormous spren stood above it.\n\nJudging by the shouting on the bridge, Adolin and the others were doing their job. But could Shallan do hers? She stepped up beneath the two sentinels, which stood tall as buildings, reminiscent of statues in armor.\n\nOne mother-of-pearl, the other black with a variegated oily shimmer. Did they guard the Oathgate, or did they-somehow-facilitate its workings?\n\nAt a loss for what else to do, Shallan simply waved her hand. \"Um, hello?\"\n\nSteadily, two heads turned down toward her.\n\nThe air around Venli-once crowded by the spirits of the dead-was now empty save for the single black figure of swirling smoke. She'd missed that one at first, as it was the size of a normal person. It stood near Odium, and she did not know what it represented.\n\nThe second thunderclast dragged arms as long as its body, with hands like hooks. It crossed the field eastward, toward the city walls and the human army of turncoats. Just behind Venli, to the west, the common singers stood arrayed before their ships. They stayed far from the red mist of the Unmade coating the north side of the battlefield.\n\nOdium stood beside Venli, a glowing force of burning gold. The first thunderclast left the city and placed something down on the ground: two of the Fused-gods with lithe bodies and little armor. They skirted the turncoat army, sliding along the rock with an uncanny grace." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What is that they carry?\" Venli asked. \"A gemstone? Is that why we came here? A rock?\"\n\n\"No,\" Odium said. \"That is merely a precaution, a last-minute addition I made to prevent a potential disaster. The prize I claim today is far greater-even more grand than the city itself. The conduit of my freedom. The bane of Roshar. Forward, child. To the gap in the wall. I may need you to speak for me.\"\n\nShe swallowed, then started hiking toward the city. The dark spirit followed, the one of swirling mists, the last who had yet to inhabit a body.\n\nKaladin soared through this place of black heavens, haunted clouds, and a distant sun. Only four of the Fused had chosen to takeoff after him. Adolin would have to deal with the other two.\n\nThe four flew with precision. They used Lashings like Kaladin did, though they didn't seem to be able to vary their speed as much as he could. It took them longer to buildup to greater Lashings, which should have made it easy to stay ahead of them.\n\nBut storms, the way they flew! So graceful. They didn't jerk this way or that, but flowed lithely from one motion to the next. They used their entire bodies to sculpt the wind of their passing and control their flight. Even the Assassin in White hadn't been so fluid as these, so like the winds themselves.\n\nKaladin had claimed the skies, but storms, it looked like he'd moved into territory where someone had a prior entitlement.\n\nI don't have to fight them, he thought. I only have to keep them busy long enough for Shallan to figure out how to activate the portal." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Kaladin Lashed himself upward, toward those strange, too-flat clouds." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He twisted in the air, and found one of the Fused almost upon him-a male with pale white skin swirled through with a single marbling of red, like smoke blown across the cheeks. The creature stabbed its long spear at him, but Kaladin Lashed himself to the side just in time.\n\nLashing wasn't flying, and that was part of its strength. Kaladin didn't have to be facing any specific direction to move in the air. He fell up and slightly to the north, but fought while facing downward, battering away the enemy lance with his harpoon. The Fused's weapon was far longer, with sharpened sides rather than a single fine point. Kaladin's harpoon was at a severe disadvantage.\n\nRight. Time to change that.\n\nAs the Fused rammed the lance upward again, Kaladin reached outwith both hands on his harpoon's haft, holding it sideways. He let the enemy spear pass into the opening between his arms, chest, and harpoon.\n\nHe Lashed his own weapon downward with multiple Lashings. Then he dropped it.\n\nIt slid along the length of the lance and smacked into the Fused's arms. The creature shouted in pain, letting goof his weapon. At the same moment Kaladin dove, canceling all upward Lashings and binding himself downward instead.\n\nThe sudden, jarring change made his stomach lurch and his vision go black. Even with Stormlight, this was almost too much. His ears ringing, he gritted his teeth, riding the momentary loss of sight until-blessedly-his vision returned. He spun in the air, then pulled up and snatched the falling lance as it dropped past him.\n\nThe four Fused swooped after him, more cautious. The wind of his passing chilled the sweat on his face from his near blackout." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Let's... not try that again, Kaladin thought, hefting his new weapon. He'd practiced with things like this in pike walls, but they were normally too long to maneuver in one-on-one combat. Flying would negate that.\n\nThe Fused he'd disarmed swooped down to fetch the harpoon. Kaladin waved his hand toward the others palm upward, then took off toward some nearby dark obsidian mountains, forested on the sides-the direction he and the others had come. Down below, he could see Shallan's illusions engaging the two Fused on the bridge.\n\nEyes forward, Kaladin thought as the four others chased after him. He belonged in the skies with these creatures.\n\nTime to prove it.\n\nPrime Aqasix Yanagawn the First, emperor of all Makabak, paced in the cabin of his ship.\n\nHe was actually starting to feel like an emperor. He wasn't embarrassed talking to the viziers and scions any longer. He understood much of what they discussed now, and didn't jump when someone called him'Your Majesty.\" Remarkably, he was starting to forget that he'd ever been a frightened thief sneaking through the palace.\n\nBut then, even an emperor had limits to his rule.\n\nHe paced back the other way. Regal robes-of Azish patterns-weighed him down, along with the Imperial Yuanazixin: a fancy hat with sweeping sides. He'd have taken the thing off, but he felt he needed its authority when talking to his three most important advisors.\n\n\"Lift thinks we should have stayed,\" he said. \"War is coming to Thaylen City.\"\n\n\"We're merely protecting our fleet from the storm,\" Noura said.\n\n\"Pardon, Vizier, but that's a load of chull dung, and you know it. We left because you're worried that Kholin is being manipulated by the enemy.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"That is not the only reason,\" Scion Unoqua said. He was an old man with a full paunch. \"We have always been skeptical of the Lost Radiants. The powers that Dalinar Kholin wishes to harness are extremely dangerous, as now proven by the translations of an ancient record!\"\n\n\"Lift says-\" Yanagawn said.\n\n\"Lift?\" Noura said. \"You listen to her far too much, Your Imperial Majesty.\"\n\n\"She's smart.\"\n\n\"She once tried to eat your cummerbund.\"\n\n\"She... thought it sounded like a type of dessert.\" Yanagawn took a deep breath. \"Besides, she's not that kind of smart. She's the other kind.\"\n\n\"What other kind, Your Imperial Majesty?\" Vizier Dalksi asked. Her hair was powder white, peeking out beneath her formal headdress.\n\n\"The kind that knows when it's wrong to betray a friend. I think we should go back. Am I emperor or not?\"\n\n\"You are emperor,\" Noura said. \"But, Your Majesty, remember your lessons. The thing that separates us from the monarchies of the east-and the chaos they suffer-is that our emperor is held in check. Azir can, and will, withstand a change in dynasty. Your power is absolute, but you do not exercise it all. You must not.\"\n\n\"You were chosen,\" Unoqua said, \"by Yaezir himself to lead-\"\n\n\"I was chosen,\" Yanagawn cut in, \"because nobody would shed a tear if the Assassin in White came for me! Let's not play games, all right?\"\n\n\"You performed a miracle,\" Unoqua said.\n\n\"Lift performed a miracle. Using powers you now say are too dangerous to trust!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The three-two viziers, one scion-looked to each other. Unoqua was their religious leader, but Noura had most seniority by year of passing the tests for master office, which she'd done-remarkably-at age twelve.\n\nYanagawn stopped by the cabin window. Outside, waves chopped, churning, rocking their ship. His smaller ship had met up with the main fleet, then joined them in taking shelter in Vtlar Cove, along the Thaylen coast. But reports via spanreed said that the Everstorm had stopped near Thaylen City.\n\nA knock came at the door. Yanagawn let Dalksi-least senior, despite her age-call admittance. Yanagawn settled in his regal chair as a guardsman with light brown skin entered. Yanagawn thought he recognized the man, who held a cloth to the side of his face and winced as he gave the formal bow of admittance to the emperor.\n\n\"Vono?\" Noura asked. \"What happened to your charge? You were to keep her busy and distracted, yes?\"\n\n\"I was, Your Grace,\" Vono said. \"Until she kicked me in my spheres and stuffed me under the bed. Um, Your Grace. Don't right know how she moved me. She's not real big, that one....\"\n\nLift? Yanagawn thought. He almost cried out, demanding answers, but that would have shamed this man. Yanagawn held himself back with difficulty, and Noura nodded to him in appreciation of a lesson learned.\n\n\"When was this?\" Noura asked.\n\n\"Right before we left,\" the guard said. \"Sorry, Your Grace. I've been down since then, only now recovered.\"\n\nYanagawn turned toward Noura. Surely now she would seethe importance of returning. The storm had yet to advance. They could go back if..." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Another figure approached the door, a woman in the robes and pattern of a second-level scribe, seventh circle." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She entered and quickly gave the formal bows to Yanagawn, so hasty she forgot the third gesture of subservient obedience.\n\n\"Viziers,\" she said, bowing in turn to them, then to Unoqua. \"News from the city!\"\n\n\"Good news?\" Noura asked hopefully.\n\n\"The Alethi have turned against the Thaylens, and now seek to conquer them! They've been allied with the parshmen all along. Your Grace, by fleeing, we have narrowly avoided a trap!\"\n\n\"Quickly,\" Noura said. \"Separate our ships from any that bear Alethi troops. We must not be caught unaware!\"\n\nThey left, abandoning Yanagawn to the care of a dozen young scribes who were next inline for basking in his presence. He settled into his seat, worried and afraid, feeling a sickness in his gut. The Alethi, traitors?\n\nLift had been wrong. He had been wrong.\n\nYaezir bless them. This really was the end of days.\n\nWe are the gatekeepers, the two enormous spren said to Shallan, speaking with voices that overlapped, as if one. Though their mouths did not move, the voices reverberated through Shallan. Lightweaver, you have no permission to use this portal.\n\n\"But I need to get through,\" Shallan cried up to them. \"I have Stormlight to pay!\"\n\nYour payment will be refused. We are locked by the word of the parent.\n\n\"Your parent? Who?\"\n\nThe parent is dead now.\n\n\"So...\"\n\nWe are locked. Travel to and from Shadesmar was prohibited during the parent's last days. We are bound to obey." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Behind Shallan, on the bridge, Adolin had devised a clever tactic." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He acted like an illusion.\n\nHer false people had instructions to act like they were fighting-though without her direct attention, that meant they just stood around and slashed at the air. To avoid revealing himself, Adolin had chosen to do the same, slashing about with his harpoon randomly. Pattern and Syl did likewise, while the two Fused hovered overhead. One held her arm, which had been hit-but now seemed to be healing. They knew someone in that mass was real, but they couldn't ascertain who.\n\nShallan's time was short. She looked backup at the gatekeepers. \"Please. The other Oathgate-the one at Kholinar-let me through.\"\n\nImpossible, they said. We are bound by Honor, by rules spren cannot break. This portal is closed.\n\n\"Then why did you let those others through? The army that stood around here earlier?\"\n\nThe souls of the dead? They did not need our portal. They were called by the enemy, pulled along ancient paths to waiting hosts. You living cannot do the same. You must seek the perpendicularity to transfer. The enormous spren cocked their heads in concert. We are apologetic. We have been... alone very long. We would enjoy granting passage to men again. But we cannot do that which was forbidden.\n\nSzeth of the Skybreakers hovered far above the battlefield.\n\n\"The Alethi have changed sides, aboshi?\" Szeth asked.\n\n\"They have seen the truth,\" Nin said, hovering beside him. Only the two of them watched; Szeth did not know where the rest of the Skybreakers had gone.\n\nNearby, the Everstorm rumbled its discontent. Red lightning rippled across the surface, passing from one cloud to the next." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"All along,\" Szeth said, \"this world belonged to the parshmen. My people watched not for the return of an invading enemy, but for the masters of the house.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Nin said.\n\n\"And you sought to stop them.\"\n\n\"I knew what must happen if they returned.\" Nin turned toward him. \"Who has jurisdiction over this land, Szeth-son-Neturo? A man can rule his home until the citylord demands his taxes. The citylord controls his lands until the highlord, in turn, comes to him for payment. But the highlord must answer to the highprince, when war is called in his lands. And the king? He... must answer to God.\"\n\n\"You said God was dead.\"\n\n\"A god is dead. Another won the war by right of conquest. The original masters of this land have returned, as you so aptly made metaphor, with the keys to the house. So tell me, Szeth-son-Neturo-he who is about to swear the Third Ideal-whose law should the Skybreakers follow? That of humans, or that of the real owners of this land?\"\n\nThere seemed to be no choice. Nin's logic was sound. No choice at all...\n\nDon't be stupid, the sword said. Let's go fight those guys.\n\n\"The parshmen? They are the rightful rulers of the land,\" Szeth said.\n\nRightful? Who has aright to land? Humans are always claiming things. But nobody asks the things, now do they? Well, nobody owns me. Vivenna told me. I'm my own sword.\n\n\"I have no choice.\"\n\nReally? Didn't you tell me you spent a thousand years following the instructions of a rock?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"More than seven years, sword-nimi. And I didn't follow the rock, but the words of the one who held it. I...\"\n\n... Had no choice?\n\nBut it had always been nothing more than a rock.\n\nKaladin swooped downward and passed above the treetops, rattling the glass leaves, sending a spray of broken shards behind himself. He turned upward with the slope of the mountain, adding another Lashing to his speed, then another.\n\nWhen he passed the treeline, he Lashed himself closer to the rock, skimming with obsidian only inches from his face. He used his arms to sculpt the wind around himself, angling toward a crack through the glossy black rock where two mountains met.\n\nAlive with Light and wind, he didn't care if the Fused were gaining on him or not.\n\nLet them watch.\n\nHis angle was wrong to get through the crack, so Kaladin Lashed himself back away from the mountain slope in an enormous loop, continuously changing his Lashings one after another. He made a circle in the air, then darted past the Fused and straight through the crack, close enough to the walls that he could feel them pass.\n\nHe broke out the other side, exhilarated. Should he have run out of Stormlight by now? He didn't use it up as quickly as he had during his early months training.\n\nKaladin dove along the slopes as three Fused popped out of the crack to follow him. He led them around the base of the obsidian mountain, then wound back toward the Oathgate to check on Shallan and the others. Ashe approached, he let himself drop among the trees, still moving at incredible speed. He oriented himself as if he were diving through the chasms. Dodging these trees wasn't so different from that." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He wove between them, using his body more than Lashings to control his direction. His wake caused a melody of breaking glass. He exploded free of the forest, and found the fourth Fused-the one with his harpoon-waiting. The creature attacked, but Kaladin dodged and tore across the ground until he was passing over the sea of beads.\n\nA quick glance showed him Shallan on the platform, waving her hands over her head-the prearranged signal that she needed more time.\n\nKaladin continued out over the sea, and beads reacted to his Stormlight, rattling and surging like a wave behind him. The last Fused slowed to hover in place, and the other three slowly emerged from the forest.\n\nKaladin spun in another loop, beads rising in the air behind him like a column of water. He curved in an arc and came in toward the harpoon-wielding Fused. Kaladin slapped the parshman's weapon aside, then swung the butt of his own lance up, catching the harpoon on the haft while he kicked his enemy in the chest.\n\nThe harpoon went upward. The Fused went backward.\n\nThe creature pulled himself to a stop in the air with a Lashing, then looked down at his hands, dumbfounded as Kaladin caught the harpoon in his freehand. The disarmed enemy barked something, then shook his head and took out his sword. He glided backward to join the other three, who approached with fluttering robes.\n\nOne of these-the male with the white face swirled with red-moved forward alone, then pointed at Kaladin with his lance and said something.\n\n\"I don't speak your language,\" Kaladin called back. \"But if that was a challenge, you against me, I accept. Gladly.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "At that moment, his Stormlight ran out.\n\nNavani finally got the rock unwedged, and shoved it out of the remnants of the doorway. Other stones fell around it, opening a path out onto the wall.\n\nWhat was left of it.\n\nAbout fifteen feet from where she stood, the wall ended in a ragged, broken gap. She coughed, then tucked back a lock of hair that had escaped her braid. They'd run for cover inside one of the stone guard towers along the wall, but one side had collapsed in the shaking.\n\nIt had fallen on the three soldiers who had come to protect the queen. The poor souls. Behind, Fen led her consort-who nursed a cut scalp-out over the rubble. Two other scribes had taken shelter with Navani and the queen, but most of the admirals had run in the other direction, taking shelter in the next guard tower along.\n\nThat tower was now missing. The monster had swept it away. Now the creature stomped across the plain outside, though Navani couldn't see what had drawn its attention.\n\n\"The stairway,\" Fen said, pointing. \"Looks like it survived.\"\n\nThe stairway down was fully enclosed in stone, and would lead into a small guard chamber at the bottom. Maybe they could find soldiers to help the wounded and search the rubble for survivors. Navani pulled open the door, letting Fen and Kmakl head down first. Navani moved to follow, but hesitated.\n\nDamnation, that sight beyond the wall was mesmerizing. The red lightning storm. The two monsters of stone. And the boiling, churning red mist along the right coast. It had no distinct shape, but somehow gave the impression of charging horses with the flesh ripped away." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "One of the Unmade, certainly. An ancient spren of Odium. A thing beyond time and history. Here.\n\nA company of soldiers had just finished pouring into the city through the gap. Another formed up outside to enter next. Navani felt a growing chill as she looked at them.\n\nRed eyes.\n\nGasping softly, she left the stairwell and stumbled along the wall, reaching the broken stone edge. Oh, dear Almighty, no...\n\nThe ranks outside split, making way fora single parshwoman. Navani squinted, trying to see what was so special about her. One of the Fused? Behind her, the red mist surged, sending tendrils to weave among the men-including one wearing Shardplate, riding a brilliant white stallion. Amaram had changed sides.\n\nHe joined an overwhelming force of Voidbringers in all shapes and sizes. How could they fight this?\n\nHow could anyone ever fight this?\n\nNavani fell to her knees above the broken edge of the wall. And then she noticed something else. Something incongruous, something her mind refused-at first-to accept. A solitary figure had somehow gotten around the troops who had already entered the city. He now picked his way across the rubble, wearing a blue uniform, carrying a book tucked under his arm.\n\nUnaided and defenseless, Dalinar Kholin stepped into the gap in the broken wall, and there faced the nightmare alone." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "-From the Eila Stele\n\nDalinar stepped onto the rubble, boots scraping stone. The air felt too still out here near the red storm. Stagnant. How could the air be so motionless?\n\nAmaram's army hesitated outside the gap. Some men had already gotten in, but the bulk had been forming up to wait their turn. When you rushed a city like this, you wanted to be careful not to push your own forces too hard from behind, lest you crush them up against the enemy.\n\nThese kept uneven ranks, snarling, eyes red. More telling, they ignored the wealth at their feet. Afield of spheres and gemstones-all dun-that had been thrown out onto this plain by the thunderclast that destroyed the reserve.\n\nThey wanted blood instead. Dalinar could taste their lust for the fight, the challenge. What held them back?\n\nTwin thunderclasts stomped toward the wall. A red haze drifted among the men. Images of war and death. A deadly storm. Dalinar faced it alone. One man. All that remained of a broken dream.\n\n\"So...\" a sudden voice said from his right. \"What's the plan?\"\n\nDalinar frowned, then looked down to find a Reshi girl with longhair, dressed in a simple shirt and trousers.\n\n\"Lift?\" Dalinar asked in Azish. \"Didn't you leave?\"\n\n\"Sure did. What's wrong with your army?\"\n\n\"They're his now.\"\n\n\"Did you forget to feed them?\"\n\nDalinar glanced at the soldiers, standing in ranks that felt more like packs than they did true battle formations. \"Perhaps I didn't try hard enough.\"\n\n\"Were you... thinkin'you'd fight them all on your own?\" Lift said. \"With a book?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"There is someone else for me to fight here.\"\n\n\"... With a book?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\nShe shook her head. \"Sure, all right. Why not? What do you want me to do?\"\n\nThe girl didn't match the conventional ideal of a Knight Radiant. Not even five feet tall, thin and wiry, she looked more urchin than soldier.\n\nShe was also all he had.\n\n\"Do you have a weapon?\" he asked.\n\n\"Nope. Can't read.\"\n\n\"Can't...\" Dalinar looked down at his book. \"I meant areal weapon, Lift.\"\n\n\"Oh! Yeah, I've got one a those.\" She thrust her hand to the side. Mist formed into a small, glittering Shardblade.\n\n... Or no, it was just a pole. A silver pole with a rudimentary crossguard.\n\nLift shrugged. \"Wyndle doesn't like hurting people.\"\n\nDoesn't like... Dalinar blinked. What kind of world did he live in where swords didn't like hurting people?\n\n\"A Fused escaped from this city a short time ago,\" Dalinar said, \"carrying an enormous ruby. I don't know why they wanted it, and I'd rather not find out. Can you steal it back?\"\n\n\"Sure. Easy.\"\n\n\"You'll find it with a Fused who can move with a power similar to your own. A woman.\"\n\n\"Like I said. Easy.\"\n\n\"Easy? I think you might find-\"\n\n\"Relax, grandpa. Steal the rock. I can do that.\" She took a deep breath, then exploded with Stormlight. Her eyes turned a pearly, glowing white. \"It's just us two, then?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Right. Good luck with the army.\"\n\nDalinar looked back at the soldiers, where a figure materialized, wearing gold, holding a scepter like a cane.\n\n\"It's not the army that worries me,\" Dalinar said. But Lift had already scampered away, hugging the wall and running quickly to round the outside of the army.\n\nOdium strolled up to Dalinar, trailed by a handful of Fused-plus the woman Dalinar had sucked into his visions-and a shadowy spren that looked like it was made of twisting smoke. What was that?\n\nOdium didn't address Dalinar at first, but instead turned to his Fused. \"Tell Yushah I want her to stay out here and guard the prison. Kai-garnis did well destroying the wall; tell her to return to the city and climb toward the Oathgate. If the Tisark can't secure it, she is to destroy the device and recover its gemstones. We can rebuild it as long as the spren aren't compromised.\"\n\nTwo Fused left, each running toward one of the towering thunderclasts. Odium placed both hands on the top of his scepter and smiled at Dalinar. \"Well, my friend. Here we are, and the time has arrived. Are you ready?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Dalinar said.\n\n\"Good, good. Let us begin.\"\n\nThe two Fused hovered near Adolin, out of easy reach, admiring Shallan's illusory handiwork. He did his best to blend in, waving his harpoon around crazily. He wasn't sure where Syl had gone, but Pattern seemed to be enjoying himself, humming pleasantly and swinging a glass branch." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "One of the Fused nudged the other, then pointed at Shallan, whom they'd just noticed. Neither appeared worried that she'd open the Oathgate-which was a bad sign. What did they know about the device that Adolin's team did not?\n\nThe Fused turned from Shallan and continued a conversation in a language Adolin couldn't understand. One pointed at each illusion in turn, then thrust with his spear. The other shook her head, and Adolin could almost interpret her answer. We tried stabbing each one. They keep mixing about, so it's hard to keep track.\n\nInstead, the female took out a knife and cut her hand, then flung it toward the illusions. Orange blood fell through the illusions, leaving no stain, but splattered against Adolin's cheek. Adolin felt his heart flutter, and he tried to covertly wipe the blood off, but the female gestured toward him with a satisfied grin. The male saluted her with a finger to his head, then lowered his lance and flew straight toward Adolin.\n\nDamnation.\n\nAdolin scrambled away, passing through an illusion of Captain Notum and causing it to diffuse. It formed back together, then blew apart a second later as the Fused soared through it, lance pointed at Adolin's back.\n\nAdolin spun and flung his harpoon up to block, deflecting the lance, but the Fused still smashed into him, tossing him backward. Adolin hit the stone bridge hard, smacking his head, seeing stars.\n\nVision swimming, he reached for his harpoon, but the Fused slapped the weapon away with the butt of his lance. The creature then alighted softly on the bridge, billowing robes settling.\n\nAdolin yanked out his belt knife, then forced himself to his feet, unsteady. The Fused lowered its lance to a two-handed, underarm grip, then waited." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Knife against spear. Adolin breathed in and out, worried about the other Fused-who had gone for Shallan. He tried to dredge up Zahel's lessons, remembering days on the practice yard running this exact exchange. Jakamav had refused the training, laughing at the idea that a Shardbearer would ever fight knife to spear.\n\nAdolin flipped the knife to grip it point down, then held it forward so he could deflect the spear thrusts. Zahel whispered to him. Wait until the enemy thrusts with the spear, deflect it or dodge it, then grab the spear with your left hand. Pull yourself close enough to ram the knife into the enemy's neck.\n\nRight. He could do that.\n\nHe'd'died\" seven times out often doing it against Zahel, of course.\n\nWinds bless you anyway, you old axehound, he thought. Adolin stepped in, testing, and waited for the thrust. When it came, Adolin shoved the lance's point aside with his knife, then grabbed at-\n\nThe enemy floated backward in an unnatural motion, too fast-no ordinary human could have moved in such away. Adolin stumbled, trying to reassess. The Fused idly brought the lance back around, then fluidly rammed it right through Adolin's stomach.\n\nAdolin gasped at the sharp spike of pain, doubling over, feeling blood on his hands. The Fused seemed almost bored as he yanked the lance out, the tip glistening red with Adolin's blood, then dropped the weapon. The creature landed and instead unsheathed a wicked-looking sword. He advanced, slapped away Adolin's weak attempt at a parry, and raised the sword to strike.\n\nSomeone leaped onto the Fused from behind." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A figure in tattered clothing, a scrabbling, angry woman with brown vines instead of skin and scratched-out eyes. Adolin gaped as his deadeye raked long nails across the Fused's face, causing him to stumble backward, humming of all things. He rammed his sword into the spren's chest, but it didn't faze her in the least. She just let out a screech like the one she'd made at Adolin when he'd tried to summon his Blade, and kept attacking.\n\nAdolin shook himself. Flee, idiot!\n\nHolding his wounded gut-each step causing a shock of pain-he lurched across the bridge toward Shallan.\n\nEmploying subterfuge will not deceive us or weaken our resolve, Lightweaver, the guardians said. For indeed, this is not a matter of decision, but one of nature. The path remains closed.\n\nShallan let the illusion melt around her, then slumped down, exhausted. She'd tried pleading, cajoling, yelling, and even Lightweaving. It was no use. She had failed. Her illusions on the bridge were wavering and vanishing, their Stormlight running out.\n\nThrough them shot a Fused trailing dark energy, lance leveled directly toward Shallan. She dove to the side, barely getting out of the way. The creature passed in a whoosh, then slowed and turned for another pass.\n\nShallan leaped to her feet first. \"Pattern!\" she yelled, sweeping her hands forward by instinct, trying to summon the Blade. Apart of her was impressed that washer reaction. Adolin would be proud.\n\nIt didn't work, of course. Pattern shouted in apology from the bridge, panicked. And yet in that moment-facing the enemy bearing down, its lance pointed at her heart-Shallan felt something. Pattern, or something like him, just beyond her mental reach. On the other side, and if she could just tug on it, feed it..." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Partner with the writer, carry on with the story.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, knights radiant\nAuthor: Brandon Sanderson\nTitle: Oathbringer\nChapter: 120" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Honor was alive then. We are something different. His remnants, your soul, my will.\"\n\nKaladin Stormblessed stepped up beside Dalinar before the rubble of the wall, and Shallan Davar stood on the other side. Jasnah emerged from the city and surveyed the scene with a critical air, while Renarin popped out behind her, then cried out and ran for Adolin. He grabbed his older brother in an embrace, then gasped. Adolin was wounded?\n\nGood lad, Dalinar thought as Renarin immediately set to healing his brother.\n\nTwo more people crossed the battlefield. Lift he had anticipated. But the assassin? Szeth scooped the silvery sheath off the ground and slammed his black Shardblade into it, before stepping up to join Dalinar.\n\nSkybreaker, Dalinar thought, counting them off. Edgedancer. That was seven.\n\nHe would have expected three more.\n\nThere, the Stormfather said. Behind your niece.\n\nTwo more people appeared in the shadow of the wall. A large, powerful man with an impressive physique, and a woman with long, dark hair. Their dark skin marked them as Makabaki, perhaps Azish, but their eyes were wrong.\n\nI know them, the Stormfather said, sounding surprised. I know them from long, long ago. Memories of days when I did not fully live.\n\nDalinar, you are in the presence of divinities.\n\n\"I've grown accustomed to it,\" Dalinar said, turning back toward the field. Odium had retreated into nothingness, though his Fused remained, as did most of the troops, and one strange spren-the one like black smoke. Beyond it, of course, the Thrill still encompassed the north side of the landing, near the water." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Amaram had ten thousand men, and maybe half of those had made it into the city so far." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They had wilted before Dalinar's display, but now...\n\nWait.\n\nThose two only make nine, he thought to the Stormfather. Something told him there should be one more.\n\nI don't know. Perhaps they haven't been found yet. Regardless, even with the bond you are just one man. Radiants are not immortal. How do you face this army?\n\n\"Dalinar?\" Kaladin said. \"Orders, sir?\"\n\nThe enemy ranks were recovering. They lifted weapons, eyes glowing deep red. Amaram stirred as well, some twenty feet away. The Thrill had Dalinar most worried, however. He knew what it could do.\n\nHe glanced down at his arm, and noticed something. The lightning that had struck him earlier, shredding The Way of Kings, had broken his arm fabrial. The clasp was undone, and Dalinar could seethe tiny gemstones Navani had placed to power it.\n\n\"Sir?\" Kaladin asked again.\n\n\"The enemy is trying to crush this city, Captain,\" Dalinar said, lowering his arm. \"We're going to hold it against his forces.\"\n\n\"Seven Radiants?\" Jasnah said, skeptical. \"Uncle, that seems a tall order, even if one of us is-apparently-the storming Assassin in White.\"\n\n\"I serve Dalinar Kholin,\" Szeth-son-son-Vallano whispered. His face, for some reason, was streaked with grey. \"I cannot know truth, so I follow one who does.\"\n\n\"Whatever we do,\" Shallan said, \"we should do it quickly. Before those soldiers-\"\n\n\"Renarin!\" Dalinar barked.\n\n\"Sir!\" Renarin said, scrambling forward." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"We need to holdout until troops arrive from Urithiru. Fen doesn't have the numbers to fight alone. Get to the Oathgate, stop that thunderclast up therefrom destroying it, and open the portal.\"\n\n\"Sir!\" Renarin saluted.\n\n\"Shallan, we don't have an army yet,\" Dalinar said. \"Lightweave one up for us, and keep these soldiers busy. They're consumed by a bloodlust that I suspect will make them easier to distract. Jasnah, the city we're defending happens to have a big storming hole in its wall. Can you hold that hole and stop anyone who tries to get through?\"\n\nShe nodded, thoughtful.\n\n\"What about me?\" Kaladin asked.\n\nDalinar pointed at Amaram, who was climbing to his feet in his Shardplate. \"He's going to try to kill me for what I do next, and I could use a bodyguard. As I recall, you have a score to settle with the highlord.\"\n\n\"You could say that.\"\n\n\"Lift, I believe I already gave you an order. Take the assassin and get me that ruby. Together, we hold this city until Renarin returns with troops. Any questions?\"\n\n\"Um...\" Lift said. \"Could you maybe... tell me whereto get something to eat...?\"\n\nDalinar glanced at her. Something to eat? \"There... should be a supply dump just inside the wall.\"\n\n\"Thanks!\"\n\nDalinar sighed, then started walking toward the water.\n\n\"Sir!\" Kaladin called. \"Where are you going?\"\n\n\"The enemy brought a very big stick to this battle, Captain. I'm going to take it away.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "-From The Way of Kings, postscript\n\nKaladin rose into the sky, alive with Stormlight.\n\nBelow him, Dalinar walked toward the red mist. Though tendrils of it moved among the soldiers of Amaram's army, the bulk of it swirled closer to the coast, to the right of the bay and the destroyed docks.\n\nStorms, Kaladin felt good to be in the real world again. Even with the Everstorm dominating the sun, this place felt so much more bright than Shadesmar. A group of windspren dodged around him, though the air was relatively still. Perhaps they were the ones who had come to him on the other side, the ones he had failed.\n\nKaladin, Syl said. You don't need another reason to berate yourself.\n\nShe was right. Storms, he could be down on himself sometimes. Was that the flaw that had prevented him from speaking the Words of the Fourth Ideal?\n\nFor some reason, Syl sighed. Oh, Kaladin.\n\n\"We'll talk about it later,\" he said.\n\nFor now, he'd been given a second chance to protect Dalinar Kholin. Stormlight raging inside of him, the Sylspear a comfortable weight in his hand, he Lashed himself downward and crashed to the stones near Amaram.\n\nThe highlord, in turn, fell to his knees.\n\nWhat? Kaladin thought. Amaram was coughing. He tipped his head back, faceplate up, and groaned.\n\nHad he just swallowed something?\n\nAdolin prodded at his stomach. Beneath the bloodstained rip, he felt only smooth, new skin. Not even a hint of an ache.\n\nFora time, he'd been sure he would die." }, { "from": "human", "value": "He'd been there before." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Months ago, he'd felt it when Sadeas had withdrawn, leaving the Kholin troops alone and surrounded on the Shattered Plains. This had been different. Staring up at that black sky and those unnatural clouds, feeling suddenly, appallingly fragile...\n\nAnd then light. His father-the great man Adolin could never match-somehow embodying the Almighty himself. Adolin couldn't help feeling that he hadn't been worthy to step into that light.\n\nHere he was anyway.\n\nThe Radiants broke apart to do Dalinar's bidding, though Shallan knelt to check on Adolin. \"How do you feel?\"\n\n\"Do you realize how fond I was of this jacket?\"\n\n\"Oh, Adolin.\"\n\n\"Really, Shallan. Surgeons should take more care with the clothing they cut open. If a man's going to live, he'll want that shirt. And if he dies... well, he should at least be well dressed on his deathbed.\"\n\nShe smiled, then glanced over her shoulder toward the troops with red eyes.\n\n\"Go,\" he said. \"I'll be fine. Save the city. Be Radiant, Shallan.\"\n\nShe kissed him, then turned and stood. That white clothing seemed to glow, the red hair a striking swatch, as Stormlight rose from her. Pattern appeared as a Shardblade with a faint, almost invisible latticework running up the length. She wove her power, and an army climbed from the ground around her.\n\nIn Urithiru, she'd made an army of a score to distract the Unmade. Now, hundreds of illusions rose around her: soldiers, shopkeepers, washwomen, scribes, all drawn from her pages. They glowed brilliantly, Light streaming from them-as if each were a Knight Radiant." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Adolin climbed to his feet, and came face-to-face with an illusion of himself wearing a Kholin uniform. The illusory Adolin glowed with Stormlight and floated a few inches off the ground. She'd made him a Windrunner.\n\nI... I can't take that. He turned toward the city. His father had been focused on the Radiants, and had neglected to give Adolin a specific duty. So maybe he could help the defenders inside.\n\nAdolin picked his way across the rubble and through the broken wall. Jasnah stood right inside, hands on hips, as if she were surveying a mess left by rampaging children. The gap opened into an unremarkable city square dominated by barracks and storehouses. Fallen troops wearing either Thaylen or Sadeas uniforms indicated a recent clash here, but most of the enemy seemed to have moved on. Shouts and clangs sounded from nearby streets.\n\nAdolin reached fora discarded sword, then paused, and-feeling a fool-summoned his Shardblade. He braced himself fora scream, but none came, and the Blade fell into his hand after ten heartbeats.\n\n\"I'm sorry,\" he said, lifting the glistening weapon. \"And thank you.\"\n\nHe headed toward one of the nearby clashes, where men were shouting for help.\n\nSzeth of the Skybreakers envied Kaladin, the one they called Stormblessed, in the honor of protecting Dalinar Kholin. But of course, he would not complain. He had chosen his oath.\n\nAnd he would do as his master demanded.\n\nPhantoms appeared, created from Stormlight by the woman with the red hair. These were the shadows in the darkness, the ones he heard whispering of his murders. How she brought them to life, he did not know. He landed near the Reshi Surgebinder, Lift." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"So,\" she said to him. \"How do we find that ruby?\"\n\nSzeth pointed with his sheathed Shardblade toward the ships docked in the bay. \"The creature carrying it ran back that way.\" The parshmen still clustered there, deep within the shadow of the Everstorm.\n\n\"Figures,\" Lift said, then glanced at him. \"You aren't gonna try to eat me again, right?\"\n\nDon't be silly, said the sword in Szeth's hand. You aren't evil. You're nice. And I don't eat people.\n\n\"I will not draw the sword,\" Szeth said, \"unless you are already dead and I decide to accept death myself.\"\n\n\"Greaaaaaaaaaaat,\" Lift said.\n\nYou're supposed to contradict me, Szeth, the sword said, when I say I don't eat people. Vasher always did. I think he was joking. Anyway, as people who have carried me go, you aren't very good at this.\n\n\"No,\" Szeth said. \"I am not good at being a person. It is... a failing of mine.\"\n\nIt's all right! Be happy. Looks like there's a lot of evil to slay today! That's greaaaaaaaaaaat, right?\n\nThen the sword started humming.\n\nThe brands on Kaladin's head seemed afresh pain as he dove to strike Amaram. But Amaram recovered quickly from his fit, then slammed his faceplate down. He rebuffed Kaladin's attack with an armored forearm.\n\nThose red eyes cast a crimson glow through the helm's slit. \"You should thank me, boy.\"\n\n\"Thank you?\" Kaladin said. \"For what? For showing me that a person could be even more loathsome than the petty lighteyes who ruled my hometown?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I created you, spearman. I forged you.\" Amaram pointed at Kaladin with the wide, hook-ended Shardblade. Then he extended his left hand, summoning a second Blade. Long and curved, the back edge rippled like flowing waves.\n\nKaladin knew that Blade well. He'd won it-saving Amaram's life-then refused to bear it. For when he looked at his reflection in the silvery metal, all he could see were the friends it had killed. So much death and pain, caused by that rippling Blade.\n\nIt seemed a symbol of all he'd lost, particularly held now in the hand of the man who had lied to him. The man who had taken Tien away.\n\nAmaram presented a sword stance, holding two Blades. One taken in bloodshed, at the cost of Kaladin's crew. The other, Oathbringer. A sword given to ransom Bridge Four.\n\nDon't be intimidated! Syl whispered in Kaladin's mind. History notwithstanding, he's only a man. And you're a Knight Radiant.\n\nThe vambrace of Amaram's armor pulsed suddenly on his forearm, as if something were pushing it from beneath. The red glow from the helm deepened, and Kaladin got the distinct impression of something enveloping Amaram.\n\nA black smoke. The same that Kaladin had seen surrounding Queen Aesudan at the end, as they'd fled the palace. Other sections of Amaram's armor began to rattle or pulse, and he suddenly moved with a violent burst of speed, swinging with one Shardblade, then the other.\n\nDalinar slowed as he approached the main core of the Thrill. The red mist churned and boiled here, nearly solid. He saw familiar faces reflected in it. He watched the old highprince Kalanor fall from the heights of a rock formation. He saw himself fight alone on afield of stone after a rockslide. He watched as he caught the claw of a chasmfiend on the Shattered Plains." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He could hear the Thrill. A thrumming, insistent, warming pulse. Almost like the beating of a drum.\n\n\"Hello, old friend,\" Dalinar whispered, then stepped into the red mist.\n\nShallan stood with arms outstretched. Stormlight expanded from heron the ground, a pool of liquid light, radiant mist swirling above it. It became a gateway. From it, her collection emerged.\n\nEvery person she'd ever sketched-from the maids in her father's house to the honorspren who had held Syl captive-grew from Stormlight. Men and women, children and grandparents. Soldiers and scribes. Mothers and scouts, kings and slaves.\n\nMmm, Pattern said as a sword in her hand. MMMMMMM.\n\n\"I've lost these,\" Shallan said as Yalb the sailor climbed from the mist and waved to her. He drew a glowing Shardspear from the air. \"I lost these pictures!\"\n\nYou are close to them, Pattern said. Close to the realm of thought... and beyond. All the people you've Connected to, over the years...\n\nHer brothers emerged. She'd buried worries about them in the back of her mind. Held by the Ghostbloods... No word from any spanreed she tried...\n\nHer father stepped from the Light. And her mother.\n\nThe illusions immediately started to fail, melting back to Light. Then, someone seized her by the left hand.\n\nShallan gasped. Forming from mist was... was Veil? With long straight black hair, white clothing, brown eyes. Wiser than Shallan-and more focused. Capable of working on small pieces when Shallan grew overwhelmed by the large scale of her work." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Another hand took Shallan's on the right. Radiant, in glowing garnet Shardplate, tall, with braided hair. Reserved and cautious. She nodded to Shallan with a steady, determined look.\n\nOthers boiled at Shallan's feet, trying to crawl from the Stormlight, their glowing hands grabbing at her legs.\n\n\"... No,\" Shallan whispered.\n\nThis was enough. She had created Veil and Radiant to be strong when she was weak. She squeezed their hands tight, then hissed out slowly. The other versions of Shallan retreated into the Stormlight.\n\nThen, farther out, figures by the hundred surged from the ground and raised weapons at the enemy.\n\nAdolin, now accompanied by some two dozen soldiers, charged through the streets of the Low Ward.\n\n\"There!\" one of his men shouted with a thick Thaylen accent. \"Brightlord!\" He pointed toward a group of enemy soldiers disappearing down an alley back toward the wall.\n\n\"Damnation,\" Adolin said, waving his troops to follow as he gave chase. Jasnah was alone in that direction, trying to hold the gap. He charged down the alleyway to-\n\nA soldier with red eyes suddenly hurtled through the air overhead. Adolin ducked, worried about Fused, but it was an ordinary soldier. The unfortunate man crashed into a rooftop. What on Roshar?\n\nAs they approached the end of the alleyway, another body smashed into the wall right by the opening. Gripping his Shardblade, Adolin peeked around the corner, expecting to find another stone monster like the one that had climbed into the Ancient Ward.\n\nInstead, he found only Jasnah Kholin, looking completely nonplussed. Aglow faded around her, different from the smoke of her Stormlight. Like geometric shapes outlining her..." }, { "from": "human", "value": "All right then." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Jasnah didn't need help. Adolin instead waved for his men to follow the sounds of battle to the right. There they found a small group of beleaguered Thaylen soldiers backed up against the base of the wall, facing a much larger force of men in green uniforms.\n\nWell. This Adolin could fix.\n\nHe waved his own soldiers back, then charged the enemy in Smokestance, sweeping with his Shardblade. The enemy had packed in close to try to get at their prey, and had a hard time adjusting to the miniature storm that crashed into them from behind.\n\nAdolin stepped through the sequence of swipes, feeling immense satisfaction at finally being able to do something. The Thaylens let out a cheer as he dropped the last group of enemies, red eyes going black as they burned out. His satisfaction lasted until, glancing down at the corpses, he was struck by how human they looked.\n\nHe'd spent years fighting Parshendi. He didn't think he'd actually killed another Alethi since... well, he couldn't remember.\n\nSadeas. Don't forget Sadeas.\n\nFifty men dead at his feet, and some three dozen killed while gathering his other troops. Storms... after feeling so useless in Shadesmar, now this. How much of his reputation was him, and how much of it was-and had always been-the sword?\n\n\"Prince Adolin?\" a voice called in Alethi. \"Your Highness!\"\n\n\"Kdralk?\" Adolin said as a figure emerged from the Thaylens. The queen's son had seen better days. His eyebrows were bloodied from a cut across his forehead. His uniform was torn, and there was a bandage on his upper arm." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"My mother and father,\" Kdralk said." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"They're trapped on the wall a little farther down. We were pushing to reach them, but we got cornered.\"\n\n\"Right. Let's move, then.\"\n\nJasnah stepped over a corpse. Her Blade vanished in a puff of Stormlight, and Ivory appeared next to her, his oily black features concerned as he regarded the sky. \"This place is three, still,\" he said. \"Almost three.\"\n\n\"Or three places are nearly one,\" Jasnah replied. Another batch of gloryspren flocked past, and she could see them as they were in the Cognitive Realm: like strange avians with long wings, and a golden sphere in place of the head. Well, being able to see into the Cognitive Realm without trying was one of the least unnerving things that had happened so far today.\n\nAn incredible amount of Stormlight thrummed inside her-more than she'd ever held before. Another group of soldiers broke through Shallan's illusions and charged over the rubble through the gap in the wall. Jasnah casually flipped her hand toward them. Once, their souls would have resisted mightily. Soulcasting living things was difficult; it usually required care and concentration-along with proper knowledge and procedure.\n\nToday, the men puffed away to smoke at her barest thought. It was so easy that apart of her was horrified.\n\nShe felt invincible, which was a danger in itself. The human body wasn't meant to be stuffed this full of Stormlight. It rose from her like smoke from a bonfire. Dalinar had closed his perpendicularity, however. He had been the storm, and had somehow recharged the spheres-but like a storm, his effects were passing.\n\n\"Three worlds,\" Ivory said. \"Slowly splitting apart again, but for now, three realms are close.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Then let's make use of it before it fades, shall we?\"\n\nShe stepped up before the rent portion of the wall, a gap as wide as a small city block.\n\nThen raised her hands.\n\nSzeth of the Skybreakers led the way toward the parshman army, the child Edgedancer following.\n\nSzeth feared not pain, as no physical agony could rival the pain he already bore. He feared not death. That sweet reward had already been snatched from him. He feared only that he had made the wrong choice.\n\nSzeth expunged that fear. Nin was correct. Life could not be lived making decisions at each juncture.\n\nThe parshmen standing on the shore of the bay did not have glowing eyes. They looked much like the Parshendi who had used him to assassinate King Gavilar. When he drew close, several of them ran off and boarded one of the ships.\n\n\"There,\" he said. \"I suspect they are going to warn the one we seek.\"\n\n\"I'm after it, crazyface,\" Lift said. \"Sword, don't eat anyone unless they try to eat you first.\" She zipped off in her silly way-kneeling and slapping her hands on the ground. She slid among the parshmen. When she reached the ship, she somehow scrambled up its side, then squeezed through a tiny porthole.\n\nThe parshmen here didn't seem aggressive. They shied away from Szeth, murmuring among themselves. Szeth glanced at the sky and picked out Nin-as a speck-still watching. Szeth could not fault the Herald's decision; the law of these creatures was now the law of the land.\n\nBut... that law was the product of the many. Szeth had been exiled because of the consensus of the many. He had served master after master, most of them using him to attain terrible or at least selfish goals. You could not arrive at excellence by the average of these people. Excellence was an individual quest, not a group effort." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A flying Parshendi-\"Fused\" was a term Lift had used for them-shot out of the ship, carrying the large dun ruby that Dalinar sought. Lift followed the Fused out, but couldn't fly. She clambered up onto the prow of the ship, releasing aloud string of curses.\n\nWow, the sword said. That's impressive vocabulary fora child. Does she even know what that last one means?\n\nSzeth Lashed himself into the air after the Fused.\n\nIf she does know what it means, the sword added, do you think she'd tell me?\n\nThe enemy swooped down low across the battlefield, and Szeth followed, a mere inch above the rocks. They soon passed among the fighting illusions. Some of these appeared as enemy soldiers, to further add confusion. A clever move. The enemy would be less likely to retreat if they thought most of their companions were still fighting, and it made the battle look far more real. Except that when Szeth's quarry zipped past, her fluttering robes struck and disturbed illusory shapes.\n\nSzeth followed close, passing through a pair of fighting men he had seen were illusions. This Fused was talented, better than the Skybreakers had been, though Szeth had not faced their best.\n\nThe chase took him in along loop, eventually swinging back down near where Dalinar was walking through the edge of the red mist. The whispered voices grew louder, and Szeth put his hands to his ears as he flew.\n\nThe Fused was smooth and graceful, but sped up and slowed less quickly than Szeth did. He took advantage of this, anticipating the enemy's move, then cutting to the side as they turned. Szeth collided with the enemy, and they twisted in the air. The Fused-gemstone in one hand-stabbed Szeth with a wicked knife." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Fortunately, with Stormlight, that didn't do anything but cause pain.\n\nSzeth Lashed them both downward, holding tight, and sent them crashing to the stone. The gemstone rolled free as the Fused groaned. Szeth Lashed himself gracefully to his feet, then slipped along the stone at a standing glide. He scooped up the ruby with his freehand, the one not carrying his sheathed sword.\n\nWow, the sword said.\n\n\"Thank you, sword-nimi,\" Szeth said. He restored his Stormlight from nearby fallen spheres and gemstones.\n\nI meant that. To your right.\n\nThree more Fused were swooping down toward him. He appeared to have gotten the enemy's attention.\n\nAdolin and his men reached a covered stairwell leading up onto the wall. Aunt Navani waved from up above, then gestured urgently. Adolin hurried inside the stairwell, and at the top found a jumble of Sadeas troops chopping at the door with hand axes.\n\n\"I can probably get through that a little easier,\" Adolin said from behind them.\n\nA short time later, he stepped onto the wall walk, leaving five more corpses on the steps. These didn't make him feel quite so melancholy. They'd been minutes from reaching Aunt Navani.\n\nNavani hugged him. \"Elhokar?\" she asked, tense.\n\nAdolin shook his head. \"I'm sorry.\"\n\nShe pulled him tight, and he dismissed his Blade, holding her as she shook, letting out quiet tears. Storms... he knew how that felt. He hadn't really been able to take time to think since Elhokar's death. He'd felt the oppressive hand of responsibility, but had he grieved for his cousin?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He pulled his aunt tighter, feeling her pain, mirror to his own. The stone monster crashed through the city, and soldiers shouted from all around-but in that moment, Adolin did what he could to comfort a mother who had lost her son.\n\nFinally they broke, Navani drying her eyes with a handkerchief. She gasped as she saw his bloodied side.\n\n\"I'm fine,\" he explained. \"Renarin healed me.\"\n\n\"I saw your betrothed and the bridgeman down below,\" Navani said. \"So everyone... everyone but him?\"\n\n\"I'm sorry, Aunt. I just... We failed him. Elhokar and Kholinar both.\"\n\nShe blotted her eyes and stiffened with determination. \"Come. Our focus now has to be on keeping this city from suffering the same fate.\"\n\nThey joined Queen Fen, who was surveying the battle from atop the wall. \"Estnatil was on the wall with us when that thing hit,\" she was saying to her son. \"He got thrown down and likely died, but there's a Shardblade in that rubble somewhere. I haven't seen Tshadr. Perhaps at his manor? I wouldn't be surprised to find him gathering troops at the upper tiers.\"\n\nCounting Shardbearers. Thaylenah had three sets of Plate and five Blades-a solid number of Shards fora kingdom of this size. Eight houses passed them down, father to son, each of whom served the throne as a highguard.\n\nAdolin glanced over the city, assessing the defense. Fighting in city streets was difficult; your men got divided up, and were easily flanked or surrounded. Fortunately, the Sadeas troops seemed to have forgotten their battle training. They didn't hold ground well; they had broken into roving bands, like axehound packs, loping through the city and looking for contests." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You need to join your troops,\" Adolin said to the Thaylens. \"Block off a street below, coordinate a resistance. Then-\"\n\nA sudden whooshing sound cut him off.\n\nHe stumbled back as the wall shook, then the broken gap in it mended. Metal grew like crystals to fill the hole, springing into existence out of a tempest of rushing, howling air.\n\nThe end result was a beautiful, brilliant section of polished bronze melding with the stonework and completely sealing the gap.\n\n\"Taln's palms,\" Fen said. She and her consort stepped closer to the edge and looked down at Jasnah, who dusted off her hands, then rested them on her hips in a satisfied posture.\n\n\"So... change of tactics,\" Adolin said. \"With the gap filled, you can get archers in position to harry the army outside and hold the inside square. Setup a command position here, clear the street below, and then hold this wall at all costs.\"\n\nBelow, Jasnah strode away from the marvel she'd created, then knelt beside some rubble and cocked her head, listening to something. She pressed her hand against the rubble and it vanished into smoke, revealing a corpse beneath-and a brilliant Shardblade beside it.\n\n\"Kdralk,\" Adolin said, \"how are your Shardblade stances?\"\n\n\"I... I've practiced with them, like other officers, and-I mean-\"\n\n\"Great. Take ten soldiers, go get that Blade, then rescue that cluster of troops over thereat the base of the Ancient Ward. Next try to rescue that other group fighting on the steps. Station every archer you can up hereon the wall, and put the rest of the soldiers to work guarding the streets.\" Adolin glanced over his shoulder. Shallan's distraction was working well, for now. \"Don't stretch too far, but as you rescue more men, make a coordinated effort to hold the entire Low Ward.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"But Prince Adolin,\" Fen said, \"what will you be doing?\"\n\nAdolin summoned his Blade and pointed with it toward the back of the Ancient Ward, where the gigantic stone monstrosity swept a group of soldiers from a rooftop. Others tried-in futility-to trip it with ropes.\n\n\"Those men seem like they could use the help of a weapon designed specifically to cut through stone.\"\n\nAmaram fought with striking fury-a frenetic kind of harmony, an unending assault of weaving Shardblades and beautiful stances. Kaladin blocked one Blade with the Sylspear, and they locked fora moment.\n\nA sharp violet crystal burst out of Amaram's elbow, cracking the Shardplate there, glowing with a soft inner light. Storms! Kaladin flung himself backward as Amaram swung his other Blade, nearly connecting.\n\nKaladin danced away. His training with the sword had been short, and he'd never seen anyone use two Blades at once. He would have considered it unwieldy. Amaram made it look elegant, mesmerizing.\n\nThat deep red glow within Amaram's helm grew darker, bloody, somehow even more sinister. Kaladin blocked another hit, but the power of the blow sent him skidding backward on the stone. He'd made himself lighter for the fight, but that had repercussions when facing someone in Plate.\n\nPuffing, Kaladin launched himself into the air to get some distance. That Plate prevented him from using Lashings against Amaram, and it blocked hits from the Sylspear. Yet, if Amaram landed a single strike, that would immobilize Kaladin. Healing the wound from a Shardblade was possible, but was slow and left him horribly weakened.\n\nThis was all complicated by the fact that, while Amaram could focus only on their duel, Kaladin had to keep watching Dalinar in case-" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Damnation!\n\nKaladin Lashed himself to the side, streaking through the air to engage one of the Fused who had started hovering near Dalinar. She struck toward Kaladin-but that only let him change Syl to a Blade midswing, and cut her long spear in half. She hummed an angry song and floated backward, sliding her sword from its sheath. Below, Dalinar was a mere shadow against the shifting crimson cloud. Faces emerged within, screaming with rage, fury, bloodlust-like the billowing front of a thunderhead.\n\nBeing near the mist made Kaladin feel nauseous. Fortunately, the enemy didn't seem eager to enter it either. They hovered outside, watching Dalinar. A few had ducked in closer, but Kaladin had managed to drive them back.\n\nHe pressed his advantage against his current foe, using Syl as a spear. The Fused was nimble, but Kaladin was flush with Stormlight. The field below was still littered with a fortune in glowing spheres.\n\nAfter he got in close with a strike-cutting the Fused's robes-she zipped away to join a group that was focusing on Szeth. Hopefully the assassin could stay ahead of them.\n\nNow, where had Amaram gotten to.... Kaladin glanced over his shoulder, then yelped and Lashed himself backward, Stormlight puffing before him. A thick black arrow shot right through that, dispersing the Light.\n\nAmaram stood near his horse, where he'd unhooked a massive Shardbow that used arrows as thick as a spear's haft. Amaram raised it to loose again, and a line of crystals jutted out along his arm, cracking his Shardplate. Storms, what was happening to that man?\n\nKaladin zipped out of the way of the arrow. He could heal from a hit like that, but it would distract him-potentially let some of the Fused seize him. All the Stormlight in the world wouldn't save him if they simply bound him, then hacked at him until he stopped healing." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Amaram launched another arrow, and Kaladin blocked it with Syl, who became a shield in his grip. Then, Kaladin Lashed himself into a dive, summoning Syl as a lance. He swooped down on Amaram, who hooked his Shardbow back onto the horse's saddle and dodged to the side, moving with incredible speed.\n\nAmaram grabbed the Syllance as Kaladin dove past, flinging Kaladin to the side. Kaladin was forced to dismiss Syl and slow himself, spinning and sliding across the ground until his Lashing ran out and he settled down.\n\nTeeth gritted, Kaladin summoned Syl as a short spear, then rushed Amaram-determined to bring the highlord down before the Fused returned to attack Dalinar.\n\nThe Thrill was happy to see Dalinar.\n\nHe had imagined it as some evil force, malignant and insidious, like Odium or Sadeas. How wrong he was.\n\nDalinar walked through the mist, and each step was a battle he relived. Wars from his youth, to secure Alethkar. Wars during his middle years, to preserve his reputation-and to sate his lust for the fight. And... he saw times when the Thrill withdrew. Like when Dalinar had held Adolin for the first time. Or when he'd grinned with Elhokar atop a rocky spire on the Shattered Plains.\n\nThe Thrill regarded these events with a sad sense of abandonment and confusion. The Thrill didn't hate. Though some spren could make decisions, others were like animals-primal, driven by a single overpowering directive. Live. Burn. Laugh.\n\nOrin this case, fight.\n\nJasnah existed halfway in the Cognitive Realm, which made everything a blurry maze of shadows, floating souls of light, and beads of glass. A thousand varieties of spren churned and climbed over one another in Shadesmar's ocean. Most did not manifest in the physical world." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She willed steps to Soulcast beneath her feet. Individual axi of air lined up and packed next to each other, then Soulcast into stone-though in spite of the realms being linked, this was difficult. Air was amorphous, even in concept. People thought of it as the sky, or a breath, or a gust of wind, or a storm, or just'the air.\" It liked to be free, difficult to define.\n\nYet, with a firm command and a concept of what she wanted, Jasnah made steps form beneath her feet. She reached the top of the wall and found her mother therewith Queen Fen and some soldiers. They had made a command station atone of the old guard posts. Soldiers huddled outside with pikes pointed toward two Fused in the sky.\n\nBother. Jasnah strode along the wall, taking in the melee of illusions and men outside. Shallan stood at the back; most of the spheres around her had been drained already. She was burning through Stormlight at a terrible rate.\n\n\"Bad?\" she asked Ivory.\n\n\"It is,\" he said from her collar. \"It is.\"\n\n\"Mother,\" Jasnah called, approaching where Fen and Navani stood by the guard post. \"You need to rally the troops within the city and clear the enemy inside.\"\n\n\"We're working on it,\" Navani said. \"But-Jasnah! In the air-\"\n\nJasnah raised an absent hand without looking, forming a wall of black pitch. A Fused crashed through it, and Jasnah Soulcast a flick of fire, sending the thing screaming and flailing, burning with a terrible smoke.\n\nJasnah Soulcast the rest of the pitch on the wall to smoke, then continued forward. \"We must take advantage of Radiant Shallan's distraction and cleanse Thaylen City. Otherwise, when the assault comes from outside once more, our attention will be divided.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"From outside?\" Fen said. \"But we have the wall fixed, and-Storms! Brightness!\"\n\nJasnah stepped aside without looking as the second Fused swooped down-the reactions of spren in Shadesmar allowed her to judge where it was. She turned and swung her hand at the creature. Ivory formed and sliced through the Fused's head as it passed, sending it curling about itself-eyes burning-and tumbling along the wall top.\n\n\"The enemy,\" Jasnah said, \"will not be stopped by a wall, and Brightness Shallan has feasted upon almost all of the spheres Uncle Dalinar recharged. My Stormlight is nearly gone. We have to be ready to hold this position through conventional means once the power is gone.\"\n\n\"Surely there aren't enough enemy troops to...\" Fen's consort said, but trailed off as Jasnah pointed with Ivory-who obligingly formed again-toward the waiting parshman armies. Neither the hovering red haze nor the breaking lightning of the storm was enough to drown out the red glows beginning to appear in the parshmen's eyes.\n\n\"We must be ready to hold this wall as long as it takes for troops to arrive from Urithiru,\" Jasnah said. \"Where is Renarin? Wasn't he to deal with that thunderclast?\"\n\n\"One of my soldiers reported seeing him,\" Fen said. \"He had been slowed by the crowds. Prince Adolin expressed an intention to go help.\"\n\n\"Excellent. I will trust that task to my cousins, and instead see what I can do to keep my ward from getting herself killed.\"\n\nSzeth wove and dodged between the attacks of five enemy Fused, carrying the large dun ruby in his left hand, the sheathed black sword in his right. He tried to approach Dalinar in the red mist, but the enemy cut him off, and he was forced to turn east." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He skimmed the now-repaired wall and crossed over the city, eventually soaring past the monster of stone. It flung several soldiers into the air, and fora moment they soared with Szeth.\n\nSzeth Lashed himself downward, diving for the city streets. Behind him, Fused broke around the monster and swarmed after. He shot through a doorway and into a small home-and heard a thump above as a soldier's body fell onto the roof-then crashed out the backdoor and Lashed himself upward, narrowly avoiding the next building.\n\n\"Was I supposed to save those soldiers, sword-nimi?\" Szeth said. \"I am a Radiant now.\"\n\nI think they would have flown like you instead of falling down, if they'd wanted to be saved.\n\nThere was a profound puzzle in the words, one which Szeth could not consider. The Fused were deft, more skilled than he was. He dodged among the streets, but they kept on him. He swung around, left the Ancient Ward, and shot for the wall-trying to get back to Dalinar. Unfortunately, a swarm of the enemies cut him off. The rest surrounded him.\n\nLooks like we're cornered, the sword said. Time to fight, right? Accept death, and die slaying as many as possible? I'm ready. Let's do it. I'm ready to be a noble sacrifice.\n\nNo. He did not win by dying.\n\nSzeth lobbed the gemstone away as hard as he could.\n\nThe Fused went after it, leaving him an avenue to escape. He dropped toward the ground, where spheres glistened like stars. He drew in a deep breath of Stormlight, then spotted Lift waiting on the field between the fighting illusions and the waiting parshmen." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Szeth settled down lightly beside her. \"I have failed to carry this burden.\"\n\n\"That's okay. Your weird face is burden enough for one man.\"\n\n\"Your words are wise,\" he said, nodding.\n\nLift rolled her eyes. \"You're right, sword. He's not very fun, is he?\"\n\nI think he's deevy anyway.\n\nSzeth did not know this word, but it sent Lift chortling in a fit of amusement, which the sword mimicked.\n\n\"We have not fulfilled the Blackthorn's demands,\" Szeth snapped at the two of them, Stormlight puffing from his lips. \"I could not stay ahead of those Fused long enough to deliver the stone to our master.\"\n\n\"Yeah, I saw,\" Lift said. \"But I've got an idea. People are always after stuff, but they don't really like the stuff-they like having the stuff.\"\n\n\"These words are... not so wise. What do you mean?\"\n\n\"Simple. The best way to rob someone is leave them thinking that nothing is wrong....\"\n\nShallan clung to Veil's and Radiant's hands.\n\nShe'd long since fallen to her knees, staring ahead as tears leaked from her eyes. Taut, her teeth gritted. She'd made thousands of illusions. Each one... each one washer.\n\nA portion of her mind.\n\nA portion of her soul.\n\nOdium had made a mistake in flooding these soldiers with such thirst for blood. They didn't care that Shallan fed them illusions-they just wanted a battle. So she provided one, and somehow her illusions resisted when the enemy hit them. She thought maybe she was combining Soulcasting with her Lightweaving." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The enemy howled and sang, exulting in the fray. She painted the ground red and sprayed the enemy with blood that felt real. She serenaded them with the sounds of men screaming, dying, swords clashing and bones breaking.\n\nShe absorbed them in the false reality, and they drank it in; they feasted on it.\n\nEach one of her illusions that died hither with a little shock. A sliver of her dying.\n\nThose were reborn as she pushed them out to dance again. Enemy Fused bellowed for order, trying to rally their troops, but Shallan drowned out their voices with sounds of screaming and metal on metal.\n\nThe illusion absorbed her entirely, and she lost track of everything else. Like when she was drawing. Creationspren blossomed around her by the hundred, shaped like discarded objects.\n\nStorms. It was beautiful. She gripped Veil's and Radiant's hands tighter. They knelt beside her, heads bowed within her painted tapestry of violence, her-\n\n\"Hey,\" a girl's voice said. \"Could you, uh, stop hugging yourself fora minute? I need some help.\"\n\nKaladin ducked toward Amaram, thrusting with his spear one-handed. That was usually a good tactic against an armored man with a sword. His spear hit right on target, where it would have dug into the armpit of an ordinary opponent. Here, unfortunately, the spear just slid off. Shardplate didn't have traditional weak points, other than the eye slit. You had to break it open with repeated hits, like cracking into a crab's shell.\n\nAmaram laughed, a startlingly genuine mirth. \"You have great form, spearman! Do you remember when you first came tome? Back in that village, when you begged me to take you? You were a blubbering child who wanted so badly to be a soldier. The glory of the battle! I could seethe lust in your eyes, boy.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Kaladin glanced toward the Fused, who rounded the cloud, timid, looking for Dalinar.\n\nAmaram chuckled. With those deep red eyes and the strange crystals growing from his body, Kaladin hadn't expected him to sound so much like himself. Whatever hybrid monster this was, it still had the mind of Meridas Amaram.\n\nKaladin stepped back, reluctantly changing Syl into a Blade, which would be better for cracking Plate. He fell into Windstance, which had always seemed appropriate. Amaram laughed again and surged forward, his second Shardblade appearing in his waiting grip. Kaladin dodged to the side, ducking under one Blade and getting at Amaram's back-where he got in a good hit on the Plate, cracking it. He raised his Blade to attack again.\n\nAmaram slammed his foot down, and his Shardplate boot shattered, exploding outward in bits of molten metal. Beneath, his ripped sock revealed afoot overgrown with carapace and deep violet crystals.\n\nAs Kaladin came in for his attack, Amaram tapped his foot, and the stone ground became liquid fora moment. Kaladin stumbled, sinking down several inches, as if the rock were crem mud. It hardened in a moment, locking Kaladin's boots in place.\n\nKaladin! Syl cried in his mind as Amaram swung with two Shardblades, parallel to one another. Syl became a halberd in Kaladin's hands, and he blocked the blows-but their force threw him to the ground, snapping his ankles.\n\nTeeth gritted, Kaladin hauled his pained feet out of the boots and pulled himself away. Amaram's weapons sliced the ground behind, narrowly missing him. Then Amaram's other armored boot exploded, crystals from inside breaking it apart. The highlord pushed with one foot and glided across the ground, incredibly quick, approaching Kaladin and swinging." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Syl became a large shield, and Kaladin barely blocked the attack. He Lashed himself backward, getting out of range as Stormlight healed his ankles. Storms. Storms!\n\nThat Fused! Syl said. She's getting very close to Dalinar.\n\nKaladin cursed, then scooped up a large stone. He launched it into the air with several Lashings compounded, which sent it zipping off to slam into the head of the Fused. She shouted in pain, pulling back.\n\nKaladin scooped up another stone and Lashed it toward Amaram's horse.\n\n\"Beating up the animal because you can't defeat me?\" Amaram asked. He didn't seem to notice that the horse, in bolting away, carried off the Shardbow.\n\nI've killed a man wearing that Shardplate before, Kaladin thought. I can do it again.\n\nOnly, he wasn't merely facing a Shardbearer. Amethyst crystals broke Amaram's armor all up the arms. How did Kaladin defeat... whatever this thing was?\n\nStab it in the face? Syl suggested.\n\nIt was worth a try. He and Amaram fought on the battlefield near the red mist, on the western shore but between the main body of troops and the waiting parshmen. The area was mostly flat, except for some broken building foundations. Kaladin Lashed himself up a few inches, so he wouldn't sink into the ground if Amaram tried again to do... whatever he'd done. Then he moved backward carefully, positioning himself where Amaram would likely leap across a broken foundation to get at him.\n\nAmaram stepped up, chuckling softly. Kaladin raised Syl as a Shardblade, but shifted his grip, preparing for the moment when she'd become a thin spear he could ram right through that faceplate-" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Kaladin!" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Syl cried.\n\nSomething hit Kaladin with the force of a falling boulder, flinging him to the side. His body broke, and the world spun.\n\nBy instinct, Kaladin Lashed himself upward and forward, opposite the way he'd been flung. He slowed and released the Lashings right as his momentum ran out, touching down, then slid to a stop on the stone, pain fading from a healed shoulder and side.\n\nA brawny Fused-taller even than Amaram in his Plate-dropped a shattered club that he'd used on Kaladin. His carapace was the color of stone; he must have been crouching near that foundation, and Kaladin had taken him for merely another part of the stony field.\n\nAs Kaladin watched, the creature's brown carapace crusted up his arms, covering his face like a helm, growing to thick armor in a matter of moments. He raised his arms, and carapace spurs grew above and below the hands.\n\nDelightful.\n\nAdolin heaved himself up over the rim of a broken rooftop onto a small alley between two buildings. He'd made it to the Loft Wards of the city, right above the Ancient Ward. Here, buildings were constructed practically atop one another in tiers.\n\nThe building to his left had been completely flattened. Adolin crept across rubble. To his right, a main city thoroughfare led upward-toward the Royal Ward and the Oathgate-but was clogged with people fleeing from the enemy troops below. This was compounded by the local merchant guards and platoons of Thaylen military, who struggled against the tide.\n\nMoving on the streets was extremely slow-but Adolin had found one corridor that was empty. The thunderclast had crossed the Ancient Ward, kicking down buildings, then had stepped on roofs as it climbed up to the Loft Wards. This swath of destruction made almost a roadway. Adolin had managed to follow, using rubble like stairs." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Now he was right in the thing's shadow." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The corpse of a Thaylen soldier drooped from a rooftop nearby, tangled in ropes. It hung there, eyebrows dangling to brush the ground. Adolin swept past, peeking out between buildings onto a larger street.\n\nA handful of Thaylens fought here, trying to bring the thunderclast down. The ropes had been a great idea, but the thing was obviously too strong to be tripped that way. In the street beyond Adolin, a soldier got in close and tried to hit the monster's leg with a hammer. The weapon bounced off. That was old hardened cremstone. The plucky soldier ended up getting stomped.\n\nAdolin gritted his teeth, summoning his Shardblade. Without Plate, he'd be as squishy as anyone else. He had to be careful, tactical.\n\n\"This is what you were designed for, isn't it?\" Adolin said softly as his Blade dropped into his hand. \"It was for fighting things like that. Shardblades are impractically long for duels, and Plate is overkill even on the battlefield. But against a monster of stone...\"\n\nHe felt something. A stirring on the wind.\n\n\"You want to fight it, don't you?\" Adolin asked. \"It reminds you of when you were alive.\"\n\nSomething tickled his mind, very faint, like a sigh. A single word: Mayalaran. A... name?\n\n\"Right, Maya,\" Adolin said. \"Let's bring that thing down.\"\n\nAdolin waited for it to turn toward the small group of defending soldiers, then he bolted out along the rubbled street, dashing straight for the thunderclast. He was barely as tall as its calf.\n\nAdolin didn't use any of the sword stances-he just hacked as if he were attacking a wall, slicing right along the top of the thing's ankle." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A sudden bang sounded above, like two stones slamming against one another, as the thing cried out. A shock wave of air washed over Adolin and the monster turned, thrusting a hand down toward him. Adolin dodged to the side, but the monster's palm smashed the ground with such force that Adolin's boots left the ground momentarily. He dismissed Maya as he fell, then rolled.\n\nHe came up puffing on one knee with his handout, summoning Maya again. Storms, he was like a rat gnawing on the toes of a chull.\n\nThe beast regarded him with eyespots like molten rock just beneath the surface. He'd heard the descriptions of these things from his father's visions-but looking up at it, he was struck by the shape of its face and head.\n\nA chasmfiend, he thought. It looks like a chasmfiend. The head, at least. The body was vaguely like a thick human skeleton.\n\n\"Prince Adolin!\" one of the few living soldiers shouted. \"It's the son of the Blackthorn!\"\n\n\"Protect the prince! Distract the monster from the Shardbearer. It's our only chance to-\"\n\nAdolin lost the last part as the monster swept its hand across the ground. He barely dodged, then threw himself through the doorway of a low building. Inside, he leaped over a few bedding pallets, pushed into the next room, then attacked the brick wall with Maya, cutting in four quick strikes. He slammed his shoulder against the wall, breaking through the hole.\n\nAshe did, he heard a whimper from behind.\n\nAdolin gritted his teeth. I could use one of those storming Radiants about now.\n\nHe ducked back into the building and flipped over a table, finding a young boy huddled underneath. That was the only person Adolin saw in the building. He hauled the boy outright as the thunderclast smashed a fist down through the roof. Dust billowing after him, Adolin shoved the child into the arms of a soldier, then pointed both toward the street to the south. Adolin took off running east, around the side of the building. Maybe he could climb up to the next level of the Loft Wards and circle the creature." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "For all the troops' calls to distract the thing, however, it obviously knew who to focus on. It stepped over the broken house and thrust a fist toward Adolin-who leaped through a window into another house, across a table, then out an open window on the other side.\n\nCrash.\n\nThe building fell in behind him. The thing was doing damage to its own hands with the attacks, leaving the wrists and fingers scored with white scrapes. It didn't seem to care-and why should it? It had ripped itself right from the ground to make this body.\n\nAdolin's only advantage, other than his Blade, was his ability to react faster than the thing. It swung for the next building beyond him, trying to smash it before he got inside-but he was already doubling back. He ran underneath the monster's swing, sliding on the chips and dust as the fist passed narrowly overhead.\n\nThat put him in position to run between the thunderclast's legs. He slashed at the ankle he'd already cut once, digging his Blade deep into the stone, then whipping it out the other side. Just like a chasmfiend, he thought. Legs first.\n\nWhen the thing stepped again, the ankle cracked with a sharp sound, then its foot broke free.\n\nAdolin braced himself for the pained thunderclap from above, but still winced at the shock wave. Unfortunately, the monster balanced easily on the stump of its leg. It was a little clumsier than before, but it was in no real danger of falling. The Thaylen soldiers had regrouped and gathered up their ropes, however, so maybe-\n\nA hand in Shardplate reached out of a building nearby, grabbed Adolin, and pulled him inside.\n\nDalinar held his hands out to the sides, enveloped by the Thrill. It returned every memory he hated about himself. War and conflict. Times when he'd shouted Evi into submission. Anger that had driven him to the brink of madness. His shame." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Though he had once crawled before the Nightwatcher to beg for release, he no longer wished to forget. \"I embrace you,\" he said. \"I accept what I was.\"\n\nThe Thrill colored his sight red, inflicting a deep longing for the fight, the conflict, the challenge. If he rejected it, he would drive the Thrill away.\n\n\"Thank you,\" Dalinar said, \"forgiving me strength when I needed it.\"\n\nThe Thrill thrummed with a pleased sound. It drew in closer to him, the faces of red mist grinning with excitement and glee. Charging horses screamed and died. Men laughed as they were cut down.\n\nDalinar was once again walking on the stone toward the Rift, intent on murdering everyone inside. He felt the heat of anger. The yearning so powerful, it made him ache.\n\n\"I was that man,\" Dalinar said. \"I understand you.\"\n\nVenli crept away from the battlefield. She left the humans to struggle against shadows in a mess of anger and lust. She walked deeper into the darkness beneath Odium's storm, feeling strangely sick.\n\nThe rhythms were going crazy inside her, merging and fighting. A fragment from Craving blended into Fury, into Ridicule.\n\nShe passed Fused arguing about what to do, now that Odium had withdrawn. Did they send the parshmen into fight? They couldn't control the humans, consumed by one of the Unmade as they were.\n\nRhythms piled over rhythms.\n\nAgony. Conceit. Destruction. Lost-\n\nThere! Venli thought. Grab that!\n\nShe attuned the Rhythm of the Lost. She clung to the solemn beat, desperate-a rhythm one attuned to remember those you missed. Those who had gone before." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Timbre thrummed to the same rhythm. Why did that feel different from before? Timbre vibrated through Venli's entire being.\n\nLost. What had Venli lost?\n\nVenli missed being someone who cared about something other than power. Knowledge, favoritism, forms, wealth-it was all the same to her. Where had she gone wrong?\n\nTimbre pulsed. Venli dropped to her knees. Cold stone reflected lightning from above, red and garish.\n\nBut her own eyes... she could see her own eyes in the polished wet rock.\n\nThere wasn't a hint of red in them.\n\n\"Life...\" she whispered.\n\nThe king of the Alethi had reached out toward her. Dalinar Kholin, the man whose brother they'd killed. But he'd reached from the pillar of gloryspren all the same, and spoken to her.\n\nYou can change.\n\n\"Life before death.\"\n\nYou can become a better person.\n\n\"Strength before... before weakness...\"\n\nI did.\n\n\"Jou-\"\n\nSomeone grabbed Venli roughly and spun her over, slamming her to the ground. A Fused with the form that grew carapace armor like Shardplate. He looked Venli up and down, and fora panicked moment she was sure he'd kill her.\n\nThe Fused seized her pouch, the one that hid Timbre. She screamed and clawed at his hands, but he shoved her back, then ripped open the pouch.\n\nThen he turned it inside out.\n\n\"I could have sworn...\" he said in their language. He tossed the pouch aside. \"You failed to obey the Word of Passion. You did not attack the enemy when commanded.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I... I was frightened,\" Venli said. \"And weak.\"\n\n\"You cannot be weak in his service. You must choose who you will serve.\"\n\n\"I choose,\" she said, then shouted, \"I choose!\"\n\nHe nodded, evidently impressed by her Passion, then stalked back toward the battlefield.\n\nVenli climbed to her feet and made her way to one of the ships. She stumbled up the gangway-yet felt crisper, more awake, than she'd been in along, longtime.\n\nIn her mind played the Rhythm of Joy. One of the old rhythms her people had learned long ago-after casting out their gods.\n\nTimbre pulsed from within her. Inside her gemheart.\n\n\"I'm still wearing one of their forms,\" Venli said. \"There was a Voidspren in my gemheart. How?\"\n\nTimbre pulsed to Resolve.\n\n\"You've done what?\" Venli hissed, stopping on the deck.\n\nResolve again.\n\n\"But how can you...\" She trailed off, then hunched over, speaking more softly. \"How can you keep a Voidspren captive?\"\n\nTimbre pulsed to Victory within her. Venli rushed toward the ship's cabin. A parshman tried to forbid her, but she glared him to submission, then took the ruby sphere from his lantern and went inside, slamming the door and locking it.\n\nShe held up the sphere, and then-heart fluttering-she drank it in. Her skin started glowing with a soft white light.\n\n\"Journey before destination.\"\n\nAdolin was confronted by a figure in glistening black Shardplate, a large hammer strapped to its back. The helm had stylized eyebrows like knives sweeping backward, and the Plate was skirted with a triangular pattern of interlocking scales. Cvaderln, he thought, remembering his lists of Thaylen Shards. It meant, roughly, \"shell of Cva.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Are you Tshadr?\" Adolin guessed.\n\n\"No, Hrdalm,\" the Shardbearer said in a thick Thaylen accent. \"Tshadr holds Court Square. I come, stop monster.\"\n\nAdolin nodded. Outside, the thing sounded its angry call, confronting the remaining Thaylen troops.\n\n\"We need to get out and help those men,\" Adolin said. \"Can you distract the monster? My Blade can cut, while you can take hits.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Hrdalm said. \"Yes, good.\"\n\nAdolin quickly helped Hrdalm get the hammer untied. Hrdalm hefted it, then pointed at the window. \"Go there.\"\n\nAdolin nodded, waiting by the window as Hrdalm charged out the doorway and went running straight for the thunderclast, shouting a Thaylen battle cry. When the thing turned toward Hrdalm, Adolin leaped out the window and charged around the other side.\n\nTwo flying Fused swooped in behind Hrdalm, slamming spears into his back, tossing him forward. Plate ground against stone as he fell, face-first. Adolin ran for the thunderclast's leg-but the creature ignored Hrdalm and fixated on Adolin. It crashed a palm down on the ground nearby, forcing Adolin to dance backward.\n\nHrdalm stood up, but a Fused swooped down and kicked him over. The other landed on his chest and began pounding on his helm with a hammer, cracking it. As Hrdalm tried to grab her and throw her free, the other one swooped down and used a spear to pin the hand down. Damnation!\n\n\"All right, Maya,\" Adolin said. \"We've practiced this.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He wound up, then hurled the Shardblade, which spun in a gleaming arc before slamming into the Fused on Hrdalm's chest, piercing her straight through. Dark smoke trailed from her eyes as they burned away.\n\nHrdalm sat up, sweeping away the other Fused with a Shard-enhanced punch. He turned toward the dead one, then looked back at Adolin with a posture that somehow expressed amazement.\n\nThe thunderclast called, sending a wave of sound across the street, rattling chips of stone. Adolin swallowed, then started counting heartbeats as he dashed away. The monster crashed along the street behind-but Adolin soon pulled to a stop in front of a large section of rubble, which blocked the street. Storms, he'd run the wrong way.\n\nHe shouted, spinning around. He hit a count often, and Maya returned to him.\n\nThe thunderclast loomed overhead. It thrust its palm down, and Adolin managed to judge the shadow and dodge between two fingers. As its palm crashed to the ground, Adolin leaped, trying to avoid being knocked over. He grabbed a massive finger with his left arm, desperately holding Maya to the side in his right.\n\nAs before, the thunderclast began to rub its palm across the ground, an attempt to grind Adolin to the stones. He hung from the finger, feet lifted a few inches off the ground. The sound was terrible, like Adolin was trapped in a rockslide.\n\nAs soon as the thunderclast ended its sweep of the hand, Adolin dropped off, then raised Maya in a double-handed grip and chopped straight through the finger. The beast released a thunderclap of anger and pulled its hand back. The tip of an unbroken finger connected with Adolin and flung him backward." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Pain.\n\nIt hit him like a flash of lightning. He struck the ground and rolled, but the agony was so sharp, he barely noticed. Ashe came to a rest, he coughed and trembled, his body seizing up.\n\nStorms. Stormsstormsstorms... He squeezed his eyes shut against the pain. He'd... he'd gotten too accustomed to the invincibility of Plate. But his suit was back in Urithiru-or hopefully coming here soon on Gaval, his Plate standby.\n\nAdolin somehow crawled to his feet, each move causing a spear of agony from his chest. Broken rib? Well, at least his arms and legs were working.\n\nMove. That thing was still behind him.\n\nOne.\n\nThe roadway in front of him was piled with rubble from a broken building.\n\nTwo.\n\nHe limped to the right-toward the ledge down to the next tier of homes.\n\nThree. Four.\n\nThe thunderclast trumped and followed, its steps shaking the ground.\n\nFive. Six.\n\nHe could hear stone grinding just behind.\n\nHe fell to his knees.\n\nSeven.\n\nMaya! he thought, truly desperate. Please!\n\nBlessedly, as he raised his hands, the Blade materialized. He slammed it into the rock wall-the edge pointed to the side, not down-then rolled off the ledge, holding onto the hilt. The thunderclast's fist came down again, crashing to the rock. Adolin dangled from Maya's hilt over the edge, a drop of some ten feet to the rooftop below.\n\nAdolin gritted his teeth-his elbow was hurting badly enough to make his eyes water. But, once the thunderclast had rubbed its hand to the side, Adolin grabbed the cliff edge with one hand and swept Maya out to the side, freeing her from the stone. He reached down and rammed her into the stone below, then let go and swung from this new handhold a moment before releasing the Blade and dropping the rest of the way to the rooftop." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Help the author by continuing the tale.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, knights radiant\nAuthor: Brandon Sanderson\nTitle: Oathbringer\nChapter: 121" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Pain.\n\nIt hit him like a flash of lightning. He struck the ground and rolled, but the agony was so sharp, he barely noticed. Ashe came to a rest, he coughed and trembled, his body seizing up.\n\nStorms. Stormsstormsstorms... He squeezed his eyes shut against the pain. He'd... he'd gotten too accustomed to the invincibility of Plate. But his suit was back in Urithiru-or hopefully coming here soon on Gaval, his Plate standby.\n\nAdolin somehow crawled to his feet, each move causing a spear of agony from his chest. Broken rib? Well, at least his arms and legs were working.\n\nMove. That thing was still behind him.\n\nOne.\n\nThe roadway in front of him was piled with rubble from a broken building.\n\nTwo.\n\nHe limped to the right-toward the ledge down to the next tier of homes.\n\nThree. Four.\n\nThe thunderclast trumped and followed, its steps shaking the ground.\n\nFive. Six.\n\nHe could hear stone grinding just behind.\n\nHe fell to his knees.\n\nSeven.\n\nMaya! he thought, truly desperate. Please!\n\nBlessedly, as he raised his hands, the Blade materialized. He slammed it into the rock wall-the edge pointed to the side, not down-then rolled off the ledge, holding onto the hilt. The thunderclast's fist came down again, crashing to the rock. Adolin dangled from Maya's hilt over the edge, a drop of some ten feet to the rooftop below.\n\nAdolin gritted his teeth-his elbow was hurting badly enough to make his eyes water. But, once the thunderclast had rubbed its hand to the side, Adolin grabbed the cliff edge with one hand and swept Maya out to the side, freeing her from the stone. He reached down and rammed her into the stone below, then let go and swung from this new handhold a moment before releasing the Blade and dropping the rest of the way to the rooftop." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "His leg screamed in pain. He collapsed to the rooftop, eyes watering. Ashe lay therein agony, he felt something-a faint panic on the wind. He forced himself to roll to the side, and a Fused swept past, its lance barely missing him.\n\nNeed... a weapon...\n\nHe started counting again and climbed, shakily, to his knees. But the thunderclast loomed on the tier overhead, then rammed its stump leg down into the center of the stone roof Adolin was on.\n\nAdolin fell in a jumble of broken stone and dust, then hit hard on the floor inside, chunks of rock clattering around him.\n\nEverything went black. He tried to gasp, but his muscles couldn't make the motions. He could only lie there, straining, groaning softly. Apart of him was aware of the sounds made as the thunderclast pulled its stump out of the broken home. He waited for it to smash him, but as his vision slowly returned, he saw it stepping down from that upper tier onto the street outside.\n\nAt least... at least it wasn't continuing on toward the Oathgate.\n\nAdolin shifted. Chips from the shattered roof streamed off him. His face and hands bled from a hundred scrapes. He recovered his breath, gasping in pain, and tried to move, but his leg... Damnation, that hurt.\n\nMaya brushed his mind.\n\n\"I'm trying to getup,\" he said through gritted teeth. \"Give me a sec. Storming sword.\" He had another coughing fit, then finally rolled off the rubble. He crawled out onto the street, half expecting Skar and Drehy to be thereto pull him to his feet. Storms, he missed those bridgemen." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The street was empty around him, though maybe twenty feet away people crowded, trying to getup the thoroughfare to safety. They called and shouted in fear and urgency. If Adolin ran that way, the thunderclast would follow. It had proven determined to bring him down.\n\nHe sneered at the looming monster and-leaning against the wall of the small home he'd fallen into-pulled himself to his feet. Maya dropped into his hand. Though he was covered in dust, she still shone bright.\n\nHe steadied himself, then held Maya in two hands-his grip wetted by blood-and fell into Stonestance. The immovable stance.\n\n\"Come and get me, you bastard,\" he whispered.\n\n\"Adolin?\" a familiar voice called from behind. \"Storms, Adolin! What are you doing!\"\n\nAdolin started, then glanced over his shoulder. A glowing figure pushed through the crowd onto his street. Renarin carried a Shardblade, and his blue Bridge Four uniform was unstained.\n\nTook you long enough.\n\nAs Renarin approached, the thunderclast actually took a step back, as if afraid. Well, that might help. Adolin clenched his teeth, trying to hold in his agony. He wobbled, then steadied himself. \"All right, let's-\"\n\n\"Adolin, don't be foolhardy!\" Renarin grabbed his arm. A burst of healing moved through Adolin like cold water in his veins, causing his pains to retreat.\n\n\"But-\"\n\n\"Getaway,\" Renarin said. \"You're unarmored. You'll get yourself killed fighting this thing!\"\n\n\"But-\"\n\n\"I can handle it, Adolin. Just go! Please.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Adolin stumbled back." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He'd never heard such forceful talk from Renarin-that was almost more amazing than the monster. Renarin, shockingly, charged at the thing.\n\nA clatter announced Hrdalm climbing down from above, his Plate's helm cracked, but otherwise in good shape. He had lost his hammer, but carried one of the lances from the Fused, and his Plate fist was covered in blood.\n\nRenarin! He didn't have Plate. How-\n\nThe thunderclast's palm crashed down on Renarin, smashing him. Adolin screamed, but his brother's Shardblade cutup through the palm, then separated the hand from the wrist.\n\nThe thunderclast trumpeted in anger as Renarin climbed from the rubble of the hand. He seemed to heal more quickly than Kaladin or Shallan did, as if being crushed wasn't even a bother.\n\n\"Excellent!\" Hrdalm said, laughing inside his helm. \"You, rest. Okay?\"\n\nAdolin nodded, stifling a groan of pain. Renarin's healing had stopped his insides from aching, and it was no longer painful to put weight on his leg, but his arms still ached, and some of his cuts hadn't closed.\n\nAs Hrdalm stepped toward the fight, Adolin took the man by the arm, then lifted Maya.\n\nGo with him for now, Maya, Adolin thought.\n\nHe almost wished she'd object, but the vague sensation he received was a resigned agreement.\n\nHrdalm dropped his lance and took the Blade reverently. \"Great Honor in you, Prince Adolin,\" he said. \"Great Passion in meat this aid.\"\n\n\"Go,\" Adolin said. \"I'll go see if I can help hold the streets.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Hrdalm charged off. Adolin chose an infantry spear from the rubble, then made toward the roadway behind.\n\nSzeth of the Skybreakers had, fortunately, trained with all ten Surges.\n\nThe Fused transferred the enormous ruby to one of their number who could manipulate Abrasion-a woman who slid across the ground like Lift did. She infused the ruby, making it glow with her version of a Lashing. That would make the thing impossibly slick and difficult to carry for anyone but the Fused woman herself.\n\nShe seemed to think her enemies would have no experience with such a thing. Unfortunately for them, Szeth had not only carried an Honorblade that granted this power, he had practiced with skates on ice, a training exercise that somewhat mimicked an Edgedancer's movements.\n\nAnd so, as he chased down the gemstone, he gave the Fused woman plenty of opportunities to underestimate him. He let her dodge, and was slow to reorient, acting surprised when she slipped this way, then that.\n\nOnce the Fused was confident she controlled this race, Szeth struck. When she leaped off a ledge of stone-soaring a short time in the air-Szeth swooped in with a sudden set of Lashings. He collided with her right as she landed. As his face touched her carapace, he Lashed her upward.\n\nThat sent her flying into the air with a scream. Szeth landed and prepared to follow, then cursed as the Fused fumbled with the gemstone. He whipped his jacket off as she dropped it. Though one of the flying Fused swept into grab it, the ruby slipped out of his fingers.\n\nSzeth caught it in the jacket, held like a pouch. A lucky turn; he had assumed he would need to attack her again to get it out of her hands." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Now, the real test. He Lashed himself eastward, toward the city. Here, a chaotic mix of soldiers fought on a painted battlefield. The Lightweaver was good; even the corpses looked authentic.\n\nA Fused had begun gathering glowing-eyed soldiers who were real, then putting them with their backs to the city wall. They'd made ranks with spears bristling outward and yelled for soldiers to join them, but touched each one who approached. Illusions that tried to get in were disrupted. Soon the enemy would be able to ignore this distraction, regroup, and focus on getting through that wall.\n\nDo what Dalinar told you. Get him this gemstone.\n\nThe ruby had finally stopped glowing, making it no longer slick. Above, many Fused swooped to intercept Szeth; they seemed happy to play this game, for as long as the gemstone was changing hands, it was not being delivered to Dalinar.\n\nAs the first Fused came for him, Szeth ducked into a roll and canceled his Lashing upward. He collided with a rock, acting dazed. He then shook his head, took up his pouch with the ruby, and launched into the air again.\n\nEight Fused gave chase, and though Szeth dodged between them, one eventually got close enough to seize his pouch and rip it out of his fingers. They swept away as a flock, and Szeth slowly floated down and landed beside Lift, who stepped out of the illusory rock. She held a bundle wrapped in clothing: the real gemstone, which she'd taken from his pouch during his feigned collision. The Fused now had a false ruby-a rock cut into roughly the same shape with a Shardblade, then covered in an illusion.\n\n\"Come,\" Szeth said, grabbing the girl and Lashing her upward, then towing her after him as he swept toward the northern edge of the plain. This place nearest the red mist had fallen into darkness-the Windrunner had consumed all of the Stormlight in gemstones on the ground. He fought against several enemies nearby." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Shadowed darkness. Whispered words. Szeth slowed to a halt.\n\n\"What?\" Lift asked. \"Crazyface?\"\n\n\"I...\" Szeth trembled, fearspren bubbling from the ground below. \"I cannot go into that mist. I must be away from this place.\"\n\nThe whispers.\n\n\"I got it,\" she said. \"Go back and help the redhead.\"\n\nHe dropped Lift to the ground and backed away. That churning red mist, those faces breaking and re-forming and screaming. Dalinar was still in there, somewhere?\n\nThe little girl with the longhair stopped at the border of the mist, then stepped inside.\n\nAmaram was screaming in pain.\n\nKaladin sparred with the Fused who had the strange overgrown carapace, and couldn't spare a glance. He used the screaming to judge that he was staying far enough from Amaram to not be immediately attacked.\n\nBut storms, it was distracting.\n\nKaladin swept with the Sylblade, cutting through the Fused's forearms. That sheared the spurs completely free and disabled the hands. The creature backed up, growling a soft but angry rhythm.\n\nAmaram's screaming voice approached. Syl became a shield-anticipating Kaladin's need-as he raised her toward his side, blocking a set of sweeping blows from the screaming highlord.\n\nStormfather. Amaram's helm was cracked from the wicked, sharp amethysts growing out of the sides of his face. The eyes still glowed deeply within, and the stone ground somehow burned beneath his crystal-covered feet, leaving flaming tracks behind.\n\nThe highprince battered against the Sylshield with two Shardblades. She, in turn, grew a latticework on the outside-with parts sticking out like the tines of a trident." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"What are you doing?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Kaladin asked.\n\nImprovising.\n\nAmaram struck again, and Helaran's sword got tangled in the tines. Kaladin spun the shield, wrenching the sword out of Amaram's grip. It vanished to smoke.\n\nNow, press the advantage.\n\nKaladin!\n\nThe hulking Fused charged him. The creature's cut arms had regrown, and-even as it swung its hands-a large club formed therefrom carapace. Kaladin barely got Syl in place to block.\n\nIt didn't do much good.\n\nThe force of the club's sideways blow flung Kaladin against the remnants of a wall. He growled, then Lashed himself upward into the sky, Stormlight reknitting him. Damnation. The area around where they were fighting had grown dark and shadowed, the gemstones drained. Had he really used so much?\n\nUh-oh, Syl said, flying around him as a ribbon of light. Dalinar!\n\nThe red mist billowed, ominous in the gloom. Red on black. Within it Dalinar was a shadow, with two flying Fused besetting him.\n\nKaladin growled again. Amaram had gone hiking for his bow, which had fallen from the horse's saddle someways off. Damnation. He couldn't defeat them all.\n\nHe shot down toward the ground. The hulking Fused came for him, and instead of dodging, Kaladin let the creature ram a knifelike spur into his stomach.\n\nHe grunted, tasting blood, but didn't flinch. He grabbed the creature's hand and Lashed him upward and toward the mist. The Fused flipped past his companions in the air, shouting something that sounded like a plea for help. They zipped after him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Kaladin stumbled after Amaram, but his footsteps steadied as he healed. He got a little more Stormlight from some gemstones he'd missed earlier, then took to the sky. Syl became a lance, and Kaladin swooped down, causing Amaram to turn away from the bow-still a short distance from him-and track Kaladin. Crystals had broken through his armor all along his arms and back.\n\nKaladin made a charging pass. He wasn't accustomed to flying with a lance though, and Amaram batted the Syllance aside with a Shardblade. Kaladin rose upon the other side, considering his next move.\n\nAmaram launched himself into the air.\n\nHe soared in an incredible leap, far higher and farther than even Shardplate would have allowed. And he hung fora time, sweeping close to Kaladin, who dodged backward.\n\n\"Syl,\" he hissed as Amaram landed. \"Syl, that was a Lashing. What is he?\"\n\nI don't know. But we don't have much time before those Fused return.\n\nKaladin swept down and landed, shortening Syl to a halberd. Amaram spun on him, eyes within the helm trailing red light. \"Can you feel it?\" he demanded of Kaladin. \"The beauty of the fight?\"\n\nKaladin ducked in and rammed Syl at Amaram's cracked breastplate.\n\n\"It could have been so glorious,\" Amaram said, swatting aside the attack. \"You, me, Dalinar. Together on the same side.\"\n\n\"The wrong side.\"\n\n\"Is it wrong to want to help the ones who truly own this land? Is it not honorable?\"\n\n\"It's not Amaram I speak to anymore, is it? Who, or what, are you?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Oh, it's me,\" Amaram said. He dismissed one of his Blades, grabbed his helm. With a tug of the hand, it finally shattered, exploding away and revealing the face of Meridas Amaram-surrounded by amethyst crystals, glowing with a soft and somehow dark light.\n\nHe grinned. \"Odium promised me something grand, and that promise has been kept. With honor.\"\n\n\"You still pretend to speak of honor?\"\n\n\"Everything I do is for honor.\" Amaram swept with a single Blade, making Kaladin dodge. \"It was honor that drove me to seek the return of the Heralds, of powers, and of our god.\"\n\n\"So you could join the other side?\"\n\nLightning flashed behind Amaram, casting red light and long shadows as he resummoned his second Blade. \"Odium showed me what the Heralds have become. We spent years trying to get them to return. But they were here all along. They abandoned us, spearman.\"\n\nAmaram carefully circled Kaladin with his two Shardblades.\n\nHe's waiting for the Fused to come help, Kaladin thought. That's why he's being cautious now.\n\n\"I hurt, once,\" Amaram said. \"Did you know that? After I was forced to kill your squad, I... hurt. Until I realized. It wasn't my fault.\" The color of his glowing eyes intensified to a simmering crimson. \"None of this is my fault.\"\n\nKaladin attacked-unfortunately, he barely knew what he was facing. The ground rippled and became liquid, almost catching him again. Fire trailed behind Amaram's arms as he swung with both Shardblades. Somehow, he briefly ignited the very air." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Kaladin blocked one Blade, then the other, but couldn't get in an attack. Amaram was fast and brutal, and Kaladin didn't dare touch the ground, lest his feet freeze to the liquefied stone. After a few more exchanges, Kaladin was forced to retreat.\n\n\"You're outclassed, spearman,\" Amaram said. \"Give in, and convince the city to surrender. That is for the best. No more need die today. Let me be merciful.\"\n\n\"Like you were merciful to my friends? Like you were merciful tome, when you gave me these brands?\"\n\n\"I left you alive. I spared you.\"\n\n\"An attempt to assuage your conscience.\" Kaladin clashed with the highprince. \"A failed attempt.\"\n\n\"I made you, Kaladin!\" Amaram's red eyes lit the crystals that rimmed his face. \"I gave you that granite will, that warrior's poise. This, the person you've become, was my gift!\"\n\n\"A gift at the expense of everyone I loved?\"\n\n\"What do you care? It made you strong! Your men died in the name of battle, so that the strongest man would have the weapon. Anyone would have done what I did, even Dalinar himself.\"\n\n\"Didn't you tell me you'd given up that grief?\"\n\n\"Yes! I'm beyond guilt!\"\n\n\"Then why do you still hurt?\"\n\nAmaram flinched.\n\n\"Murderer,\" Kaladin said. \"You've switched sides to find peace, Amaram. But you won't ever have it. He'll never give it to you.\"\n\nAmaram roared, sweeping in with his Shardblades. Kaladin Lashed himself upward, then-as Amaram passed underneath-twisted and came back down, swinging in a powerful, two-handed grip. In response to an unspoken command, Syl became a hammer, which crashed against the back of Amaram's Plate." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The cuirass-style breastplate-which was all one piece-exploded with an unexpected force, pushing Kaladin backward across the stone. Overhead, the lightning rumbled. They were fully in the Everstorm's shadow, which made it even more ghastly as he saw what had happened to Amaram.\n\nThe highprince's entire chest had collapsed inward. There was no sign of ribs or internal organs. Instead, a large violet crystal pulsed inside his chest cavity, overgrown with dark veins. If he'd been wearing a uniform or padding beneath the armor, it had been consumed.\n\nHe turned toward Kaladin, heart and lungs replaced by a gemstone that glowed with Odium's dark light.\n\n\"Everything I've done,\" Amaram said, blinking red eyes, \"I've done for Alethkar. I'm a patriot!\"\n\n\"If that is true,\" Kaladin whispered, \"why do you still hurt?\"\n\nAmaram screamed, charging him.\n\nKaladin raised Syl, who became a Shardblade. \"Today, what I do, I do for the men you killed. I am the man I've become because of them.\"\n\n\"I made you! I forged you!\" He leaped at Kaladin, propelling himself off the ground, hanging in the air.\n\nAnd in so doing, he entered Kaladin's domain.\n\nKaladin launched at Amaram. The highprince swung, but the winds themselves curled around Kaladin, and he anticipated the attack. He Lashed himself to the side, narrowly avoiding one Blade. Windspren streaked past him as he dodged the other by a hair's width.\n\nSyl became a spear in his grip, matching his motions perfectly. He spun and slammed her against the gemstone at Amaram's heart. The amethyst cracked, and Amaram faltered in the air-then dropped." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Two Shardblades vanished to mist as the highprince fell some twenty feet to crash into the ground.\n\nKaladin floated downward toward him. \"Ten spears go to battle,\" he whispered, \"and nine shatter. Did that war forge the one that remained? No, Amaram. All the war did was identify the spear that would not break.\"\n\nAmaram climbed to his knees, howling with a bestial sound and clutching the flickering gemstone at his chest, which went out, plunging the area into darkness.\n\nKaladin! Syl shouted in Kaladin's mind.\n\nHe barely dodged as two Fused swooped past, their lances narrowly missing his chest. Two more came in from the left, one from the right. A sixth carried the hulking Fused back, rescued from Kaladin's Lashing.\n\nThey'd gone to fetch friends. It seemed the Fused had realized that their best path to stopping Dalinar was to first remove Kaladin from the battlefield.\n\nRenarin puffed in and out as the thunderclast collapsed-crushing houses in its fall, but also breaking off its arm. It reached upward with its remaining arm, bleating a plaintive cry. Renarin and his companion-the Thaylen Shardbearer-had cutoff both legs at the knees.\n\nThe Thaylen tromped up and slapped him-carefully-on the back with a Plated hand. \"Very good fighting.\"\n\n\"I just distracted it while you cut chunks of its legs off.\"\n\n\"You did good,\" the Thaylen said. He nodded toward the thunderclast, which got to its knees, then slipped. \"How to end?\"\n\nIt will fear you! Glys said from within Renarin. It will go. Make it so that it will go." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I'll see what I can do,\" Renarin said to the Thaylen, then carefully picked his way over to the street and up a level to get a better view of the thunderclast's head.\n\n\"So... Glys?\" he asked. \"What do I do?\"\n\nLight. You will make it go with light.\n\nThe thing pulled itself up across the rubble of a destroyed building. Stone rubbed stone as its enormous, wedge-shaped head turned to Renarin. Recessed molten eyes fluttered, like a sputtering fire.\n\nIt was in pain. It could hurt.\n\nIt will go! Glys promised, excitable as ever.\n\nRenarin raised his fist and summoned Stormlight. It glowed as a powerful beacon. And...\n\nThe red molten eyes faded before that light, and the thing settled down with a last extinguishing sigh.\n\nHis Thaylen companion approached with a soft clinking of Plate. \"Good. Excellent!\"\n\n\"Go help with the fighting,\" Renarin said. \"I need to open the Oathgate in person.\" The man obeyed without question, running for the main thoroughfare leading down to the Ancient Ward.\n\nRenarin lingered with that stone corpse, troubled. I was supposed to have died. I saw myself die....\n\nHe shook his head, then hiked toward the upper reaches of the city.\n\nShallan, Veil, and Radiant held hands in a ring. The three flowed, faces changing, identities melding. Together, they had raised an army.\n\nIt was dying now.\n\nA hulking variety of Fused had organized the enemy. These refused to be distracted. Though Veil, Shallan, and Radiant had made copies of themselves-to keep the real ones from being attacked-those died as well." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Wavering. Stormlight running out.\n\nWe've strained ourselves too far, they thought.\n\nThree Fused approached, cutting through the dying illusions, marching through evaporating Stormlight. People fell to their knees and puffed away.\n\n\"Mmmm...\" Pattern said.\n\n\"Tired,\" Shallan said, her eyes drowsy.\n\n\"Satisfied,\" Radiant said, proud.\n\n\"Worried,\" Veil said, eyeing the Fused.\n\nThey wanted to move. Needed to move. But it hurt to watch their army die and puff into nothing.\n\nOne figure didn't melt like the others. A woman with jet-black hair that had escaped its usual braids. It blew free as she stepped between the enemy and Shallan, Radiant, and Veil. The ground turned glossy, the surface of the stone Soulcast into oil. Veil, Shallan, and Radiant were able to glimpse it in the Cognitive Realm. It changed so easily. How did Jasnah manage that?\n\nJasnah Soulcast a spark from the air, igniting the oil and casting up afield of flames. The Fused raised hands before their faces, stumbling back.\n\n\"That should buy us a few moments.\" Jasnah turned toward Radiant, Veil, and Shallan. She took Shallan by the arm-but Shallan wavered, then puffed away. Jasnah froze, then turned to Veil.\n\n\"Here,\" Radiant said, tired, stumbling to her feet. She was the one Jasnah could feel. She blinked away tears. \"Are you... real?\"\n\n\"Yes, Shallan. You did well out here.\" She touched Radiant's arm, then glanced toward the Fused, who were venturing into the fires despite the heat. \"Damnation. Perhaps I should have opened a pit beneath them instead.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Shallan winced as the last of her army-like the shredded light of a setting sun-vanished." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Jasnah proffered a gemstone, which Radiant drank eagerly.\n\nAmaram's troops had begun to form ranks again.\n\n\"Come,\" Jasnah said, pulling Veil back to the wall, where steps grew from the stone itself.\n\n\"Soulcast?\" Shallan asked.\n\n\"Yes.\" Jasnah stepped onto the first, but Shallan didn't follow.\n\n\"We shouldn't have ignored this,\" Radiant said. \"We should have practiced this.\" She slipped-fora moment-into viewing Shadesmar. Beads rolled and surged beneath her.\n\n\"Not too far,\" Jasnah warned. \"You can't bring your physical self into the realm, as I once assumed you could, but there are things here that can feast upon your mind.\"\n\n\"If I want to Soulcast the air. How?\"\n\n\"Avoid air until you practice further,\" Jasnah said. \"It is convenient, but difficult to control. Why don't you try to turn some stone into oil, as I did? We can fire it as we climb the steps, and further impede the enemy.\"\n\n\"I...\" So many beads, so many spren, churning in the lake that marked Thaylen City. So overwhelming.\n\n\"That rubble near the wall will be easier than the ground itself,\" Jasnah said, \"as you'll be able to treat those stones as distinct units, while the ground views itself all as one.\"\n\n\"It's too much,\" Shallan said, exhaustionspren spinning around her. \"I can't, Jasnah. I'm sorry.\"\n\n\"It is well, Shallan,\" Jasnah said. \"I merely wanted to see, as it seemed you were Soulcasting to give your illusions weight. But then, concentrated Stormlight has a faint mass to it. Either way, up the steps, child.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Radiant started up the stone steps. Behind, Jasnah waved her hand toward the approaching Fused-and stone formed from air, completely encasing them.\n\nIt was brilliant. Any who saw it in only the Physical Realm would be impressed, but Radiant saw so much more. Jasnah's absolute command and confidence. The Stormlight rushing to do her will. The air itself responding as if to the voice of God himself.\n\nShallan gasped in wonder. \"It obeyed. The air obeyed your call to transform. When I tried to make a single little stick change, it refused.\"\n\n\"Soulcasting is a practiced art,\" Jasnah said. \"Up, up. Keep walking.\" She sliced the steps off as they walked. \"Remember, you mustn't order stones, as they are more stubborn than men. Use coercion. Speak of freedom and of movement. But fora gas becoming a solid, you must impose discipline and will. Each Essence is different, and each offers advantages and disadvantages when used as a substrate for Soulcasting.\"\n\nJasnah glanced over her shoulder at the gathering army. \"And perhaps... this is onetime when a lecture isn't advisable. With all my complaints about not wanting wards, you'd think I would be able to resist instructing people at inopportune times. Keep moving.\"\n\nFeeling exhausted, Veil, Shallan, and Radiant trudged up and finally reached the top of the wall.\n\nAfter how hard it had been for Renarin to getup to fight the thunderclast-he'd spent what seemed like an eternity caught in the press of people-he'd expected to have to work to cover the last distance to the Oathgate. However, people were moving more quickly now. The ones up above must have cleared off the streets, hiding in the many temples and buildings in the Royal Ward." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He was able to move with the flow of people. Near the top tier, he ducked into a building and walked to the back, past some huddled merchants. Most of the buildings here were a single story, so he used Glys to cut a hole in the roof. He then hollowed out some handholds in the rock wall and climbed upon top.\n\nBeyond, he was able to get onto the street leading to the Oathgate platform. He was... unaccustomed to being able to do things like this. Not only using the Shardblade, but being physical. He'd always been afraid of his fits, always worried that a moment of strength would instantly become a moment of invalidity.\n\nLiving like that, you learned to stay back. Justin case. He hadn't suffered a fit in awhile. He didn't know if that was just a coincidence-they could be irregular-or if they had been healed, like his bad eyesight. Indeed, he still saw the world differently from everyone else. He was still nervous talking to people, and didn't like being touched. Everyone else saw in each other things he never could understand. So much noise and destruction and people talking and cries for help and sniffles and muttering and whispering all like buzzing, buzzings.\n\nAt least here, on this street near the Oathgate, the crowds had diminished. Why was that? Wouldn't they have pressed up here, hoping for escape? Why...\n\nOh.\n\nA dozen Fused hovered in the sky above the Oathgate, lances held formally before themselves, clothing draping beneath them and fluttering.\n\nTwelve. Twelve.\n\nThis, Glys said, would be bad.\n\nMotion caught his attention: a young girl standing in a doorway and waving at him. He walked over, worried the Fused would attack him. Hopefully his Stormlight-which he'd mostly used up fighting the thunderclast-wasn't bright enough to draw their ire." }, { "from": "human", "value": "He entered the building, another single-story structure with a large open room at the front." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was occupied by dozens of scribes and ardents, many of whom huddled around a spanreed. Children that he couldn't see crowded the backrooms, but he could hear their whimpers. And he heard the scratching, scratching, scratching of reeds on paper.\n\n\"Oh, bless the Almighty,\" Brightness Teshav said, appearing from the mass of people. She pulled Renarin deeper into the room. \"Have you any news?\"\n\n\"My father sent me up hereto help,\" Renarin said. \"Brightness, where are General Khal and your son?\"\n\n\"In Urithiru,\" she said. \"They transferred back to gather forces, but then... Brightlord, there's been an attack at Urithiru. We've been trying to get information via spanreed. It appears that a strike force of some kind arrived at the advent of the Everstorm.\"\n\n\"Brightness!\" Kadash called. \"Spanreed to Sebarial's scribes is responding again. They apologize for the long delay. Sebarial pulled back, following Aladar's command, to the upper levels. He confirms that the attackers are parshmen.\"\n\n\"The Oathgates?\" Renarin asked, hopeful. \"Can they reach those, and open the way here?\"\n\n\"Not likely. The enemy is holding the plateau.\"\n\n\"Our armies have the advantage at Urithiru, Prince Renarin,\" Teshav said. \"Reports agree that the enemy strike force isn't nearly large enough to defeat us there. This is obviously a delaying tactic to keep us from activating the Oathgate and bringing help to Thaylen City.\"\n\nKadash nodded. \"Those Fused above the Oathgate held even when the stone monster outside was falling. They know their orders-keep that device from being activated.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Radiant Malata is the only way for our armies to reach us through the Oathgate,\" Teshav said. \"But we can't contact her, or any of the Kharbranth contingent. The enemy struck them first. They knew exactly what they had to do to cripple us.\"\n\nRenarin took a deep breath, drawing in Stormlight that Teshav was carrying. His glow lit the room, and eyes all through the chamber looked up from spanreeds, turning toward him.\n\n\"The portal has to be opened,\" Renarin said.\n\n\"Your Highness...\" Teshav said. \"You can't fight them all.\"\n\n\"There's nobody else.\" He turned to go.\n\nShockingly, nobody called for him to stop.\n\nAll his life they'd done that. No, Renarin. That's not for you. You can't do that. You're not well, Renarin. Be reasonable, Renarin.\n\nHe'd always been reasonable. He'd always listened. It felt wonderful and terrifying at once to know that nobody did that today. The spanreeds continued their scratching, moving on their own, oblivious to the moment.\n\nRenarin stepped outside.\n\nTerrified, he strode down the street, summoning Glys as a Shardblade. Ashe approached the ramp up to the Oathgate, the Fused descended. Four landed on the ramp before him, then gave him a gesture not unlike a salute, humming to a frantic tune he did not know.\n\nRenarin was so frightened, he worried he'd wet himself. Not very noble or brave, now was he?\n\nAh... what will come now? Glys said, voice thrumming through Renarin. What emerges?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "One of his fits struck him.\n\nNot the old fits, where he grew weak. He had new ones now, that neither he nor Glys could control. To his eyes, glass grew across the ground. It spread out like crystals, forming lattices, images, meanings and pathways. Stained-glass pictures, panel after panel.\n\nThese had always been right. Until today-until they had proclaimed that Jasnah Kholin's love would fail.\n\nHe read this latest set of stained-glass images, then felt his fear drain away. He smiled. This seemed to confuse the Fused as they lowered their salutes.\n\n\"You're wondering why I'm smiling,\" Renarin said.\n\nThey didn't respond.\n\n\"Don't worry,\" Renarin said. \"You didn't miss something funny. I... well, I doubt you'll find it amusing.\"\n\nLight exploded from the Oathgate platform in a wave. The Fused cried out in a strange tongue, zipping into the air. A luminous wall expanded from the Oathgate platform in a ring, trailing a glowing afterimage.\n\nIt faded to reveal an entire division of Alethi troops in Kholin blue standing upon the Oathgate platform.\n\nThen, like a Herald from lore, a man rose into the air above them. Glowing white with Stormlight, the bearded man carried along silver Shardspear with a strange crossguard shape behind the tip.\n\nTeft.\n\nKnight Radiant.\n\nShallan sat with her back against the battlement, listening to soldiers shout orders. Navani had given her Stormlight and water, but was currently distracted by reports from Urithiru.\n\nPattern hummed from the side of Veil's jacket. \"Shallan? You did well, Shallan. Very well.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"An honorable stand,\" Radiant agreed. \"One against many, and we held our ground.\"\n\n\"Longer than we should have,\" Veil said. \"We were already exhausted.\"\n\n\"We're still ignoring too much,\" Shallan said. \"We're getting too good at pretending.\" She had decided to stay with Jasnah in the first place to learn. But when the woman returned from the dead, Shallan had-instead of accepting training-immediately fled. What had shebeen thinking?\n\nNothing. She'd been trying to hideaway things she didn't want to face. Like always.\n\n\"Mmm...\" Pattern said, a concerned hum.\n\n\"I'm tired,\" Shallan whispered. \"You don't have to worry. After I rest, I'll recover and settle down to being just one. I actually... actually don't think I'm quite as lost as I was before.\"\n\nJasnah, Navani, and Queen Fen whispered together farther along the wall. Thaylen generals joined them, and fearspren gathered around. The defense, in their opinion, was going poorly. Reluctantly, Veil pushed herself to her feet and surveyed the battlefield. Amaram's forces were gathering beyond bow range.\n\n\"We delayed the enemy,\" Radiant said, \"but didn't defeat them. We still have an overwhelming army to face....\"\n\n\"Mmmm...\" Pattern said, high pitched, worried. \"Shallan, look. Beyond.\"\n\nOut nearer the bay, thousands upon thousands of fresh parshman troops had begun to carry ladders off their ships to use in a full-on assault.\n\n\"Tell the men not to give chase to those Fused,\" Renarin said to Lopen. \"We need to hold the Oathgate, first and foremost.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Good enough, sure,\" Lopen said, launching into the sky and going to relay the order to Teft.\n\nThe Fused clashed with Bridge Four in the air over the city. This group of enemies seemed more skilled than the ones Renarin had seen below, but they didn't fight so much as defend themselves. They were progressively moving the clash farther out over the city, and Renarin worried they were deliberately drawing Bridge Four away from the Oathgate.\n\nThe Alethi division marched into the city with shouts of praise and joy from the surrounding people. Two thousand men wasn't going to do much if those parshmen outside joined the battle, but it was a start-plus, General Khal had brought not one, but three Shardbearers. Renarin did his best to explain the city situation, but was embarrassed to tell the Khals that he didn't know his father's status.\n\nAs they reunited with Teshav-turning her scribe station into a command post-Rock and Lyn landed next to Renarin.\n\n\"Ha!\" Rock said. \"What happened to uniform? Is needing my needle.\"\n\nRenarin looked down at his tattered clothing. \"I got hit by a large block of stone. Twenty times... You're not one to complain, anyway. Is that your blood on your uniform?\"\n\n\"Is nothing!\"\n\n\"We had to carry him all the way down to the Oathgate,\" Lyn said. \"We were trying to get him to you, but he started drawing in Stormlight as soon as he got here.\"\n\n\"Kaladin is close,\" Rock agreed. \"Ha! I feed him. But here, today, he fed me. With light!\"\n\nLyn eyed Rock. \"Storming Horneater weighs as much as a chull....\" She shook her head. \"Kara will fight with the others-don't tell anyone, but she's been practicing with a spear since childhood, the little cheater. But Rock won't fight, and I've only been handling a spear fora few weeks now. Any idea where you want us?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I'm..." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "um... not really in command or anything....\"\n\n\"Really?\" Lyn said. \"That's your best Knight Radiant voice?\"\n\n\"Ha!\" Rock said.\n\n\"I think I used up all my Radianting for the day,\" Renarin said. \"Um, I'll work the Oathgate and get more troops here. Maybe you two could go down and help on the city wall, pull wounded out of the front lines?\"\n\n\"Is good idea,\" Rock said. Lyn nodded and flew off, but Rock lingered, then grabbed Renarin in a very warm, suffocating, and unexpected embrace.\n\nRenarin did his best not to squirm. It wasn't the first hug he'd endured from Rock. But... storms. You weren't supposed to just grab someone like that.\n\n\"Why?\" Renarin said after the embrace.\n\n\"You looked like person who needed hug.\"\n\n\"I assure you, I never look like that. But, um, I am glad you guys came. Really, really glad.\"\n\n\"Bridge Four,\" Rock said, then launched into the air.\n\nRenarin settled down nearby on some steps, trembling from it all, but grinning anyway.\n\nDalinar drifted in the Thrill's embrace.\n\nHe'd once believed he had been four men in his life, but he now saw he'd grossly underestimated. He hadn't lived as two, or four, or six men-he had lived as thousands, for each day he became someone slightly different.\n\nHe hadn't changed in one giant leap, but across a million little steps.\n\nThe most important always being the next, he thought as he drifted in the red mist. The Thrill threatened to take him, control him, rip him apart and shred his soul in its eagerness to please him-to give him something it could never understand was dangerous." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A small hand gripped Dalinar's.\n\nHe started, looking down. \"L-Lift? You shouldn't have come inhere.\"\n\n\"But I'm the best at going places I'm not supposed to.\" She pressed something into his hand.\n\nThe large ruby.\n\nBless you.\n\n\"What is it?\" she said. \"Why do you need that rock?\"\n\nDalinar squinted into the mists. Do you know how we capture spren, Dalinar? Taravangian had said. You lure the spren with something it loves. You give it something familiar to draw it in...\n\nSomething it knows deeply.\n\n\"Shallan saw one of the Unmade in the tower,\" he whispered. \"When she got close, it was afraid, but I don't think the Thrill comprehends like it did. You see, it can only be bested by someone who deeply, sincerely, understands it.\"\n\nHe lifted the gemstone above his head, and-one last time-embraced the Thrill.\n\nWar.\n\nVictory.\n\nThe contest.\n\nDalinar's entire life had been a competition: a struggle from one conquest to the next. He accepted what he had done. It would always be part of him. And though he was determined to resist, he would not cast aside what he had learned. That very thirst for the struggle-the fight, the victory-had also prepared him to refuse Odium.\n\n\"Thank you,\" he whispered again to the Thrill, \"forgiving me strength when I needed it.\"\n\nThe Thrill churned close around him, cooing and exulting in his praise.\n\n\"Now, old friend, it is time to rest.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Keep moving.\n\nKaladin dodged and wove, avoiding some strikes, healing from others.\n\nKeep them distracted.\n\nHe tried to take to the skies, but the eight Fused swarmed about him, knocking him back down. He hit the stone ground, then Lashed himself laterally, away from the stabbing lances or crushing clubs.\n\nCan't actually escape.\n\nHe had to keep their attention. If he managed to slip away, all of these would turn against Dalinar.\n\nYou don't have to beat them. You simply have to last long enough.\n\nHe dodged to the right, skimming a few inches above the ground. But one of the hulking Fused-there were four fighting him now-grabbed him by the foot. She slammed him down, then carapace grew down along her arms, threatening to bind Kaladin to the ground.\n\nHe kicked her off, but another grabbed him by the arm and flung him to the side. Flying ones descended, and while he warded away their lances with the Sylshield, his side throbbed with pain. The healing was coming more slowly now.\n\nTwo other Fused swept along, scooping up nearby gemstones, leaving Kaladin in an ever-expanding ring of darkness.\n\nJust buy time. Dalinar needs time.\n\nSyl sang in his mind as he spun, forming a spear and ramming it through the chest of one of the hulking ones. Those could heal unless you stabbed them inexactly the right spot in the sternum, and he'd missed. So, he made Syl into a sword and-the weapon still embedded in the Fused woman's chest-swept upward through the head, burning her eyes. Another hulking Fused swung, but as it hit-the club being part of the thing's actual body-Kaladin used much of his remaining Stormlight to Lash this man upward, crashing him into a Fused above." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Another clobbered him from the side, sending him rolling. Red lightning pulsed overhead as he came to a rest on his back. He immediately summoned Syl as a spear, pointing straight up. That impaled the Fused dropping down to attack him, cracking its sternum within, causing its eyes to burn.\n\nAnother grabbed him by the foot and lifted him, then slammed him face-first into the ground. That knocked Kaladin's breath out. The monstrous Fused stomped a carapace-encrusted foot onto his back, shattering ribs. Kaladin screamed, and though the Stormlight healed what it could, the last of it fluttered inside.\n\nThen went out.\n\nA sudden sound rose behind Kaladin, like that of rushing air-accompanied by wails of pain. The Fused stumbled backward, muttering to a quick, worried rhythm. Then, remarkably, it turned and ran.\n\nKaladin twisted, looking behind himself. He couldn't make out Dalinar anymore, but the mist itself had begun to thrash. Surging and pulsing, it whipped about like it was caught in a powerful wind.\n\nMore Fused fled. That wailing grew louder, and the mist seemed to roar-a thousand faces stretching from it, mouths opened in agony. They were sucked back together, like rats pulled by their tails.\n\nThe red mist imploded, vanishing. All went dark, with the storm overhead growing still.\n\nKaladin found himself lying broken on the ground. Stormlight had healed his vital functions; his organs would probably be intact, though his cracked bones left him gasping with pain when he tried to sit up. The spheres around the area were dun, and the darkness prevented him from spotting whether Dalinar lived.\n\nThe mist was entirely gone. That seemed a good sign. And in the darkness, Kaladin could see something streaking from the city. Brilliant white lights flying in the air." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A scraping sound came from nearby, and then a violet light flickered in the darkness. A shadow stumbled to its feet, dark purple light pulsing alive in its chest cavity, which was empty save for that gemstone.\n\nAmaram's glowing red eyes illuminated a distorted face: his jaw had broken as he'd fallen, and gemstones had pushed out the sides of his face at awkward angles, making the jaw hang limp from his mouth, drool leaking out the side. He stumbled toward Kaladin, gemstone heart pulsing with light. A Shardblade formed in his hand. The one that had killed Kaladin's friends so long ago.\n\n\"Amaram,\" Kaladin whispered. \"I can see what you are. What you've always been.\"\n\nAmaram tried to speak, but his drooping jaw only let out spittle and grunts. Kaladin was struck by a memory of the first time he'd seen the highlord at Hearthstone. So tall and brave. Seemingly perfect.\n\n\"I saw it in your eyes, Amaram,\" Kaladin whispered as the husk of a man stumbled up to him. \"When you killed Coreb and Hab and my other friends. I saw the guilt you felt.\" He licked his lips. \"You tried to break meas a slave. But you failed. They rescued me.\"\n\nMaybe it's time for someone to save you, Syl had said in Shadesmar. But someone already had.\n\nAmaram raised the Shardblade high.\n\n\"Bridge Four,\" Kaladin whispered.\n\nAn arrow slammed into Amaram's head from behind, going right through the skull, coming out his inhuman mouth. Amaram stumbled forward, dropping his Shardblade, the arrow stuck in his head. He made a choking sound, then turned about just in time to catch another arrow straight in the chest-right through the flickering gemstone heart." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The amethyst exploded, and Amaram dropped in a crumbled wreck beside Kaladin.\n\nA glowing figure stood on some rubble beyond, holding Amaram's enormous Shardbow. The weapon seemed to match Rock, tall and brilliant, a beacon in the darkness.\n\nAmaram's red eyes faded as he died, and Kaladin had the distinct impression of a dark smoke escaping his corpse. Two Shardblades formed beside him and clanged to the stone.\n\nThe soldiers made a space for Radiant on the wall as they prepared for the enemy assault. Amaram's army formed assault ranks while parshmen carried ladders, ready to charge.\n\nIt was hard to step atop the wall without squishing a fearspren. Thaylens whispered of Alethi prowess in battle, recalling stories like when Hamadin and his fifty had withstood ten thousand Vedens. This was the first battle the Thaylens had seen in a generation, but Amaram's troops had been hardened by constant war on the Shattered Plains.\n\nThey looked to Shallan as if she could save them. The Knights Radiant were the only edge this city had. Their best hope of survival.\n\nThat terrified her.\n\nThe armies started charging the wall. No pause, no breather. Odium would keep pushing forces at this wall as long as it took to crack Thaylen City. Bloodlusty men, controlled by...\n\nThe lights in their eyes started to go out.\n\nThat clouded sky made it unmistakable. All across the field, red faded from the eyes of Amaram's soldiers. Many immediately fell to their knees, retching on the ground. Others stumbled, holding themselves upright by sagging against spears. It was like the very life had been sucked out of them-and it was so abrupt and unexpected that Shallan had to blink several times before her mind admitted that-yes-this was happening." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Cheers erupted along the wall as the Fused inexplicably retreated back toward the ships. The parshmen rushed to follow, as did many of Amaram's troops-though some just lay on the broken stones.\n\nLethargically, the black storm faded until it was a mere overcast stain, rippling with drowsy red lightning. It finally rolled across the island-impotent, bereft of wind-and vanished to the east.\n\nKaladin drank Stormlight from Lopen's gemstones.\n\n\"Be lucky the Horneater was looking for you, gon,\" Lopen said. \"The rest of us thought we'd just fight, you know?\"\n\nKaladin glanced toward Rock, who stood over Amaram's body, looking down, the enormous bow held limply in one hand. How had he drawn it? Stormlight granted great endurance, but it didn't vastly improve strength.\n\n\"Whoa,\" Lopen said. \"Gancho! Look!\"\n\nThe clouds had thinned, and sunlight peeked through, illuminating the field of stone. Dalinar Kholin knelt not faraway, clutching a large ruby that glowed with the same strange phantom light as the Fused. The Reshi girl stood with her diminutive hand resting on his shoulder.\n\nThe Blackthorn was crying as he cradled the gemstone.\n\n\"Dalinar?\" Kaladin asked, worried, jogging over. \"What happened?\"\n\n\"It is over, Captain,\" Dalinar said. Then he smiled. So were they tears of joy? Why had he seemed so grieved? \"It's over.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "-From The Way of Kings, postscript\n\nMoash found it easy to transition from killing men to breaking apart rubble.\n\nHe used a pick to hack at pieces of fallen stone in the former east wing of the Kholinar palace, smashing fallen columns so they could be carried off by other workers. Nearby, the floor was still red with dried blood. That was where he'd killed Elhokar, and his new masters had ordered the blood to not be cleaned. They claimed that the death of a king was a thing to regard with reverence.\n\nShouldn't Moash have felt pleasure? Or at least satisfaction? Instead, killing Elhokar had only made him feel... cold. Like a man who had hiked across half of Roshar with a caravan of stubborn chulls. At the top of the last hill, you didn't feel satisfaction. You just felt tired. Maybe a sliver of relief at being done.\n\nHe slammed his pick into a fallen pillar. Near the end of the battle for Kholinar, the thunderclast had knocked down a large portion of the palace's eastern gallery. Now, human slaves worked to clear out the rubble. The others would often breakdown crying, or work with hunched shoulders.\n\nMoash shook his head, enjoying the peaceful rhythm of pick on stone.\n\nA Fused strode past, covered in carapace armor as brilliant and wicked as Shardplate. There were nine orders of them. Why not ten?\n\n\"Over there,\" the Fused said through an interpreter. He pointed at a section of wall. \"Break this down.\"\n\nMoash wiped his brow, frowning as other slaves began work there. Why breakdown that wall? Wouldn't it be needed to rebuild this portion of the palace?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Curious, human?\"\n\nMoash jumped, startled to find a figure hovering down through the broken ceiling, swathed in black. Lady Leshwi still visited Moash, the man who had killed her. She was important among the singers, but not in a highprince sort of way. More like afield captain.\n\n\"I guess I am curious, Ancient Singer,\" Moash said. \"Is there a reason you're ripping apart this section of the palace? More than just to clear away the rubble?\"\n\n\"Yes. But you do not yet need to know why.\"\n\nHe nodded, then returned to his work.\n\nShe hummed to a rhythm he associated with being pleased. \"Your passion does you credit.\"\n\n\"I have no passion. Just numbness.\"\n\n\"You have given him your pain. He will return it, human, when you need it.\"\n\nThat would be fine, so long as he could forget the look of betrayal he'd seen in Kaladin's eyes.\n\n\"Hnanan wishes to speak with you,\" the ancient one said. The name wasn't fully a word. It was more a hummed sound, with specific beats. \"Join us above.\"\n\nShe flew off. Moash set aside his pick and followed in a more mundane manner, rounding to the front of the palace. Once away from the picks and the clatter of rocks, he could hear sobs and whimpers. Only the most destitute humans sheltered here, in the broken buildings near the palace.\n\nEventually, these would be rounded up and sent to work farms. For now, however, the grand city was a place of wails and heartache. The people thought the world had ended, but they were only half right. Their world had." }, { "from": "human", "value": "He entered the palace uncontested, and started up the stairwell." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Fused didn't need guards. Killing them was difficult, and even if you succeeded, they would simply be reborn at the next Everstorm, assuming a willing parshman could be found to take the burden.\n\nNear the king's chambers, Moash passed two Fused reading books in a library. They'd removed their lengthy coats, floating with bare feet peeking from loose, rippling trousers, toes pointed downward. He eventually found Hnanan out beyond the king's balcony, hovering in the air, her train blowing and rippling in the wind beneath.\n\n\"Ancient Singer,\" he said from the balcony. Though Hnanan was the equivalent of a highprince, they did not demand that Moash bow even to her. Apparently, by having killed one of their better fighters, he had obtained a level of respect.\n\n\"You did well,\" she said, speaking Alethi, her voice thickly accented. \"You felled a king in this palace.\"\n\n\"King or slave, he was an enemy tome and mine.\"\n\n\"I have called myself wise,\" she said, \"and felt pride for Leshwi at picking you out. For years, my brother, sister, and I will boast of having chosen you.\" She looked to him. \"Odium has a command for you. This is rare fora human.\"\n\n\"Speak it.\"\n\n\"You have killed a king,\" she said, removing something from a sheath within her robes. A strange knife, with a sapphire set into the pommel. The weapon was of a bright golden metal, so light it was almost white. \"Would you do the same to a god?\"\n\nNavani left through the sally port in the Thaylen City wall, and ran across the broken field, heedless of the calls of soldiers who scrambled after her. She'd waited as long as was reasonable to let the enemy army withdraw." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dalinar walked with help from Lopen and Captain Kaladin, one under each arm. He towed jets of exhaustionspren like a swarm. Navani took him in a powerful embrace anyway. He was the Blackthorn. He'd survive a forceful hug.\n\nKaladin and Lopen hovered nearby. \"He's mine,\" she said to them.\n\nThey nodded, and didn't move.\n\n\"People need your help inside,\" she said. \"I can handle him, boys.\"\n\nFinally they flew off, and Navani tried to get under Dalinar's arm. He shook his head, still holding her in the embrace, a large stone-wrapped in his coat-held in one hand and pressing against her back. What was that?\n\n\"I think I know why the memories came back,\" he whispered. \"Odium was going to make me remember once I faced him. I needed to learn to stand up again. All my pain these last two months was a blessing.\"\n\nShe held to him on that open field of rock, broken by the thunderclasts, littered with men who wailed toward the empty sky, screaming for what they'd done, demanding to know why they'd been abandoned.\n\nDalinar resisted Navani's attempts to tug him toward the wall. Instead, teary eyed, he kissed her. \"Thank you for inspiring me.\"\n\n\"Inspiring you?\"\n\nHe released her and held up his arm, which was strapped with the clock and painrial she'd given him. It had cracked open, exposing the gemstones. \"It reminded me,\" he said. \"Of how we make fabrials.\"\n\nHe lethargically unwrapped his uniform jacket from around a large ruby. It glowed with a bizarre light, deep and dark. Somehow, it seemed to be trying to pull the light around it in." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I want you to keep this safe for me,\" Dalinar said. \"Study it. Find out why this gemstone specifically was capable of holding one of the Unmade. Don't break it though. We dare not let it out again.\"\n\nShe bit her lip. \"Dalinar, I've seen something like this before. Much smaller, like a sphere.\" She looked up at him. \"Gavilar made it.\"\n\nDalinar touched the stone with his bare finger. Deep within it, something seemed to stir. Had he really trapped an entire Unmade inside this thing?\n\n\"Study it,\" he repeated. \"And in the meantime, there's something else I want you to do, dearest. Something unconventional, perhaps uncomfortable.\"\n\n\"Anything,\" she said. \"What is it?\"\n\nDalinar met her eyes. \"I want you to teach me how to read.\"\n\nEveryone started celebrating. Shallan, Radiant, and Veil just settled down on the wall walk, back to the stone.\n\nRadiant worried they'd leave the city undefended in their reverie. And what had become of the enemy that had been fighting in the streets? The defenders had to make certain this wasn't an elaborate feint.\n\nVeil worried about looting. A city in chaos often proved how feral it could become. Veil wanted to be out on the streets, looking for people likely to be robbed, and making sure they were cared for.\n\nShallan wanted to sleep. She felt... weaker... more tired than the other two.\n\nJasnah approached along the wall walk, then leaned down beside her. \"Shallan? Are you well?\"\n\n\"Just tired,\" Veil lied. \"You have no idea how draining that was, Brightness. I could use a stiff drink.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I suspect that would help very little,\" Jasnah said, rising. \"Rest here awhile yet. I want to make absolutely certain the enemy is not returning.\"\n\n\"I swear to do better, Brightness,\" Radiant said, taking Jasnah's hand. \"I wish to fulfill my wardship-to study and learn until you determine I am ready. I will not flee again. I've realized I have very far to go yet.\"\n\n\"That is well, Shallan.\" Jasnah moved off.\n\nShallan. Which... which am I...? She'd insisted she would be better soon, but that didn't seem to be happening. She grasped for an answer, staring into the nothingness until Navani approached and knelt down beside her. Behind, Dalinar accepted a respectful bow from Queen Fen, then bowed back.\n\n\"Storms, Shallan,\" Navani said. \"You look like you can barely keep your eyes open. I'll get you a palanquin to the upper reaches of the city.\"\n\n\"The Oathgate is likely clogged,\" Radiant said. \"I would not take a place from others who might be in greater need.\"\n\n\"Don't be foolish, child,\" Navani said, then gave her an embrace. \"You must have been through so much. Devmrh, would you get a palanquin for Brightness Davar?\"\n\n\"My own feet are good enough,\" Veil said, glaring at the scribe who jumped to obey Navani. \"I'm stronger than you think-no offense, Brightness.\"\n\nNavani pursed her lips, but then was pulled away by Dalinar and Fen's conversation; they were planning to write the Azish and explain what had happened. Veil figured he was rightly worried that today's events would spread as rumors of Alethi betrayal. Storms, if she hadn't been here herself, she'd have been tempted to believe them. It wasn't everyday that an entire army went rogue." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Radiant decided they could rest for ten minutes." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Shallan accepted that, leaning her head back against the wall. Floating...\n\n\"Shallan?\"\n\nThat voice. She opened her eyes to find Adolin scrambling across the wall to her. He skidded a little as he fell to his knees beside her, then raised his hands-only to hesitate, as if confronted by something very fragile.\n\n\"Don't look at me like that,\" Veil said. \"I'm not some delicate piece of crystal.\"\n\nAdolin narrowed his eyes.\n\n\"Truly,\" Radiant said. \"I'm a soldier as much as the men atop this wall. Treat me-other than in obvious respects-as you would treat them.\"\n\n\"Shallan...\" Adolin said, taking her hand.\n\n\"What?\" Veil asked.\n\n\"Something's wrong.\"\n\n\"Of course it is,\" Radiant said. \"This fighting has left us all thoroughly worn out.\"\n\nAdolin searched her eyes. She bled from one, to the other, and back. A moment of Veil. A moment of Radiant. Shallan peeking through-\n\nAdolin's hand tightened around her own.\n\nShallan's breath caught. There, she thought. That's the one. That's the one I am.\n\nHe knows.\n\nAdolin relaxed, and for the first time she noticed how ragged his clothing was. She raised her safehand to her lips. \"Adolin, are you all right?\"\n\n\"Oh!\" He looked down at his ripped uniform and scraped hands. \"It's not as bad as it looks, Shallan. Most of the blood isn't mine. Well, I mean, I guess it is. But I'm feeling better.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She cupped his face with her freehand. \"You'd better not have gotten too many scars. I'm expecting you to remain pretty, I'll have you know.\"\n\n\"I'm barely hurt, Shallan. Renarin got tome.\"\n\n\"Then it's all right if I do this?\" Shallan asked, hugging him. He responded, pulling her tight. He smelled of sweat and blood-not the gentlest of scents, but this was him and she was Shallan.\n\n\"How are you?\" he asked. \"Really?\"\n\n\"Tired,\" she whispered.\n\n\"You want a palanquin...\"\n\n\"Everyone keeps asking that.\"\n\n\"I could carry you up,\" he said, then pulled back and grinned. \"Course, you're a Radiant. So maybe you could carry me instead? I've already been all the way up to the top of the city and back down once....\"\n\nShallan smiled, until farther down the wall a glowing figure in blue landed on the battlements. Kaladin settled down, blue eyes shining, flanked by Rock and Lopen. Soldiers all along the walk turned toward him. Even in a battle with multiple Knights Radiant, there was something about the way Kaladin flew, the way he moved.\n\nVeil immediately took over. She pulled herself to her feet as Kaladin strode along the wall to meet with Dalinar. What happened to his boots?\n\n\"Shallan?\" Adolin asked.\n\n\"A palanquin sounds great,\" Veil said. \"Thanks.\"\n\nAdolin blushed, then nodded and strode toward one of the stairwells down into the city.\n\n\"Mmm...\" Pattern said. \"I'm confused.\"" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Extende the story in collaboration with the author.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, knights radiant\nAuthor: Brandon Sanderson\nTitle: Oathbringer\nChapter: 123" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No,\" Dalinar said. \"Why would he work with the enemy? Everything he's done so far has been to secure a safe Roshar-if through brutal means. Still, I have to wonder. I can't afford to be too trusting. Hopefully that's one thing Sadeas cured in me.\"\n\nThe Blackthorn shook his head, then looked to Shallan and Adolin. \"Either way, Alethkar needs a king. More so now than ever.\"\n\n\"The heir-\" Adolin began.\n\n\"Too young. This isn't the time fora regency. Gavinor can be named your heir, Adolin, but we must see you two married and the monarchy secured. For the good of Alethkar, but also the world.\" He narrowed his eyes. \"The coalition needs more than I can provide. I will continue to lead it, but I have never been good at diplomacy. I need someone on the throne who can inspire Alethkar and command the respect of the monarchs.\"\n\nAdolin grew tense, and Shallan took his hand, holding tight. You can be this man, if you want, she thought to him. But you don't have to be what he makes of you.\n\n\"I'll prepare the coalition for your coronation,\" Dalinar said. \"Perhaps the day before the wedding.\" He turned to walkaway. Dalinar Kholin was a force like a storm. He simply blew you over, and assumed you'd always wanted to lie down in the first place.\n\nAdolin looked to Shallan, then set his jaw and seized his father by the arm. \"I killed Sadeas, Father,\" Adolin whispered.\n\nDalinar froze.\n\n\"It was me,\" Adolin continued. \"I broke the Codes of War and killed him in the corridor. For speaking against our family. For betraying us time and time again. I stopped him because it needed to be done, and because I knew you would never be able to do it.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dalinar turned, speaking in a harsh whisper. \"What? Son, why did you hide this from me?\"\n\n\"Because you're you.\"\n\nDalinar took a deep breath. \"We can fix this,\" he said. \"We can see that atonement is made. It will hurt our reputation. Storms, this is not what I needed now. Nonetheless, we will fix it.\"\n\n\"It's already fixed. I'm not sorry for what I did-and I'd do it again, right now.\"\n\n\"We'll talk about this further once the coronation-\"\n\n\"I'm not going to be king, Father,\" Adolin said. He glanced at Shallan, and she nodded to him, then squeezed his hand again. \"Didn't you listen to what I just said? I broke the Codes.\"\n\n\"Everyone in this storming country breaks the Codes,\" Dalinar said, loudly, then looked over his shoulder. He continued, more softly. \"I broke the Codes hundreds of times. You don't have to be perfect, you only have to do your duty.\"\n\n\"No. I'll be highprince, but not king. I just... no. I don't want that burden. And before you complain that none of us want it, I'd also be terrible at the job. You think the monarchs would listen tome?\"\n\n\"I can't be king of Alethkar,\" Dalinar said softly. \"I have to lead the Radiants-and need to divest myself of that power in Alethkar, to move away from that highking nonsense. We need a ruler in Alethkar who won't be pushed over, but who can also deal with diplomats in diplomatic ways.\"\n\n\"Well, that's not me,\" Adolin repeated." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Who, then?\" Dalinar demanded.\n\nShallan cocked her head. \"Hey. Have you boys ever considered...\"\n\nPalona skimmed through the latest gossip reports out of Tashikk, looking for the juicy stuff.\n\nAround her in the grand conference room of Urithiru, kings and princes squabbled with one another. Some complained that they weren't allowed to join whatever meeting Dalinar was having on the floor above, with his generals. The Natans still complained that they should be given control of the Oathgate at the Shattered Plains, while the Azish were talking-again-about how God himself had apparently prophesied that Surgebinders would destroy the world.\n\nEveryone was quite persistent, and quite loud-even those who didn't speak Alethi. You had to be very dedicated to your grousing to wait for interpretation.\n\nSebarial-Turi-snored softly beside Palona. That was an act. He did the same fake snore when she tried to tell him about the latest novel she'd read. Then when she quit, he got annoyed. He seemed to like hearing the stories, but only as long as he could comment on how trite and feminine they were.\n\nShe nudged him, and he cracked an eye as she turned one of her gossip reports toward him, pointing at a drawing it included. \"Yezier and Emul,\" she whispered. \"The prince and princess were seen together in Thaylen City, speaking intimately while their guards worked on the rubble.\"\n\nTuri grunted.\n\n\"Everyone thinks their romance is back on, though they can't talk about it, as head monarchs in Azir are forbidden marriage without the emperor's consent. But the rumors are wrong. I think she's been courting Halam Khal, the Shardbearer.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You could just go talk to her,\" Turi said, pointing a lazy finger toward the princess of Yezier, whose translators were complaining forcefully about the dangers of Surgebinding.\n\n\"Oh, Turi,\" Palona said. \"You can't just ask people about gossip. This is why you're hopeless.\"\n\n\"And here I thought I was hopeless because of my terrible taste in women.\"\n\nThe doors to the room slammed open, the noise of it sending a shock through the room, complaints falling silent. Even Turi sat up to note Jasnah Kholin standing in the doorway.\n\nShe wore a small but unmistakable crown on her head. The Kholin family, it seemed, had chosen their new monarch.\n\nTuri grinned at the looks of worry on the faces of many of the others in the room. \"Oh my,\" he whispered to Palona. \"Now this should be interesting.\"\n\nMoash pounded the pickaxe down again.\n\nTwo weeks of work, and he was still here clearing out rubble. Kill a god. Get back to work.\n\nWell, he didn't mind. It would take months, maybe years, to clear all the rubble from this city. All of it out of Alethkar.\n\nMost days this week, he was the only one here working at the palace. The city was slowly being reversed, humans shipped out, singers moved in-but they left him alone to break stones, with no overseer or guard insight.\n\nSo he was surprised when he heard another pick fall beside him. He spun, shocked. \"Khen?\"\n\nThe beefy parshwoman started breaking rocks.\n\n\"Khen, you were freed from your slavery,\" Moash said. \"Your assault on the palace earned you the Passion of Mercy.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Khen kept working. Nam and Pal stepped in, wearing warform-two others who had survived with him during the assault. Only a handful had.\n\nThey lifted picks and started breaking stones too.\n\n\"Pal,\" Moash said. \"You-\"\n\n\"They want us to farm,\" she said. \"I'm tired of farming.\"\n\n\"And I'm no house servant,\" Khen said. \"Running drinks.\" They were starting to speak to rhythms, like proper singers.\n\n\"So you'll break rocks?\" Moash asked.\n\n\"We heard something. Made us want to be near you.\"\n\nMoash hesitated, but then the numbness drove him to keep working, to hear that steady beat of metal on stone that let him pass between times.\n\nIt was maybe an hour later when they came for him. Nine flying Fused, rippling clothing pooling beneath them as they descended around Moash.\n\n\"Leshwi?\" he asked. \"Ancient One?\"\n\nShe held something before herself in two hands. Along, slender weapon. A Shardblade with a gentle curve, its metal largely unornamented. Elegant, yet somehow humble, as Shardblades went. Moash had known it as the sword of the Assassin in White. Now he recognized it as something else. The Blade of Jezerezeh. Honorblade.\n\nMoash reached for it, hesitant, and Leshwi hummed a warning rhythm. \"If you take it, you die. Moash will be no more.\"\n\n\"Moash's world is no more,\" he said, taking the Blade by the hilt. \"He might as well join it in the tomb.\"\n\n\"Vyre,\" she said. \"Join us in the sky. You have a work.\" She and the others Lashed themselves upward." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Join us in the sky. The Honorblades, Graves had told him, gave their powers to any who held them.\n\nHesitant, Moash took the sphere that Khen offered. \"What was that she said? Vyre?\" She had said it in away that rhymed with'fire.\"\n\n\"It's one of their names,\" Khen said. \"I've been told it means He Who Quiets.\"\n\nVyre, He Who Quiets, sucked in the light of the sphere.\n\nIt was sweet and beautiful, and-as he'd been promised-brought Passion with it. He held to it, then Lashed himself upward into the sky.\n\nThough Shallan had been given months to grow accustomed to the idea of getting married, on the actual day, she didn't feel ready.\n\nIt was such an ordeal and a hassle.\n\nEveryone was determined that, after Dalinar and Navani's rushed wedding, they'd do this one right. So Shallan had to sit here and be fussed over, primped, her hair braided and her face painted by the royal Alethi makeup artists. Who'd known there even was such a thing?\n\nShe suffered it, then was deposited on a throne while scribes lined up and gave her piles of keteks and glyphwards. Noura delivered a box of incense from the Azish emperor, along with a dried fish from Lift. A Marati rug came from Queen Fen. Dried fruit. Perfumes.\n\nA pair of boots. Ka seemed embarrassed as she opened the box and revealed them as a gift from Kaladin and Bridge Four, but Shallan just laughed. It was a much-needed moment of relief in the stress of the day.\n\nShe got gifts from professional organizations, family members, and one from each highprince except for Ialai-who had left Urithiru in disgrace. Though Shallan was grateful, she found herself trying to vanish into her dress. So many things that she didn't want-most of all, this attention." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Well, you're marrying an Alethi highprince, she thought as she squirmed on her wedding throne. What did you expect? At least she wasn't going to end up as queen.\n\nFinally-after ardents arrived and pronounced blessings, anointings, and prayers-she was shuffled off into a little room by herself with a brazier, a window, and a mirror. The table held implements for her to paint a last prayer, so that she could meditate. Somewhere, Adolin was suffering gifts from the men. Probably swords. Lots and lots of swords.\n\nThe door closed, and Shallan stood facing herself in the mirror. Her sapphire gown was of an ancient style, with twin drooping sleeves that went far beyond her hands. Small rubies woven into the embroidery glowed with a complementary light. A golden vest draped over the shoulders, matched by the ornate headdress woven into her braids.\n\nShe wanted to shrink from it.\n\n\"Mmm...\" Pattern said. \"This is a good you, Shallan.\"\n\nA good me. She breathed out. Veil formed on one side of the room, lounging against the wall. Radiant appeared near the table, tapping it with one finger, reminding her that she really should write a prayer-for tradition's sake, if nothing else.\n\n\"We're decided upon this,\" Shallan said.\n\n\"A worthy union,\" Radiant said.\n\n\"He's good for you, I suppose,\" Veil said. \"Plus he knows his wine. We could do far worse.\"\n\n\"But not much better,\" Radiant said, giving Veil a pointed look. \"This is good, Shallan.\"\n\n\"A celebration,\" Veil said. \"A celebration of you.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It's okay for me to enjoy this,\" Shallan said, as if discovering something precious. \"It's all right to celebrate. Even if things are terrible in the world, it's all right.\" She smiled. \"I... I deserve this.\"\n\nVeil and Radiant faded. When Shallan looked back into the mirror, she didn't feel embarrassed by the attention any longer. It was all right.\n\nIt was all right to be happy.\n\nShe painted her glyphward, but a knock at the door interrupted burning it. What? The time wasn't up.\n\nShe turned with a grin. \"Come in.\" Adolin had probably found an excuse to come steal a kiss....\n\nThe door opened.\n\nRevealing three young men in worn clothing. Balat, tallest and round faced. Wikim, still gaunt, with skin as pale as Shallan's. Jushu, thinner than she recalled, but still plump. All three were somehow younger than she pictured them in her head, even though it had been over a year since she'd seen them.\n\nHer brothers.\n\nShallan cried out in delight, throwing herself toward them, passing through a burst of joyspren like blue petals. She tried to embrace all three at once, heedless of what it might do to her carefully arranged dress. \"How? When? What happened?\"\n\n\"It was along trek across Jah Keved,\" Nan Balat said. \"Shallan... we didn't hear anything until we were transported here through that device. You're getting married? The son of the Blackthorn?\"\n\nSo much to tell them. Storms, these tears were going to ruin her makeup. She'd have to go through it all again." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She found herself too overwhelmed to talk, to explain. She pulled them tight again, and Wikim even complained about the affection, as he always had. She hadn't seen them in how long, and he still complained? That made her even more giddy, for some reason.\n\nNavani appeared behind them, looking over Balat's shoulder. \"I will call fora delay of the festivities.\"\n\n\"No!\" Shallan said.\n\nNo. She was going to enjoy this. She pulled her brothers tight, one after another. \"I'll explain after the wedding. So much to explain...\"\n\nBalat, as she hugged him, handed her a slip of paper. \"He said to give you this.\"\n\n\"Who?\"\n\n\"He said you'd know.\" Balat still had the haunted look that had always shadowed him. \"What is going on? How do you know people like that?\"\n\nShe unfolded the letter.\n\nIt was from Mraize.\n\n\"Brightness,\" Shallan said to Navani, \"will you provide my brothers with seats of honor?\"\n\n\"Of course.\"\n\nNavani drew the three boys away, joining Eylita, who had been waiting. Storms. Her brothers were back. They were alive.\n\nA wedding gift, Mraize's note read.\n\nIn payment for work done. You will find that I do keep my promises. I apologize for the delay.\n\nI congratulate you on your upcoming nuptials, little knife. You have done well. You have frightened away the Unmade who was in this tower, and in payment, we forgive apart of your debt owed from the destruction of our Soulcaster.\n\nYour next mission is equally important. One of the Unmade seems willing to break from Odium. Our good and that of your Radiant friends align. You will find this Unmade, and you will persuade it to serve the Ghostbloods. Barring that, you will capture it and deliver it to us." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Details will be forthcoming.\n\nShe lowered the note, then burned it in the brazier meant for her prayer. So Mraize knew about Sja-anat, did he? Did he know about Renarin accidentally bonding one of her spren? Or was that a secret Shallan actually had over the Ghostbloods?\n\nWell, she could worry about him later. Today, she had a wedding to attend. She pulled open the door and strode out. Toward a celebration.\n\nOf being herself.\n\nDalinar entered his rooms, full of food from the wedding feast, glad to finally get some peace after the celebrations. The assassin settled down outside his door to wait, as was becoming his custom. Szeth was the only guard Dalinar had for the moment, as Rial and his other bodyguards were all in Bridge Thirteen-and that whole crew had gone up as squires to Teft.\n\nDalinar smiled to himself, then walked to his desk and settled down. A Shardblade hung on the wall before him. A temporary place; he'd find it a home. For now, he wanted it near. It was time.\n\nHe picked up the pen and started writing.\n\nThree weeks had seen him progress far, though he still felt uncertain as he scratched out each letter. He worked at it a good hour before Navani returned, slipping into their rooms. She bustled over, opening the balcony doors, letting in the light of a setting sun.\n\nA son married. Adolin was not the man Dalinar had thought he was-but then, couldn't he forgive someone for that? He dipped his pen and continued writing. Navani walked up and placed hands on his shoulders, looking at his paper.\n\n\"Here,\" Dalinar said, handing it to her. \"Tell me what you think. I've run into a problem.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As she read, he resisted the urge to shift nervously. This was as bad as his first day with the swordmasters. Navani nodded to herself, then smiled at him, dipping her pen and making a few notes on his page to explain mistakes. \"What's the problem?\"\n\n\"I don't know how to write'I. '\"\n\n\"I showed you. Here, did you forget?\" She wrote out a few letters. \"No, wait. You used this several times in this piece, so you obviously know how to write it.\"\n\n\"You said pronouns have a gender in the women's formal script, and I realized that the one you taught me says'I, being female. '\"\n\nNavani hesitated, pen in her fingers. \"Oh. Right. I guess... I mean... Huh. I don't think there is a masculine'I. \"You can use the neuter, like an ardent. Or... no, here. I'm an idiot.\" She wrote some letters. \"This is what you use when writing a quote by a man in the first person.\"\n\nDalinar rubbed his chin. Most words in the script were the same as the ones from spoken conversation, but small additions-that you wouldn't readout loud-changed the context. And that didn't even count the undertext-the writer's hidden commentary. Navani had explained, with some embarrassment, that that was never read to a man requesting a reading.\n\nWe took Shardblades from the women, he thought, glancing at the one hung on the wall above his desk. And they seized literacy from us. Who got the better deal, I wonder?\n\n\"Have you thought,\" Navani said, \"about how Kadash and the ardents will respond to you learning to read?\"\n\n\"I've been excommunicated already. There's not much more they could do.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"They could leave.\"\n\n\"No,\" Dalinar said. \"I don't think they will. I actually think... I think I might begetting through to Kadash. Did you see him at the wedding? He's been reading what the ancient theologians wrote, trying to find justification for modern Vorinism. He doesn't want to believe me, but soon he won't be able to help it.\"\n\nNavani seemed skeptical.\n\n\"Here,\" Dalinar said. \"How do I emphasize a word?\"\n\n\"These marks here, above and below a word you want to stress.\"\n\nHe nodded in thanks, dipped his pen, then rewrote what he'd given to Navani, substituting the proper changes.\n\nThe most important words a man can say are, \"I will do better.\" These are not the most important words any man can say. I am a man, and they are what I needed to say.\n\nThe ancient code of the Knights Radiant says'journey before destination.\" Some may call it a simple platitude, but it is far more. A journey will have pain and failure. It is not only the steps forward that we must accept. It is the stumbles. The trials. The knowledge that we will fail. That we will hurt those around us.\n\nBut if we stop, if we accept the person we are when we fall, the journey ends. That failure becomes our destination.\n\nTo love the journey is to accept no such end. I have found, through painful experience, that the most important step a person can take is always the next one.\n\nI'm certain some will feel threatened by this record. Some few may feel liberated. Most will simply feel that it should not exist.\n\nI needed to write it anyway." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He sat back, pleased. It seemed that in opening this doorway, he had entered anew world. He could read The Way of Kings. He could read his niece's biography of Gavilar. He could write down his own orders for men to follow.\n\nMost importantly, he could write this. His thoughts. His pains. His life. He looked to the side, where Navani had placed the handful of blank pages he'd asked her to bring. Too few. Far, far too few.\n\nHe dipped his pen again. \"Would you close the balcony doors again, gemheart?\" he asked her. \"The sunlight is distracting me from the other light.\"\n\n\"Other light?\"\n\nHe nodded absently. What next? He looked up again at the familiar Shardblade. Wide like him-and thick, also like him, at times-with a hook shape at the end. This was the best mark of both his honor and his disgrace. It should have belonged to Rock, the Horneater bridgeman. He'd killed Amaram and won it, along with two other Shards.\n\nRock had insisted that Dalinar take Oathbringer back. A debt repaid, the Windrunner had explained. Reluctantly, Dalinar had accepted, handling the Shardblade only through cloth.\n\nAs Navani shut the balcony doors, he closed his eyes and felt the warmth of a distant, unseen light. Then he smiled, and-with a hand still unsteady, like the legs of a child taking his first steps-he took another page and wrote a title for the book.\n\nOathbringer, My Glory and My Shame.\n\nWritten by the hand of Dalinar Kholin." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "GREAT ART\n\n\"All great art is hated,\" Wit said.\n\nHe shuffled inline-along with a couple hundred other people-one dreary step.\n\n\"It is obscenely difficult-if not impossible-to make something that nobody hates,\" Wit continued. \"Conversely, it is incredibly easy-if not expected-to make something that nobody loves.\"\n\nWeeks after the fall of Kholinar, the place still smelled like smoke. Though the city's new masters had moved tens of thousands of humans out to work farms, complete resettlement would take months, if not years.\n\nWit poked the man in front of him in the shoulder. \"This makes sense, if you think about it. Art is about emotion, examination, and going places people have never gone before to discover and investigate new things. The only way to create something that nobody hates is to ensure that it can't beloved either. Remove enough spice from soup, and you'll just end up with water.\"\n\nThe brutish man in front eyed him, then turned back to the line.\n\n\"Human taste is as varied as human fingerprints,\" Wit said. \"Nobody will like everything, everybody dislikes something, someone loves that thing you hate-but at least being hated is better than nothing. To risk metaphor, a grand painting is often about contrast: brightest brights, darkest darks. Not grey mush. That a thing is hated is not proof that it's great art, but the lack of hatred is certainly proof that it is not.\"\n\nThey shuffled forward another step.\n\nHe poked the man in the shoulder again. \" And so, dear sir, when I say that you are the very embodiment of repulsiveness, I am merely looking to improve my art. You look so ugly, it seems that someone tried-and failed-to get the warts off your face through aggressive application of sandpaper. You are less a human being, and more a lump of dung with aspirations. If someone took a stick and beat you repeatedly, it could only serve to improve your features." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Your face defies description, but only because it nauseated all the poets. You are what parents use to frighten children into obedience. I'd tell you to put a sack over your head, but think of the poor sack! Theologians use you as proof that God exists, because such hideousness can only be intentional.\"\n\nThe man didn't respond. Wit poked him again, and he muttered something in Thaylen.\n\n\"You... don't speak Alethi, do you?\" Wit asked. \"Of course you don't.\" Figured.\n\nWell, repeating all that in Thaylen would be monotonous. So Wit cut in front of the man inline. This finally provoked a response. The beefy man grabbed Wit and spun him around, then punched him right in the face.\n\nWit fell backward onto the stone ground. The line continued its shuffling motion, the occupants refusing to look at him. Cautiously, he prodded at his mouth. Yes... it seemed...\n\nOne of his teeth popped out. \"Success!\" he said in Thaylen, speaking with a faint lisp. \"Thank you, dear man. I'm glad you appreciate my performance art, accomplished by cutting in front of you.\"\n\nWit flicked the tooth aside and stood up, starting to dust off his clothing. He then stopped himself. After all, he'd worked hard to place that dust. He shoved hands in the pockets of his ragged brown coat, then slouched his way through an alley. He passed groaning humans crying for deliverance, for mercy. He absorbed that, letting it reflect in him.\n\nNot a mask he put on. Real sorrow. Real pain. Weeping echoed around him as he moved into the section of town nearest the palace. Only the most desperate or the most broken dared remain here, nearest the invaders and their growing seat of power." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He rounded to the courtyard out in front of the steps leading up. Was it time for his big performance? Strangely, he found himself reluctant. Once he walked up those steps, he was committing to leave the city.\n\nHe'd found a much better audience among these poor people than he had among the lighteyes of Alethkar. He'd enjoyed his time here. On the other hand, if Rayse learned that Wit was in the city, he'd order his forces to level it-and would consider that a cheap price for even the slimmest chance of ending him.\n\nWit lingered, then moved through the courtyard, speaking softly with several of the people he'd come to know over the weeks. He eventually squatted next to Kheni, who still rocked her empty cradle, staring with haunted eyes across the square.\n\n\"The question becomes,\" he whispered to her, \"how many people need to love apiece of art to make it worthwhile? If you're inevitably going to inspire hate, then how much enjoyment is needed to balance out the risk?\"\n\nShe didn't respond. Her husband, as usual, hovered nearby.\n\n\"How's my hair?\" Wit asked Kheni. \"Or lack thereof?\"\n\nAgain, no response.\n\n\"The missing tooth is anew addition,\" Wit said, poking at the hole. \"I think it will add that special touch.\"\n\nHe had a few days, with his healing repressed, until the tooth grew back. The right concoction had made him lose his hair in patches.\n\n\"Should I put an eye out?\"\n\nKheni looked at him, incredulous.\n\nSo you are listening. He patted heron the shoulder. One more. One more, then I go." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Wait here,\" he told her, then went walking along an alley to the north. He scooped up some rags-the remnants of a spren costume. He didn't see many of those around anymore. He took a cord from his pocket and twisted it around the rags.\n\nNearby, several buildings had fallen to the thunderclast's attacks. He felt life from one, and when he drew close, a dirty little face poked out from some rubble.\n\nHe smiled at the little girl.\n\n\"Your teeth look funny today,\" she said to him.\n\n\"I take exception to that, as the funny part is not the teeth, but the lack of tooth.\" He held out his hand to her, but she ducked back in.\n\n\"I can't leave Mama,\" she whispered.\n\n\"I understand,\" Wit said. He took the rags and cord he'd worked with earlier, forming them into the shape of a little doll. \"The answer to the question has been bothering me for sometime.\"\n\nThe little face poked out again, looking at the doll. \"The question?\"\n\n\"I asked it earlier,\" Wit said. \"You couldn't hear. Do you know the answer?\"\n\n\"You're weird.\"\n\n\"Right answer, but wrong question.\" He walked the little doll along the broken street.\n\n\"For me?\" the girl whispered.\n\n\"I need to leave the city,\" he said. \"And I can't take her with me. Someone needs to care for her.\"\n\nA grimy hand reached toward the doll, but Wit pulled it back. \"She's afraid of the darkness. You've got to keep her in the light.\"\n\nThe hand vanished into the shadows. \"I can't leave Mama.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"That's too bad,\" Wit said. He raised the doll to his lips, then whispered a choice set of words.\n\nWhen he set it down, it started to walk on its own. A soft gasp sounded inside the shadows. The little doll toddled toward the street. Step by step by step...\n\nThe girl, maybe four years old, finally emerged from the shadows and ran to get the doll. Wit stood and dusted off his coat, which was now grey. The girl hugged the patchwork creation, and he picked her up, turning away from the broken building-and the bones of a leg sticking from the rubble just inside.\n\nHe carried the girl back to the square, then quietly pushed the empty cradle away from Kheni and knelt before her. \"I think, in answer to my question... I think it only takes one.\"\n\nShe blinked, then focused on the child in his arms.\n\n\"I have to leave the city,\" Wit said. \"And someone needs to take care of her.\"\n\nHe waited until, at long last, Kheni held out her arms. Wit put the child into them, then rose. Kheni's husband took him by the arm, smiling. \"Can you not stay a little longer?\"\n\n\"I should think you are the first to ever ask me that, Cob,\" Wit said. \"And in truth, the sentiment frightens me.\" He hesitated, then leaned down and touched the doll in the child's hands. \"Forget what I told you before,\" he whispered. \"Instead, take care of her.\"\n\nHe turned and started up the steps toward the palace.\n\nHe adopted the act as he walked. The twitch of madness, the shuffle to his step. He squinted one eye and hunched over, changed his breathing to come raggedly, with occasional sharp intakes. He muttered to himself, and exposed his teeth-but not the one that was missing, for that was impossible." }, { "from": "human", "value": "He passed into the shadow of the palace, and the sentry hovering in the air nearby, wind rippling her long clothing." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Vatwha washer name. Thousands of years ago, he'd shared a dance with her. Like all the others, she'd later been trained to watch for him.\n\nBut not well enough. Ashe passed underneath, she gave him the barest of glances. He decided not to take that as an insult, as it was what he wanted. He needed to be soup so bland, it was water. What a conundrum. In this case, his art was best when ignored.\n\nPerhaps he would need to revise his philosophy.\n\nHe passed the sentry post, and wondered if anyone else thought it irregular that the Fused spent so much time here near this fallen section of the palace. Did anyone wonder why they worked so hard, clearing blocks, breaking down walls?\n\nIt was good to know that his heart could still flutter at a performance. He ducked in close to the work project, and a pair of more mundane singer guards cursed at him to move on toward the gardens, with the other beggars. He bowed several times, then tried to sell them some trinkets from his pocket.\n\nOne shoved him away, and so he acted panicked, scrambling past them and up a ramp into the work project itself. Nearby, some workers broke rocks, and a patch of bloodstained the ground. The two singer guards shouted at him to get out. Wit adopted a frightened look, and hurried to obey, but tripped himself so he fell against the wall of the palace-a portion that was still standing.\n\n\"Look,\" he whispered to the wall, \"you don't have many choices right now.\"\n\nAbove, the Fused turned to look at him.\n\n\"I know you'd rather have someone else,\" Wit said, \"but it isn't the time to be picky. I'm certain now that the reason I'm in the city is to find you.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The two singer guards approached, one bowing apologetically to the Fused in the air. They still didn't realize that sort of behavior would not impress the ancient singers.\n\n\"It's either go with me now,\" Wit said to the wall, \"or wait it out and get captured. I honestly don't even know if you've the mind to listen. But if you do, know this: I will give you truths. And I know some juicy ones.\"\n\nThe guards reached him. Wit pushed against them, slamming himself against the wall again.\n\nSomething slipped from one of the cracks in the wall. A moving Pattern that dimpled the stone. It crossed to his hand, which he tucked into his rags as the guards seized him under the arms and hauled him out into the gardens, then tossed him among the beggars there.\n\nOnce they were gone, Wit rolled over and looked at the Pattern that now covered his palm. It seemed to be trembling.\n\n\"Life before death, little one,\" Wit whispered.\n\nTHE END OF\n\nBook Three of\n\nTHE STORMLIGHT ARCHIVE" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "THE TEN ESSENCES AND THEIR HISTORICAL ASSOCIATIONS\n\nThe preceding list is an imperfect gathering of traditional Vorin symbolism associated with the Ten Essences. Bound together, these form the Double Eye of the Almighty, an eye with two pupils representing the creation of plants and creatures. This is also the basis for the hourglass shape that was often associated with the Knights Radiant.\n\nAncient scholars also placed the ten orders of Knights Radiant on this list, alongside the Heralds themselves, who each had a classical association with one of the numbers and Essences.\n\nI'm not certain yet how the ten levels of Voidbinding or its cousin the Old Magic fit into this paradigm, if indeed they can. My research suggests that, indeed, there should be another series of abilities that is even more esoteric than the Voidbindings. Perhaps the Old Magic fits into those, though I am beginning to suspect that it is something entirely different.\n\nNote that I currently believe the concept of the'Body Focus\" to be more a matter of philosophical interpretation than an actual attribute of this Investiture and its manifestations.\n\nTHE TEN SURGES\n\nAs a complement to the Essences, the classical elements celebrated on Roshar, are found the Ten Surges. These, thought to be the fundamental forces by which the world operates, are more accurately a representation of the ten basic abilities offered to the Heralds, and then the Knights Radiant, by their bonds.\n\nAdhesion: The Surge of Pressure and Vacuum\n\nGravitation: The Surge of Gravity\n\nDivision: The Surge of Destruction and Decay\n\nAbrasion: The Surge of Friction\n\nProgression: The Surge of Growth and Healing, or Regrowth" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Illumination: The Surge of Light, Sound, and Various Waveforms\n\nTransformation: The Surge of Soulcasting\n\nTransportation: The Surge of Motion and Realmatic Transition\n\nCohesion: The Surge of Strong Axial Interconnection\n\nTension: The Surge of Soft Axial Interconnection\n\nON THE CREATION OF FABRIALS\n\nFive groupings of fabrial have been discovered so far. The methods of their creation are carefully guarded by the artifabrian community, but they appear to be the work of dedicated scientists, as opposed to the more mystical Surgebindings once performed by the Knights Radiant. I am more and more convinced that the creation of these devices requires forced enslavement of transformative cognitive entities, known as'spren\" to the local communities.\n\nALTERING FABRIALS\n\nAugmenters: These fabrials are crafted to enhance something. They can create heat, pain, or even a calm wind, for instance. They are powered-like all fabrials-by Stormlight. They seem to work best with forces, emotions, or sensations.\n\nThe so-called half-shards of Jah Keved are created with this type of fabrial attached to a sheet of metal, enhancing its durability. I have seen fabrials of this type crafted using many different kinds of gemstone; I am guessing that anyone of the ten Polestones will work.\n\nDiminishers: These fabrials do the opposite of what augmenters do, and generally seem to fall under the same restrictions as their cousins. Those artifabrians who have taken me into confidence seem to believe that even greater fabrials are possible than what have been created so far, particularly in regard to augmenters and diminishers.\n\nPAIRING FABRIALS" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Conjoiners: By infusing a ruby and using methodology that has not been revealed tome (though I have my suspicions), you can create a conjoined pair of gemstones." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The process requires splitting the original ruby. The two halves will then create parallel reactions across a distance. Spanreeds are one of the most common forms of this type of fabrial.\n\nConservation of force is maintained; for instance, if one is attached to a heavy stone, you will need the same strength to lift the conjoined fabrial that you would need to lift the stone itself. There appears to be some sort of process used during the creation of the fabrial that influences how far apart the two halves can go and still produce an effect.\n\nReversers: Using an amethyst instead of a ruby also creates conjoined halves of a gemstone, but these two work in creating opposite reactions. Raise one, and the other will be pressed downward, for instance.\n\nThese fabrials have only just been discovered, and already the possibilities for exploitation are being conjectured. There appear to be some unexpected limitations to this form of fabrial, though I have not been able to discover what they are.\n\nWARNING FABRIALS\n\nThere is only one type of fabrial in this set, informally known as the Alerter. An Alerter can warn one of a nearby object, feeling, sensation, or phenomenon. These fabrials use a heliodor stone as their focus. I do not know whether this is the only type of gemstone that will work, or if there is another reason heliodor is used.\n\nIn the case of this kind of fabrial, the amount of Stormlight you can infuse into it affects its range. Hence the size of gemstone used is very important.\n\nWINDRUNNING AND LASHINGS\n\nReports of the Assassin in White's odd abilities have led me to some sources of information that, I believe, are generally unknown. The Windrunners were an order of the Knights Radiant, and they made use of two primary types of Surgebinding. The effects of these Surgebindings were known-colloquially among the members of the order-as the Three Lashings." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "BASIC LASHING: GRAVITATIONAL CHANGE\n\nThis type of Lashing was one of the most commonly used Lashings among the order, though it was not the easiest to use. (That distinction belongs to the Full Lashing below.) A Basic Lashing involved revoking a being's or object's spiritual gravitational bond to the planet below, instead temporarily linking that being or object to a different objector direction.\n\nEffectively, this creates a change in gravitational pull, twisting the energies of the planet itself. A Basic Lashing allowed a Windrunner to run up walls, to send objects or people flying off into the air, or to create similar effects. Advanced uses of this type of Lashing would allow a Windrunner to make himself or herself lighter by binding part of his or her mass upward. (Mathematically, binding a quarter of one's mass upward would halve a person's effective weight. Binding half of one's mass upward would create weightlessness.)\n\nMultiple Basic Lashings could also pull an objector a person's body downward at double, triple, or other multiples of its weight.\n\nFULL LASHING: BINDING OBJECTS TOGETHER\n\nA Full Lashing might seem very similar to a Basic Lashing, but they worked on very different principles. While one had to do with gravitation, the other had to do with the force (or Surge, as the Radiants called them) of Adhesion-binding objects together as if they were one. I believe this Surge may have had something to do with atmospheric pressure.\n\nTo create a Full Lashing, a Windrunner would infuse an object with Stormlight, then press another object to it. The two objects would become bound together with an extremely powerful bond, nearly impossible to break. In fact, most materials would themselves break before the bond holding them together would." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "REVERSE LASHING: GIVING AN OBJECT A GRAVITATIONAL PULL\n\nI believe this may actually be a specialized version of the Basic Lashing. This type of Lashing required the least amount of Stormlight of any of the three Lashings. The Windrunner would infuse something, give a mental command, and create a pull to the object that yanked other objects toward it.\n\nAt its heart, this Lashing created a bubble around the object that imitated its spiritual link to the ground beneath it. As such, it was much harder for the Lashing to affect objects touching the ground, where their link to the planet was strongest. Objects falling or in flight were the easiest to influence. Other objects could be affected, but the Stormlight and skill required were much more substantial.\n\nLIGHTWEAVING\n\nA second form of Surgebinding involves the manipulation of light and sound in illusory tactics common throughout the cosmere. Unlike the variations present on Sel, however, this method has a powerful Spiritual element, requiring not just a full mental picture of the intended creation, but some level of Connection to it as well. The illusion is based not simply upon what the Lightweaver imagines, but upon what they desire to create.\n\nIn many ways, this is the most similar ability to the original Yolish variant, which excites me. I wish to delve more into this ability, with the hope to gain a full understanding of how it relates to cognitive and spiritual attributes.\n\nSOULCASTING\n\nEssential to the economy of Roshar is the art of Soulcasting, in which one form of matter is directly transformed into another by changing its spiritual nature. This is performed on Roshar via the use of devices known as Soulcasters, and these devices (the majority of which appear to be focused on turning stone into grain or flesh) are used to provide mobile supply for armies or to augment local urban food stores. This has allowed kingdoms on Roshar-where freshwater is rarely an issue, because of highstorm rains-to field armies in ways that would be unthinkable elsewhere." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "What intrigues me most about Soulcasting, however, are the things we can infer about the world and Investiture from it. For example, certain gemstones are requisite in producing certain results-if you wish to produce grain, however, your Soulcaster must both be attuned to that transformation and have an emerald (not a different gemstone) attached. This creates an economy based on the relative values of what the gemstones can create, not upon their rarity. Indeed, as the chemical structures are identical for several of these gemstone varieties, aside from trace impurities, the color is the most important part-not their actual axial makeup. I'm certain you will find this relevance of hue quite intriguing, particularly in its relationship to other forms of Investiture.\n\nThis relationship must have been essential in the local creation of the table I've included above, which lacks some scientific merit, but is intrinsically tied to the folklore surrounding Soulcasting. An emerald can be used to create food-and thus is traditionally associated with a similar Essence. Indeed, on Roshar there are considered to be ten elements; not the traditional four or sixteen, depending upon local tradition.\n\nCuriously, these gemstones seem tied to the original abilities of the Soulcasters who were an order of Knights Radiant-but they don't seem essential to the actual operation of the Investiture when performed by a living Radiant. I do not know the connection here, though it implies something valuable.\n\nSoulcasters, the devices, were created to imitate the abilities of the Surge of Soulcasting (or Transformation). This is yet another mechanical imitation of something once only available only to a select few within the bounds of an Invested Art. The Honorblades on Roshar, indeed, maybe the very first example of this-from thousands of years ago. I believe this has relevance to the discoveries being made on Scadrial, and the commoditization of Allomancy and Feruchemy." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "THE STORMLIGHT ARCHIVE\n\nThe Way of Kings\n\nWords of Radiance\n\nOathbringer\n\nTHE MISTBORN SAGA\n\nTHE ORIGINAL TRILOGY\n\nMistborn\n\nThe Well of Ascension\n\nThe Hero of Ages\n\nTHE WAX AND WAYNE SERIES\n\nThe Alloy of Law\n\nShadows of Self\n\nThe Bands of Mourning\n\nElantris\n\nWarbreaker\n\nArcanum Unbounded: The Cosmere Collection\n\nThe Rithmatist\n\nALCATRAZ VS. THE EVIL LIBRARIANS\n\nAlcatraz vs. the Evil Librarians\n\nThe Scrivener's Bones\n\nThe Knights of Crystallia\n\nThe Shattered Lens\n\nThe Dark Talent\n\nTHE RECKONERS\n\nSteelheart\n\nFirefight\n\nCalamity" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Brandon Sanderson grew up in Lincoln, Nebraska. He lives in Utah with his wife and children and teaches creative writing at Brigham Young University. He is the author of such bestsellers as the Mistborn® trilogy and its sequels, The Alloy of Law, Shadows of Self and The Bands of Mourning; the Stormlight Archive novels, The Way of Kings, Words of Radiance, and Oathbringer, and other novels, including The Rithmatist and Steelheart for young adults, and the Alcatraz vs. the Evil Librarians series middle-grade readers. In 2013, he won a Hugo Award for Best Novella for The Emperor's Soul, set in the world of his acclaimed first novel, Elantris. Additionally, he was chosen to complete Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time® sequence. For behind-the-scenes information on all of Brandon Sanderson's books, visit brandonsanderson. com, or sign up for email updates here." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Tom Doherty Associates ebook.\n\nTo receive special offers, bonus content,\n\nand info on new releases and other great reads,\n\nsign up for our newsletters.\n\nOr visit us online at\n\nus. macmillan. com/newslettersignup\n\nFor email updates on the author, click here and here." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "OATHBRINGER\n\nCopyright© 2017 by Dragonsteel Entertainment, LLC\n\nBrandon Sanderson® is a registered trademark of Dragonsteel Entertainment, LLC\n\nAll rights reserved.\n\nEdited by Moshe Feder\n\nIllustrations preceding chapters 39 and 58 by Dan dos Santos\n\nIllustrations preceding chapters 8,15, 25,27, 33,67, 99,108, and 116 by Ben McSweeney\n\nIllustrations preceding chapters 77 and 94 by Miranda Meeks\n\nIllustrations preceding chapters 44 and 104 by Kelley Harris\n\nMaps and illustrations preceding chapters 1,5, 53,61, 89, and 120 by Isaac Stewart\n\nViewpoint icons by Isaac Stewart, Ben McSweeney, and Howard Lyon\n\nA Tor Book\n\nPublished by Tom Doherty Associates\n\n175 Fifth Avenue\n\nNew York, NY 10010\n\nwww. tor-forge. com\n\nTor® is a registered trademark of Macmillan Publishing Group, LLC.\n\nThe Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.\n\nISBN 978-0-7653-2637-9 (hardcover)\n\nISBN 978-1-250-16949-5 (international, sold outside the U. S., subject to rights availability)\n\nISBN 978-1-250-16216-8 (signed)\n\nISBN 978-0-7653-9983-0 (ebook)" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "eISBN 9780765399830\n\nOur ebooks maybe purchased in bulk for promotional, educational, or business use. Please contact the Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department at 1-800-221-7945, extension 5442, or by email at MacmillanSpecialMarkets@ macmillan. com.\n\nFirst Edition: November 2017" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Eshonai had always told her sister that she was certain something wonderful layover the next hill. Then one day, she'd crested a hill and found humans.\n\nShe'd always imagined humans-as sung of in the songs-as dark, formless monsters. Instead they were wonderful, bizarre creatures. They spoke with no discernible rhythm. They wore clothing more vibrant than carapace, but couldn't grow their own armor. They were so terrified of the storms that even when traveling they hid inside vehicles.\n\nMost remarkably, they had only one form.\n\nShe first assumed the humans must have forgotten their forms, much as the listeners once had. That built an instant kinship between them.\n\nNow, over a year later, Eshonai hummed to the Rhythm of Awe as she helped unload drums from the cart. They'd traveled a great distance to seethe human homeland, and each step had overwhelmed her further. That experience culminated here, in this incredible city of Kholinar and its magnificent palace.\n\nThis cavernous unloading dock on the western side of the palace was so large, two hundred listeners had packed inhere after their first arrival, and still hadn't filled the place. Indeed, most of the listeners couldn't attend the feast upstairs-where the treaty between their two peoples was being witnessed-but the Alethi had seen to their refreshment anyway, providing mountains of food and drink for the group down here.\n\nShe stepped out of the wagon, looking around the loading dock, humming to Excitement. When she'd told Venli she was determined to map the world, she'd imagined a place of natural discovery. Canyons and hills, forests and laits overgrown with life. Yet all along, this had been out here. Waiting just beyond their reach." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Along with more listeners.\n\nWhen Eshonai had first met the humans, she'd seen the little listeners they had with them. A hapless tribe who were trapped in dullform. Eshonai had assumed the humans were taking care of the poor souls without songs.\n\nOh, how innocent those first meetings had been.\n\nThose captive listeners had not been merely some small tribe, but instead representative of an enormous population. And the humans had not been caring for them.\n\nThe humans owned them.\n\nA group of these parshmen, as they were called, clustered around the outside of Eshonai's ring of workers.\n\n\"They keep trying to help,\" Gitgeth said to Curiosity. He shook his head, his beard sparkling with ruby gemstones that matched the prominent red colors of his skin. \"The little rhythmless ones want to be near us. They sense that something is wrong with their minds, I tell you.\"\n\nEshonai handed him a drum from the back of the cart, then hummed to Curiosity herself. She hopped down and approached the group of parshmen.\n\n\"You aren't needed,\" she said to Peace, spreading her hands. \"We would prefer to handle our own drums.\"\n\nThe ones without songs looked at her with dull eyes.\n\n\"Go,\" she said to Pleading, waving toward the nearby festivities, where listeners and human servants laughed together, despite the language barrier. Humans clapped along to listeners singing the old songs. \"Enjoy yourselves.\"\n\nA few looked toward the singing and cocked their heads, but they didn't move.\n\n\"It won't work,\" Brianlia said to Skepticism, resting her arms across a drum nearby. \"They simply can't imagine what it is to live. They're pieces of property, to be bought and sold.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "What to make of this idea? Slaves? Klade, one of the Five, had gone to the slavers in Kholinar and purchased a person to see if it truly was possible. He hadn't even bought a parshman; there had been Alethi for sale. Apparently the parshmen were expensive, and considered high-quality slaves. The listeners had been told this, as if it were supposed to make them proud.\n\nShe hummed to Curiosity and nodded to the side, looking toward the others. Gitgeth smiled and hummed to Peace, waving for her to go. Everyone was used to Eshonai wandering off in the middle of jobs. It wasn't that she was unreliable.... Well, perhaps she was, but at least she was consistent.\n\nRegardless, she'd be wanted at the king's celebration soon anyway; she was one of the best among the listeners at the dull human tongue, which she'd taken to naturally. It was an advantage that had earned her a place on this expedition, but it was also a problem. Speaking the human tongue made her important, and people who grew too important couldn't be allowed to go off chasing the horizon.\n\nShe left the unloading bay and walked up the steps into the palace proper, trying to take in the ornamentation, the artistry, the sheer overwhelming wonder of the building. Beautiful and terrible. People who were bought and sold maintained this place, but was that what freed the humans to create great works like the carvings on the pillars she passed, or the inlaid marble patterns on the floor?\n\nShe passed soldiers wearing their artificial carapace. Eshonai didn't have armor of her own at the moment; she wore workform instead of warform, as she liked its flexibility.\n\nHumans didn't have a choice. They hadn't lost their forms as she'd first assumed; they only had one. Forever in mateform, workform, and warform all at once. And they wore their emotions on their faces far more than listeners. Oh, Eshonai's people would smile, laugh, cry. But not like these Alethi." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The lower level of the palace was marked by broad hallways and galleries, lit by carefully cut gemstones that made light sparkle. Chandeliers hung above her, broken suns spraying light everywhere. Perhaps the plain appearance of the human bodies-with their bland skin that was various shades of tan-was another reason they sought to ornament everything, from their clothing to these pillars.\n\nCould we do this? she thought, humming to Appreciation. If we knew the right form for creating art?\n\nThe upper floors of the palace were more like tunnels. Narrow stone corridors, rooms like bunkers dug into a mountainside. She made her way toward the feast hall to check if she was needed, but stopped here and thereto glance into rooms. She'd been told she could wander as she pleased, that the palace was open to her save for areas with guards at the doors.\n\nShe passed a room with paintings on all the walls, then one with abed and furniture. Another door revealed an indoor privy with running water, a marvel that she still didn't understand.\n\nShe poked through a dozen rooms. As long as she reached the king's celebration in time for the music, Klade and the others of the Five wouldn't complain. They were as familiar with her ways as everyone else. She was always wandering off, poking into things, peeking into doors...\n\nAnd finding the king?\n\nEshonai froze, the door cracked open, allowing her to see into a lush room with a thick red rug and bookshelves lining the walls. So much information just lying around, casually ignored. More surprisingly, King Gavilar himself stood pointing at something on a table, surrounded by five others: two officers, two women in long dresses, and one old man in robes.\n\nWhy wasn't Gavilar at the feast? Why weren't there guards at the door? Eshonai attuned Anxiety and pulled back, but not before one of the women prodded Gavilar and pointed toward Eshonai. Anxiety pounding in her head, she pulled the door closed." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A moment later a tall man in uniform stepped out. \"The king would like to see you, Parshendi.\"\n\nShe feigned confusion. \"Sir? Words?\"\n\n\"Don't be coy,\" the soldier said. \"You're one of the interpreters. Come in. You aren't in trouble.\"\n\nAnxiety shaking her, she let him lead her into the den.\n\n\"Thank you, Meridas,\" Gavilar said. \"Leave us fora moment, all of you.\"\n\nThey filed out, leaving Eshonai at the door attuning Consolation and humming it loudly-even though the humans wouldn't understand what it meant.\n\n\"Eshonai,\" the king said. \"I have something to show you.\"\n\nHe knew her name? She stepped farther into the small, warm room, holding her arms tightly around her. She didn't understand this man. It was more than his alien, dead way of speaking. More than the fact that she couldn't anticipate what emotions might be swirling in there, as warform and mateform contested within him.\n\nMore than any human, this man baffled her. Why had he offered them such a favorable treaty? At first it had seemed an accommodation between tribes. That was before she'd come here, seen this city and the Alethi armies. Her people had once possessed cities of their own, and armies to envy. They knew that from the songs.\n\nThat had been long ago. They were a fragment of a lost people. Traitors who had abandoned their gods to be free. This man could have crushed the listeners. They'd once assumed that their Shards-weapons they had so far kept hidden from the humans-would be enough to protect them. But she'd now seen over a dozen Shardblades and suits of Shardplate among the Alethi." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Why did he smile at her like that? What was he hiding, by not singing to the rhythms to calm her?\n\n\"Sit, Eshonai,\" the king said. \"Oh, don't be frightened, little scout. I've been wanting to speak to you. Your mastery of our language is unique!\"\n\nShe settled on a chair while Gavilar reached down and removed something from a small satchel. It glowed with red Stormlight, a construction of gemstones and metal, crafted in a beautiful design.\n\n\"Do you know what this is?\" he asked, gently pushing it toward her.\n\n\"No, Your Majesty.\"\n\n\"It's what we calla fabrial, a device powered by Stormlight. This one makes warmth. Just a smidge, unfortunately, but my wife is confident her scholars can create one that will heat a room. Wouldn't that be wonderful? No more smoky fires in hearths.\"\n\nIt seemed lifeless to Eshonai, but she didn't say so. She hummed to Praise so he'd feel happy telling her of this, and handed it back.\n\n\"Look closely,\" King Gavilar said. \"Look deep into it. Can you see what's moving inside? It's a spren. That is how the device works.\"\n\nCaptive like in a gemheart, she thought, attuning Awe. They've built devices that mimic how we apply the forms? The humans did so much with their limitations!\n\n\"The chasmfiends aren't your gods, are they,\" he said.\n\n\"What?\" she asked, attuning Skepticism. \"Why ask that?\" What a strange turn in the conversation.\n\n\"Oh, it's merely something I've been thinking about.\" He took the fabrial back. \"My officers feel so superior, as they think they have you figured out. They think you're savages, but they are so wrong. You're not savages. You're an enclave of memories. A window into the past.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He leaned forward, the light from the ruby leaking between his fingers. \"I need you to deliver a message to your leaders. The Five? You're close to them, and I'm being watched. I need their help to achieve something.\"\n\nShe hummed to Anxiety.\n\n\"Now, now,\" he said. \"I'm going to help you, Eshonai. Did you know, I've discovered how to bring your gods back?\"\n\nNo. She hummed to the Rhythm of the Terrors. No...\n\n\"My ancestors,\" he said, holding up the fabrial, \"first learned how to hold a spren inside a gemstone. And with a very special gemstone, you can hold even a god.\"\n\n\"Your Majesty,\" she said, daring to take his hand in hers. He couldn't feel the rhythms. He didn't know. \"Please. We no longer worship those gods. We left them, abandoned them.\"\n\n\"Ah, but this is for your good, and for ours.\" He stood up. \"We live without honor, for your gods once brought ours. Without them, we have no power. This world is trapped, Eshonai! Stuck in a dull, lifeless state of transition.\" He looked toward the ceiling. \"Unite them. I need a threat. Only danger will unite them.\"\n\n\"What...\" she said to Anxiety. \"What are you saying?\"\n\n\"Our enslaved parshmen were once like you. Then we somehow robbed them of their ability to undergo the transformation. We did it by capturing a spren. An ancient, crucial spren.\" He looked at her, green eyes alight. \"I've seen how that can be reversed. Anew storm that will bring the Heralds out of hiding. Anew war.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Insanity.\" She rose to her feet. \"Our gods tried to destroy you.\"\n\n\"The old Words must bespoken again.\"\n\n\"You can't...\" She trailed off, noticing for the first time that a map covered the table nearby. Expansive, it showed a land bounded by oceans-and the artistry of it put her own attempts to shame.\n\nShe rose and stepped to the table, gaping, the Rhythm of Awe playing in her mind. This is gorgeous. Even the grand chandeliers and carved walls were nothing by comparison. This was knowledge and beauty, fused into one.\n\n\"I thought you'd be pleased to hear that we are allies in seeking the return of your gods,\" Gavilar said. She could almost hear the Rhythm of Reprimand in his dead words. \"You claim to fear them, but why fear that which made you live? My people need to be united, and I need an empire that won't simply turn to infighting once I am gone.\"\n\n\"So you seek for war?\"\n\n\"I seek for an end to something that we never finished. My people were Radiant once, and your people-the parshmen-were vibrant. Who is served by this drab world where my people fight each other in endless squabbles, without light to guide them, and your people areas good as corpses?\"\n\nShe looked back at the map. \"Where... where is the Shattered Plains? This portion here?\"\n\n\"That is all of Natanatan you gesture toward, Eshonai! This is the Shattered Plains.\" He pointed at a spot not much bigger than his thumbnail, when the entire map was as large as the table.\n\nIt gave her a sudden dizzying perspective. This was the world? She'd assumed that in traveling to Kholinar, they'd crossed almost as far as the land could go. Why hadn't they shown her this before!" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Her legs weakened, and she attuned Mourning. She dropped back into her seat, unable to stand.\n\nSo vast.\n\nGavilar removed something from his pocket. A sphere? It was dark, yet somehow still glowed. As if it had... an aura of blackness, a phantom light that was not light. Faintly violet. It seemed to suck in the light around it.\n\nHe set it on the table before her. \"Take that to the Five and explain what I told you. Tell them to remember what your people once were. Wake up, Eshonai.\"\n\nHe patted heron the shoulder, then left the room. She stared at that terrible light, and-from the songs-knew it for what it was. The forms of power had been associated with a dark light, alight from the king of gods.\n\nShe plucked the sphere off the table and went running.\n\nWhen the drums were setup, Eshonai insisted on joining the drummers. An outlet for her anxiety. She beat to the rhythm in her head, banging as hard as she could, trying with each beat to banish the things the king had said.\n\nAnd the things she'd just done.\n\nThe Five sat at the high table, the remnants of their final course uneaten.\n\nHe intends to bring back our gods, she'd told the Five.\n\nClose your eyes. Focus on the rhythms.\n\nHe can do it. He knows so much.\n\nFurious beats pulsing through her soul.\n\nWe have to do something.\n\nKlade's slave was an assassin. Klade claimed that a voice-speaking to the rhythms-had led him to the man, who had confessed his skills when pressed. Venli had apparently been with Klade, though Eshonai hadn't seen her sister since earlier in the day." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "After a frantic debate, the Five had agreed this was a sign of what they were to do. Long ago, the listeners had summoned the courage to adopt dullform in order to escape their gods. They'd sought freedom at any cost.\n\nToday, the cost of maintaining that freedom would be high.\n\nShe played the drums. She felt the rhythms. She wept softly, and didn't look as the strange assassin-wearing flowing white clothing provided by Klade-left the room. She'd voted with the others for this course of action.\n\nFeel the peace of the music. As her mother always said. Seek the rhythms. Seek the songs.\n\nShe resisted as the others pulled her away. She wept to leave the music behind. Wept for her people, who might be destroyed for tonight's action. Wept for the world, which might never know what the listeners had done for it.\n\nWept for the king, whom she had consigned to death.\n\nThe drums cutoff around her, and dying music echoed through the halls." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Extend the narrative as the author's co-writer.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, knights radiant\nAuthor: Brandon Sanderson\nTitle: Oathbringer\nChapter: 131" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "After a frantic debate, the Five had agreed this was a sign of what they were to do. Long ago, the listeners had summoned the courage to adopt dullform in order to escape their gods. They'd sought freedom at any cost.\n\nToday, the cost of maintaining that freedom would be high.\n\nShe played the drums. She felt the rhythms. She wept softly, and didn't look as the strange assassin-wearing flowing white clothing provided by Klade-left the room. She'd voted with the others for this course of action.\n\nFeel the peace of the music. As her mother always said. Seek the rhythms. Seek the songs.\n\nShe resisted as the others pulled her away. She wept to leave the music behind. Wept for her people, who might be destroyed for tonight's action. Wept for the world, which might never know what the listeners had done for it.\n\nWept for the king, whom she had consigned to death.\n\nThe drums cutoff around her, and dying music echoed through the halls." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Venli attuned the Rhythm of Craving as she climbed down into the chasm. This wondrous new form, stormform, gave her hands a powerful grip, allowing her to hang hundreds of feet in the air, yet never fear that she would fall.\n\nThe chitin plating under her skin was far less bulky than that of the old warform, but at the same time nearly as effective. During the summoning of the Everstorm, a human soldier had struck her directly across the face. His spear had cut her cheek and across the bridge of her nose, but the mask of chitin armor underneath had deflected the weapon.\n\nShe continued to climb down the wall of stone, followed by Demid, her once-mate, and a group of her loyal friends. In her mind she attuned the Rhythm of Command-a similar, yet more powerful version of the Rhythm of Appreciation. Everyone of her people could hear the rhythms-beats with some tones attached-yet she no longer heard the old, common ones. Only these new, superior rhythms.\n\nBeneath her the chasm opened, where water from highstorms had carved a bulge. She eventually reached the bottom, and the others dropped around her, each landing with a thumping crunch. Ulim moved down the stonewall; the spren usually took the form of rolling lightning, moving across surfaces.\n\nAt the bottom, he formed from lightning into a human shape with odd eyes. Ulim settled on a patch of broken branches, arms folded, his longhair rippling in an unseen wind. She wasn't certain why a spren sent by Odium himself would look human.\n\n\"Around here somewhere,\" Ulim said, pointing. \"Spread out and search.\"\n\nVenli set her jaw, humming to the Rhythm of Fury. Lines of power rippled up her arms. \"Why should I continue to obey your orders, spren? You should obey me.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The spren ignored her, which further stoked her anger. Demid, however, placed his hand on her shoulder and squeezed, humming to the Rhythm of Satisfaction. \"Come, look with me this way.\"\n\nShe curtailed her humming and turned south, joining Demid, picking her way through debris. Crem buildup had smoothed the floor of the chasm, but the storm had left a great deal of refuse.\n\nShe attuned the Rhythm of Craving. A quick, violent rhythm. \"I should be in charge, Demid. Not that spren.\"\n\n\"You are in charge.\"\n\n\"Then why haven't we been told anything? Our gods have returned, yet we've barely seen them. We sacrificed greatly for these forms, and to create the glorious true storm. We... we lost how many?\"\n\nSometimes she thought about that, in strange moments when the new rhythms seemed to retreat. All of her work, meeting with Ulim in secret, guiding her people toward stormform. It had been about saving her people, hadn't it? Yet of the tens of thousands of listeners who had fought to summon the storm, only a fraction remained.\n\nDemid and she had been scholars. Yet even scholars had gone to battle. She felt at the wound on her face.\n\n\"Our sacrifice was worthwhile,\" Demid told her to the Rhythm of Derision. \"Yes, we have lost many, but humans sought our extinction. At least this way some of our people survived, and now we have great power!\"\n\nHe was right. And, if she was being honest, a form of power was what she had always wanted. And she'd achieved one, capturing a spren in the storm within herself. That hadn't been one of Ulim's species, of course-lesser spren were used for changing forms. She could occasionally feel the pulsing, deep within, of the one she'd bonded." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "In any case, this transformation had given her great power. The good of her people had always been secondary to Venli; now was a late time to behaving about of conscience.\n\nShe resumed humming to Craving. Demid smiled and gripped her shoulder again. They'd shared something once, during their days in mateform. Those silly, distracting passions were not ones they currently felt, nor were they something that any sane listener would desire. But the memories of them did create a bond.\n\nThey picked through the refuse, passing several fresh human corpses, smashed into a cleft in the rock. Good to see those. Good to remember that her people had killed many, despite their losses.\n\n\"Venli!\" Demid said. \"Look!\" He scrambled over a log from a large wooden bridge that was wedged in the center of the chasm. She followed, pleased by her strength. She would probably always remember Demid as the gangly scholar he had been before this change, but she doubted either of them would ever willingly return. Forms of power were simply too intoxicating.\n\nOnce across the log, she could see what Demid had spotted: a figure slumped by the wall of the chasm, helmeted head bowed. A Shardblade-shaped like frozen flames-rose from the ground beside her, rammed into the stone floor.\n\n\"Eshonai! Finally!\" Venli leaped from the top of the log, landing near Demid.\n\nEshonai looked exhausted. In fact, she wasn't moving.\n\n\"Eshonai?\" Venli said, kneeling beside her sister. \"Are you well? Eshonai?\" She gripped the Plated figure by the shoulders and lightly shook it.\n\nThe head rolled on its neck, limp." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Venli felt cold. Demid solemnly lifted Eshonai's faceplate, revealing dead eyes set in an ashen face.\n\nEshonai... no...\n\n\"Ah,\" Ulim's voice said. \"Excellent.\" The spren approached across the stonewall, like crackling lightning moving through the stone. \"Demid, your hand.\"\n\nDemid obediently raised his hand, palm up, and Ulim shot across from the wall to the hand, then formed into his human shape, standing on the perch. \"Hmmm. Plate looks completely drained. Broken along the back, I see. Well, it's said to regrow on its own, even now that it is separated from its master from so long ago.\"\n\n\"The... Plate,\" Venli said softly, numb. \"You wanted the Plate.\"\n\n\"Well, the Blade too, of course. Why else would we be hunting a corpse? You... Oh, you thought she was alive?\"\n\n\"When you said we needed to find my sister,\" Venli said, \"I thought...\"\n\n\"Yes, looks like she drowned in the storm's floodwaters,\" Ulim said, making a sound like a tongue clicking. \"Rammed the sword into the stone, held onto it to stay in place, but couldn't breathe.\"\n\nVenli attuned the Rhythm of the Lost.\n\nIt was one of the old, inferior rhythms. She hadn't been able to find those since transforming, and she had no idea how she happened upon this one. The mournful, solemn tone felt distant to her.\n\n\"Eshonai...?\" she whispered, and nudged the corpse again. Demid gasped. Touching the bodies of the fallen was taboo. The old songs spoke of days when humans had hacked apart listener corpses, searching for gemhearts. Leave the dead to peace instead; it was their way." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Venli stared into Eshonai's dead eyes." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "You were the voice of reason, Venli thought. You were the one who argued with me. You... you were supposed to keep me grounded.\n\nWhat do I do without you?\n\n\"Well, let's get that Plate off, kids,\" Ulim said.\n\n\"Show respect!\" Venli snapped.\n\n\"Respect for what? It's for the best that this one died.\"\n\n\"For the best?\" Venli said. \"For the best?\" She stood, confronting the little spren on Demid's outstretched palm. \"That is my sister. She is one of our greatest warriors. An inspiration, and a martyr.\"\n\nUlim rolled his head in an exaggerated way, as if perturbed-and bored-by the chastisement. How dare he! He was merely a spren. He was to be her servant.\n\n\"Your sister,\" Ulim said, \"didn't undergo the transformation properly. She resisted, and we'd have eventually lost her. She was never dedicated to our cause.\"\n\nVenli attuned the Rhythm of Fury, speaking in aloud, punctuating sequence. \"You will not say such things. You are spren! You are to serve.\"\n\n\"And I do.\"\n\n\"Then you must obey me!\"\n\n\"You?\" Ulim laughed. \"Child, how long have you been fighting your little war against the humans? Three, four years?\"\n\n\"Six years, spren,\" Demid said. \"Six long, bloody years.\"\n\n\"Well, do you want to guess how long we've been fighting this war?\" Ulim asked. \"Go ahead. Guess. I'm waiting.\"\n\nVenli seethed. \"It doesn't matter-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Oh, but it does,\" Ulim said, his red figure electrifying. \"Do you know how to lead armies, Venli? True armies? Supply troops across a battlefront that spans hundreds of miles? Do you have memories and experiences that span eons?\"\n\nShe glared at him.\n\n\"Our leaders,\" Ulim said, \"know exactly what they're doing. Them I obey. But I am the one who escaped, the spren of redemption. I don't have to listen to you.\"\n\n\"I will be a queen,\" Venli said to Spite.\n\n\"If you survive? Maybe. But your sister? She and the others sent that assassin to kill the human king specifically to keep us from returning. Your people are traitors-though your personal efforts do you justice, Venli. You maybe blessed further, if you are wise. Regardless, get that armor off your sister, shed your tears, and get ready to climb backup. These plateaus are crawling with men who stink of Honor. We must be away and see what your ancestors need us to do.\"\n\n\"Our ancestors?\" Demid said. \"What do the dead have to do with this?\"\n\n\"Everything,\" Ulim replied, \"seeing as they're the ones in charge. Armor. Now.\" He zipped to the wall as a tiny streak of lightning, then moved off.\n\nVenli attuned Derision at the way she'd been treated, then-defying taboos-helped Demid remove the Shardplate. Ulim returned with the others and ordered them to gather up the armor.\n\nThey hiked off, leaving Venli to bring the Blade. She lifted it from the stone, then lingered, regarding her sister's corpse-which lay therein only padded underclothing." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Venli felt something stir inside her. Again, distantly, she was able to hear the Rhythm of the Lost. Mournful, slow, with separated beats.\n\n\"I...\" Venli said. \"Finally, I don't have to listen to you call me a fool. I don't have to worry about you getting in the way. I can do what I want.\"\n\nThat terrified her.\n\nShe turned to go, but paused as she saw something. What was that small spren that had crept out from beneath Eshonai's corpse? It looked like a small ball of white fire; it gave off little rings of light and trailed a streak behind it. Like a comet.\n\n\"What are you?\" Venli demanded to Spite. \"Shoo.\"\n\nShe hiked off, leaving her sister's corpse thereat the bottom of the chasm, stripped and alone. Food for either a chasmfiend or a storm." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I received your communication, of course.\n\nJasnah was alive.\n\nJasnah Kholin was alive.\n\nShallan was supposed to be recovering from her ordeal, never mind that the bridgemen had handled the fighting. All she'd done was grope an eldritch spren. Still, she spent the next day holed up in her room sketching and thinking.\n\nJasnah's return sparked something in her. Shallan had once been more analytical in her drawing, including notes and explanations with the sketches. Lately she'd only been doing pages and pages of twisted images.\n\nWell, she'd been trained as a scholar, hadn't she? She shouldn't just draw; she should analyze, extrapolate, speculate. So, she addressed herself to fully recording her experiences with the Unmade.\n\nAdolin and Palona visited her separately, and even Dalinar came to check on her while Navani clicked her tongue and asked after her health. Shallan endured their company, then eagerly returned to her drawing. There were so many questions. Why exactly had shebeen able to drive the thing away? What was the meaning of its creations?\n\nHanging over her research, however, was a single daunting fact. Jasnah was alive.\n\nStorms... Jasnah was alive.\n\nThat changed everything.\n\nEventually, Shallan couldn't remain locked up any longer. Though Navani mentioned Jasnah was planning to visit her later in the evening, Shallan washed and dressed, then threw her satchel over her shoulder and went searching for the woman. She had to know how Jasnah had survived.\n\nIn fact, as Shallan stalked the hallways of Urithiru, she found herself increasingly perturbed. Jasnah claimed to always look at things from a logical perspective, but she had a flair for the dramatic to rival any storyteller. Shallan well remembered that night in Kharbranth when Jasnah had lured thieves in, then dealt with them in stunning-and brutal-fashion." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Jasnah didn't want to merely prove her points. She wanted to drive them right into your skull, with a flourish and a pithy epigram. Why hadn't she written via spanreed to let everyone know she had survived? Storms, where had shebeen all this time?\n\nA few inquiries led Shallan back to the pit with its spiraling stairs. Guards in sharp Kholin blue confirmed that Jasnah was below, so Shallan started trudging down those steps again, and was surprised to find that she felt no anxiety at the descent. In fact... the oppressive feelings she'd felt since they'd arrived at the tower seemed to have evaporated. No more fear, no more formless sense of wrongness. The thing she'd chased away had been its cause. Somehow, its aura had pervaded the entire tower.\n\nAt the base of the stairs, she found more soldiers. Dalinar obviously wanted this place well guarded; she certainly couldn't complain about that. These let her pass without incident, save a bow and a murmur of'Brightness Radiant.\"\n\nShe strode down the muraled hallway, the sphere lanterns set along the base of the walls making it pleasingly bright. Once she'd passed the empty library rooms to either side, she heard voices drifting toward her from ahead. She stepped up into the room where she'd faced the Midnight Mother, and got her first good look at the place when it wasn't covered in writhing darkness.\n\nThe crystal pillar at the center really was something incredible. It wasn't a single gemstone, but a myriad of them fused together: emerald, ruby, topaz, sapphire... All ten varieties seemed to have been melted into a single thick pillar, twenty feet tall. Storms... what would it look like if all those gems were somehow infused, rather than dun as they were at the moment?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A large group of guards stood at a barricade near the other side of the room, looking down into the tunnel where the Unmade had vanished. Jasnah rounded the giant pillar, freehand resting on the crystal. The princess wore red, lips painted to match, hair up and run through with swordlike hairspikes with rubies on the pommels.\n\nStorms. She was perfect. A curvaceous figure, tan Alethi skin, light violet eyes, and not a hint of aberrant color to her jet-black hair. Making Jasnah Kholin as beautiful as she was brilliant was one of the most unfair things the Almighty had ever done.\n\nShallan hesitated in the doorway, feeling much as she had upon seeing Jasnah for the first time in Kharbranth. Insecure, overwhelmed, and-if she was honest-incredibly envious. Whatever ordeals Jasnah had been through, she looked no worse for wear. That was remarkable, considering that the last time Shallan had seen Jasnah, the woman had been lying unconscious on the floor while a man rammed a knife through her chest.\n\n\"My mother,\" Jasnah said, hand still on the pillar, not looking toward Shallan, \"thinks this must be some kind of incredibly intricate fabrial. A logical assumption; we've always believed that the ancients had access to great and wonderful technology. How else do you explain Shardblades and Shardplate?\"\n\n\"Brightness?\" Shallan said. \"But... Shardblades aren't fabrials. They're spren, transformed by the bond.\"\n\n\"As are fabrials, after a manner of speaking,\" Jasnah said. \"You do know how they're made, don't you?\"\n\n\"Only vaguely,\" Shallan said. This was how their reunion went? A lecture? Fitting." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"You capture a spren,\" Jasnah said, \"and imprison it inside a gemstone crafted for the purpose." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Artifabrians have found that specific stimuli will provoke certain responses in the spren. For example, flamespren give off heat-and by pressing metal against a ruby with a flamespren trapped inside, you can increase or decrease that heat.\"\n\n\"That's...\"\n\n\"Incredible?\"\n\n\"Horrible,\" Shallan said. She'd known some of this, but to contemplate it directly appalled her. \"Brightness, we're imprisoning spren?\"\n\n\"No worse than hitching a wagon to a chull.\"\n\n\"Sure, if in order to get a chull to pull a wagon, you first had to lock it in a box forever.\"\n\nPattern hummed softly from her skirts in agreement.\n\nJasnah just cocked an eyebrow. \"There are spren and there are spren, child.\" She rested her fingers on the pillar again. \"Do a sketch of this for me. Be certain to get the proportions and colors right, if you please.\"\n\nThe careless presumption of the command hit Shallan like a slap in the face. What was she, some servant to be given orders?\n\nYes, apart of her affirmed. That's exactly what you are. You're Jasnah's ward. The request wasn't at all unusual in that light, but compared to how she had grown accustomed to being treated, it was...\n\nWell, it wasn't worth taking offense at, and she should accept that. Storms, when had she grown so touchy? She took out her sketchpad and got to work.\n\n\"I was heartened to hear that you had made it hereon your own,\" Jasnah said. \"I... apologize for what happened on Wind's Pleasure. My lack of foresight caused the deaths of many, and doubtless hardship for you, Shallan. Please accept my regret.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Shallan shrugged, sketching.\n\n\"You've done very well,\" Jasnah continued. \"Imagine my amazement when I reached the Shattered Plains, only to discover that the warcamp had already relocated to this tower. What you have accomplished is brilliant, child. We will need to speak further, however, about the group that again tried to assassinate me. The Ghostbloods will almost certainly start targeting you, now that you've begun progressing toward your final Ideals.\"\n\n\"You're sure it was the Ghostbloods that attacked the ship?\"\n\n\"Of course I am.\" She glanced at Shallan, lips turning down. \"Are you certain you are well enough to be about, child? You seem uncharacteristically reserved.\"\n\n\"I'm fine.\"\n\n\"You're displeased because of the secrets I kept.\"\n\n\"We all need secrets, Brightness. I know this more than anyone. But it would have been nice if you had let us know you were alive.\" Here I was assuming I could handle things on my own-assuming I'd have to handle things on my own. But all that time, you were on your way back to toss everything into the air again.\n\n\"I only had the opportunity upon reaching the warcamps,\" Jasnah said, \"and there decided that I couldn't risk it. I was tired and unprotected. If the Ghostbloods wished to finish me off, they could have done so at their leisure. I determined that a few more days of everyone believing I was dead would not greatly increase their distress.\"\n\n\"But how did you even survive in the first place?\"\n\n\"Child, I'm an Elsecaller.\"\n\n\"Of course. An Elsecaller, Brightness. A thing you never explained; a word which no one but the most dedicated scholar of the esoteric would recognize! That explains it perfectly.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Jasnah smiled for some reason.\n\n\"All Radiants have an attachment to Shadesmar,\" Jasnah said. \"Our spren originate there, and our bond ties us to them. But my order has special control over moving between realms. I was able to shift to Shadesmar to escape my would-be assassins.\"\n\n\"And that helped with the knife in your storming chest?\"\n\n\"No,\" Jasnah said. \"But surely by now you've learned the value of a little Stormlight when it comes to bodily wounds?\"\n\nOf course she had, and she could probably have guessed all of this. But for some reason she didn't want to accept that. She wanted to remain annoyed at Jasnah.\n\n\"My true difficulty was not escaping, but returning,\" Jasnah said. \"My powers make it easy to transfer to Shadesmar, but getting back to this realm is no small feat. I had to find a transfer point-a place where Shadesmar and our realm touch-which is far, far more difficult than one might assume. It's like... going downhill one way, but uphill to get back.\"\n\nWell, perhaps her return would take some pressure off Shallan. Jasnah could be'Brightness Radiant\" and Shallan could be... well, whatever she was.\n\n\"We will need to converse further,\" Jasnah said. \"I would hear the exact story, from your perspective, of the discovery of Urithiru. And I assume you have sketches of the transformed parshmen? That will tell us much. I... believe I once disparaged the usefulness of your artistic skill. I now find reason to call myself foolish for that presumption.\"\n\n\"It's fine, Brightness,\" Shallan said with a sigh, still sketching the pillar. \"I can get you those things, and there is a lotto talk about.\" But how much of it would she be able to say? How would Jasnah react, for instance, to finding that Shallan had been dealing with the Ghostbloods?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It's not like you're really apart of their organization, Shallan thought to herself. If anything, you're using them for information. Jasnah might find that admirable.\n\nShallan still wasn't eager to broach the topic.\n\n\"I feel lost...\" Jasnah said.\n\nShallan looked up from her sketchbook to find the woman regarding the pillar again, speaking softly, as if to herself.\n\n\"For years I was at the very forefront of all this,\" Jasnah said. \" One short stumble, and I find myself scrambling to stay afloat. These visions that my uncle is having... the refounding of the Radiants in my absence...\n\n\"That Windrunner. What do you think of him, Shallan? I find him much as I imagined his order, but I have only met him once. It has all come so quickly. After years of struggling in the shadows, everything coming to light-and despite my years of study-I understand so very little.\"\n\nShallan continued her sketch. It was nice to be reminded that, for all their differences, there were occasional things that she and Jasnah shared.\n\nShe just wished that ignorance weren't at the top of the list." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "SHALLAN. JASNAH. DALINAR\n\nBRIDGE FOUR\n\nShallan's Sketchbook: Urithiru" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "DALINAR. SHALLA. ADOLIN\n\nMap of the Oathgate Location" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Folio: Contenporary Thaylen Female Fashion" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Tom Doherty Associates ebook.\n\nTo receive special offers, bonus content,\n\nand info on new releases and other great reads,\n\nsign up for our newsletters.\n\nOr visit us online at\n\nus. macmillan. com/newslettersignup\n\nFor email updates on the author, click here and here." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Copyright infringement is against the law. If you believe the copy of this e-book you are reading infringes on the author's copyright, please notify the publisher at: us. macmillanusa. com/piracy." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Who was cheering for Dalinar\n\n(And me)\n\nBefore Stormlight even existed." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "KAZA. TARAVAN. GIAN. VENLI" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The ship First Dreams crashed through a wave, prompting Kaza to cling tightly to the rigging. Her gloved hands already ached, and she was certain each new wave would toss her overboard.\n\nShe refused to go down below. This washer destiny. She was not a thing to be carted from place to place, not any longer. Besides, that dark sky-suddenly stormy, even though the sailing had been easy up until an hour ago-was no more disconcerting than her visions.\n\nAnother wave sent water crashing across the deck. Sailors scrambled and screamed, mostly hirelings out of Steen, as no rational crew would make this trip. Captain Vazrmeb stalked among them, shouting orders, while Droz-the helmsman-kept them on a steady heading. Into the storm. Straight. Into. The storm.\n\nKaza held tight, feeling her age as her arms started to weaken. Icy water washed over her, pushing back the hood of her robe, exposing her face-and its twisted nature. Most sailors weren't paying attention, though her cry did bring Vazrmeb's attention.\n\nThe only Thaylen onboard, the captain didn't much match her image of the people. Thaylens, to her, were portly little men invests-merchants with styled hair who haggled for every last sphere. Vazrmeb, however, was as tall as an Alethi, with hands wide enough to palm boulders and forearms large enough to lift them.\n\nOver the crashing of waves, he yelled, \"Someone get that Soulcaster below deck!\"\n\n\"No,\" she shouted back at him. \"I stay.\"\n\n\"I didn't pay a prince's ransom to bring you,\" he said, stalking up to her, \"only to lose you over the side!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I'm not a thing to-\"\n\n\"Captain!\" a sailor shouted. \"Captain!\"\n\nThey both looked as the ship tipped over the peak of a huge wave, then teetered, before just kind of falling over the other side. Storms! Kaza's stomach practically squeezed up into her throat, and she felt her fingers sliding on the ropes.\n\nVazrmeb seized her by the side of her robe, holding her tight as they plunged into the water beyond the wave. Fora brief terrifying moment, they seemed entombed in the chill water. As if the entire ship had sunk.\n\nThe wave passed, and Kaza found herself lying in a sodden heap on the deck, held by the captain. \"Storming fool,\" he said to her. \"You're my secret weapon. You drown yourself when you're not in my pay, understand?\"\n\nShe nodded limply. And then realized, with a shock, she'd been able to hear him easily. The storm...\n\nWas gone?\n\nVazrmeb stood up straight, grinning broadly, his white eyebrows combed back into his long mane of dripping hair. All across the deck, the sailors who had survived were climbing to their feet, sopping wet and staring at the sky. It maintained its overcast gloom-but the winds had fallen completely still.\n\nVazrmeb bellowed out a laugh, sweeping back his long, curling hair. \"What did I tell you, men! That new storm came from Aimia! Now it has gone and escaped, leaving the riches of its homeland to be plundered!\"\n\nEveryone knew you didn't linger around Aimia, though everyone had different explanations why. Some rumors told of a vengeful storm here, one that sought out and destroyed approaching ships. The strange wind they'd encountered-which didn't match the timing of highstorm or Everstorm-seemed to support that." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The captain started shouting orders, getting the men back into position. They hadn't been sailing long, only a short distance out of Liafor, along the Shin coast, then westward toward this northern section of Aimia. They'd soon spotted the large main island, but had not visited it. Everyone knew that was barren, lifeless. The treasures were on the hidden islands, supposedly lying in wait to enrich those willing to brave the winds and treacherous straits.\n\nShe cared less for that-what were riches to her? She had come because of another rumor, one spoken of only among her kind. Perhaps here, at last, she could find a cure for her condition.\n\nEven as she righted herself, she felt in her pouch, seeking the comforting touch of her Soulcaster. Hers, no matter what the rulers of Liafor claimed. Had they spent their youths caressing it, learning its secrets? Had they spent their middle years in service, stepping-with each use-closer and closer to oblivion?\n\nThe common sailors gave Kaza space, refusing to look her in the eyes. She pulled her hood up, unaccustomed to the gaze of ordinary people. She'd entered the stage where her... disfigurements were starkly obvious.\n\nKaza was, slowly, becoming smoke.\n\nVazrmeb took the helm himself, giving Droz a break. The lanky man stepped down from the poop deck, noting her by the side of the ship. He grinned at her, which she found curious. She hadn't ever spoken to him. Now he sauntered over, as if intending to make small talk.\n\n\"So...\" he said. \"Upon deck? Through that? You've got guts.\"\n\nShe hesitated, considering this strange creature, then lowered her hood." }, { "from": "human", "value": "He didn't flinch, even though her hair, her ears, and now parts of her face were disintegrating." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There was a hole in her cheek through which you could see her jaw and teeth. Lines of smoke rimmed the hole; the flesh seemed to be burning away. Air passed through it when she spoke, altering her voice, and she had to tip her head all the way back to drink anything. Even then, it dribbled out.\n\nThe process was slow. She had a few years left until the Soulcasting killed her.\n\nDroz seemed intent on pretending nothing was wrong. \"I can't believe we got through that storm. You think it hunts ships, like the stories say?\"\n\nHe was Liaforan like herself, with deep brown skin and dark brown eyes. What did he want? She tried to remember the ordinary passions of human life, which she'd begun to forget. \"Is it sex you want?... No, you are much younger than I am. Hmmm...\" Curious. \"Are you frightened, and wishing for comfort?\"\n\nHe started to fidget, playing with the end of a tied-off rope. \"Um... So, I mean, the prince sent you, right?\"\n\n\"Ah.\" So he knew that she was the prince's cousin. \"You wish to connect yourself to royalty. Well, I came on my own.\"\n\n\"Surely he let you go.\"\n\n\"Of course he didn't. If not for my safety, then for that of my device.\" It washers. She looked off across the too-still ocean. \"They locked me up each day, gave me comforts they assumed would keep me happy. They realized that at any moment, I could literally make walls and bonds turn to smoke.\"\n\n\"Does... does it hurt?\"\n\n\"It is blissful. I slowly connect to the device, and through it to Roshar. Until the day it will take me fully into its embrace.\" She lifted a hand and pulled her black glove off, one finger at a time, revealing a hand that was disintegrating. Five lines of darkness, one rising from the tip of each finger. She turned it, palm toward him. \"I could show you. Feel my touch, and you can know. One moment, and then you will mingle with the air itself.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He fled. Excellent.\n\nThe captain steered them toward a small island, poking from the placid ocean right where the captain's map had claimed it would be. It had dozens of names. The Rock of Secrets. The Void's Playground. So melodramatic. She preferred the old name for the place: Akinah.\n\nSupposedly, there had once been a grand city here. But who would put a city on an island you couldn't approach? For, jutting from the ocean here were a set of strange rock formations. They ringed the entire island like a wall, each some forty feet tall, resembling spearheads. As the ship drew closer, the sea grew choppy again, and she felt about of nausea. She liked that. It was a human feeling.\n\nHer hand again sought her Soulcaster.\n\nThat nausea mixed with a faint sense of hunger. Food was something she often forgot about these days, as her body needed less of it now. Chewing was annoying, with the hole in her cheek. Still, she liked the scents from whatever the cook was stirring up below. Perhaps the meal would calm the men, who seemed agitated about approaching the island.\n\nKaza moved to the poop deck, near the captain.\n\n\"Now you earn your keep, Soulcaster,\" he said. \"And I'm justified in hauling you all the way out here.\"\n\n\"I'm not a thing,\" she said absently, \"to be used. I am a person. Those spikes of stone... they were Soulcast there.\" The enormous stone spearheads were too even in a ring about the island. Judging by the currents ahead, some lurked beneath the waters as well, to rip up the hulls of approaching vessels.\n\n\"Can you destroy one?\" the captain asked her." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No. They are much larger than you indicated.\"\n\n\"But-\"\n\n\"I can make a hole in them, Captain. It is easier to Soulcast an entire object, but I am no ordinary Soulcaster. I have begun to seethe dark sky and the second sun, the creatures that lurk, hidden, around the cities of men.\"\n\nHe shivered visibly. Why should that have frightened him? She'd merely stated facts.\n\n\"We need you to transform the tips of a few under the waves,\" he said. \"Then make a hole at least large enough for the dinghies to get into the island beyond.\"\n\n\"I will keep my word, but you must remember. I do not serve you. I am here for my own purposes.\"\n\nThey dropped anchor as close to the spikes as they dared get. The spikes were even more daunting-and more obviously Soulcast-from here. Each would have required several Soulcasters in concert, she thought, standing at the prow of the ship as the men ate a hasty meal of stew.\n\nThe cook was a woman, Reshi from the looks of her, with tattoos all across her face. She pushed the captain to eat, claiming that if he went in hungry, he'd be distracted. Even Kaza took some, though her tongue no longer tasted food. It all felt like the same mush to her, and she ate with a napkin pressed to her cheek.\n\nThe captain drew anticipationspren as he waited-ribbons that waved in the wind-and Kaza could seethe beasts beyond, the creatures that accompanied the spren.\n\nThe ship's four dinghies were cramped, with rowers and officers all together, but they made space for her at the front of one. She pulled up her hood, which still hadn't dried, and sat on her bench. What had the captain been planning to do if the storm hadn't stopped? Would he seriously have tried to use her and a dinghy to remove these spears in the middle of a tempest?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They reached the first spike, and Kaza carefully unwrapped her Soulcaster, releasing a flood of light. Three large gemstones connected by chains, with loops for her fingers. She put it on, with the gemstones on the back of her hand. She sighed softly to feel the metal against her skin again. Warm, welcoming, apart of her.\n\nShe reached over the side into the chill water and pressed her hand against the tip of the stone spear-smoothed from years in the ocean. Light from the gemstones lit the water, reflections dancing across her robe.\n\nShe closed her eyes, and felt the familiar sensation of being drawn into the other world. Of another will reinforcing her own, something commanding and powerful, attracted by her request for aid.\n\nThe stone did not wish to change. It was content with its long slumber in the ocean. But... yes, yes, it remembered. It had once been air, until someone had locked it into this shape. She could not make it air again; her Soulcaster had only one mode, not the full three. She did not know why.\n\nSmoke, she whispered to the stone. Freedom in the air. Remember? She tempted it, picking at its memories of dancing free.\n\nYes... freedom.\n\nShe nearly gave in herself. How wonderful would it be to no longer fear? To soar into infinity on the air? To be free of mortal pains?\n\nThe tip of the stone burst into smoke, sending an explosion of bubbles up around the dinghy. Kaza was shocked back into the real world, and apiece deep within her trembled. Terrified. She'd almost gone that time.\n\nSmoke bubbles rattled the dinghy, which nearly upended. She should have warned them. Sailors muttered, but in the next dinghy over, the captain praised her." }, { "from": "human", "value": "She removed two more spear tips beneath the waves before finally reaching the wall." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Here, the spearheadlike formations had been grown so close together, there was barely a handspan gap between them. It took three tries to get the dinghy close enough-as soon as they got into position, some turning of the waves would pull them away again.\n\nFinally, the sailors managed to keep the dinghy steady. Kaza reached outwith the Soulcaster-two of the three gems were almost out of Stormlight, and glowed only faintly. She should have enough.\n\nShe pressed her hand against the spike, then convinced it to become smoke. It was... easy this time. She felt the explosion of wind from the transformation, her soul crying in delight at the smoke, thick and sweet. She breathed it in through the hole in her cheek while sailors coughed. She looked up at the smoke, drifting away. How wonderful it would be to join it....\n\nNo.\n\nThe island proper loomed beyond that hole. Dark, like its stones had been stained by smoke themselves, it had tall rock formations along its center. They looked almost like the walls of a city.\n\nThe captain's dinghy pulled up to hers, and the captain transferred to her boat. His began to row backward.\n\n\"What?\" she asked. \"Why is your boat heading back?\"\n\n\"They claim to not be feeling well,\" the captain said. Was he abnormally pale? \"Cowards. They won't have any of the prize, then.\"\n\n\"Gemstones lay around just for the plucking here,\" Droz added. \"Generations of greatshells have died here, leaving their hearts. We're going to be rich, rich men.\"\n\nAs long as the secret was here.\n\nShe settled into her place at the prow of the boat as the sailors guided the three dinghies through the gap. The Aimians had known about Soulcasters. This was where you'd come to get the devices, in the old days. You'd come to the ancient island of Akinah." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "If there was a secret of how to avoid death by the device she loved, she would find it here.\n\nHer stomach began acting up again as they rowed. Kaza endured it, though she felt as if she were slipping into the other world. That wasn't an ocean beneath her, but deep black glass. And two suns in the sky, one that drew her soul toward it. Her shadow, to stretch out in the wrong direction...\n\nSplash.\n\nShe started. One of the sailors had slipped from his boat into the water. She gaped as another slumped to the side, oar falling from his fingers.\n\n\"Captain?\" She turned to find him with drooping eyes. He went limp, then fell backward, unconscious, knocking his head against the backseat of the boat.\n\nThe rest of the sailors weren't doing any better. The other two dinghies had begun to drift aimlessly. Not a single sailor seemed to be conscious.\n\nMy destiny, Kaza thought. My choice.\n\nNot a thing to be carted from place to place, and ordered to Soulcast. Not a tool. A person.\n\nShe shoved aside an unconscious sailor and took the oars herself. It was difficult work. She was unaccustomed to physical labor, and her fingers had trouble gripping. They'd started to dissolve further. Perhaps a year or two for her survival was optimistic.\n\nStill, she rowed. She fought the waters until she at long last got close enough to hop out into the water and feel rock beneath her feet. Her robes billowing up around her, she finally thought to check if Vazrmeb was alive.\n\nNone of the sailors in her dinghy were breathing, so she let the boat slip backward on the waves. Alone, Kaza fought through the surf and-finally-on hands and knees, crawled up onto the stones of the island." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There, she collapsed, drowsy. Why was she so sleepy?\n\nShe awoke to a small cremling scuttling across the rocks near her. It had a strange shape, with large wings and ahead that made it look like an axehound. Its carapace shimmered with dozens of colors.\n\nKaza could remember a time when she'd collected cremlings, pinning them to boards and proclaiming she'd become a natural historian. What had happened to that girl?\n\nShe was transformed by necessity. Given the Soulcaster, which was always to be kept in the royal family. Given a charge.\n\nAnd a death sentence.\n\nShe stirred, and the cremling scrambled away. She coughed, then began to crawl toward those rock formations. That city? Dark city of stone? She could barely think, though she did notice a gemstone as she passed it-a large uncut gemheart among the bleached white carapace leftovers of a dead greatshell. Vazrmeb had been right.\n\nShe collapsed again near the perimeter of the rock formations. They looked like large, ornate buildings, crusted with crem.\n\n\"Ah...\" a voice said from behind her. \"I should have guessed the drug would not affect you as quickly. You are barely human anymore.\"\n\nKaza rolled over and found someone approaching on quiet, bare feet. The cook? Yes, that washer, with the tattooed face.\n\n\"You...\" Kaza croaked, \"you poisoned us.\"\n\n\"After many warnings not to come to this place,\" the cook said. \"It is rare I must guard it so... aggressively. Men must not again discover this place.\"\n\n\"The gemstones?\" Kaza asked, growing more drowsy. \"Or... is it something else... something... more...\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I cannot speak,\" the cook said, \"even to sate a dying demand. There are those who could pull secrets from your soul, and the cost would be the ends of worlds. Sleep now, Soulcaster. This is the most merciful end I could give.\"\n\nThe cook began to hum. Pieces of her broke off. She crumbled to a pile of chittering little cremlings that moved out of her clothing, leaving it in a heap.\n\nA hallucination? Kaza wondered as she drifted.\n\nShe was dying. Well, that was nothing new.\n\nThe cremlings began to pick at her hand, taking off her Soulcaster. No... she had one last thing to do.\n\nWith a defiant shout, she pressed her hand to the rocky ground beneath her and demanded it change. When it became smoke, she went with it.\n\nHer choice.\n\nHer destiny." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Taravangian paced in his rooms in Urithiru as two servants from the Diagram arranged his table, and fidgety Dukar-head of the King's Testers, who each wore a ridiculous stormwarden robe with glyphs all along the seams-set out the tests, though they needn't have bothered.\n\nToday, Taravangian was a storming genius.\n\nThe way he thought, breathed, even moved, implicitly conveyed that today was a day of intelligence-perhaps not as brilliant as that single transcendent one when he'd created the Diagram, but he finally felt like himself after so many days trapped in the mausoleum of his own flesh, his mind like a master painter allowed only to whitewash walls.\n\nOnce the table was finished, Taravangian pushed a nameless servant aside and sat down, grabbing a pen and launching into the problems-starting at the second page, as the first was too simple-and flicking ink at Dukar when the idiot started to complain.\n\n\"Next page,\" he snapped. \"Quickly, quickly. Let's not waste this, Dukar.\"\n\n\"You still must-\"\n\n\"Yes, yes. Prove myself not an idiot. The one day I'm not drooling and lying in my own waste, you tax my time with this idiocy.\"\n\n\"You set-\"\n\n\"It up. Yes, the irony is that you let the prohibitions instituted by my idiot self control my true self when it finally has opportunity to emerge.\"\n\n\"You weren't an idiot when you-\"\n\n\"Here,\" Taravangian said, proffering the sheet of math problems to him. \"Done.\"\n\n\"All but the last on this sheet,\" Dukar said, taking it incautious fingers. \"Do you want to try that one, or...\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No need. I know I can't solve it; too bad. Make quick with the requisite formalities. I have work to do.\"\n\nAdrotagia had entered with Malata, the Dustbringer; they were growing in companionship as Adrotagia attempted to secure an emotional bond with this lesser Diagram member who had suddenly been thrust into its upper echelons, an event predicted by the Diagram-which explained that the Dustbringers would be the Radiants most likely to accept their cause, and at that Taravangian felt proud, for actually locating one of their number who could bond a spren had not, by any means, been an assured accomplishment.\n\n\"He's smart,\" Dukar said to Mrall. The bodyguard was the final adjudicator of Taravangian's daily capacity-an infuriating check necessary to prevent his stupid side from ruining anything, but a mere annoyance when Taravangian was like this.\n\nEnergized.\n\nAwake.\n\nBrilliant.\n\n\"He's almost to the danger line,\" Dukar said.\n\n\"I can see that,\" Adrotagia said. \"Vargo, are you-\"\n\n\"I feel perfect. Can't we be done with this? I can interact, and make policy decisions, and need no restrictions.\"\n\nDukar nodded, reluctantly, in agreement. Mrall assented. Finally!\n\n\"Get me a copy of the Diagram,\" Taravangian said, pushing past Adrotagia. \"And some music, something relaxing but not too slow. Clear the chambers of nonessential persons, empty the bedroom of furniture, and don't interrupt me.\"\n\nIt took them a frustratingly longtime to accomplish, almost half an hour, which he spent on his balcony, contemplating the large space fora garden outside and wondering how big it was. He needed measurements...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Your room is prepared, Your Majesty,\" Mrall said.\n\n\"Thank you, Uscritic one, for your leave to go into my own bedroom. Have you been drinking salt?\"\n\n\"... What?\"\n\nTaravangian strode through the small room beside the balcony and into his bedroom, then breathed deeply, pleased to find it completely empty of furniture-only four blank stonewalls, no window, though it had a strange rectangular outcropping along the back wall, like a high step, which Maben was dusting.\n\nTaravangian seized the maid by the arm and hauled her out, to where Adrotagia was bringing him a thick book bound in hogshide. A copy of the Diagram. Excellent. \"Measure the available gardening area of the stone field outside our balcony and report it tome.\"\n\nHe carried the Diagram into the room, and then shut himself into blissful self-company, in which he arranged a diamond in each corner-alight to accompany that of his own spark, which shone in truth where others could not venture-and as he finished, a small choir of children started to sing Vorin hymns outside the room per his request.\n\nHe breathed in, out, bathed in light and encouraged by song, his hands to the sides; capable of anything, he was consumed by the satisfaction of his own working mind, unclogged and flowing freely for the first time in what seemed like ages.\n\nHe opened the Diagram. In it, Taravangian finally faced something greater than himself: a different version of himself.\n\nThe Diagram-which was the name for this book and for the organization that studied it-had not originally been written merely on paper, for on that day of majestic capacity, Taravangian had annexed every surface to hold his genius-from the cabinetry to the walls-and while so doing had invented new languages to better express ideas that had to be recorded, by necessity, in a medium less perfect than his thoughts. Even as the intellect he was today, the sight of that writing enforced humility; he leafed through pages packed with tiny scrawls, copied-spots, scratches, and all-from the original Diagram room, created during what felt like a different lifetime, as alien to him now as was the drooling idiot he sometimes became." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "More alien. Everyone understood stupidity.\n\nHe knelt on the stones, ignoring his aches of body, reverently leafing through the pages. Then he slipped out his belt knife, and began to cut it up.\n\nThe Diagram had not been written on paper, and interacting with its transcription bound into codex form must necessarily have influenced their thinking, so to obtain true perspective-he now decided-he needed the flexibility of seeing the pieces, then arranging them in new ways, for his thoughts had not been locked down on that day and he should not perceive them as such today.\n\nHe was not as brilliant as he'd been on that day, but he didn't need to be. That day, he'd been God. Today, he could be God's prophet.\n\nHe arranged the cut-out pages, and found numerous new connections simply by how the sheets were placed next to each other-indeed, this page here actually connected to this page here... yes. Taravangian cut them both down the middle, dividing sentences. When he put the halves of separate pages beside one another, they made a more complete whole. Ideas he'd missed before seemed to rise from the pages like spren.\n\nTaravangian did not believe in any religion, for they were unwieldy things, designed to fill gaps inhuman understanding with nonsensical explanations, allowing people to sleep well at night, granting them a false sense of comfort and control and preventing them from stretching further for true understanding, yet there was something strangely holy about the Diagram, the power of raw intelligence, the only thing man should worship, and oh how little most understood it-oh, how little they deserved it-in handling purity while corrupting it with flawed understanding and silly superstitions. Was there away he could prevent any but the most intelligent from learning to read? That would accomplish so much good; it seemed insane that nobody had implemented such a ban, for while Vorinism forbade men to read, that merely prevented an arbitrary half of the population from handling information, when it was the stupid who should be barred." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He paced in the room, then noted a scrap of paper under the door; it contained the answer to his question about the size of the farming platform. He looked over the calculations, listening with half an ear to voices outside, almost overwhelmed by the singing children.\n\n\"Uscritic,\" Adrotagia said, \"seems to refer to Uscri, a figure from a tragic poem written seventeen hundred years ago. She drowned herself after hearing her lover had died, though the truth was that he'd not died at all, and she misunderstood the report about him.\"\n\n\"All right...\" Mrall said.\n\n\"She was used in following centuries as an example of acting without information, though the term eventually came to simply mean \"stupid.\" The salt seems to refer to the fact that she drowned herself in the sea.\"\n\n\"So it was an insult?\" Mrall asked.\n\n\"Using an obscure literary reference. Yes.\" He could almost hear Adrotagia's sigh. Best to interrupt her before she thought on this further.\n\nTaravangian flung open the door. \"Gum paste for sticking paper to this wall. Fetch it for me, Adrotagia.\"\n\nThey'd put paper in a stack by the door without being asked, which surprised him, as they usually had to be ordered to do everything. He closed the door, then knelt and did some calculations relating to the size of the tower city. Hmmmm...\n\nIt provided a fine distraction, but he was soon drawn back to the true work, interrupted only by the arrival of his gum paste, which he used to begin sticking fragments of the Diagram to his walls.\n\nThis, he thought, arranging pages with numbers interspersing the text, pages they'd never been able to make sense of. It's a list of what? Not code, like the other numbers. Unless... could this be shorthand for words?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Yes... yes, he'd been too impatient to write the actual words. He'd numbered them in his head-alphabetically perhaps-so he could write quickly. Where was the key?\n\nThis is reinforcement, he thought as he worked, of the Dalinar paradigm! His hands shook with excitement as he wrote out possible interpretations. Yes... Kill Dalinar, or he will resist your attempts to takeover Alethkar. So Taravangian had sent the Assassin in White, which-incredibly-had failed.\n\nFortunately, there were contingencies. Here, Taravangian thought, bringing up another scrap from the Diagram and gluing it to the wall beside the others. The initial explanation of the Dalinar paradigm, from the catechism of the headboard, backside, third quadrant. It had been written in meter, as a poem, and presaged that Dalinar would attempt to unite the world.\n\nSo if he looked to the second contingency...\n\nTaravangian wrote furiously, seeing words instead of numbers, and-full of energy-fora time he forgot his age, his aches, the way his fingers trembled-sometimes-even when he wasn't so excited.\n\nThe Diagram hadn't seen the effect the second son, Renarin, would have-he was a completely wild element. Taravangian finished his notations, proud, and wandered toward the door, which he opened without looking up.\n\n\"Get me a copy of the surgeon's words upon my birth,\" he said to those outside. \"Oh, and kill those children.\"\n\nThe music trailed off as the children heard what he'd said. Musicspren flitted away.\n\n\"You mean, quiet them from singing,\" Mrall said.\n\n\"Whatever. I'm perturbed by the Vorin hymns as a reminder of historic religious oppression of ideas and thought.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Taravangian returned to his work, but a short time later a knock came at the door. He flung it open. \"I was not to be-\"\n\n\"Interrupted,\" Adrotagia said, proffering him a sheet of paper. \"The surgeon's words you requested. We keep them handy now, considering how often you ask for them.\"\n\n\"Fine.\"\n\n\"We need to talk, Vargo.\"\n\n\"No we-\"\n\nShe walked in anyway, then stopped, inspecting the cut-up pieces of the Diagram. Her eyes widened as she turned about. \"Are you...\"\n\n\"No,\" he said. \"I haven't become him again. But I am me, for the first time in weeks.\"\n\n\"This isn't you. This is the monster you sometimes become.\"\n\n\"I am not smart enough to be in the dangerous zone.\" The zone where, annoyingly, they claimed he was too smart to be allowed to make decisions. As if intelligence were somehow a liability!\n\nShe unfolded apiece of paper from the pocket of her skirt. \"Yes, your daily test. You stopped on this page, claiming you couldn't answer the next question.\"\n\nDamnation. She'd seen it.\n\n\"If you'd answered,\" she said, \"it would have proved you were intelligent enough to be dangerous. Instead, you decided you couldn't manage. A loophole we should have considered. You knew that if you finished the question, we'd restrict your decision-making for the day.\"\n\n\"Do you know about Stormlight growth?\" he said, brushing past her and taking one of the pages he'd written earlier.\n\n\"Vargo...\"\n\n\"Calculating the total surface area for farming at Urithiru,\" he said, \"and comparing it to the projected number of rooms that could be occupied, I have determined that even if food grew here naturally-as it would at the temperatures of your average fecund plain-it could not provide enough to sustain the entire tower.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Trade,\" she said.\n\n\"I have trouble believing the Knights Radiant, always threatened with war, would build a fortress like this to be anything but self-sufficient. Have you read Golombi?\"\n\n\"Of course I have, and you know it,\" she said. \"You think they enhanced the growth by use of Stormlight-infused gemstones, providing light to darkened places?\"\n\n\"Nothing else makes sense, does it?\"\n\n\"The tests are inconclusive,\" she said. \"Yes, spherelight inspires growth in a darkroom, when candlelight cannot, but Golombi says that the results may have been compromised, and the efficiency is... Oh, bah! That's a distraction, Vargo. We were discussing what you've done to circumvent the rules you yourself set out!\"\n\n\"When I was stupid.\"\n\n\"When you were normal.\"\n\n\"Normal is stupid, Adro.\" He took her by the shoulders and firmly pushed her from the room. \"I won't make policy decisions, and I'll avoid ordering the murder of any further groups of melodic children. Fine? All right? Now leave me alone. You're stinking up the place with an air of contented idiocy.\"\n\nHe shut the door, and-deep down-felt a glimmer of shame. Had he called Adrotagia, of all people, an idiot?\n\nWell. Nothing to do about it now. She would understand.\n\nHe set to work again, cutting out more of the Diagram, arranging it, searching for any mentions of the Blackthorn, as there was too much in the book to study today, and he had to be focused on their current problem.\n\nDalinar lived. He was building a coalition. So what did Taravangian do now? Another assassin?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "What is the secret? he thought, holding up sheets from the Diagram, finding one where he could seethe words on the other side through the paper. Could that have been intentional? What should I do? Please. Show me the way.\n\nHe scribbled words on a page. Light. Intelligence. Meaning. He hung them on the wall to inspire him, but he couldn't help reading the surgeon's words-the words of a master healer who had delivered Taravangian through a cut in his mother's belly.\n\nHe had the cord wrapped around his neck, the surgeon had said. The queen will know the best course, but I regret to inform her that while he lives, your son may have diminished capacity. Perhaps this is one to keep on outer estates, in favor of other heirs.\n\nThe'diminished capacity\" hadn't appeared, but the reputation had chased Taravangian from childhood, so pervasive in people's minds that not a one had seen through his recent act of stupidity, which they'd attributed to a stroke or to simple senility. Or maybe, some said, that was the way he'd always been.\n\nHe'd overcome that reputation in magnificent ways. Now he'd save the world. Well, the part of the world that mattered.\n\nHe worked for hours, pinning up more portions of the Diagram, then scribbling on them as connections came to him, using beauty and light to chase away the shadows of dullness and ignorance, giving him answers-they were here, he merely needed to interpret them.\n\nHis maid finally interrupted him; the annoying woman was always bustling around, trying to make him do this or that, as if he didn't have more important concerns than soaking his feet.\n\n\"Idiot woman!\" he shouted." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She didn't flinch, but walked forward and put a tray of food down beside him.\n\n\"Can't you see that my work here is important?\" he demanded. \"I haven't time for food.\"\n\nShe set out drink for him, then, infuriatingly, patted him on the shoulder. As she left, he noticed Adrotagia and Mrall standing right outside.\n\n\"I don't suppose,\" he said to Mrall, \"you'd execute that maid if I demanded it?\"\n\n\"We have decided,\" the bodyguard said, \"that you are not allowed to make such decisions today.\"\n\n\"To Damnation with you then. I almost have the answers anyway. We must not assassinate Dalinar Kholin. The time has passed for that. Instead, we must support his coalition. Then we force him to step down, so that I can take his place at the head of the monarchs.\"\n\nAdrotagia walked in and inspected his work. \"I doubt Dalinar will simply give leadership of the coalition to you.\"\n\nTaravangian rapped on a set of pages stuck to the wall. \"Look here. It should be clear, even to you. I foresaw this.\"\n\n\"You've made changes,\" Mrall said, aghast. \"To the Diagram.\"\n\n\"Only little ones,\" Taravangian said. \"Look, seethe original writing here? I didn't change that, and it's clear. Our task now is to make Dalinar withdraw from leadership, take his place.\"\n\n\"We don't kill him?\" Mrall asked.\n\nTaravangian eyed him, then turned and waved toward the other wall, with even more papers stuck to it. \"Killing him now would only raise suspicion.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Yes,\" Adrotagia said, \"I see this interpretation of the headboard-we must push the Blackthorn so hard that he collapses. But we'll need secrets to use against him.\"\n\n\"Easy,\" Taravangian said, pushing her toward another set of notations on the wall. \"We send that Dustbringer's spren to spy. Dalinar Kholin reeks of secrets. We can break him, and I can take his place-as the coalition will see meas nonthreatening-whereupon we'll be in a position of power to negotiate with Odium-who will, bylaws of spren and gods, be bound by the agreement made.\"\n\n\"Can't we... beat Odium instead?\" Mrall asked.\n\nMuscle-bound idiot. Taravangian rolled his eyes, but Adrotagia-more sentimental than he was-turned and explained. \"The Diagram is clear, Mrall,\" she said. \"This is the purpose of its creation. We cannot beat the enemy; so instead, we save whatever we can.\"\n\n\"The only way,\" Taravangian agreed. Dalinar would never accept this fact. Only one man would be strong enough to make that sacrifice.\n\nTaravangian felt a glimmer of... something. Memory.\n\nGive me the capacity to save us.\n\n\"Take this,\" he said to Adrotagia, pulling down a sheet he'd annotated. \"This will work.\"\n\nShe nodded, towing Mrall from the room as Taravangian knelt before the broken, ripped, sliced-up remnants of the Diagram.\n\nLight and truth. Save what he could.\n\nAbandon the rest.\n\nThankfully, he had been given that capacity." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "PUULI. ELLISTA. VENLI" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Puuli the lighthouse keeper tried not to let everyone know how excited he was for this new storm.\n\nIt was truly tragic. Truly tragic. He told Sakin this as she wept. She had thought herself quite high and blessed when she'd landed her new husband. She'd moved into the man's fine stone hut in a prime spot for growing a garden, behind the northern cliffs of the town.\n\nPuuli gathered scraps of wood blown eastward by the strange storm, and piled them in his little cart. He pulled it with two hands, leaving Sakin to weep for her husband. Up to three now, she was, all lost at sea. Truly tragic.\n\nStill, he was excited for the storm.\n\nHe pulled his cart past other broken homes here, where they should have been sheltered west of the cliffs. Puuli's grandfather had been able to remember when those cliffs hadn't been there. Kelek himself had broken apart the land in the middle of a storm, making anew prime spot for homes.\n\nWhere would the rich people put their houses now?\n\nAnd they did have rich people herein town, never mind what the travelers on the ocean said. Those would stop at this little port, on the crumbling eastern edge of Roshar, and shelter from storms in their cove alongside the cliffs.\n\nPuuli pulled his cart past the cove. Here, one of the foreigner captains-with long eyebrows and tan skin, rather than the proper blue skin-was trying to make sense of her ruined ship. It had been rocked in the cove, struck by lightning, then smashed back against the stones. Now only the mast was visible.\n\nTruly tragic, Puuli said. He complimented the captain on the mast though. It was a very nice mast." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "In your capacity as the author's assistant, extend the narrative.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, knights radiant\nAuthor: Brandon Sanderson\nTitle: Oathbringer\nChapter: 143" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Puuli the lighthouse keeper tried not to let everyone know how excited he was for this new storm.\n\nIt was truly tragic. Truly tragic. He told Sakin this as she wept. She had thought herself quite high and blessed when she'd landed her new husband. She'd moved into the man's fine stone hut in a prime spot for growing a garden, behind the northern cliffs of the town.\n\nPuuli gathered scraps of wood blown eastward by the strange storm, and piled them in his little cart. He pulled it with two hands, leaving Sakin to weep for her husband. Up to three now, she was, all lost at sea. Truly tragic.\n\nStill, he was excited for the storm.\n\nHe pulled his cart past other broken homes here, where they should have been sheltered west of the cliffs. Puuli's grandfather had been able to remember when those cliffs hadn't been there. Kelek himself had broken apart the land in the middle of a storm, making anew prime spot for homes.\n\nWhere would the rich people put their houses now?\n\nAnd they did have rich people herein town, never mind what the travelers on the ocean said. Those would stop at this little port, on the crumbling eastern edge of Roshar, and shelter from storms in their cove alongside the cliffs.\n\nPuuli pulled his cart past the cove. Here, one of the foreigner captains-with long eyebrows and tan skin, rather than the proper blue skin-was trying to make sense of her ruined ship. It had been rocked in the cove, struck by lightning, then smashed back against the stones. Now only the mast was visible.\n\nTruly tragic, Puuli said. He complimented the captain on the mast though. It was a very nice mast." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Puuli picked up a few planks from the broken ship that had washed onto the shore of the cove, then threw them into his cart. Even if it had destroyed many a ship, Puuli was happy for this new storm. Secretly happy.\n\nHad the time finally come, that his grandfather had warned of? The time of changes, when the men from the hidden island of the Origin at last came to reclaim Natanatan?\n\nEven if not, this new storm brought him so much wood. Scraps of rockbuds, branches from trees. He gathered it all eagerly, piling his cart high, then pulled it past fishers in huddles, trying to decide how they'd survive in a world with storms from both directions. Fishers didn't sleep away the Weeping, like lazy farmers. They worked it, for there were no winds. Lots of bailing, but no winds. Until now.\n\nA tragedy, he told Au-lam while helping him clear the refuse of his barn. Many of the boards ended up in Puuli's cart.\n\nA tragedy, he agreed with Hema-Dak as he watched her children so she could run a broth to her sister, who was sick with the fever.\n\nA tragedy, he told the Drummer brothers as he helped them pull a tattered sail from the surf and stretch it out on the rocks.\n\nAt last, Puuli finished his rounds and pulled his little cart up the long, twisting road toward Defiance. That was his name for the lighthouse. Nobody else called it that, because to them it was just the lighthouse.\n\nAt the top, he left out an offering of fruit for Kelek, the Herald who lived in the storm. Then he pulled his wagon into the room on the bottom floor. Defiance wasn't a tall lighthouse. He'd seen paintings of the sleek, fashionable ones down along Longbrow's Straits. Lighthouses for rich folks who sailed ships that didn't catch fish. Defiance was only two stories tall, and built squat like a bunker. But she had good stonework, and a buffer of crem on the outside kept her from leaking." }, { "from": "human", "value": "She'd stood for over a hundred years, and Kelek hadn't decided to knock her down." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Stormfather knew how important she was. Puuli carried a load of wet stormwood and broken boards up to the top of the lighthouse, where he set them out beside the fire-which burned low during the day-to dry. He dusted off his hands, then stepped up to the rim of the lighthouse. At night, the mirrors would shine the light right out through this hole.\n\nHe looked over the cliffs, to the east. His family was a lot like the lighthouse themselves. Squat, short, but powerful. And enduring.\n\nThey'll come with Light in their pockets, Grandfather had said. They'll come to destroy, but you should watch for them anyway. Because they'll come from the Origin. The sailors lost on an infinite sea. You keep that fire high at night, Puuli. You burn it bright until the day they come.\n\nThey'll arrive when the night is darkest.\n\nSurely that was now, with anew storm. Darkest nights. A tragedy.\n\nAnd a sign." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Jokasha Monastery was ordinarily a very quiet place. Nestled in the forests on the western slopes of the Horneater Peaks, the monastery felt only rain at the passing of a highstorm. Furious rain, yes, but none of the terrible violence known inmost parts of the world.\n\nEllista reminded herself every passing storm how lucky she was. Some ardents had fought half their lives to be transferred to Jokasha. Away from politics, storms, and other annoyances, at Jokasha you could simply think.\n\nUsually.\n\n\"Are you looking at these numbers? Are your eyes disconnected from your brain?\"\n\n\"We can't judge yet. Three instances are not enough!\"\n\n\"Two data points to make a coincidence, three to make a sequence. The Everstorm travels at a consistent speed, unlike the highstorm.\"\n\n\"You can't possibly say that! One of your data points, so highly touted, is from the original passing of the storm, which happened as an uncommon event.\"\n\nEllista slammed her book closed and stuffed it into her satchel. She burst from her reading nook and gave a glare to the two ardents arguing in the hall outside, both wearing the caps of master scholars. They were so involved in their shouting match that they didn't even respond to the glare, though it had been one of her best.\n\nShe bustled from the library, entering along hallway with sides open to the elements. Peaceful trees. A quiet brook. Humid air and mossy vines that popped and stretched as they layout for the evening. Well, yes, a large swath of trees out there had been flattened by the new storm. But that was no reason for everyone to get upset! The rest of the world could worry. Here, at the central home of the Devotary of the Mind, she was supposed to be able to just read." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She set her things out at a reading desk near an open window. The humidity wasn't good for books, but weak storms went hand-in-hand with fecundity. You simply had to accept that. Hopefully those new fabrials to draw water from the air would-\n\n\"... Telling you, we're going to have to move!\" anew voice echoed through the hallway. \"Look, the storm is going to ravage those woods. Before long, this slope will be barren, and the storm will be hitting us full force.\"\n\n\"The new storm doesn't have that strong a wind factor, Bettam. It's not going to blow down the trees. Have you looked at my measurements?\"\n\n\"I've disputed those measurements.\"\n\n\"But-\"\n\nEllista rubbed her temples. She wore her head shaved, like the other ardents. Her parents still joked that she'd joined the ardentia simply because she hated bothering with her hair. She tried earplugs, but could hear the arguing through them, so she packed up her things again.\n\nMaybe the low building? She took the long set of steps outside, traveling down the slope along a forested path. Before arriving at the monastery for the first time, she'd had illusions about what it would be like to live among scholars. No bickering. No politicking. She hadn't found that to be true-but generally people left her alone. And so she was lucky to be here. She told herself that again as she entered the lower building.\n\nIt was basically a zoo. Dozens of people gathering information from spanreeds, talking to one another, buzzing with talk of this or that highprince or king. She stopped in the doorway, took it all in fora moment, then turned on her heel and stalked back out." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Now what?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She started backup the steps, but slowed. It's probably the only route to peace... she thought, looking out into the forest.\n\nTrying not to think about the dirt, the cremlings, and the fact that something might drip on her head, she strode off into the forest. She didn't want to go too far, as who knew what might be out here? She chose a stump without too much moss on it and settled down among bobbing lifespren, book across her lap.\n\nShe could still hear ardents arguing, but they were distant. She opened her book, intent on finally getting something done today.\n\nWema spun away from Brightlord Sterling's forward advances, tucking her safehand to her breast and lowering her gaze from his comely locks. Such affection as to excite the unsavory mind could surely not satisfy her for an extended period, as though his attentions had atone time been fanciful delights to entertain her leisure hours, they now seemed to manifest his utmost impudence and greatest faults of character.\n\n\"What!\" Ellista exclaimed, reading. \"No, you silly girl! He's finally pronounced his affection for you. Don't you dare turn away now.\"\n\nHow could she accept this wanton justification of her once single-minded desires? Should she not, instead, select the more prudent choice, as advocated by the undeviating will of her uncle? Brightlord Vadam had an endowment of land upon the highprince's grace, and would have means to provide far beyond the satisfactions available to a simple officer, no matter how well regarded or what winds had graced his temperament, features, and gentle touch.\n\nEllista gasped. \"Brightlord Vadam? You little whore! Have you forgotten how he locked away your father?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Wema,\" Brightlord Sterling intoned, \"it seems I have gravely misjudged your attentions. In this, I find myself deposited deep within an embarrassment of folly. I shall be away, to the Shattered Plains, and you shall not again suffer the torment of my presence.\"\n\nHe bowed a true gentleman's bow, possessed of all proper refinement and deference. It was a supplication beyond what even a monarch could rightly demand, and in it Wema ascertained the true nature of Brightlord Sterling's regard. Simple, yet passionate. Respectful indeed. It lent great context to his earlier advance, which now appeared all at once to be a righteous division in otherwise sure armor, a window of vulnerability, rather than a model of avarice.\n\nAshe lifted the door's latch to forever make his exodus from her life, Wema surged with unrivaled shame and longing, twisted together not unlike two threads winding in a loom to construct a grand tapestry of desire.\n\n\"Wait!\" Wema cried. \"Dear Sterling, wait upon my words.\"\n\n\"Storms right you'd better wait, Sterling.\" Ellista leaned closer to the book, flipping the page.\n\nDecorum seemed a vain thing to her now, lost upon the sea that washer need to feel Sterling's touch. She rushed to him, and upon his arm pressed her ensleeved hand, which then she lifted to caress his sturdy jaw.\n\nIt was so warm out herein the forest. Practically sweltering. Ellista put her hand to her lips, reading with wide eyes, trembling.\n\nWould that the window through that statuesque armor could still be located, and that a similar wound within herself might be found, to press against his own and offer passage deep within her soul. If only-" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Ellista?\" a voice asked.\n\n\"Yip!\" she said, bolting upright, snapping the book closed, and spun toward the sound. \"Um. Oh! Ardent Urv.\" The young Siln ardent was tall, gangly, and obnoxiously loud at times. Except, apparently, when sneaking upon colleagues in the forest.\n\n\"What was that you were studying?\" he asked.\n\n\"Important works,\" Ellista said, then sat on the book. \"Nothing to mind yourself with. What is it you want?\"\n\n\"Um...\" He looked down at her satchel. \"You were the last one to checkout the transcriptions from Bendthel's collected Dawnchant? The old versions? I just wanted to check on your progress.\"\n\nDawnchant. Right. They'd been working on that before this storm came, and everyone got distracted. Old Navani Kholin, in Alethkar, had somehow cracked the Dawnchant. Her story about visions was nonsense-the Kholin family was known for opaque politics-but her key was authentic, and had let them slowly work through the old texts.\n\nEllista started digging in her satchel. She came up with three musty codices and a sheaf of papers, the latter being the work she'd done so far.\n\nAnnoyingly, Urv settled on the ground beside her stump, taking the papers as she offered them. He laid his satchel across his lap and began reading.\n\n\"Incredible,\" he said a few moments later. \"You've made more progress than I have.\"\n\n\"Everyone else is too busy worrying about that storm.\"\n\n\"Well, it is threatening to wipe out civilization.\"\n\n\"An overreaction. Everyone always overreacts to every little gust of wind.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He flipped through her pages. \"What's this section? Why take such care for where each text was found? Fiksin concluded that these Dawnchant books had all spread from a central location, and so there's nothing to learn by where they ended up.\"\n\n\"Fiksin was a boot-licker, not a scholar,\" Ellista said. \"Look, there's easy proof here that the same writing system was once used all across Roshar. I have references in Makabakam, Sela Tales, Alethela... Not a diaspora of texts, but real evidence they wrote naturally in the Dawnchant.\"\n\n\"Do you suppose they all spoke the same language?\"\n\n\"Hardly.\"\n\n\"But Jasnah Kholin's Relic and Monument?\"\n\n\"Doesn't claim everyone spoke the same language, only that they wrote it. It's foolish to assume that everyone used the same language across hundreds of years and dozens of nations. It makes more sense that there was a codified written language, the language of scholarship, just like you'll find many undertexts written in Alethi now.\"\n\n\"Ah...\" he said. \"And then a Desolation hit....\"\n\nEllista nodded, showing him a later page in her sheaf of notes. \"This in-between, weird language is where people started using the Dawnchant script to phonetically transcribe their language. It didn't work so well.\" She flipped two more pages. \" In this scrap we have one of the earliest emergences of the proto-Thaylo-Vorin glyphic radicals, and here is one showing a more intermediate Thaylen form.\n\n\"We've always wondered what happened to the Dawnchant. How could people forget how to read their own language? Well, it seems clear now. By the point this happened, the language had been moribund for millennia. They weren't speaking it, and hadn't been for generations.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Brilliant,\" Urv said." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He wasn't so bad, fora Siln. \"I've been translating what I can, but got stuck on the Covad Fragment. If what you've been doing here is correct, it might be because Covad isn't true Dawnchant, but a phonetic transcription of another ancient language....\"\n\nHe glanced to the side, then cocked his head. Was he looking at her-\n\nOh, no. It was just the book, which she was still sitting on.\n\n\"An Accountability of Virtue.\" He grunted. \"Good book.\"\n\n\"You've read it?\"\n\n\"I have a fondness for Alethi epics,\" he said absently, flipping through her pages. \"She really should have picked Vadam though. Sterling was a flatterer and a cadger.\"\n\n\"Sterling is a noble and upright officer!\" She narrowed her eyes. \"And you are just trying to get arise out of me, Ardent Urv.\"\n\n\"Maybe.\" He flipped through her pages, studying a diagram she'd made of various Dawnchant grammars. \"I have a copy of the sequel.\"\n\n\"There's a sequel?\"\n\n\"About her sister.\"\n\n\"The mousy one?\"\n\n\"She is elevated to courtly attention and has to choose between a strapping naval officer, a Thaylen banker, and the King's Wit.\"\n\n\"Wait. There are three different men this time?\"\n\n\"Sequels always have to be bigger,\" he said, then offered her the stack of pages back. \"I'll lend it to you.\"\n\n\"Oh you will, will you? And what is the cost for this magnanimous gesture, Brightlord Urv?\"\n\n\"Your help translating a stubborn section of Dawnchant. A particular patron of mine has a strict deadline upon its delivery.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "VENLI. MEM. SHELER" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Odium's grand purpose for Venli meant turning her into a showpiece.\n\n\"Then, the humans waged a war of extermination against us,\" she told the assembled crowd. \"My sister tried to negotiate, to explain that we had no blame for the assassination of their king. They would not listen. They saw us only as slaves to be dominated.\"\n\nThe wagon upon which she stood wasn't a particularly inspiring dais, but it was better than the pile of boxes she'd used in the last town. At least her new form-envoyform-was tall, the tallest she'd ever worn. It was a form of power, and brought strange abilities, primarily the ability to speak and understand all languages.\n\nThat made it perfect for instructing the crowds of Alethi parshmen. \"They fought for years to exterminate us,\" she said to Command. \"They could not suffer slaves who could think, who could resist. They worked to crush us, lest we inspire a revolution!\"\n\nThe people gathered around the wagon bore thick lines of marbling-of red and either black or white. Venli's own white and red was far more delicate, with intricate swirls.\n\nShe continued, speaking triumphantly to the Rhythm of Command, telling these people-as she'd told many others-her story. At least the version of it that Odium had instructed her to tell.\n\nShe told them she'd personally discovered new spren to bond, creating a form that would summon the Everstorm. The story left out that Ulim had done much of the work, giving her the secrets of stormform. Odium obviously wanted to paint the listeners as a heroic group, with Venli their brave leader. The listeners were to be the foundation myth of his growing empire: the last of the old generation, who had fought bravely against the Alethi, then sacrificed themselves to free their enslaved brothers and sisters." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Hauntingly, the narrative said that Venli's people were now extinct, save herself.\n\nThe former slaves listened, rapt by her narrative. She told it well; she should, given how often she'd related it these last weeks. She ended with the call to action, as specifically instructed.\n\n\"My people have passed, joining the eternal songs of Roshar,\" she said. \"The day now belongs to you. We had named ourselves \"listeners\" because of the songs we heard. These are your heritage, but you are not to merely listen, but sing. Adopt the rhythms of your ancestors and build a nation here! You must work. Not for the slavers who once held your minds, but for the future, for your children! And for us. Those who died that you might exist.\"\n\nThey cheered to the Rhythm of Excitement. That was good to hear, even if it was an inferior rhythm. Venli heard something better now: new, powerful rhythms that accompanied forms of power.\n\nYet... hearing those old rhythms awakened something in her. A memory. She put her hand to the pouch at her belt.\n\nHow like the Alethi these people act, she thought. She had found humans to be... stern. Angry. Always walking about with their emotions worn openly, prisoners to what they felt. These former slaves were similar. Even their jokes were Alethi, often biting toward those to whom they were closest.\n\nAt the conclusion of her speech, an unfamiliar Voidspren ushered the people back to work. She'd learned there were three levels in the hierarchy of Odium's people. There were these common singers, who wore the ordinary forms Venli's people had used. Then there were those called Regals, like herself, who were distinguished by forms of power-created by bonding one of several varieties of Voidspren. At the top were the Fused-though she had trouble placing spren like Ulim and others. They obviously outranked the common singers, but what of the Regals?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She saw no humans in this town; those had been rounded up or chased off. She'd overheard some Fused saying that human armies still fought in western Alethkar, but this eastern section was completely singer controlled-remarkable, considering how the humans greatly outnumbered the singers. The Alethi collapse was due in part to the Everstorm, in part to the arrival of the Fused, and in part to the fact that the Alethi had repeatedly conscripted eligible men for their wars.\n\nVenli settled down on the back of the cart, and a femalen singer brought her a cup of water, which she took gladly. Proclaiming yourself as the savior of an entire people was thirsty work.\n\nThe singer woman lingered. She wore an Alethi dress, with the left hand covered up. \"Is your story really true?\"\n\n\"Of course it is,\" Venli said to Conceit. \"You doubt?\"\n\n\"No, of course not! It's just... it's hard to imagine. Parshmen fighting.\"\n\n\"Call yourselves singers, not parshmen.\"\n\n\"Yes. Um, of course.\" The femalen held her hand to her face, as if embarrassed.\n\n\"Speak to the rhythms to express apology,\" Venli said. \"Use Appreciation to thank someone for correction, or Anxiety to highlight your frustration. Consolation if you are truly contrite.\"\n\n\"Yes, Brightness.\"\n\nOh, Eshonai. They have so far to go.\n\nThe woman scampered away. That lopsided dress looked ridiculous. There was no reason to distinguish between the genders except in mateform. Humming to Ridicule, Venli hopped down, then walked through the town, head high. The singers wore mostly workform or nimbleform, though a few-like the femalen who had brought the water-wore scholarform, with long hairstrands and angular features." }, { "from": "human", "value": "She hummed to Fury." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Her people had spent generations struggling to discover new forms, and here these people were given a dozen different options? How could they value that gift without knowing the struggle? They gave Venli deference, bowing like humans, as she approached the town's mansion. She had to admit there was something very satisfying about that.\n\n\"What are you so smug about?\" Rine demanded to Destruction when Venli stepped inside. The tall Fused waited by the window, hovering-as always-a few feet off the ground, his cloak hanging down and resting on the floor.\n\nVenli's sense of authority evaporated. \"I can't help but feel as if I'm among babes, here.\"\n\n\"If they are babes, you area toddler.\"\n\nA second Fused sat on the floor amid the chairs. That one never spoke. Venli didn't know the femalen's name, and found her constant grin and unblinking eyes... upsetting.\n\nVenli joined Rine by the window, looking out at the singers who populated the village. Working the land. Farming. Their lives might not have changed much, but they had their songs back. That meant everything.\n\n\"We should bring them human slaves, Ancient One,\" Venli said to Subservience. \"I fear that there is too much land here. If you really want these villages to supply your armies, they'll need more workers.\"\n\nRine glanced at her. She'd found that if she spoke to him respectfully-and if she spoke in the ancient tongue-her words were less likely to be dismissed.\n\n\"There are those among us who agree with you, child,\" Rine said.\n\n\"You do not?\"\n\n\"No. We will need to watch the humans constantly. At any moment, any of them could manifest powers from the enemy. We killed him, and yet he fights on through his Surgebinders.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Surgebinders. Foolishly, the old songs spoke highly of them. \"How can they bind spren, Ancient One?\" she asked to Subservience. \"Humans don't... you know...\"\n\n\"So timid,\" he said to Ridicule. \"Why is mentioning gemhearts so difficult?\"\n\n\"They are sacred and personal.\" Listener gemhearts were not gaudy or ostentatious, like those of greatshells. Clouded white, almost the color of bone, they were beautiful, intimate things.\n\n\"They're apart of you,\" Rine said. \"The dead bodies taboo, the refusal to talk of gemhearts-you're as bad as those out there, walking around with one hand covered.\"\n\nWhat? That was unfair. She attuned Fury.\n\n\"It... shocked us when it first happened,\" Rine eventually said. \"Humans don't have gemhearts. How could they bond spren? It was unnatural. Yet somehow, their bond was more powerful than ours. I always said the same thing, and believe it even more strongly now: We must exterminate them. Our people will never be safe on this world as long as the humans exist.\"\n\nVenli felt her mouth grow dry. Distantly, she heard a rhythm. The Rhythm of the Lost? An inferior one. It was gone in a moment.\n\nRine hummed to Conceit, then turned and barked a command to the crazy Fused. She scrambled to her feet and loped after him as he floated out the door. He was probably going to confer with the town's spren. He'd give orders and warnings, which he usually only did right before they left one town for another. Despite having unpacked her things, working under the assumption she'd be here for the night, now Venli suspected they would soon be moving on." }, { "from": "human", "value": "She went to her room on the second floor of the mansion." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As usual, the luxury of these buildings astounded her. Soft beds you felt you would sink into. Fine woodworking. Blown-glass vases and crystal sconces on the walls for holding spheres. She'd always hated the Alethi, who had acted like they were benevolent parents encountering wild children to be educated. They had pointedly ignored the culture and advancements of Venli's people, eyeing only the hunting grounds of the greatshells that they-because of translation errors-decided must be the listeners' gods.\n\nVenli felt at the beautiful swirls in the glass of a wall sconce. How had they colored some of it white, but not all of it? Whenever she encountered things like this, she had to remind herself forcefully that the Alethi being technologically superior did not make them culturally superior. They'd simply had access to more resources. Now that the singers had access to artform, they would be able to create works like this too.\n\nBut still... it was so beautiful. Could they really exterminate the people who had created such beautiful and delicate swirls in the glass? The decorations reminded her of her own pattern of marbling.\n\nThe pouch at her waist started vibrating. She wore a listener's leather skirt below a tight shirt, topped with a looser overshirt. Part of Venli's place was to show the singers that someone like them-not some distant, fearsome creature from the past-had brought the storms and freed the singers.\n\nHer eyes lingered on the sconce, and then she dumped out her pouch on the room's stumpweight desk. Spheres bounced free, along with a larger number of uncut gemstones, which her people had used instead.\n\nThe little spren rose from where it had been hiding among the light. It looked like a comet when it moved, though sitting still-as it did now-it only glowed like a spark." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Are you one of them?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "she asked softly. \"The spren that move in the sky some nights?\"\n\nIt pulsed, sending off a ring of light that dissipated like glowing smoke. Then it began zipping through the room, looking at things.\n\n\"The room isn't any different from the last one you looked at,\" she said to Amusement.\n\nThe spren zipped to the wall sconce, where it let off a pulse in awe, then moved to the identical one on the opposite side of the door.\n\nVenli moved to gather her clothing and writings from the drawers in the dresser. \"I don't know why you stay with me. It can't be comfortable in that bag.\"\n\nThe spren zipped past her, looking in the drawer that she'd opened.\n\n\"It's a drawer,\" she said.\n\nThe spren peeked out, then pulsed in a quick blinking succession.\n\nThat's Curiosity, she thought, recognizing the rhythm. She hummed it to herself as she packed her things, then hesitated. Curiosity was an old rhythm. Like... Amusement, which she'd attuned moments ago. She could hear the normal rhythms again.\n\nShe looked at the little spren. \"Is this your doing?\" she demanded to Irritation.\n\nIt shrank, but pulsed to Resolve.\n\n\"What are you hoping to accomplish? Your kind betrayed us. Go find a human to bother.\"\n\nIt shrank further. Then pulsed to Resolve again.\n\nBother. Down below, the door slammed open. Rine was back already.\n\n\"In the pouch,\" she hissed to Command. \"Quickly.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There was art to doing laundry.\n\nSure, everyone knew the basics, just like every child could hum a tune. But did they know how to relax the fibers of a stubborn seasilk dress by returning it to a warm brine, then restore its natural softness by rinsing it and brushing with the grain? Could they spot the difference between a mineral dye from Azir and a floral dye from the Veden slopes? You used different soaps for each one.\n\nMem toiled at her canvas-which was, in this case, a pair of vivid red trousers. She scooped some powder soap-hog fat based, mixed with fine abrasive-and rubbed at a stain on the leg. She wetted the trousers again, then with a fine brush she worked in the soap.\n\nOil stains were challenging enough, but this man had gotten blood on the same spot. She had to get the stain out without fading that fine Mycalin red-they got it from a slug on the shores of the Purelake-or ruining the cloth. Mraize did like his clothing to look sharp.\n\nMem shook her head. What was this stain? She had to go through four soaps, then try some of her drying powder, before she got it to budge, and then she moved onto the rest of the suit. Hours passed. Clean this spot, rinse that shirt. Hang it up for all to see. She didn't notice the time until the other Veden washwomen started to leave in clumps, returning to their homes, some of which were empty and cold, their husbands and sons dead in the civil war.\n\nThe need for clean clothing outlived disasters. The end of the world could come, but that would only mean more bloodstains to wash. Mem finally stepped back before her drying racks, hands on hips, basking in the accomplishment of a day's work well done." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Drying her hands, Mem went to check on her new assistant, Pom, who was washing underclothes. The dark-skinned woman was obviously of mixed blood, both Easterner and Westerner. She was finishing an undershirt, and didn't say anything as Mem stepped up beside her.\n\nStorms, why hasn't anyone snatched her up? Mem thought as the gorgeous woman rubbed the shirt, then dunked it, then rubbed it again. Women like Pom didn't usually end up as washgirls, though she did tend to stare daggers at any man who got too close. Maybe that was it.\n\n\"Well done,\" Mem said. \"Hang that to dry and help me gather the rest of this.\" They piled clothing in baskets, then made the short hike through the city.\n\nVedenar still smelled like smoke to Mem. Not the good smoke of bakeries, but rather of the enormous pyres that had burned outside on the plain. Her employer lived near the markets, in a large townhome beside some rubble-a lingering reminder of when siege weapons had rained boulders upon Vedenar.\n\nThe two washwomen passed guards at the front and headed up the steps. Mem insisted on not using the servants' entrance. Mraize was one of the few who humored her.\n\n\"Keep close,\" she said to Pom, who dallied once they were inside. They hurried down along, unornamented corridor, then up a staircase.\n\nPeople said that servants were invisible. Mem had never found that to be true, particularly around people like Mraize. Not only did the house steward notice if someone so much as moved a candlestick, Mraize's friends were the type who kept careful track of everyone near them. Two of them stood in a doorway Mem passed, a man and woman speaking quietly. Both wore swords, and though they didn't interrupt their conversation as the washwomen passed, they watched." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Mraize's quarters were at the top of a staircase. He wasn't there today-he appeared on occasion to drop off dirty clothing, then gallivanted off someplace to find new types of crem to stain his shirts. Mem and Pom went into his den first-he kept his evening jackets there.\n\nPom froze in the doorway.\n\n\"Stop dallying,\" Mem reminded her, covering a smile. After stark, empty hallways and stairwells, this overstuffed den was a little overwhelming. She'd marveled too, her first time here. A mantel covered in curiosities, each in its own glass display. Deep rugs from Marat. Five paintings of the finest skill, each of a different Herald.\n\n\"You were right,\" Pom said from behind.\n\n\"Of course I was right,\" Mem said, setting down her basket in front of the corner wardrobe. \"Mraize-remember, he doesn't want to be called'master'-is of the finest and most refined taste. He employs only the best of-\"\n\nShe was interrupted by a ripping sound.\n\nIt was a sound that inspired terror. The sound of a seam splitting, or of a delicate chemise tearing as it caught on part of a washtub. It was the sound of disaster incarnate. Mem turned to find her new assistant standing on a chair, attacking one of Mraize's paintings with a knife.\n\nApiece of Mem's brain stopped working. A whine escaped from the back of her throat and her vision grew dark.\n\nPom was... she was destroying one of Mraize's paintings.\n\n\"I've been looking for that,\" Pom said, stepping back and putting hands on hips, still standing on the chair.\n\nTwo guards burst into the room, perhaps drawn by the noise. They looked at Pom and their jaws dropped. In turn, she flipped her knife about in her hand and pointed it threateningly at the men." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Then, horror of horrors, Mraize himself appeared behind the soldiers, wearing an evening jacket and slippers." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What is this ruckus?\"\n\nSo refined. Yes, his face looked like it had seen the wrong side of a sword a couple of times. But he had exquisite taste in clothing and-of course-in garment-care professionals.\n\n\"Ah!\" he said, noticing Pom. \"Finally! The masterpiece of the Oilsworn was all it took, was it? Excellent!\" Mraize shoved out the confused guards, then pulled the door shut. He didn't even seem to notice Mem. \"Ancient One, would you care for something to drink?\"\n\nPom narrowed her eyes at him, then hopped off the chair. She walked quickly to Mraize and used one hand on his chest to push him aside. She pulled open the door.\n\n\"I know where Talenelat is,\" Mraize said.\n\nPom froze.\n\n\"Yes... let's have that drink, shall we?\" Mraize asked. \"My babsk has been eager to speak with you.\" He glanced at Mem. \"Is that my Azish cavalrylord's suit?\"\n\n\"Um... yes...\"\n\n\"You got the aether out of it?\"\n\n\"The... what?\"\n\nHe strode over and pulled the red trousers out of the basket to inspect them. \"Mem, you are an absolute genius. Not every hunter carries a spear, and this is proof indeed. Go to Condwish and tell him I approve a three-firemark bonus for you.\"\n\n\"Th-thank you, Mraize.\"\n\n\"Go collect your bonus, and leave,\" Mraize said. \"Note that you will need to find anew washgirl to help you, after today.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Eshonai would have loved this, Venli thought as she flew hundreds of feet in the air. Rine and the other Fused carried her by means of linked harnesses. It made her feel like a sack of grain being hauled to market, but it gave her quite an amazing view.\n\nEndless hills of stone. Patches of green, often in the shadows of hillsides. Thick forests snarled with undergrowth to present a unified front against the storms.\n\nEshonai would have been thrilled; she'd have begun drawing maps, talking about the places she could go.\n\nVenli, on the other hand, spent most of these trips feeling sick to her stomach. Normally she didn't have to suffer for long; towns were close together herein Alethkar. Yet today, her ancestors flew her past many occupied towns without stopping.\n\nEventually, what first appeared to be another ridge of stones resolved into the walls of a large city, easily twice the size of one of the domes at the Shattered Plains.\n\nStone buildings and reinforced towers. Marvels and wonders. It had been years since she'd seen Kholinar-only that once, when they'd executed King Gavilar. Now, smoke rose in patches throughout the city, and many of the guard towers had been shattered. The city gates lay broken. Kholinar, it seemed, had been conquered.\n\nRine and his companions zipped through the air, raising fists toward other Fused. They surveyed the city, then soared out beyond the wall and landed near a bunker outside the city. They waited as Venli undid her harness, then lifted into the air again just high enough that the bottoms of their long cloaks brushed the stones.\n\n\"Am I finished with my work, Ancient One?\" Venli asked to Subservience. \"Is that why you finally brought me here?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Done?\" Rine said to Ridicule. \"Child, you haven't even begun. Those little villages were practice. Today, your true labor begins.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You have three choices,\" the Herdazian general said.\n\nHe had dark brown skin the color of a weathered stone, and there was a hint of grey in the thin mustache on his upper lip. He stepped up to Sheler, then put his hands to his sides. Remarkably, some men affixed manacles to the general's own wrists. What on Roshar?\n\n\"Pay attention,\" the general said. \"This is important.\"\n\n\"To the manacles?\" Sheler said in Herdazian. Life on the border had forced him to learn the language. \"What is going on here? Do you realize the trouble you're in for taking me captive?\" Sheler started to stand, but one of the Herdazian soldiers forced him down so hard, his knees rapped against the hard stone floor of the tent.\n\n\"You have three choices.\" The general's manacles clinked as he twisted his hands in them. \"First, you can choose the sword. Now, that might be a clean death. A good beheading rarely hurts. Unfortunately, it won't be a headsman who gets the chance with you. We'll give the sword to the women you abused. Each gets a hack, one after another. How long it goes on will depend on them.\"\n\n\"This is outrageous!\" Sheler said. \"I'm a lighteyes of the fifth dahn! I'm cousin to the highlord himself, and-\"\n\n\"Second option,\" the general said, \"is the hammer. We break your legs and arms, then hang you from the cliff by the ocean. You might last until the storm that way, but it will be miserable.\"\n\nSheler struggled to no avail. Captured by Herdazians. Their general wasn't even a lighteyes!" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The general twisted his hands, then pulled them apart. The manacles clinked to the ground. Nearby, several of his officers grinned, while others groaned. Ascribe had tapped off the time, and gave an accounting of the seconds the escape had taken.\n\nThe general accepted the applause of several men, then thumped another-a loser in the betting-on his back. Sheler almost seemed forgotten fora moment. Finally, the general turned back to him. \"I wouldn't take the hammer, if I were you. But there's a third option: the hog.\"\n\n\"I demand the right of ransom!\" Sheler said. \"You must contact my highprince and accept payment based on my rank!\"\n\n\"Ransom is for men caught in battle,\" the general said. \"Not bastards caught robbing and murdering civilians.\"\n\n\"My homeland is under invasion!\" Sheler shouted. \"I was gathering resources so we might mount a resistance!\"\n\n\"A resistance is not what we caught you mounting.\" The general kicked at the manacles by his feet. \"Choose one of the three options. I don't have all day.\"\n\nSheler licked his lips. How had he ended up in this situation? His homeland gone crazy, the parshmen rampaging, his men scattered by flying monsters? Now this? The dirty Herdazians obviously weren't going to listen to reason. They...\n\nWait.\n\n\"Did you say hog?\" Sheler asked.\n\n\"It lives down by the shore,\" the Herdazian general said. \"That's your third option. We grease you, and you wrestle the hog. It's fun for the men to watch. They need sport now and then.\"\n\n\"And if I do this, you won't kill me?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No, but this isn't as easy as you think. I've tried it myself, so I can speak with authority.\"\n\nCrazy Herdazians. \"I choose the hog.\"\n\n\"As you wish.\" The general picked up the manacles and handed them to his officer.\n\n\"Thought you'd fail these ones for sure,\" the officer said. \"The merchant claimed they're from the best Thaylen locksmiths.\"\n\n\"Doesn't matter how good the lock is, Jerono,\" the general said with a grin, \"if the cuffs are loose.\" What a ridiculous little man-too-wide smile, a flat nose, a missing tooth. Why, Highlord Amaram would have-\n\nSheler was jerked to his feet by the chains, then pulled through the camp of Herdazian soldiers on the Alethi border. There were more refugees here than actual fighting men! Give Sheler a single company, and he could rout this entire force.\n\nHis insufferable captors led him down an incline, past the cliffs and toward the shore. Soldiers and refugees alike gathered above, jeering and calling. Obviously, the Herdazian general was too frightened to actually kill an Alethi officer. So they would humiliate him by making him wrestle a pig. They'd have a good laugh, then send him away smarting.\n\nIdiots. He'd comeback with an army.\n\nOne man locked Sheler's chain to a metal loop on the stones. Another approached with a pitcher of oil. They poured it over Sheler's head; he sputtered as the liquid ran down his face. \"What is that stench?\"\n\nAbove, someone blew a horn.\n\n\"I'd say'good luck, \"boss,\" the Herdazian soldier told Sheler as his companion ran off, \"but I've got three marks on you not lasting a full minute. Still, who knows. When the general was chained down here, he got out in less.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The ocean started to churn.\n\n\"Of course,\" the soldier said, \"the general likes this kind of thing. He's a little weird.\"\n\nThe soldier dashed backup the bank, leaving Sheler locked in place, doused in pungent oil, and gaping as an enormous claw broke the surface of the ocean.\n\nPerhaps'the hog\" was more of a nickname." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "THE KNIGHTS RADIANT. ASH. NAVANI. ADOLIN\n\nTARAVANGIAN. YANAGAWN. PALONA. VYRE. WIT" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "VENLI. RYSN. TEFT" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "After living fora week in a cave in Marat, Venli found herself missing the stone hermitage she'd been given outside Kholinar. Her new dwelling was even more austere, with only a single blanket for sleeping, and a simple cookfire upon which she prepared fish the crowds brought her.\n\nShe was growing dirty, rough. That was what the Fused seemed to want: a hermit living in the wilds. Apparently that was more convincing for the local crowds they brought to listen to her-most of whom were former Thaylen slaves. She was instructed to speak of'Passion\" and emotion more often than she had in Alethkar.\n\n\"My people are dead now,\" Venli said to Destruction, repeating the now-familiar speech. \"They fell in that last assault, singing as they drew the storm. I remain, but my people's work is done.\"\n\nThose words hurt. Her people couldn't be completely gone... could they?\n\n\"The day now belongs to your Passion,\" she continued to Command. \"We had named ourselves \"listeners\" because of the songs we heard. These are your heritage, but you are not to just listen, but sing. Adopt the rhythms and Passions of your ancestors! You must sail to battle. For the future, for your children! And for us. Those who died that you might exist.\"\n\nShe turned away, as instructed that she do after the end of each speech. She wasn't allowed to answer questions any longer, not since she'd talked with some of these singers about the specific history of her people. It made her wonder. Did the Fused and the Voidspren fear the heritage of her people, even as they used her for their purposes? Or did they not trust her for other reasons?\n\nShe put her hand to her pouch. Odium didn't seem to know that she'd been in that vision with Dalinar Kholin. Behind, a Voidspren led the Thaylen singers away. Venli moved toward her cave, but then hesitated. A Fused sat on the rocks just above the opening." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Ancient One?\" she asked.\n\nHe grinned at her and giggled.\n\nAnother one of those.\n\nShe started into the cave, but he dropped and seized her under the arms, then carried her into the sky. Venli prevented herself-with difficulty-from trying to batter him away. The Fused never touched her, not even the crazy ones, without orders. Indeed, this one flew her down to one of the many ships at the harbor, where Rine-the tall Fused who had accompanied her during her first days preaching in Alethkar-stood at the prow. He glanced toward her as she was landed-roughly-on the deck.\n\nShe hummed to Conceit at her treatment.\n\nHe hummed to Spite. A small acknowledgment of a wrong done, the best she'd get out of him, so she hummed to Satisfaction in response.\n\n\"Ancient One?\" she asked to Craving.\n\n\"You are to accompany us as we sail,\" he said to Command. \"You may wash yourself in the cabin as we go, if you wish. There is water.\"\n\nVenli hummed to Craving and looked toward the main cabin. Craving slipped into Abashment as she considered the sheer size of the fleet that was launching around her. Hundreds of ships, which must have been filled with thousands of singers, were sailing from coves all along the coast. They dotted the seas like rockbuds on the plains.\n\n\"Now?\" she asked to Abashment. \"I wasn't prepared! I didn't know!\"\n\n\"You may wish to grab hold of something. The storm will soon arrive.\"\n\nShe looked to the west. A storm? She hummed to Craving again." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Ask,\" Rine said to Command.\n\n\"I can easily seethe strength of the grand assault force we've gathered. But... why do we need such? Are not the Fused enough of an army themselves?\"\n\n\"Cowardice?\" he asked to Derision. \"You do not wish to fight?\"\n\n\"I simply seek to understand.\"\n\nRine changed to anew rhythm, one she rarely heard. The Rhythm of Withdrawal-one of the only new rhythms that had a calm tone. \"The strongest and most skilled of our number have yet to awaken-but even if we were all awake, we would not fight this war alone. This world will not be ours; we fight to give it to you, our descendants. When it is won, our vengeance taken and our homeland secured at long last, we will sleep. Finally.\"\n\nHe then pointed at the cabin. \"Go prepare. We will sail swiftly, with Odium's own storm to guide us.\"\n\nAs if in agreement with his words, red lightning flashed on the western horizon." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Rysn was bored.\n\nOnce she'd walked to the farthest reaches of Roshar, trading with the isolationist Shin. Once she'd sailed with her babsk to Icewater and cut a deal with pirates. Once she'd climbed Reshi greatshells, which were as large as towns.\n\nNow she kept Queen Fen's ledgers.\n\nIt was a good job, with an office in the Thaylen Gemstone Reserve. Vstim-her former babsk-had traded favors to get her the job. Her apprenticeship finished, she was a free woman. No longer a student. Now a master.\n\nOf boredom.\n\nShe satin her chair, doodling at the edges of a Liaforan word puzzle. Rysn could balance while sitting, though she couldn't feel her legs and embarrassingly couldn't control certain bodily functions. She had to rely upon her porters to move her.\n\nCareer, over. Freedom, over. Life, over.\n\nShe sighed and pushed away her word puzzle. Time to get back to work. Her duties included annotating the queen's pending mercantile contracts with references to previous ones, keeping the queen's personal vault in the Gemstone Reserve, preparing weekly expenditure reports, and accounting the queen's salary as a portion of taxable income from various Thaylen interests at home and abroad.\n\nWheeeeeeeee.\n\nShe had an audit today, which had prevented her from attending Fen's meeting with the monarchs. She might have enjoyed seeing the Blackthorn and the Azish emperor. Well, the other aides would bring her word once the meeting was through. For now, she prepared for her audit, working by spherelight, as the reserve didn't have windows." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The walls of her office were blank. She'd originally hung souvenirs from her years traveling, but those had reminded her of a life she could no longer have. A life full of promise. A life that had ended when she'd stupidly fallen from the head of a greatshell, and landed here, in this cripple's chair. Now, the only memento she kept was a single pot of Shin grass.\n\nWell, that and the little creature sleeping among the blades. Chiri-Chiri breathed softly, rippling the too-dumb grass, which didn't pull into burrows. It grew in something called soil, which was like crem that never hardened.\n\nChiri-Chiri herself was a small winged beast a little longer than Rysn's outstretched palm. The Reshi named her a larkin, and though she was the size of a large cremling, she had the snout, carapace, and build of a creature far more grand. An axehound, perhaps, with wings. A lithe little flying predator-though, for all her dangerous appearance, she sure did like to nap.\n\nAs Rysn worked, Chiri-Chiri finally stirred and peeked out from the grass, then made a series of clicking sounds with her jaw. She climbed down onto the desk and eyed the diamond mark Rysn was using for light.\n\n\"No,\" Rysn said, double-checking numbers in her ledger.\n\nChiri-Chiri clicked again, slinking toward the gem.\n\n\"You just ate,\" Rysn said, then used her palm to shoo the larkin back. \"I need that for light.\"\n\nChiri-Chiri clicked in annoyance, then flew-wings beating very quickly-to the upper reaches of the room, where she settled onto one of her favorite perches, the lintel above the doorway." }, { "from": "human", "value": "A short time later, a knock at the door interrupted Rysn's tedium." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Come,\" she said. Herman, Wmlak-who was half assistant, half porter-poked his head in.\n\n\"Let me guess,\" Rysn said, \"the auditor is early.\" They always were.\n\n\"Yes, but...\"\n\nBehind Wmlak, Rysn caught sight of a familiar flat-topped, conical hat. Wmlak stepped back and gestured toward an old man in blue and red robes, his Thaylen eyebrows tucked behind his ears. Spry fora man past his seventieth year, Vstim had a wise but unyielding way about him. Inoffensively calculating. He carried a small box under his arm.\n\nRysn gasped in delight; once, she would have leaped to her feet to embrace him. Now she could only sit there and gape. \"But you were off to trade in New Natanan!\"\n\n\"The seas are not safe these days,\" Vstim said. \"And the queen requested my aid in difficult negotiations with the Alethi. I have returned, with some reluctance, to accept an appointment from Her Majesty.\"\n\nAn appointment...\n\n\"In the government?\" Rysn asked.\n\n\"Minister of trade, and royal liaison to the guild of shipping merchants.\"\n\nRysn could only gape further. That was the highest civilian appointment in the kingdom. \"But... Babsk, you'll have to live in Thaylen City!\"\n\n\"Well, I am feeling my age these days.\"\n\n\"Nonsense. You're as lively as I am.\" Rysn glanced at her legs. \"More.\"\n\n\"Not so lively that I wouldn't mind a seat...\"\n\nShe realized he was still standing in the doorway to her office. Even all these months after her accident, she pushed with her arms as if to spring up and fetch him a seat. Idiot." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Please, sit!\" she said, waving toward the room's other chair. He settled down and placed his box on the table while she twisted to do something to welcome him, leaning over-precariously-to get the teapot. The tea was cold, unfortunately. Chiri-Chiri had drained the gemstone in her fabrial hotplate.\n\n\"I can't believe you'd agree to settle down!\" she said, handing him a cup.\n\n\"Some would say that the opportunity offered me is far too important to refuse.\"\n\n\"Storm that,\" Rysn said. \"Staying in one city will wilt you-you'll spend your days doing paperwork and being bored.\"\n\n\"Rysn,\" he said, taking her hand. \"Child.\"\n\nShe looked away. Chiri-Chiri flew down and landed on her head, clicking angrily at Vstim.\n\n\"I promise I'm not going to hurt her,\" the old man said, grinning and releasing Rysn's hand. \"Here, I brought you something. See?\" He held up a ruby chip.\n\nChiri-Chiri considered, then hovered down above his hand-not touching it-and sucked the Stormlight out. It flew to her in a little stream, and she clicked happily, then zipped over to the pot of grass and wriggled into it, peeking out at Vstim.\n\n\"You still have the grass, I see,\" he said.\n\n\"You ordered me to keep it.\"\n\n\"You're now a master merchant, Rysn! You needn't obey the orders of a doddering old man.\"\n\nThe grass rustled as Chiri-Chiri shifted. She was too big to hide in it, though that never stopped her from trying.\n\n\"Chiri-Chiri likes it,\" Rysn said. \"Maybe because it can't move. Kind of like me...\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Have you tried that Radiant who-\"\n\n\"Yes. He can't heal my legs. It's been too long since my accident, which is appropriate. This is my consequence-payment fora contract I entered into willingly the moment I climbed down the side of that greatshell.\"\n\n\"You don't have to lock yourself away, Rysn.\"\n\n\"This is a good job. You yourself got it for me.\"\n\n\"Because you refused to goon further trading expeditions!\"\n\n\"What good would I be? One must trade from a position of power, something I can never do again. Besides, an exotic goods merchant who can't walk? You know how much hiking is required.\"\n\nVstim took her hand again. \"I thought you were frightened. I thought you wanted something safe and secure. But I've been listening. Hmalka has told me-\"\n\n\"You spoke to my superior?\"\n\n\"People talk.\"\n\n\"My work has been exemplary,\" Rysn said.\n\n\"It isn't your work she's worried about.\" He turned and brushed the grass, drawing Chiri-Chiri's attention to his hand. She narrowed her eyes at it. \"Do you remember what I told you, when you cutout that grass?\"\n\n\"That I was to keep it. Until it no longer seemed odd.\"\n\n\"You've always been so quick to make assumptions. About yourself, now, more than others. Here, perhaps this will... anyway, have a look.\" Vstim handed her the box.\n\nShe frowned, then slid off the wooden lid. Inside was a wound-up cord of white rope. Beside that, a slip of paper? Rysn took out the sheet, reading it.\n\n\"A deed of ownership?\" she whispered. \"To a ship?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Brand new,\" Vstim said." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"A three-masted frigate, the largest I've ever owned-with fabrial stabilizers for storms, of the finest Thaylen engineering. I had her builtin the shipyards of Klna City, which luckily sheltered her from both storms. While I've given the rest of my fleet-what's left of it-to the queen for use against the invasion, this one I reserved.\"\n\n\"Wandersail,\" Rysn said, reading the ship's name. \"Babsk, you area romantic. Don't tell me you believe that old story?\"\n\n\"One can believe in a story without believing it happened.\" He smiled. \"Whose rules are you following, Rysn? Who is forcing you to stay here? Take the ship. Go! I wish to fund your initial trade run, as an investment. After that, you'll have to do well to maintain a vessel of this size!\"\n\nRysn recognized the white rope now. It was a captain's cord some twenty feet long, used as a traditional Thaylen mark of ownership. She'd wrap it in her colors and string it in the rigging of her ship.\n\nIt was a gift worth a fortune.\n\n\"I can't take this,\" she said, putting the box on the desk. \"I'm sorry. I-\"\n\nHe pushed the cord into her hands. \"Just think about it, Rysn. Humor an old man who can no longer travel.\"\n\nShe held the rope and found her eyes watering. \"Bother. Babsk, I have an auditor coming today! I need to be composed and ready to account the queen's vault!\"\n\n\"Fortunately, the auditor is an old friend who has seen much worse from you than a few tears.\"\n\n\"... But you're the minister of trade!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"They were going to make me go to a stuffy meeting with old Kholin and his soldiers,\" Vstim said, leaning in, \"but I insisted oncoming to do this. I've always wanted to seethe queen's vault in person.\"\n\nRysn wiped her tears, trying to recover some of her decorum. \"Well, let's be to it then. I assure you, everything is in order.\"\n\nThe Sphere Vault's thick steel door required three numbers to open, each rolled into a different dial, in three separate rooms. Rysn and other scribes knew one number, the door guards protected another, and an auditor-like Vstim-was typically given a third by the queen or the minister of the treasury. All were changed at random intervals.\n\nRysn knew fora fact that this was mostly for show. Ina world of Shardblades, the real defense of the vault was in the layers of guards who surrounded the building, and-more importantly-in the careful auditing of its contents. Though novels were full of stories of the vault being robbed, the only real thefts had occurred through embezzlement.\n\nRysn moved her dial to the proper number, then pulled the lever in her room. The vault door finally opened with a resounding thump, and she scrambled her dial and called for Wmlak. Her porter entered, then pushed down on the back handles of her chair, lifting the front legs so he could wheel it out to meet the others.\n\nVstim stood by the now-open vault door with several soldiers. Today's inner door guard-Tlik-stood with crossbow at the ready, barring entry. There was a slot that let the men stationed in the vault communicate with those outside, but the door couldn't be opened from within." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Scheduled accounting of the queen's personal vault,\" Rysn said to him. \"Daily passcode: lockstep.\"\n\nTlik nodded, stepping back and lowering his crossbow. Vstim entered with ledger in hand, trailed by a member of the Queen's Guard: a rough-looking man with a shaved head and spiked eyebrows. Once they were in, Wmlak wheeled Rysn through the vault door, down a short corridor, and into a little alcove, where another guard-Fladm, today-waited.\n\nHer porter brushed off his hands, then nodded to her and retreated. Tlik shut the vault door after him, the metal making a deep thump as it locked into place. The inner vault guards didn't like anyone coming in who wasn't specifically authorized-and that included her servant. She'd have to rely on the guards to move her now-but unfortunately, her large wheeled chair was too bulky to fit between the rows of shelves in the main vault.\n\nRysn felt a healthy dose of shame in front of her former babsk as she was taken-like a sack of roots-from her chair with rear wheels to a smaller chair with poles along the sides. Being carried was the most humiliating part.\n\nThe guards left her usual chair in the alcove, near the steps down to the lower level. Then, Tlik and the guardsman the queen had sent-Rysn didn't know his name-took the poles and carried her into the main vault chamber.\n\nEven here, in this job where she sat most of the time, her inability was a huge inconvenience. Her embarrassment was exacerbated as Chiri-Chiri-who wasn't allowed in the vault for practical reasons-flitted by in abuzz of wings. How had she gotten in?\n\nTlik chuckled, but Rysn only sighed." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The main vault chamber was filled with metal racks, like bookcases, containing display boxes of gemstones. It smelled stale. Of a place that never changed, and was never intended to change.\n\nThe guards carried her down one of the narrow rows, light from spheres tied to their belts providing the only illumination. Rysn carried the captain's rope in her lap, and fingered it with one hand. Surely she couldn't take this offer. It was too generous. Too incredible.\n\nToo difficult.\n\n\"So dark!\" Vstim said. \"A room full of a million gemstones, and it's dark?\"\n\n\"Most gems never leave,\" Rysn said. \"The personal merchant vaults are on the lower level, and there's some light to those, with the spheres everyone has been bringing lately. These, though... they're always here.\"\n\nPossession of these gems changed frequently, but it was all done with numbers in a ledger. It was a quirk of the Thaylen system of underwriting trades; as long as everyone was confident that these gemstones were here, large sums could change hands without risk of anything being stolen.\n\nEach gemstone was carefully annotated with numbers inscribed both on a plate glued to its bottom and on the rack that held it. Those numbers were what people bought and sold-Rysn was shocked by how few people actually asked to comedown and view the thing they were trading to own.\n\n\"0013017-36!\" Vstim said. \"The Benval Diamond! I owned that way back when. Memorized the number even. Huh. You know, it's smaller than I thought it would be.\"\n\nShe and the two guards led Vstim to the back wall, which held a series of smaller metal vault doors. The main vault behind them was silent; no other scribes were working today, though Chiri-Chiri did flit past. She hovered down toward the queen's guardsman-eyeing the spheres on his belt-but Rysn snatched her from the air." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Chiri-Chiri griped, buzzing her wings against Rysn's hand and clicking." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Rysn blushed, but held tight. \"Sorry.\"\n\n\"Must be like a buffet for her down here!\" Tlik said.\n\n\"A buffet of empty plates,\" Rysn said. \"Keep an eye on your belt, Tlik.\"\n\nThe two guards set her chair down near a specific vault. With her freehand, Rysn dug a key from her pocket and handed it to Vstim. \"Go ahead. Vault Thirteen.\"\n\nVstim unlocked and swung open the smaller vault-within-the-vault, which was roughly the size of a closet.\n\nLight poured from it.\n\nThe shelves inside were filled with gemstones, spheres, jewelry, and even some mundane objects like letters and an old knife. But the most stunning item in the collection was obviously the large ruby on the center shelf. The size of a child's head, it glowed brightly.\n\nThe King's Drop. Gemstones of its size weren't unheard of-most greatshells had gemhearts as big. What made the King's Drop unique was that it was still glowing-over two hundred years after being first locked into the vault.\n\nVstim touched it with one finger. The light shone with such brilliance that the room seemed almost to be in daylight, though shaded bloodred by the gemstone's color.\n\n\"Amazing,\" Vstim whispered.\n\n\"As far as scholars can tell,\" Rysn said, \"the King's Drop never loses its Stormlight. A stone this large should have run out after a month. It's something about the crystal lattice, the lack of flaws and imperfections.\"\n\n\"They say it's a chunk off the Stone of Ten Dawns.\"\n\n\"Another story?\" Rysn said. \"You area romantic.\"" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Collaborate on the narrative and advance it.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, knights radiant\nAuthor: Brandon Sanderson\nTitle: Oathbringer\nChapter: 153" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Chiri-Chiri griped, buzzing her wings against Rysn's hand and clicking." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Rysn blushed, but held tight. \"Sorry.\"\n\n\"Must be like a buffet for her down here!\" Tlik said.\n\n\"A buffet of empty plates,\" Rysn said. \"Keep an eye on your belt, Tlik.\"\n\nThe two guards set her chair down near a specific vault. With her freehand, Rysn dug a key from her pocket and handed it to Vstim. \"Go ahead. Vault Thirteen.\"\n\nVstim unlocked and swung open the smaller vault-within-the-vault, which was roughly the size of a closet.\n\nLight poured from it.\n\nThe shelves inside were filled with gemstones, spheres, jewelry, and even some mundane objects like letters and an old knife. But the most stunning item in the collection was obviously the large ruby on the center shelf. The size of a child's head, it glowed brightly.\n\nThe King's Drop. Gemstones of its size weren't unheard of-most greatshells had gemhearts as big. What made the King's Drop unique was that it was still glowing-over two hundred years after being first locked into the vault.\n\nVstim touched it with one finger. The light shone with such brilliance that the room seemed almost to be in daylight, though shaded bloodred by the gemstone's color.\n\n\"Amazing,\" Vstim whispered.\n\n\"As far as scholars can tell,\" Rysn said, \"the King's Drop never loses its Stormlight. A stone this large should have run out after a month. It's something about the crystal lattice, the lack of flaws and imperfections.\"\n\n\"They say it's a chunk off the Stone of Ten Dawns.\"\n\n\"Another story?\" Rysn said. \"You area romantic.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Her former babsk smiled, then placed a cloth shade over the gemstone to reduce its glare so it wouldn't interfere with their work. He opened his ledger. \"Let's start with the smaller gemstones and work our way up, shall we?\"\n\nRysn nodded.\n\nThe queen's guard killed Tlik.\n\nHe did it with a knife, right into the neck. Tlik dropped without a word, though the sound of the knife being ripped free shocked Rysn. The treacherous guard knocked against her chair, toppling her over as he slashed at Vstim.\n\nThe enemy underestimated the merchant's spryness. Vstim dodged backward into the queen's vault, screaming, \"Murder! Robbery! Raise the alarm!\"\n\nRysn untangled herself from her toppled chair and, panicked, pulled herself away by her arms, dragging legs like cordwood. The murderer reached into the vault to deal with her babsk, and she heard a grunt.\n\nA moment later, the traitor stepped out, carrying a large red light in his hand. The King's Drop, shining brightly enough despite its black wrapping cloth. Rysn caught a glimpse of Vstim collapsed on the floor inside the vault, holding his side.\n\nThe traitor kicked the door closed-locking the old merchant away. He glanced toward her.\n\nAnd a crossbow bolt hit him.\n\n\"Thief in the vault!\" Fladm's voice said. \"Alarm!\"\n\nRysn pulled herself to a row of gemstone racks. Behind her, the thief took a second crossbow bolt, but didn't seem to notice. How...\n\nThe thief stepped over and picked up poor Tlik's crossbow. Footsteps and calls indicated that several guards from the lower level had heard Fladm, and were coming up the steps. The thief fired the crossbow once down a nearby row, and a shout of pain from Fladm indicated it had connected. Another guardsman arrived a second later and attacked the thief with his sword." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He should have run for help! Rysn thought as she huddled by the shelf. The thief took a cut along the face from the sword, then set his prize down and caught the guard's arm. The two struggled, and Rysn watched the cut on the thief's face reknit.\n\nHe was healing? Could... could this man be a Knight Radiant?\n\nRysn's eyes flicked toward the large ruby the thief had set down. Four more guards joined the fight, obviously assuming they could subdue one man on their own.\n\nSit back. Let them handle it.\n\nChiri-Chiri suddenly darted past, ignoring the combatants and making for the glowing gemstone. Rysn lunged forward-well, more flopped forward-to grab at the larkin, but missed. Chiri-Chiri landed on the cloth containing the enormous ruby.\n\nNearby, the thief stabbed one of the guards. Rysn winced at the awful sight of their struggle, lit by the ruby, then crawled forward-dragging her legs-and snatched the gemstone.\n\nChiri-Chiri clicked at her in annoyance as Rysn dragged the ruby with her around the corner. Another guard screamed. They were dropping quickly.\n\nHave to do something. Can't just sit here, can I?\n\nRysn clutched the gemstone and looked down the row between shelves. An impossible distance, hundreds of feet, to the corridor and the exit. The door was locked, but she could call through the communication slot for help.\n\nBut why? If five guards couldn't handle the thief, what could one crippled woman do?\n\nMy babsk is locked in the queen's vault. Bleeding.\n\nShe looked down the long row again, then used the cord Vstim had given her to tie the ruby's cloth closed around it, and attached it to her ankle so she wouldn't have to carry it. Then she started pulling herself along the shelves. Chiri-Chiri rode behind on the ruby, and its light dimmed. Everyone else was struggling for their lives, but the little larkin was feasting." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Rysn made faster progress than she had expected to, though soon her arms began to ache. Behind, the fighting stilled, the last guard's shout cutting off.\n\nRysn redoubled her efforts, pulling herself along toward the exit, reaching the alcove where they'd left her chair. Here, she found blood.\n\nFladm lay at the threshold of the entry corridor, a bolt in him, his own crossbow on the floor beside him. Rysn collapsed a couple of feet from him, muscles burning. Spheres on his belt illuminated her chair and the steps down to the lower vault level. No more help would becoming from down there.\n\nPast Fladm's body, the corridor led to the door out. \"Help!\" she shouted. \"Thief!\"\n\nShe thought she heard voices on the other side, through the communication slot. But... it would take the guards outside time to get it open, as they didn't know all three codes. Maybe that was good. The thief couldn't get out until they opened it, right?\n\nOf course, that meant she was trapped inside with him while Vstim bled....\n\nThe silence from behind haunted her. Rysn heaved herself to Fladm's corpse and took his crossbow and bolts, then pulled herself toward the steps. She turned over, putting the enormous ruby beside her, and pushed up so that she was seated against the wall.\n\nShe waited, sweating, struggling to point the unwieldy weapon into the darkness of the vault. Footsteps sounded somewhere inside, coming closer. Trembling, she swung the crossbow back and forth, searching for motion. Only then did she notice that the crossbow wasn't loaded.\n\nShe gasped, then hastily pulled out a bolt. She looked from it to the crossbow, helpless. You were supposed to cock the weapon by stepping into a stirrup on the front, then pulling it upward. Easy to do, if you could step in the first place." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A figure emerged from the darkness. The bald guard, his clothing ripped, a sword dripping blood in his shadowed hand.\n\nRysn lowered the crossbow. What did it matter? Did she think she could fight? That man could just heal anyway.\n\nShe was alone.\n\nHelpless.\n\nLive or die. Did she care?\n\nI...\n\nYes. Yes, I care! I want to sail my own ship!\n\nA sudden blur darted out of the darkness and flew around the thief. Chiri-Chiri moved with blinding speed, hovering about the man, drawing his attention.\n\nRysn frantically placed the crossbow bolt, then took the captain's cord off the ruby's sack and tied one end to the stirrup at the front of the crossbow. She tied the other end to the back of her heavy wooden chair. That done, she spared a glance for Chiri-Chiri, then hesitated.\n\nThe larkin was feeding off the thief. Aline of light streamed from him, but it was a strange dark violet light. Chiri-Chiri flew about, drawing it from the man, whose face melted away, revealing marbled skin underneath.\n\nA parshman? Wearing some kind of disguise?\n\nNo, a Voidbringer. He growled and said something in an unfamiliar language, batting at Chiri-Chiri, who buzzed away into the darkness.\n\nRysn gripped the crossbow tightly with one hand, then with the other she shoved her chair down the long stairway.\n\nIt fell in a clatter, the rope playing out after it. Rysn grabbed onto the crossbow with the other hand. The cord pulled taut as the chair jerked to a stop partway down the steps, and she yanked back on the crossbow at the same time, hanging on for all she was worth." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Click.\n\nShe cut the rope free with her belt knife. The thief lunged for her, and she twisted-screaming-and pulled the firing lever on the crossbow. She didn't know how to aim properly, but the thief obligingly loomed over her.\n\nThe crossbow bolt hit him right in the chin.\n\nHe dropped and, blessedly, fell still. Whatever power had been healing him was gone, consumed by Chiri-Chiri.\n\nThe larkin buzzed over and landed on her stomach, clicking happily.\n\n\"Thank you,\" Rysn whispered, sweat streaming down the sides of her face. \"Thank you, thank you.\" She hesitated. \"Are you... bigger?\"\n\nChiri-Chiri clicked happily.\n\nVstim. I need the second set of keys.\n\nAnd... that ruby, the King's Drop. The Voidbringers had been trying to steal it. Why?\n\nRysn tossed aside the crossbow, then pulled herself toward the vault door." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Rockbuds crunched like skulls beneath Dalinar's boots as he charged across the burning field. His elites pounded after him, a handpicked force of soldiers both lighteyed and dark. They weren't an honor guard. Dalinar didn't need guards. These were simply the men he considered competent enough not to embarrass him.\n\nAround him, rockbuds smoldered. Moss-dried from the summer heat and long days between storms this time of year-flared up in waves, setting the rockbud shells alight. Flamespren danced among them. And, like a spren himself, Dalinar charged through the smoke, trusting in his padded armor and thick boots to protect him.\n\nThe enemy-pressed on the north by his armies-had pulled back into this town just ahead. With some difficulty Dalinar had waited, so he could bring his elites in as a flanking force.\n\nHe hadn't expected the enemy to fire this plain, desperately burning their own crops to block the southern approach. Well, the fires could go to Damnation. Though some of his men were overwhelmed by the smoke or heat, most stayed with him. They'd crash into the enemy, pressing them back against the main army.\n\nHammer and anvil. His favorite kind of tactic: the type that didn't allow his enemies to getaway from him.\n\nAs Dalinar burst from the smoky air, he found a few lines of spearmen hastily forming ranks on the southern edge of the town. Anticipationspren-like red streamers growing from the ground and whipping in the wind-clustered around them. The low town wall had been torn down in a contest a few years back, so the soldiers had only rubble as a fortification-though a large ridge to the east made a natural windbreak against the storms, which had allowed this place to sprawl almost like areal city." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dalinar bellowed at the enemy soldiers, beating his sword-just an ordinary longsword-against his shield. He wore a sturdy breastplate, an open-fronted helm, andiron-reinforced boots. The spearmen ahead of him wavered as his elites roared from amid the smoke and flame, shouting a bloodthirsty cacophony.\n\nA few of the spearmen dropped their weapons and ran. Dalinar grinned. He didn't need Shards to intimidate.\n\nHe hit the spearmen like a boulder rolling through a grove of saplings, his sword tossing blood into the air. A good fight was about momentum. Don't stop. Don't think. Drive forward and convince your enemies that they're as good as dead already. That way, they'll fight you less as you send them to their pyres.\n\nThe spearmen thrust their spears frantically-less to try to kill, more to try to push away this madman. Their ranks collapsed as too many of them turned their attention toward him.\n\nDalinar laughed, slamming aside a pair of spears with his shield, then disemboweling one man with a blade deep in the gut. The man dropped his spear in agony, and his neighbors backed away at the horrific sight. Dalinar came in with a roar, killing them with a sword that bore their friend's blood.\n\nDalinar's elites struck the now-broken line, and the real slaughter began. He pushed forward, keeping momentum, shearing through the ranks until he reached the back, then breathed deeply and wiped ashen sweat from his face. A young spearman wept on the ground nearby, screaming for his mother as he crawled across the stone, trailing blood. Fearspren mixed with orange, sinewy painspren all around. Dalinar shook his head and rammed his sword down into the boy's back as he passed." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Men often cried for their parents as they died." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Didn't matter how old they were. He'd seen greybeards do it, same as kids like this one. He's not much younger than me, Dalinar thought. Maybe seventeen. But then, Dalinar had never felt young, regardless of his age.\n\nHis elites carved the enemy line in two. Dalinar danced, shaking off his bloodied blade, feeling alert, excited, but not yet alive. Where was it?\n\nCome on....\n\nA larger group of enemy soldiers was jogging down the street toward him, led by several officers in white and red. From the way they suddenly pulled up, he guessed they were alarmed to find their spearmen falling so quickly.\n\nDalinar charged. His elites knew to watch, so he was rapidly joined by fifty men-the rest had to finish off the unfortunate spearmen. Fifty would do. The crowded confines of the town would mean Dalinar shouldn't need more.\n\nHe focused his attention on the one man riding a horse. The fellow wore plate armor obviously meant to resemble Shardplate, though it was only of common steel. It lacked the beauty, the power, of true Plate. He still looked like he was the most important person around. Hopefully that would mean he was the best.\n\nThe man's honor guard rushed to engage, and Dalinar felt something stir inside him. Like athirst, a physical need.\n\nChallenge. He needed a challenge!\n\nHe engaged the first member of the guard, attacking with a swift brutality. Fighting on a battlefield wasn't like dueling in an arena; Dalinar didn't dance around the fellow, testing his abilities. Out here, that sort of thing got you stabbed in the back by someone else. Instead, Dalinar slammed his sword down against the enemy, who raised his shield to block. Dalinar struck a series of quick, powerful blows, like a drummer pounding out a furious beat. Bam, bam, bam, bam!" }, { "from": "human", "value": "The enemy soldier clutched his shield over his head, leaving Dalinar squarely in control." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dalinar raised his own shield before him and shoved it against the man, forcing him back until he stumbled, giving Dalinar an opening.\n\nThis man didn't get a chance to cry for his mother.\n\nThe body dropped before him. Dalinar let his elites handle the others; the way was open to the brightlord. Who was he? The highprince fought to the north. Was this some other important lighteyes? Or... didn't Dalinar remember hearing something about a son during Gavilar's endless planning meetings?\n\nWell, this man certainly looked grand on that white mare, watching the battle from within his helm's visor, cape streaming around him. The foe raised his sword to his helm toward Dalinar in a sign of challenge accepted.\n\nIdiot.\n\nDalinar raised his shield arm and pointed, counting on at least one of his strikers to have stayed with him. Indeed, Jenin stepped up, unhooked the shortbow from his back, and-as the brightlord shouted his surprise-shot the horse in the chest.\n\n\"Hate shooting horses,\" Jenin grumbled as the beast reared in pain. \"Like throwing a thousand broams into the storming ocean, Brightlord.\"\n\n\"I'll buy you two when we finish this,\" Dalinar said as the brightlord tumbled off his horse. Dalinar dodged around flashing hooves and squeals of pain, seeking out the fallen man. He was pleased to find the enemy rising.\n\nThey engaged, sweeping atone another, frantic. Life was about momentum. Pick a direction and don't let anything-manor storm-turn you aside. Dalinar battered at the brightlord, driving him backward, furious and persistent.\n\nHe felt like he was winning the contest, controlling it, right up until he slammed his shield at the enemy and-in the moment of stress-felt something snap. One of the straps that held the shield to his arm had broken." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The enemy reacted immediately. He shoved the shield, twisting it around Dalinar's arm, snapping the other strap. The shield tumbled free.\n\nDalinar staggered, sweeping with his sword, trying to parry a blow that didn't come. The brightlord instead lunged in close and rammed Dalinar with his shield.\n\nDalinar ducked the blow that followed, but the backhand hit him solidly on the side of the head, sending him stumbling. His helm twisted, bent metal biting into his scalp, drawing blood. He saw double, his vision swimming.\n\nHe's coming in for the kill.\n\nDalinar roared, swinging his blade up in a lurching, wild parry that connected with the brightlord's weapon and swept it completely out of his hands.\n\nThe man instead punched Dalinar in the face with a gauntlet. His nose crunched.\n\nDalinar fell to his knees, sword slipping from his fingers. His foe was breathing deeply, cursing between breaths, winded by the short, frantic contest. He reached to his belt fora knife.\n\nAn emotion stirred inside Dalinar.\n\nIt was afire that filled the pit within. It washed through him and awakened him, bringing clarity. The sounds of his elites fighting the brightlord's honor guard faded, metal on metal becoming clinks, grunts becoming merely a distant humming.\n\nDalinar smiled. Then the smile became a toothy grin. His vision returned as the brightlord-knife in hand-looked up and started, stumbling back. He seemed horrified.\n\nDalinar roared, spitting blood and throwing himself at the enemy. The swing that came at him seemed pitiful and Dalinar ducked it, ramming his shoulder against his foe's lower body. Something thrummed inside Dalinar, the pulse of the battle, the rhythm of killing and dying." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Thrill.\n\nHe knocked his opponent off balance, then went searching for his sword. Dym, however, hollered Dalinar's name and tossed him a poleaxe, with a hook on one side and abroad, thin axe blade on the other. Dalinar seized it from the air and spun, hooking the brightlord around the ankle with the axehead, then yanked.\n\nThe brightlord fell in a clatter of steel. Before Dalinar could capitalize on this, two men of the honor guard managed to extricate themselves from Dalinar's men and come to the defense of their brightlord.\n\nDalinar swung and buried the axehead into one guard's side. He ripped it free and spun again-smashing the weapon down on the rising brightlord's helm and sending him to his knees-before coming back and barely catching the remaining guard's sword on the haft of the poleaxe.\n\nDalinar pushed upward, holding the poleaxe in two hands, sweeping the guard's blade into the air over his head. Dalinar stepped forward until he was face-to-face with the fellow. He could feel the man's breath.\n\nHe spat blood draining from his nose into the guard's eyes, then kicked him in the stomach. He turned toward the brightlord, who was trying to flee. Dalinar growled, full of the Thrill. He swung the poleaxe with one hand, hooking the spike into the brightlord's side, and yanked, dropping him yet again.\n\nThe brightlord rolled over. He was greeted by the sight of Dalinar slamming his poleaxe down with both hands, driving the spike right through the breastplate and into his chest. It made a satisfying crunch, and Dalinar pulled it out bloodied.\n\nAs if that blow had been a signal, the honor guard finally broke before his elites. Dalinar grinned as he watched them go, gloryspren popping up around him as glowing golden spheres. His men unhooked shortbows and shot a good dozen of the fleeing enemy in the back. Damnation, it felt good to best a force larger than your own." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Nearby, the fallen brightlord groaned softly. \"Why...\" the man said from within his helm. \"Why us?\"\n\n\"Don't know,\" Dalinar said, tossing the poleaxe back to Dym.\n\n\"You... you don't know?\" the dying man said.\n\n\"My brother chooses,\" Dalinar said. \"I just go where he points me.\" He gestured toward the dying man, and Dym rammed a sword into the armored man's armpit, finishing the job. The fellow had fought reasonably well; no need to extend his suffering.\n\nAnother soldier approached, handing Dalinar his sword. It had a chip the size of a thumb right in the blade. Looked like it had bent as well. \"You're supposed to stick it into the squishy parts, Brightlord,\" Dym said, \"not pound it against the hard parts.\"\n\n\"I'll keep that in mind,\" Dalinar said, tossing the sword aside as one of his men selected a replacement from among the fallen.\n\n\"You... all right, Brightlord?\" Dym asked.\n\n\"Never been better,\" Dalinar said, voice faintly distorted by the clogged nose. Hurt like Damnation itself, and he drew a small flock of painspren-like little sinewy hands-up from the ground.\n\nHis men formed up around him, and Dalinar led the way farther down the street. Before too long, he could make out the bulk of the enemy still fighting ahead, harried by his army. He halted his men, considering his options.\n\nThakka, captain of the elites, turned to him. \"Orders, sir?\"\n\n\"Raid those buildings,\" Dalinar said, pointing at a line of homes. \"Let's see how well they fight while they watch us rounding up their families.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The men will want to loot,\" Thakka said.\n\n\"What is thereto loot in hovels like these? Soggy hogshide and old rockbud bowls?\" He pulled off his helm to wipe the blood from his face. \"They can loot afterward. Right now I need hostages. There are civilians somewhere in this storming town. Find them.\"\n\nThakka nodded, shouting the orders. Dalinar reached for some water. He'd need to meetup with Sadeas, and-\n\nSomething slammed into Dalinar's shoulder. He caught only a brief sight of it, a black blur that hit with the force of a roundhouse kick. It threw him down, and pain flared up from his side.\n\nHe blinked as he found himself lying on the ground. A storming arrow sprouted from his right shoulder, with along, thick shaft. It had gone straight through the chain mail, just to the side of where his cuirass met his arm.\n\n\"Brightlord!\" Thakka said, kneeling, shielding Dalinar with his body. \"Kelek! Brightlord, are you-\"\n\n\"Who in Damnation shot that?\" Dalinar demanded.\n\n\"Up there,\" one of his men said, pointing at the ridge above the town.\n\n\"That's got to be over three hundred yards,\" Dalinar said, shoving Thakka aside and standing. \"That can't-\"\n\nHe was watching, so he was able to jump out of the way of the next arrow, which dropped a mere foot from him, cracking against the stone ground. Dalinar stared at it, then started shouting. \"Horses! Where are the storming horses!\"\n\nA small group of soldiers came trotting forward, bringing all eleven horses, which they'd guided carefully across the field. Dalinar had to dodge another arrow as he seized the reins of Fullnight, his black gelding, and heaved himself into the saddle. The arrow in his arm was a cutting pain, but he felt something more pressing drawing him forward. Helping him focus." }, { "from": "human", "value": "He galloped back the way they'd come in, getting out of the archer's sight, trailed by ten of his best men." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There had to be away up that slope.... There! A rocky set of switchbacks, shallow enough that he didn't mind running Fullnight up them.\n\nDalinar worried that by the time he reached the top, his quarry would have escaped. However, when he eventually burst onto the top of the ridge, an arrow slammed into his left breast, going straight through the breastplate near the shoulder, nearly throwing him from the saddle.\n\nDamnation! Dalinar hung on somehow, clenching the reins in one hand, and leaned low, peering ahead as the archer-still a distant figure-stood upon a rocky knob and launched another arrow. And another. Storms, the fellow was quick!\n\nHe jerked Fullnight to one side, then the other, feeling the thrumming sense of the Thrill surge within him. It drove away the pain, let him focus.\n\nAhead, the archer finally seemed to grow alarmed, and leaped from his perch to flee.\n\nDalinar charged Fullnight over that knob a moment later. The archer turned out to be a man in his twenties wearing rugged clothing, with arms and shoulders that looked like they could have lifted a chull. Dalinar had the option of running him down, but instead galloped Fullnight past and kicked the man in the back, sending him sprawling.\n\nAs Dalinar pulled up his horse, the motion sent a spike of pain through his arm. He forced it down, eyes watering, and turned toward the archer, who lay in a heap amid spilled black arrows.\n\nDalinar lurched from the saddle, an arrow sprouting from each shoulder, as his men caught up. He seized the archer and hauled the fellow to his feet, noting the blue tattoo on his cheek. The archer gasped and stared at Dalinar. He expected he was quite a sight, covered in soot from the fires, his face a mask of blood from the nose and the cut scalp, stuck with not one but two arrows." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You waited until my helm was off,\" Dalinar demanded. \"You are an assassin. You were set here specifically to kill me.\"\n\nThe man winced, then nodded.\n\n\"Amazing!\" Dalinar said, letting goof the fellow. \"Show me that shot again. How far is that, Thakka? I'm right, aren't I? Over three hundred yards?\"\n\n\"Almost four,\" Thakka said, pulling over his horse. \"But with a height advantage.\"\n\n\"Still,\" Dalinar said, stepping up to the lip of the ridge. He looked back at the befuddled archer. \"Well? Grab your bow!\"\n\n\"My... bow?\" the archer said.\n\n\"Are you deaf, man?\" Dalinar snapped. \"Go get it!\"\n\nThe archer regarded the ten elites on horseback, grim-faced and dangerous, before wisely deciding to obey. He picked up an arrow, then his bow-which was made of a sleek black wood Dalinar didn't recognize.\n\n\"Went right through my storming armor,\" Dalinar muttered, feeling at the arrow that had hit him on the left. That one didn't seem too bad-it had punctured the steel, but had lost most of its momentum in doing so. The one on his right, though, had cut through the chain and was sending blood down his arm.\n\nHe shook his head, shading his eyes with his left hand, inspecting the battlefield. To his right, the armies clashed, and his main body of elites had come up to press at the flank. The rearguard had found some civilians and was shoving them into the street.\n\n\"Pick a corpse,\" Dalinar said, pointing toward an empty square where a skirmish had happened. \"Stick an arrow in one down there, if you can.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "The archer licked his lips, still seeming confused." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Finally, he took a spyglass off his belt and studied the area. \"The one in blue, near the overturned cart.\"\n\nDalinar squinted, then nodded. Nearby, Thakka had climbed off his horse and had slid out his sword, resting it on his shoulder. A not-so-subtle warning. The archer drew his bow and launched a single black-fletched arrow. It flew true, sticking into the chosen corpse.\n\nA single awespren burst around Dalinar, like a ring of blue smoke. \"Stormfather! Thakka, before today, I'd have bet you half the princedom that such a shot wasn't possible.\" He turned to the archer. \"What's your name, assassin?\"\n\nThe man raised his chin, but didn't reply.\n\n\"Well, in any case, welcome to my elites,\" Dalinar said. \"Someone get the fellow a horse.\"\n\n\"What?\" the archer said. \"I tried to kill you!\"\n\n\"Yes, from a distance. Which shows remarkably good judgment. I can make use of someone with your skills.\"\n\n\"We're enemies!\"\n\nDalinar nodded toward the town below, where the beleaguered enemy army was-at long last-surrendering. \"Not anymore. Looks like we're all allies now!\"\n\nThe archer spat to the side. \"Slaves beneath your brother, the tyrant.\"\n\nDalinar let one of his men help him onto his horse. \"If you'd rather be killed, I can respect that. Alternatively, you can join me and name your price.\"\n\n\"The life of my brightlord Yezriar,\" the archer said. \"The heir.\"\n\n\"Is that the fellow...?\" Dalinar said, looking to Thakka." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"... That you killed down below? Yes, sir.\"\n\n\"He's got a hole in his chest,\" Dalinar said, looking back to the assassin. \"Tough break.\"\n\n\"You... you monster! Couldn't you have captured him?\"\n\n\"Nah. The other princedoms are digging in their heels. Refuse to recognize my brother's crown. Games of catch-me with the high lighteyes just encourage people to fightback. If they know we're out for blood, they'll think twice.\" Dalinar shrugged. \"How about this? Join with me, and we won't pillage the town. What's left of it, anyway.\"\n\nThe man looked down at the surrendering army.\n\n\"You in or not?\" Dalinar said. \"I promise not to make you shoot anyone you like.\"\n\n\"I...\"\n\n\"Great!\" Dalinar said, turning his horse and trotting off.\n\nA short time later, when Dalinar's elites rode up to him, the sullen archer was on a horse with one of the other men. The pain surged in Dalinar's right arm as the Thrill faded, but it was manageable. He'd need surgeons to look at the arrow wound.\n\nOnce they reached the town again, he sent orders to stop the looting. His men would hate that, but this town wasn't worth much anyway. The riches would come once they started into the centers of the princedoms.\n\nHe let his horse carry him in a leisurely gait through the town, passing soldiers who had settled down to water themselves and rest from the protracted engagement. His nose still smarted, and he had to forcibly prevent himself from snorting up blood. If it was well and truly broken, that wouldn't turnout well for him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dalinar kept moving, fighting off the dull sense of... nothingness that often followed a battle. This was the worst time. He could still remember being alive, but now had to face a return to mundanity.\n\nHe'd missed the executions. Sadeas already had the local highprince's head-and those of his officers-upon spears. Such a showman, Sadeas was. Dalinar passed the grim line, shaking his head, and heard a muttered curse from his new archer. He'd have to talk to the man, reinforce that in striking at Dalinar earlier, he'd shot an arrow at an enemy. That was to be respected. If he tried something against Dalinar or Sadeas now, it would be different. Thakka would already be searching out the fellow's family.\n\n\"Dalinar?\" a voice called.\n\nHe stilled his horse, turning toward the sound. Torol Sadeas-resplendent in golden yellow Shardplate that had already been washed clean-pushed through a cluster of officers. The red-faced young man looked far older than he had a year ago. When they'd started all this, he'd still been a gangly youth. No longer.\n\n\"Dalinar, are those arrows? Stormfather, man, you look like a thornbush! What happened to your face?\"\n\n\"A fist,\" Dalinar said, then nodded toward the heads on spears. \"Nice work.\"\n\n\"We lost the crown prince,\" Sadeas said. \"He'll mount a resistance.\"\n\n\"That would be impressive,\" Dalinar said, \"considering what I did to him.\"\n\nSadeas relaxed visibly. \"Oh, Dalinar. What would we do without you?\"\n\n\"Lose. Someone get me something to drink and a pair of surgeons. In that order. Also, Sadeas, I promised we wouldn't pillage the city. No looting, no slaves taken.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You what?\" Sadeas demanded. \"Who did you promise?\"\n\nDalinar thumbed over his shoulder at the archer.\n\n\"Another one?\" Sadeas said with a groan.\n\n\"He's got amazing aim,\" Dalinar said. \"Loyal, too.\" He glanced to the side, where Sadeas's soldiers had rounded up some weeping women for Sadeas to pick from.\n\n\"I was looking forward to tonight,\" Sadeas noted.\n\n\"And I was looking forward to breathing through my nose. We'll live. More than can be said for the kids we fought today.\"\n\n\"Fine, fine,\" Sadeas said, sighing. \"I suppose we could spare one town. A symbol that we are not without mercy.\" He looked over Dalinar again. \"We need to get you some Shards, my friend.\"\n\n\"To protect me?\"\n\n\"Protect you? Storms, Dalinar, at this point I'm not certain a rockslide could kill you. No, it just makes the rest of us look bad when you accomplish what you do while practically unarmed!\"\n\nDalinar shrugged. He didn't wait for the wine or the surgeons, but instead led his horseback to gather his elites and reinforce the orders to guard the city from looting. Once finished, he walked his horse across smoldering ground to his camp.\n\nHe was done living for the day. It would be weeks, maybe months, before he got another opportunity." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Carry on with the plot as the author's writing partner.\nTags: fantasy, historical fantasy, druids\nAuthor: Marion Zimmer Bradley, Diana L. Paxson\nTitle: Ravens of Avalon\nChapter: 1" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "When she woke, it was well past noon and she was regretting having eaten so little of the wedding feast. The mare, on the other hand, had made the most of the rich grass, and was very willing to be off once more.\n\nThe land here was gently rolling, a mixture of woodland and heath broken by scattered farmsteads surrounded by long rectangular fields. By this time Boudica no longer feared to leave a clue for anyone who followed, and ventured to stop atone of the farms and trade some of the ribands from her hair fora meal and abed by the fire. She had dreaded having to find answers for their questions, but the folk here were slow-speaking and patient, keeping their own counsel and seemingly willing for her to keep her own. It was only later that she remembered the gestures of warding she had been too tired to notice at the time, and realized they must have thought her some creature strayed from Faerie.\n\nBoudica was surprised to wake the next morning and see no sign of the king. At this rate, she thought in exasperation, she would reach his dun before he caught up with her and be waiting to welcome him-if they would admit her. To be captured in the wilderness might be romantic, to greet him as a beggar at his gate would be embarassing.\n\nShe set outwith enough apples and bannocks in the fold of her gown to last a day or more, letting the red mare goat her own pace along the road. This was a wider and more open land than the country around Antedios's dun, and to judge by the many stubbled fields, better drained and more bountiful. The anxieties and resentments that had plagued Boudica at the wedding seemed very faraway. This was anew land, and as she had done on Mona, she would have to learn its ways." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Unless, of course, Prasutagos repudiated the marriage and sent her home to her father in disgrace. The thought was enough to plunge Boudica into glum contemplation for most of the afternoon. That evening she had no heart to seek shelter at another farmstead and lay once more in the woodland, gazing through a net of branches at the starry path across the heavens that seemed to be pointing the way.\n\nShe was awakened by the smell of roasting sausage. Fora few moments she thought it was part of a dream, but now she could hear the crackling of afire. She frowned and turned over, rubbing her eyes. Morning light turned the smoke to a golden haze in which she could make out only the shape of the man who knelt by the fire. But she knew his height and breadth of shoulder. A rush of emotion brought her to full awareness, composed equally of relief, exasperation, and dismay.\n\n\"Two days...\" she said, sitting up. Her brothers had always told her that attack was the best defense. \"You took your time, my lord.\"\n\n\"There was no hurry. The land is at peace, and I knew where the mare would go.\" Prasutagos turned the sausages and looked back at her. Hair and mustache were neatly combed, even the silver strands glinting gold in the morning sun. He was dressed in sturdy trews and a tunic of dull green, appropriate for the road. And he was clean.\n\n\"I should hope so.\" She picked a wisp of grass from her hair.\n\n\"You were not difficult to follow. The countryside is full of rumors of a red woman on a red horse, though report disagrees as to whether she is one of the goddesses or some refugee from the Roman wars, and whether this is a good omen or a portent of doom.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Boudica could feel the blush heating her skin beneath the dust and grime. She cleared her throat.\n\n\"And which view is yours?\"\n\n\"I think she is an autumnal deity,\" he answered dryly. \"I promised to find her, and assured them that the magic of the king was sufficient to counter any spell.\" He lifted the sausages from the fire and stuck the ends of the sticks on which they had been toasting into the soft ground.\n\n\"Excuse me,\" she said with what dignity she could muster. \"I am going to the stream to wash.\"\n\n\"Excellent idea. In the pack by the willow tree you will find clean clothes,\" he said gravely. \"Don't run from me again. I don't think my reputation could survive losing my bride a second time...\"\n\noudica followed her new husband through the golden autumn afternoon. In the pack he had brought for her she had found a sleeved tunic of alight wool the color of the harvested fields. She suspected it would be along time before she dared to wear crimson again in Pra-sutagos's land. He had also brought the trews she wore for riding, very welcome to her chafed legs after two days with no protection but the folds of the linen gown.\n\nThe king's big bay had a longer pace than the mare's, and she found herself always a little behind him. She wondered how he had managed to escape from his household. But then, as a younger son he had never expected to inherit a war band, and perhaps he was accustomed to riding about this countryside alone. Certainly the folk at the steading where they paused fora rest and a drink of milk fresh from the cow did not seem surprised to see their king wandering the roads with his new bride.\n\nPrasutagos was accustomed to being alone, she thought as the miles passed. Despite the morning's embarassment, she had hoped that the constraint between them would disappear. But she suspected now that at the feast he had been quiet from habit, not from inhibition." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "If Coventa had been here, she would have filled the emptiness with her chattering. Boudica had never needed to do that, and just now she hardly dared.\n\n\"Where will we spend the night?\" she asked after an hour without a word had gone by. \"Or do you mean to ride straight onto your dun?\"\n\n\"The horses need rest,\" he said, reining into answer her. \"A little up the road there is a holy well where folk come to pray to the Goddess for healing and the granting of desires. I give the people at the farmstead some support so that they may feed travelers. We will stay there.\"\n\nhey came to the Lady's well just as the first stars were kindling in the sky. The water that flowed from the spring chuckled through a shallow valley between wooded hills. But the path was well marked, the area below the spring had been cleared, and the grass was still green. Thatched shelters used by earlier pilgrims stood among the trees. No one else was here so late in the year, but clearly this was a popular shrine.\n\nPrasutagos left Boudica to arrange their bedding while he went up to the farm for food. She wondered if that division of labor had been tact, to allow her to choose whether or not to consummate their marriage now. If he had pressed her, she thought wryly, she might have resisted, but she had to face the fact that his remoteness was a challenge, and the binding that had been set upon them in the sacred circle demanded completion. She laid out both sets of blankets full width, one atop the other.\n\nWhen her husband still had not returned by the time she was finished, she picked up their waterskins and one of her remaining ribands and took the path to the sacred spring. A pool had been dugout to catch the water that welled from the slope of a little hill. The fading light was just enough for her to seethe fluttering bits of fabric tied to the hazel tree whose branches shaded it. At its base apiece of wood had been thrust into the ground, carved with staring eyes and the hollow of a woman's vulva below. Smiling, she tied her own ribbon to a twig with the rest and knelt at the edge." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Lady,\" she whispered, \"by whatever name you favor in this land I honor you. Help me to be a good wife to Prasutagos and bear him children...\" And then, more softly, \"Help me to win his love...\" She scooped up water in her hands and drank, then set the waterskins at the edge to fill.\n\nShe sat back on her heels, sweeping the distracting thoughts from her mind one by one as she had been taught on the Druids' Isle, until presently there was only the sweet music of the spring. But from that simple melody came an awareness that remained in her memory as words.\n\n\"You may call me Holy Mother, for the milk from my breasts is always welling, always flowing, always poured out for my children in eternal love. Go in peace. In your joy and in your sorrow, I am here...\"\n\nBoudica dipped up more water and touched it to the hollow in the image, feeling an answering throb of anticipation between her own thighs.\n\nIn peace she rose and took the skins she had filled. When she returned to the shelter Prasutagos had afire going, and by the hearth there was fruit and new bread. Still entranced by the stillness of the spring, Boudica found herself at ease with his silence. When he excused himself after the meal she stripped off her clothes and slid between the blankets.\n\nHe was gone for what seemed along time, and when he returned he brought with him the cool breath of the holy well. She wondered if they had both prayed for the same thing. But it was a condition of such miracles that they never bespoken aloud.\n\nThe fire had burned low, and once more she saw him as a dark shape outlined in gold. She tensed as he inserted himself into the blankets beside her. He raised himself on one elbow and with his other hand lifted a lock of her hair and he murmured something soothing that she could not quite make out." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She wanted to tell him she was not afraid, but he was still whispering, still stroking her hair, and she could not find the words. She remembered how he had gentled the white stallion at the offering pool. It was horse magic, she thought, to tame the red mare...\n\nPrasutagos bent to kiss her, and this time his lips were warm. His hands moved across her body, caressing, commanding, until she lay open and accepting, her whole being flowing to enfold him, welcoming as the waters of the sacred spring.\n\noudica!\"Nessa's voice came from across the yard.\" Come now, lovey-your lord has said you must not lift anything so heavy-do come away!\"\n\nBoudica sighed and set down the armful of wood she had been about to bring into the roundhouse. Soon after she and Prasutagos reached Eponadunon, a caravan of wagons bearing all the gifts from the wedding had arrived and with them old Nessa, sent by her mother to be her servant in her new home. Or perhaps her guardian-by the beginning of the new year it was clear that Boudica was pregnant, and since then Nessa and Prasutagos had conspired to treat her as if she were made of Roman glass. That had been all very well during the winter, when freezing rain kept everyone inside the roundhouses, but the Turning of Spring was nigh, and the fair weather urged everyone outdoors. In retrospect, she supposed she ought to be grateful her mother had not sent the old woman with her to Mona, although the image of Nessa facing off against Lhiannon made her smile.\n\nShe missed Lhiannon, whose calm good sense would have been so helpful as she settled into her new home. Eponadunon lay in a bend of a small river half a day's ride from the sea, or rather the marshes, for the northern coast edged out gradually in bands of salt marsh and mudflat, with a narrow channel where boats might come into shore. To the south, another half day of riding would take them to the sacred spring, though since she arrived she had been too busy to visit it again. She would have liked to show it to Lhiannon." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Come in now, dearie, into the house.\" Nessa appeared at her elbow.\n\nBoudica turned on her. \"I am young, healthy, and I never felt better in my life! Nor will I melt in the spring sun!\"\n\n\"One of the lads who watch the cattle has come in. He saw riders on the road-you had better change out of that old gown.\"\n\nAs Boudica sighed defeat and followed Nessa into the largest of the three roundhouses she was aware of a prickle of excitement. Eponadu-non was nearly as remote as Mona, and Prasutagos did not have the Arch-Druid's network of informants to keep him apprised of the news, although now that the first shock of the Roman conquest was over, peddlers and tradesmen were beginning to reappear.\n\nAnd from time to time there was gossip. When Claudius returned to Rome, it was boasted that he had received the submission of eleven kings. Of course they said that his Triumph had also portrayed the conquest of Camulodunon as the capture of a walled city. Closer to home, men said that the legion left to hold down the Trinovantes was building a fortress on the hill above the ruins of the dun.\n\nBut the newcomers were no tradesmen. As Boudica was pinning her tunica, one of the girls who had been washing clothes at the stream came rushing up to inform them that a party of Romans was coming up the road.\n\n\"The king rode off to the new dun on the shore this morning-we can send one of the lads to find him, but we'll have to entertain these people until he arrives,\" she told the girl. \"Our bread is still baking. Girl, when you've sent the message run over to the nearest farmsteads to see what they have on hand. In the meantime our guests will have to be content with meat and cheese.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As the dun exploded into activity around her, she reached for her jewel box to add necklace and bracelets to her attire. The king lived simply here, and the dun would not impress their visitors, but at least she could look like a queen.\n\nBy the time the strangers rode through the wooden gate, the house had been swept and the worst of the clutter tidied away. Boudica stood waiting with a drinking horn filled with last of the wine from the wedding in her hands. In times of peace Prasutagos kept no more than a half-dozen warriors at the dun. Calgac, a lanky young warrior who had been assigned her escort, stood with the three who had not gone with the king as the Romans rode in.\n\nAutomatically she counted them-a contubernia often soldiers, escorting three men in civilian tunics and knee-length riding breeches and one in checkered trews who must be their guide.\n\n\"Salutatio.\" She offered the beaker to the best dressed of the riders, eyes widening as she recognized the big nose and dark eyes she had last seen in the purple shade of the emperor's pavilion. Surely the taxes they were supposed to pay the Romans were not already due! Her smile grew a little stiff as she continued. \"Lucius Junius Pollio, salve!\" That was all the Latin she remembered from her years at King Cunobelin's dun.\n\n\"Greetings,\" Pollio replied in her own language. \"I drink to you, my queen...\" He had an Atrebate accent.\n\nBoudica lifted an eyebrow. She had not expected that the Romans would have the sense to send a man who spoke the British tongue.\n\nThe next few minutes were occupied with getting everyone dismounted and arranging whereto put horses and men. She directed a quelling gaze at the younger of her warriors. Some of them were new to the king's service, replacements for men who had fallen at the Tamesa, and they glowered at the Roman legionaries. By the time she had everyone settled and fed Prasutagos had still not returned. Rather than sit staring at Pollio across the fire, she suggested a tour around the dun." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Steps had been cut into the inside of the grass-covered earthen embankment that surrounded it. On the outside, the bank was faced by a palisade. \"My husband's family has held this dun since his great-greatgrandfather's days,\" she said as they gained the top, \"but the clans here have been at peace for many years.\"\n\n\"Yet King Prasutagos is building anew place.\" It was not quite a question. \"Anew dun to guard the harbor where the ships that cross the Wash come to shore?\"\n\n\"I think he likes to build things.\" She shrugged. She had ridden out once to view the massive rampart faced with blocks of chalk, but workmen's huts were the only lodging, and the king had been too focused on the work to notice whether she was there or not, so she had not stayed.\n\n\"He does indeed...\" Pollio agreed. His gaze moved briefly to the swell of her belly and then away. \"The bank gives you a fine vantage point.\"\n\nShe smiled a little, as she always did when she stood here and looked across the fields. At this season the country was richly green with new grass, broken by the corrugated brown of newly plowed and seeded fields. A flock of crows had settled on the nearest, pecking for grain. A child ran across the field shouting, followed by a barking dog, and the crows exploded upward in a yammering cloud.\n\nCathubodva, take your chickens away, she prayed. There is neither meat nor mast for you here! Although she would rather share with the goddess than with the Romans, she thought, glancing sidelong at the man beside her. Disconcertingly, he was looking at her, not at the fields.\n\n\"It is true that we have no steep hills on which to build our forts as they do in the Durotrige lands,\" she said blandly. Even out here they had heard that the Roman campaign in the southwest had slowed to a crawl as General Vespasian beseiged each hillfort in turn." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "If that had stung him, he gave no sign. \"You grow barley here, and cattle?\" His dark gaze flicked away.\n\n\"And spelt, and sheep on the heaths,\" she added, putting a little distance between them. \"Our fields are not so rich as those in the Tri-novante lands but we feed our people, most years. Ina bad winter there are floods, and we are lucky to get a crop at all.\"\n\n\"I understand,\" he said smoothly. \"But that is where you benefit from being part of the Empire. In such years we can make loans to tide you over, and when you have a surplus you can repay. Nor do you need to fear that some other tribe whose crops have failed will try to take yours. Our general Vespasian has already taken many hillforts,\" he went on. \"Soon all the west will be conquered as well.\"\n\nShe would have liked to wipe away that smug smile, but unfortunately what he had said was true. Goddess keep Lhiannon from harm! she thought then. But surely they would keep the priestesses out of the war. She made her way along the bank and he followed her.\n\n\"You speak our language well,\" she commented as they reached the strong timbers that supported the gate.\n\n\"The emperor assigned me to be a companion to young Cogidub-nos when he came to Rome and to learn his tongue as I taught him ours. Claudius, of course, knows the language from his youth in Gal-lia,\" he replied.\n\nHow long had the emperor been thinking about the conquest of Britannia? she wondered wildly. Had all their struggles to prevent the attack mattered at all? She took a deep breath. \"To speak the language of the people around you is always a useful thing. Indeed, I have been thinking that it would be well to have someone here who could teach the Latin tongue.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You are wise. If you are to become citizens of the Empire you will need to speak its language, although to be sure there are many who still hold that Greek is the only civilized speech.\"\n\nBoudica resented the unconscious superiority she sensed beneath Pollio's words. But now she could see horsemen on the road. Even at such a distance there was something in the relaxed balance with which the first rider sat his mount that she recognized. It is less than a year, she thought in wonder. Have I become so linked to him already? Perhaps she ought to have expected it, even though he was for the most part as silent as ever. Perhaps it was because she was carrying his child.\n\nShe stretched and waved as Prasutagos cantered toward them, as grateful for rescue as if she had been beseiged.\n\nELEVEN\n\nhiannon faced Ardanos across the fire, their voices twining in the chant as the column of smoke twisted toward the sky. The earthen ramparts that protected the barrows of the ancient dead were covered by grass and eroded by the years. It was the hilltop across the valley to the south that would be Caratac's refuge. Even now, Durotrige tribesmen were toiling up the slopes with hods filled with earth and stone to reinforce defenses built by people whose names were lost from the land.\n\nIn the days of peace the Turning of Spring had been a time to work fora bountiful growing season. But this year the blood of men would fertilize the fields. Through the heat-haze she saw Ardanos's features exalted and intent as always during ritual. He would look like that while making love... She tried to banish the image, but these days they were so linked that he felt her thought, and when his eyes met hers her whole body flushed with desire. Her first instinct was to suppress it, but this, too, could bean offering." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As the circle began to move sunwise she allowed that energy to grow, flowing out through her left hand through the circle to the Druids and village priests who had joined them for the rite.\n\n\"Equality of day and night, Balance point of dark and light-This is the day, and this the hour, To choose the purpose, raise the power-\"\n\nSince the submission of the tribes in the south and east the previous summer she and Ardanos had been moving steadily ahead of the Roman advance westward, always together, but never alone. King Veric had died shortly after the Roman emperor left Britannia. While General Vespasian was busy putting down the last of Caratac's supporters on the\n\nIsle of Vectis and establishing Cogidubnos in his grandfather's place, Lhiannon and Ardanos had gone to King Tancoric. The Durotrige lands were rich in hillforts builtin ancient days and rebuilt during the west country's endless intertribal wars. Surely the Romans would not be able to capture them all...\n\nWind gusted across the hilltop and the fire flared suddenly, sparking along the juniper boughs that had been twined among the the oak logs in sigils of flame. Now the pine branches caught with a crackle of resin, adding their spicy scent to the smoke that was being blown eastward by the ever-present wind. Eastward... toward the advancing enemy.\n\nThe fire flared and hissed as now one, and now another dancer would dart forward to throw an offering of oil or mead or blood on the flames. The smoke grew thicker, billowing above the hill. Lhiannon could feel power building within the circle as they danced.\n\n\"By our words and by our will, Hereupon the holy hill, A blessing bid on all we see, Aspell we cast for victory!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Wind gusted again, blowing the hair she had left unbound for the ritual across her face. She shook her head to dislodge the fine strands and her smile faded as she realized that the wind had changed. Ardanos pulled his side of the circle forward, arms lifting to release the power, and rather raggedly the others followed. The column of smoke that had flowed eastward to threaten their foes was now drifting north, toward the hill of stones.\n\nhiannon sat down on the bench and drew up one foot, drying it with her cloak of heavy, oily wool. The skin was pale and waterlogged, the flesh cut and bruised from going barefoot in the mud. At least when your refuge was a hillfort, most of the rainwater that did not go into the cistern ran downhill. The folk of the fens around Avalon were said to have webbed feet. She wished that she did. She wished she were on the Isle of Avalon and not beseiged on this hill. She peered upward, hoping that the fine mist that had begun to fall meant a possible break in the clouds, but all she could see was gray.\n\nThe omen at the equinox ritual had proved a true one-the Roman advance had caught up with Caratac's forces a week later and dug their own bank and ditch all around the base of the hill. With them came the rain. Lhiannon looked up as a dark-haired warrior scrambled down from the rampart and over to the pile of stones to scoop more ammunition for his sling into the bag hung from his belt, and she gave him what she hoped was a cheery smile. The defenders of the hillfort had laid in supplies enough fora lengthy siege, but construction had focused on strengthening the ramparts and deepening the ditch between, not the buildings within. Yet though comfort might be lacking, they had plenty of water, and plenty of stones." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Now, of course, they could not forage for thatching straw or whitewash to protect the wattle-and-daub walls. The circles of hastily erected roundhouses clustered on the muddy turf of the hilltop were less secure than the buildings in which folk kept their cows at home, and there were no withies with which to mend the fencing that kept the cattle they had brought here penned. The food had been moved to the best shelter, and even then, some of it had spoiled. Humans were expected to be more resilient. With a sigh she picked up her other foot, grimacing at the touch of cold mud when she put the first one back down.\n\nThe reason she had refused to stay with Boudica was standing on the rampart, peering between two of the pointed logs that formed the palisade. Ardanos's white robe was mud-colored now, but then so was Lhiannon's priestess-blue gown. What was needed here was a nice, neutral gray. But new clothing was another thing they were going to have to do without fora while.\n\nSomeone shouted and she squinted upward, following the flight of the incoming stone with wary gaze. The Roman catapults were quite powerful, but the area protected by the double rampart that surrounded an extended square atop the hill was extensive enough that apart from the wear and tear on everyone's nerves, they rarely did any harm. The boulders that struck the palisade were another matter, but they still had logs enough to replace by night what was smashed during the day, bolstered by the stones with which the enemy had gifted them.\n\nWhy was it that the epics the bards were so fond of reciting never mentioned the sheer misery of standing seige in the rain? She hoped the Romans were equally uncomfortable. She hoped that their iron breast-and backplates were rusting together, the laminated arms of their bal-listas becoming unglued, their leather tents rotting away." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lhiannon stood up with a sigh and pulled the cloak over her hair as the rain intensified once more.\n\ne have held this place longer than any of the others,\" said Caratac, coughing as a draft set the smoke from the hearthfire swirling around the roundhouse where the chieftains had gathered. Lhiannon shielded her face with her veil and dipped up more herb tea from the cauldron. The rain on the thatching made a dull patter beneath the whisper of the fire, so familiar that it was only at moments like this, when everyone fell silent, waiting for the smoke to clear, that she even noticed the sound.\n\n\"Nearly two moons...\" said Antebrogios, the chieftain Tancoric had put in charge of the defenses. \"But longer is not forever.\" He coughed, either from the smoke or from the catarrh that afflicted most of those here. \"Our supplies are getting low and we have sickness among the men.\"\n\n\"So do the Romans,\" muttered one of the others. \"At night you can hear them coughing in their tents. They curse the climate of Britannia, and they curse the emperor who sent them here.\"\n\n\"Then let them go home to sunny Italia,\" muttered someone. \"If this rain keeps up much longer I'll be wishing I could go, too.\"\n\n\"If they run out of food or men they can ask for replacements,\" pointed out his chieftain. \"We cannot.\"\n\n\"Are you saying we should give up?\" challenged Caratac. He held out his beaker for Lhiannon to refill. Like the rest of them, he was gaunt and grimy, honed down by hardship to muscle and bone. If he had foreseen this day at the council on Mona, would he have spoken so boldly? she wondered as she handed the cup back to him. Would any of them?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Her gaze met that of Ardanos, sitting in the shadows near the door, and she thought he was wondering, too. He had grown thin in the past weeks, with hollow cheeks and haunted eyes. Always before he had had awry comment or a cheerful word, but in the past weeks he had been uncharacteristically quiet. They had not been tempted to dance together at Beltane, for the defenders had not had wood enough fora bonfire. He no longer tried to persuade her to his bed, and that was the most disturbing sign of all. But she had grown silent, too.\n\nShe looked away. If we speak, we are afraid we will have to admit that there is no hope of victory...\n\n\"The Romans out there outnumber us,\" Caratac said with quiet intensity. \"Their legions outnumber the Durotriges as they did the Tri-novantes when we fought on the Tamesa. But they do not outnumber the Britons of Britannia! If we do not give up, if we make them bleed for every hillfort, every river crossing, every foot of ground, there will come a time when the gold and grain they can seize from us cease to be enough to pay for the lives of their men. That is why we must holdout as long as we can, and if we are driven from this stronghold we will retreat to another. We can outlast them. This is our land!\"\n\nPerhaps even Caratac would have quailed, a year ago, if he had known what was to come, but it was clear to Lhiannon that he could not do so now. The others might surrender, but he must continue. He had paid too much already to give in.\n\nBut what if the Romans felt the same way? What if every legionary who fed the Morrigan's ravens strengthened General Vespasian's resolve to destroy those who had brought him down?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Outside someone raised the alarm. Cursing, the chieftains snatched up their swords and crowded through the door. Slipping and sliding in the mud, one hand holding their shields up in a linked mass to repell missiles from above while the other gripped a sword, the Romans were assaulting the ramparts yet again.\n\ntwas not until midsummer that the rain letup at last.\n\nGreat shining fortresses of cloud drifted slowly eastward, having surrendered all their store of rain, leaving the sun as victor on afield of blue. At the Dun of Stones, besieged and besiegers alike paused a moment in their labors, turning toward the light like flowers as the strengthening sun drew moisture from the soaked ground of the dun in curls of steam. The humid air lay heavy in Lhiannon's lungs, but it would dry, and the mud on the slopes of the dun would dry, and the Romans would attack again.\n\nOverhead ravens were circling, dark and bright in turn as their glossy wings caught the light of the sun. Be patient, she thought. Soon you will feed!\n\nShe stripped down to her linen undertunic and draped her blue robe over the thatch of her roundhouse, then began to undo her braids.\n\n\"Your hair is like spun sunlight...\"\n\nShe felt a touch and turned almost into Ardanos's arms.\n\n\"And you like a faerie child in your pale gown, with your white arms gleaming in the sun.\" Smiling a little, he began to work at the tangles with which she had been struggling.\n\n\"Mud-colored around the hem, though it is kind of you to say so...\" she answered as steadily as she could. \"But if death is coming, at least I will face it in dry clothes.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Probably... almost certainly, I would say,\" he answered with an attempt at his old sardonic detachment. \"When I looked over the palisade there seemed to be a lot of activity down the hill. The Romans are moving the ballistas into position for an assault, with no attempt to do so unobserved. And why should they? Whenever they choose to assault us we can only meet the attack with what we have. Which is not much. We have almost no arrows, and even the supply of slinging stones is getting low.\"\n\n\"And a fortress cannot runaway,\" she agreed. Nor can those trapped inside it. But there was no need to say that aloud.\n\nHe finished working on the second braid, combing the strands outwith his fingers so that they lay soft upon her shoulders, shining in the sun.\n\n\"How is it that lack of food only makes you more beautiful?\" he said then. \"You were almost too thin before, but now your spirit shines like a lamp through your skin...\" For the last week the food ration, never ample, had been cut. The Romans might not have expected them to holdout for so long, but Antebrogios had never expected the Romans would have the patience for so long a siege.\n\nArdanos had grown gaunt as well. She saw now how he would look when he was old, if indeed either of them survived to see old age. At this moment it hardly mattered. To hear that gentle note in his voice, to see that light in his eye, was what she needed now. If he was fey, then so was she. It was not only hunger that made her lightheaded as she moved into the circle of his arms.\n\nhe activity in the Roman camp continued all afternoon. In the dun, the evening meal was quiet, but the cooks served out the best of the food that remained. There was only water to drink, but the chieftains pledged each other as if it had been wine." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"If this night we are fated to fall, we should go rejoicing,\" said Ardanos as the horn came to him. \"The Romans we kill may go down to gloomy Hades, but for us the Blessed Isles are waiting, until it is time to enter the Cauldron and be born anew.\"\n\nThe Isles of the Blessed, or the Otherworld the faerie woman showed me... thought Lhiannon. If that lady should open such a gateway here and now would she go through it? Not alone, she thought, looking at Ardanos. Never, if she had to take that road alone.\n\n\"By all the gods, you men of the Durotriges will surely feast among the heroes,\" exclaimed Caratac. \"None ever fought more bravely, or endured so well.\"\n\n\"None ever had such noble chieftains to lead them,\" came the response from the men.\n\nWhen the meal was over, Lhiannon and Ardanos wandered out past the empty livestock pens, looking up at the stars. The men who walked the ramparts were singing. When they paused, one could hear a murmur like distant thunder from below. But hereon the pile of straw where Ardanos had spread his cloak, it seemed very still.\n\nLhiannon rested her head upon his shoulder. They were both still fully clothed, and he had made no move to change that. She could feel a regular quiver beneath her palm, as if she held his heart in her hand.\n\n\"I never thought it would be in such a time and place when I finally lay with you in my arms,\" Ardanos said at last. \"Or that it would be enough to simply hold you, and know that this is where you chose to be.\"\n\nThe more ascetic among the Druids starved themselves to achieve a state in which the flesh would no longer hunger. Perhaps that was what had happened to her and Ardanos, or perhaps it was that in the place where they were now, beyond all the distractions of ordinary life, they could speak soul to soul." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"When they come,\" he whispered after a little time had passed. \"When they breakthrough, will you come with me to the Blessed Isles? They will know us for Druids, and they will drag us captive through the streets of Rome and give us to the beasts in the arena if they take us alive.\"\n\n\"Yes, my love. But not yet. There are brave men here, and it would be wrong to desert them too soon.\"\n\nHe laughed a little at that and kissed her forehead. \"I never doubted your courage, Lhiannon.\"\n\nThe stars were growing pale as the full moon climbed the sky. On such a night it seemed impossible that soon men would die. The Romans called the moon a chaste goddess. Could they not see that to break the peace of this night with violence was a blasphemy?\n\nLhiannon sat up, lifting her hands to the skies. \"Holy Goddess, holy Goddess,\" she sang:\n\n\"Upon the world of warring men look down and make their hatred cease. O holy Goddess, hear us now, oh hear our prayer and give us peace...\"\n\nAs if in answer, a ball of fire arced across the face of the moon. It landed on a thatched roof and began to burn.\n\n\"Goddess have mercy onus all. It has begun!\"\n\nMore fireballs fell, some catching buildings, others sizzling on the ground. From the gate came shouting. As she and Ardanos started toward it, a warrior ran past them screaming, clothes streaming flame. She screamed herself as a bolt from a ballista whipped past and skewered another man to a wall.\n\nFarther along the wall men were shouting. Fire billowed up where the logs of the palisade had caught and men scrambled back from the flames. This is what the storms prevented, Lhiannon thought numbly. I am sorry I cursed the rain..." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Bands of men dashed here and there as the alarm was shouted from different parts of the wall. She and Ardanos separated to get the chests where they had kept their remaining bandages and surgical tools; when she emerged from her hut, she saw one of the chieftains grab Ardanos's arm. The man pointed toward the other end of the dun and he nodded, cast one desperate glance back at her, and started off at a run.\n\nNow they were bringing wounded into the space before Antebro-gios's house and laying them on blankets brought from those huts that were not yet inflames. Lhiannon hurried to the nearest, who had a bal-lista bolt through his thigh. The shaft was a stout piece of ash wood a little over two feet long, but all she could see protruding from his flesh were the three fins on the end. An arrow could have been broken off, but this shaft was too thick; she would have to pull it. There was not much blood; they could hope it had not severed an artery.\n\n\"Hold him,\" she said to the man beside him, whose leg would need splinting next. Grimacing, he nodded, and leaned his weight on his companion as she gripped the shaft beneath the fins and gave a sharp tug. Her patient screamed and then went limp. Lhiannon gritted her teeth and pulled again, using all her strength. She felt something give, then the thing came loose, the evil quadrangular head spattering blood across her skirts. More blood welled from the hole. She grabbed a wad of wool and pressed down hard, then bound it tightly in place.\n\nThe wound ought to be washed outwith wine. The man should be kept quiet and fed infusions of white willow for the pain. She could even do it, if he lived-if any of them lived-through the next few hours. As it was, he might live until morning and die of infection thereafter. He might survive to live in slavery and wish he had died today." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But they were setting a man before her with a splinter from a smashed log through his shoulder, and here was another whose knee had been crushed by a catapulted stone. Her awareness narrowed to the next decision, the next incision, to red blood and firelight and pain. Men screamed and bled beneath her hands, some fainted, and some of them died. Once when she looked up she saw the moon glowing red from the smoke in the air. No chaste goddess she-this was the bloody shield of Cathu-bodva, the moon of war.\n\nThe regular hollow boom that shook the earth beneath her might have been her heartbeat. It was only when men began to run past that she realized the Romans were attacking the gate. Despite all the missiles the defenders could rain down upon them, the locked shields they called the'tortoise\" were protecting the men who swung the ram.\n\nShe saw Caratac in all his battered splendor shouting a group of warriors into position at the top of the steep slope that ran down to the gate.\n\n\"Get out of the way!\" One of Antebrogios's house-guard yanked her to her feet and shoved her toward the roundhouse. \"Take cover! You can't help them now!\"\n\nWhere was Ardanos? Lhiannon hesitated, staring wildly at the confusion of moving men. There was a rending groan and the great bar across the gate cracked and fell. The timbers shivered beneath another stroke; held in place by the rocks piled behind them, they splintered under the impact of a third great blow. The defenders reeled beneath anew shower of missiles as the first armored enemies squeezed through.\n\nShe edged back until she was huddling beneath the overhanging roof of the roundhouse, but she had to see! More Romans were pouring through the gap. Steel clashed as they drove against the Britons waiting there. She heard Caratac's war cry. A sword skittered across the ground to her feet and she picked it up, then dropped it again. She was a healer; her heart was torn by anguish, but even now there was nothing within her that answered to the Morrigan's rage." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The embattled knot of men were moving toward her. As she realized it, the defenders broke and ran. She saw Caratac rise up from the tumult, laying about him with great strokes of his long sword. Romans reeled back from the terror of that blade and fora moment the space around him was clear. He leaped forward, saw her cowering, and hauled her into the shadow behind the house.\n\n\"They shall not have me or you either, priestess! The palisade is down on the west side. Come with me!\"\n\nHis arm was like iron around her waist. Half dragged, half running, she fled from house to house as the battle raged on. As they neared the palisade she thought she saw Ardanos's white robe in the midst of a group of running warriors. She tried to call out to him, but she had no breath. Then Caratac was thrusting her through the splintered gap in the logs; she tripped and rolled down the bank. He slid down after her, pulled her over the second bank, and together they skidded down it into the darkness beyond.\n\nLhiannon looked back. The sky above the hill was red; most of the houses must now be burning. A haze of heat and smoke obscured the sky. Or perhaps her vision was dimmed by tears.\n\ns Caratac led his party up the lane, a turmoil of dogs, spotted and brindle and gray, came tumbling through the gate of the farmstead barking in a cacophony of keys. Roused as her pony shied, Lhiannon, startled into awareness for the first time in days. Ardanos would have had a Word of Power to calm them, she thought sadly. King Caratac, however, had the voice of authority. The dogs swirled back and then, as someone else called them, fell silent, tails wagging and heads down. Lhiannon's heart leaped as she glimpsed a white robe behind them. It was a Druid's robe, but the tall figure beneath it bore a boy's face above a young man's soft black beard." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Lady Lhiannon!" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "What are you doing here?\" he exclaimed, and hearing his voice, she recognized Rianor, who had been a student with Boudica. He looked down the line of weary men and his face changed.\n\nThey were a tattered crew, many of them bandaged, warriors who had escaped after the fall of the Dun of Stones and been collected by Caratac in those first frantic days as they dodged Roman patrols. The king was no longer the pleasant young man who had visited them at Mona, no longer even the exhausted warrior who had wept over his brother's body at the Tamesa. Above the royal torque, Caratac's face was worn to a framework for eyes that blazed with purpose. The berserk energy that had gotten her out of the Dun of Stones was leashed and focused now to the service of their cause.\n\n\"Holy gods, you were at the dun-we all heard how bravely it was defended,\" said Rianor. \"We were praying for you at the Isle. My mother was of the Belgae, so they sent me here...\"\n\n\"As you see, we have wounded,\" said Caratac. \"Some of them will recover well enough to fight again, and some should not travel farther.\"\n\n\"Are the Romans coming? Are you hereto command the defense of Camadunon?\" Rianor gestured toward the hill to the south of the farm.\n\nIn the long years since the hill was last needed as a place of refuge forest had grownup around it, but someone had already started cutting trees to rebuild the palisade. With a kind of numb despair Lhiannon found herself calculating where an enemy might try to scale the hill.\n\nCaratac shook his head. \"King Maglorios is sending men to hold it. I must fare to the country of the Silures. The tribes to the north and west will be our best defense if the south fails.\" He turned to Lhiannon. \"Lady, I will be traveling fast and hard, so I must leave you. This dun guards the approaches to the Summer Country, and from here you can find escort to Mona or to Avalon.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Thank you.\" It was all she could say, though there had been too many nights when she had cursed him in her heart for not leaving her to die with Ardanos.\n\nRianor helped her to dismount, and together they watched the king ride away with the three of his own tribesmen who had survived. She wondered if she would ever see him again.\n\n\"Ardanos is not with you?\" ventured Rianor as he showed her where she would sleep until more huts were builtin the dun.\n\n\"We were separated when the enemy broke through. I last saw Ardanos with some of Antebrogios's men. Caratac got me away, but we have had no word of the others. It is most likely,\" with an effort she kept her voice calm, \"that he is dead or captive.\" She had sought him on the spirit roads without success. In her current state of weakness that might mean nothing. Surely if he had been killed she would have felt his passing. But if he lived, why had he not reached out to her?\n\n\"Oh my lady, I am so sorry!\" exclaimed Rianor. \"We all knew how much you loved him, and he you. Otherwise you would have been made High Priestess instead of Helve.\"\n\nLhiannon closed her eyes in pain. Did they all assume that she and Ardanos had been lovers? It seemed hard to have the reputation without having had any of the joy. And yet that was not entirely true, she thought, remembering how they had lain together beneath the moon. Soul to soul, they had been united with a completeness that few who had experienced only the body's sweaty couplings ever knew.\n\n\"My lady,\" he said then, \"have you had any word of Boudica? I-we hoped that she would comeback after your visit to Avalon.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"She chose to return to her tribe,\" Lhiannon said steadily. \"A marriage was arranged for her with King Prasutagos, to unite the two branches of the Iceni. I suppose she will be as happy as any can be in these times. He seemed to be a good man.\"\n\n\"If he is good to her, that is enough for me!\" Rianor said fiercely. \"But it is strange to think of her married to one of those who bent the knee to Rome. At least she will be safe in the Iceni lands.\" He got to his feet. \"I wish that we could say the same-if the Roman advance continues, they will come this way.\"\n\nTWELVE\n\nouted from the west country, the rain clouds that had soaked the Durotrige country moved north and east to deluge the Iceni lands, and the season that should have brought sunshine saw a succession of storms. As water pooled in the fields, drowning the growing grain, there were times when Boudica wondered if her words to the Roman had been prophetic, for this year there would belittle to harvest. Nor could they hope for help from Dun Garo, where the land was even lower and the rivers bigger. All of the Iceni chieftains would be begging the Romans for the grain they needed to get their people through another year.\n\nAs the rains continued to fall the roundhouse smelled perpetually of woodsmoke and dung and the woolen garments that had been hung from the beams to dry. The most valuable of the breeding stock had been brought to the higher ground of the dun and penned inside, but everyday, it seemed, someone would come splashing up from one of the other farms, asking help to rescue marooned sheep or strengthen the dike that protected a house from arising stream. And soon the coughing sickness began to stalk the countryside, and Nessa and Boudica were both kept busy brewing herbal teas and broth." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "n the days that followed her arrival at Camadunon, Lhiannon realized that torment in the mind, unlike pain of the body, was best treated by activity. Work that required all one's attention was better than riding. She had no wish to spend more days as a passenger, staring at mental images of Ardanos in chains or dying, and in any case no man could be spared to escort her to Avalon. Here there were wounded men who needed her nursing, food to be cooked for the laborers, and when there was no other work, an extra pair of hands could always be used at the dun.\n\nFrom time to time a shepherd or farm lad would trot into the steading with word of the Roman advance. Vespasian had left engineers to build Roman fortifications on the Dun of Stones and then continued his campaign. Rumor had them marching north or south or stopping entirely, but by the feast of Lugos it was known that they were on their way.\n\nThey had done all they could at Camadunon. The ditches between the four stone and timber ramparts that surrounded the hillfort had been dug deeper and the topmost bank was crowned with anew palisade. Stone faced the slots that led to the gates on the northeast and southwest sides. An ox had been offered to the gods at the new shrine and supplies had been laid in, and from the surrounding countryside came men.\n\nCamadunon stood on the border between the farmlands and the Summer Country. If it fell, Avalon would have no defense but its fens. At night Lhiannon would lie sleepless, remembering the Dun of Stones. She began to realize that she could not endure the mounting despair of a siege and the terror of an assault again, but how could she desert the people who had come to depend on her?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "oudica came out of the herdsman's hut and wrapped the heavy wool of her cloak around her." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Rosic was the chief of their shepherds, but he was better with sheep than with children, and had come begging her help when his wife fell ill. His daughter Temella had tried to nurse her siblings, but she had been close to panic when Boudica arrived.\n\nAt this season there should have been some hours of light left, but clouds from the afternoon's rainstorm still covered the sky, leaching color from the sodden fields. She rubbed the small of her back as the baby kicked sharply. When she was inside with the children she had not noticed the ache. At least her own child was warm and safe in the cradle of her womb, and Rosic's younger ones had kept down the soup she fed them. Temella could take care of them now.\n\nBoudica squinted at the sky, too accustomed to the bastions of gray cloud covering the heavens to notice their beauty. A little yellow edged them in the west. The light should last long enough for her to get home.\n\nIf not, she had been over this ground so often in the past few days she could hardly miss the way. She tucked the wooden bowl in which she had brought the soup under her arm and began to pick her way down the path.\n\nIt was slow work, for the puddles had grown deeper. A change in the wind sent a fine mist into her eyes and she swore, but in the past weeks she had grown accustomed to the damp. A little more would do her no harm. This would have been easier, she thought as she slipped in the mud, if she had brought a staff. But on the way over she had needed both hands for the bowl. The ache in her back was increasing, which surprised her, since usually it was eased by exercise.\n\nBoudica blinked and pulled the cloak over her head as the rain got harder. Its oil-rich wool would repel most moisture, and even damp it was warm. Water sloshed around her ankles and she stumbled. The path here bordered what in normal times was a small stream. The water was edging across the pathway now. Perhaps she should have stayed in the cottage, but the ways back and forward were equally dangerous now." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Anew gust rocked her, she took another step, felt the ground give way, and sat down hard. When she levered herself up her skirts were sopping, and it was only gradually that she realized that the warm water soaking her shift was not from the rain. She stopped, wincing as her belly contracted with a sudden sharp pang. She was only seven months along-this was too soon!\n\nBoudica took a few steps further and stopped again. The rising water had obscured all trace of the path. Without light, she could easily be swept away by the stream. But higher ground loomed dimly ahead. She splashed toward it, halting when the pangs came, and clambered to the top on her hands and knees. As her heartbeat slowed she looked around her and realized where she was.\n\nLong ago the people who built the dun had buried one of their chieftains here. Although his name was forgotten, the folk of Eponadunon brought him offerings on Samhain Eve. Surely the ancient spirit would not grudge her this refuge until Prasutagos came to rescue her. First babies always took awhile-every old wife who had tried to frighten her with tales of bad birthings during her pregnancy had agreed. She still had time...\n\nBut as the birth pangs came more quickly Boudica remembered that the king had ridden out to one of the outlying farms that morning. In such weather he would no doubt stay the night where he was, and it was only too likely that Nessa and the rest would assume that she had done so as well. A moan burst through clenched teeth as she realized that nobody was going to come." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And the old wives were wrong about how long it would take, at least when a baby came too soon. And she had been wrong to think she could walk in all weathers with no escort. It was all going wrong! She crouched on hands and knees as the contractions racked her body, screaming out her outrage and pain.\n\nI want Lhiannon, her spirit wailed, but each pain yanked her back into her body again. If I had stayed on Mona this would not be happening... If the Romans had not come... She fought for focus. \"If\" would not help her. She would have to get through this alone.\n\nWhen the pains gave her a moment of respite Boudica cut two strips from her shift with her dagger and laid them ready. When she felt the contractions begin to change she got the bulk of the cloak underneath her and squatted, weeping as her belly contorted again and again. She caught the red, wriggling thing that was expelled at last and managed to cut and tie the birth cord. It was a son, with hair as red as her own. At the touch of the cold air he let out a thin wail. Gasping, Boudica got the neck of her shift open enough to settle the babe between her breasts and tied her belt below to hold him there. Small as he was, he fit easily.\n\n\"Lie over my heart, little one, as you lay beneath it,\" she stuttered, tensing as her womb clenched once more and the bloody mess of the afterbirth slid free. Shivering, she curled her body around the burden at her breast, curving her palm over the fragile arch of the skull, and the infant stilled. He was so tiny a mite to be the beginnings of a man, tender as a sprout that might one day become a mighty oak tree that would shelter them all." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"When you are grown you will be a king and a warrior,\" she murmured, \"storm-born and fiery as Lugos himself, eh?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She smiled as the babe mewed and nuzzled her breast. But now that the birthing was over she realized that she was cold.\n\nn the night of the full moon, Lhiannon stood on the rampart, gazing across the tangle of marsh and mere. For the first time in weeks, there was nothing left to be done. Tomorrow, said the scouts, the Romans would be here. The night was cool and clear, but to the west rain clouds were rolling in from the sea. How long, she wondered, before this moon also was stained red, this peace destroyed by the cries of dying men? She started at a touch on her shoulder and turned to find Rianor beside her.\n\n\"Look-\" He pointed to the northwest, where a pointed hilltop stood clear against the sunset clouds. \"You can seethe Tor, and on a very clear day in the morning, the pyramid knoll on the coast. The earth power flows from them through this hill and onward. Can you feel it here?\"\n\nIt was a measure of her preoccupation, or perhaps her desolation, thought Lhiannon, that it had not occurred to her to try. She closed her eyes, reaching outwith senses too long unused, allowing awareness to sink to a depth that was not entirely physical until she felt a kind of vibration like the thrum of the current beneath the timbers of a boat on the sea, and with it came a vivid memory of the Otherworld into which she had fared on the Tor of Avalon. If she had stayed there, how much grief she could have forgone-and how much joy...\n\nThe faerie woman had told her that all the worlds were connected. Rianor had just reminded her that power flowed from Avalon to this dun. Could that power be used? Was it the faerie woman or the Goddess who was filling her mind with images now?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I am a priestess, she told herself, and subject to no man's command. While I had Ardanos, I followed him, but I must make my own choices now.\n\n\"Rianor... for the past weeks you and I have labored till our backs cracked and our hands bled, doing no more than any laborer could do, and in my case at least, not half so well. We have forgotten who we are.\"\n\nHe blinked, and she knew that he had also been too focused on the next log and the next stone to think any further.\n\n\"If the Romans attack us here, in the end they will take this place as they took the Dun of Stones. Don't you think it would be better if they never came here at all?\"\n\n\"It would be better, my lady, if they had never sailed across the Narrow Sea.\" He sobered as he saw she was not laughing. \"What do you mean?\"\n\n\"We have cloud.\" She pointed toward the billowing masses to the west. \"Cloud and rain and the mist that so often covers the fens around Avalon. If we draw it down the line of power we can wrap it around this hill.\"\n\nNow, she sensed, was the time to set the power in motion. With a dreamlike certainty she wrapped her cloak tightly around her and lay down next to the palisade, covering her face and closing her eyes to retain the image of the clouds she had seen.\n\n\"Guard me. Let no one disturb me until I comeback to you. Lend me what power you can...\"\n\nIt would have been easier if Ardanos had been beside her, balancing her energy with his own, but as Lhiannon sank deeper into trance she could feel Rianor's young strength supporting her. She slowed her breathing, calling on disciplines long-mastered to detach mind from body and let it wing free. Fora moment, she touched someone's anguish. But the pain was unlocking her nightmares of the war. She thrust the awareness away, turning desperately to the untouched west." }, { "from": "human", "value": "And there, like a caress, she found another mind." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"So, my sister, you have returned... in your world, has it been long?\"\n\n\"But I haven't! I am not on the Tor!\" With a sense deeper than sight she recognized the Lady she had spoken to when she was in the Faerie realm, but how could she be here?\n\n\"Nor am I,\" came the answer. \"We are between the worlds, where all worlds have their meeting and all powers join in the great dance. Sing the spell, sister, make the music that will serve your need...\"\n\nWhy had she never reached out to this power before? She had not been sufficiently desperate, she realized then, and she had believed in Ardanos's wisdom and depended on him for direction. I must trust my own wisdom now...\n\nMist and fog, cloud and rain... hear my calling, come again... Once more, it seemed to her that someone was calling, but she dared admit no distraction. In the world of men she was silent, but she made a mighty music within. With inner vision she could seethe layers of warm and cool air thronging with spirits. Heat and cold mix in the skies... where they meet, the mist will rise... Laughing, she beckoned to the air sprites, drawing them into the dance.\n\nIn the far distant place where her flesh lay it was growing dark and cold, but time had a different meaning where she was now. Her inner senses rejoiced when the cloud sprites began to release alight cool rain; she called to the warm air and the rain turned to fog before it could fall.\n\nIt was mist, not rain, that precipitated from the damp air, wraiths of mist that floated over hill and valley, thickening as night drew on. Fog covered Camadunon, jeweling the thick wool in which Lhiannon lay shrouded and beading on Rianor's curling beard. Mist shimmered around the torches that lit the Roman marching camp and condensed on armor and spears." }, { "from": "human", "value": "ometime in the past hour it had stopped raining." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The stream had begun to go down. A cold wind was whipping at the clouds, and a full moon struggled to break free. Its watery illumination showed Boudica the shape of the land. Her thighs were slick with blood. Too much? She could not tell. If she had been at home, she could rest now, her labor done, but it was not enough to bear her son alive.\n\nIf I die, you die... she told the child at her breast. We must have shelter, and soon...\n\nFor just a little longer Boudica lay where she was, but she was beginning to shiver now. With a final effort of will she got herself upright, wrapped the cloak around her, and clambered down from the mound.\n\nSaplings grew at its base; as she grabbed for balance, one came loose in her hand. With the help of the stick she was able to feel her way forward and cross the stream. From there it was a little over a mile across the fields to the dun.\n\n\"Not far... not far...\" she whispered. \"When I am old, you shall carry me. Shall we surprise your father, sweet child? How pleased he will be...\"\n\nMurmuring, she staggered onward. If it had not been for the child, she would have collapsed halfway there and made no effort to rise. As it was, after each fall she found the dun a little nearer when she levered herself upright once more.\n\nThe gate, of course, was closed. Had the guard sought shelter inside as well? It would be a great irony, observed a small voice within, to expire at her own gate after having come so far. With her last strength, Boudica drew breath as the Druids had taught her and in a great voice cried to be let in. And then it was all a confusion of voices and firelight and blessed, blessed warmth." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Take him,\" she murmured as they laid heron the bed. \"Take care of my son...\" Someone exclaimed, but she could not make out the words. There was only the heat and the comfort of the dark.\n\nt Camadunon, there was no sun to be seen at the next day's dawning, only the thick gray blanket of the fog. The Roman army, setting out in its usual precise array, took the road that seemed most open, and came at nightfall to a hill where an old barrow was surrounded by eroded ramparts half choked by trees. Here were no screaming Celtic savages, only the ghosts of ancient wars. The rumors, decided the general, must have been mistaken. The next morning he gave the order to march southwestward toward the Dumnoni lands, never suspecting the existence of the dun that waited in mist-shrouded silence barely five miles away.\n\noudica lifted her hand, surprised at how hard it was to move. Her memory was a confusion of alternating nightmare and oblivion. Pra-sutagos was apart of those memories, his usually calm features wracked by anguish. She could even remember the scalding touch of his tears. That must have been one of the times when she was cold.\n\nI have been ill, she thought. But I'm never sick. How odd...\n\n\"She wakes!\" said someone. She could hear all the familiar sounds of the dun-the complaint of a cow, someone whistling, clucking chickens at the door.\n\n\"Drink this, my lady.\" A strong arm went around her shoulders, raising her. Obediently she swallowed the liquid they held to her lips. It was warm milk, with an undertaste of white willow bark. She could vaguely remember having tasted it before." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "At the thought of milk her breasts began to throb. Her flaccid belly was sore; all her limbs ached with the sensitivity that comes after a fever. Her eyes flew open as she realized what she had not heard. There had been no baby's cry.\n\nShe tried to speak, swallowed, and tried again. \"Where is my son?\"\n\nThe silence that followed lasted too long. Old Nessa's face wavered above her, cheeks furrowed with tears.\n\n\"He was too little, my darling, and too cold. He only lived one day.\"\n\n\"Praise be to Brigantia that you survived,\" one of the maids added brightly. \"We thought we were going to lose you as well.\"\n\n\"Prasutagos?\" she asked weakly.\n\n\"He named the child Cunomaglos after his brother. The babe lies in the grave-field with his kin.\"\n\n\"Where is the king now?\" she managed.\n\nThis silence was not quite so long. \"When we knew you would live, lady, he took two men and rode off to see who else needed help.\"\n\nLeaving me in an even greater silence than usual, thought Boudica. But it no longer mattered. What could they have to say to one another now?\n\ny lady-for you-\"\n\nLhiannon turned in time to see a small hand offering a bunch of rather wilted asters. As she peered around the doorpost to smile at the bearer, the child blushed, dropped the bouquet, and darted away.\n\n\"Why will they never stay and let me thank them?\" she sighed, looking around her for some vessel in which she could put the flowers.\n\n\"Let me!\" Rianor plucked the bouquet from her hand, took yesterday's offering from the clay beaker, and settled the asters in their place. He was not meeting her eyes, either, she realized suddenly." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Partner with the writer, carry on with the story.\nTags: fantasy, historical fantasy, druids\nAuthor: Marion Zimmer Bradley, Diana L. Paxson\nTitle: Ravens of Avalon\nChapter: 2" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "At the thought of milk her breasts began to throb. Her flaccid belly was sore; all her limbs ached with the sensitivity that comes after a fever. Her eyes flew open as she realized what she had not heard. There had been no baby's cry.\n\nShe tried to speak, swallowed, and tried again. \"Where is my son?\"\n\nThe silence that followed lasted too long. Old Nessa's face wavered above her, cheeks furrowed with tears.\n\n\"He was too little, my darling, and too cold. He only lived one day.\"\n\n\"Praise be to Brigantia that you survived,\" one of the maids added brightly. \"We thought we were going to lose you as well.\"\n\n\"Prasutagos?\" she asked weakly.\n\n\"He named the child Cunomaglos after his brother. The babe lies in the grave-field with his kin.\"\n\n\"Where is the king now?\" she managed.\n\nThis silence was not quite so long. \"When we knew you would live, lady, he took two men and rode off to see who else needed help.\"\n\nLeaving me in an even greater silence than usual, thought Boudica. But it no longer mattered. What could they have to say to one another now?\n\ny lady-for you-\"\n\nLhiannon turned in time to see a small hand offering a bunch of rather wilted asters. As she peered around the doorpost to smile at the bearer, the child blushed, dropped the bouquet, and darted away.\n\n\"Why will they never stay and let me thank them?\" she sighed, looking around her for some vessel in which she could put the flowers.\n\n\"Let me!\" Rianor plucked the bouquet from her hand, took yesterday's offering from the clay beaker, and settled the asters in their place. He was not meeting her eyes, either, she realized suddenly." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "After the magical working that had saved Camadunon she had roused only to eat before falling once more into asleep without dreams.\n\nBy the time she was able to take notice once more, weeks had passed. But every morning since then the offerings had appeared, and perhaps before then, for all she knew. Yesterday, it had been a spray of bronze and ocher leaves. While she lay in what the farm-folk clearly considered an enchanted sleep, the summer had passed away.\n\nShe herself diagnosed her collapse as the cumulative effect of the hunger and fear she had experienced at the Dun of Stones. And sorrow... she had not known that grief could become an illness that sapped strength from body and soul. The pain of losing Ardanos was still there, but if she was careful she could go for as much as half a day without tears.\n\n\"Tell the children that I am grateful.\" As she gained strength, she found herself focusing on simple pleasures-the taste of new milk, the colors of the turning leaves. \"If they wish to visit me, they will be welcome.\"\n\n\"They respect you too greatly, lady...\" he said softly. \"To them, you are the white lady who turned herself into a cloud to save us from the Romans, and they are afraid.\"\n\n\"Well, you should reassure them,\" she said tartly. \"We Druids are servants, not gods!\"\n\n\"Of course, Lady Lhiannon,\" he replied, flushing as he met her eyes. In his, she caught the same look of awe with which they had regarded the High Priestess when she bore the power of the Goddess in ritual at Lys Deru.\n\nOh dear. She had assumed there would be rumors about the magical mist that had saved the dun, but she had not realized that her long recovery would allow them to become so well rooted here." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"The farmers hereabouts have come tome,\" he said then." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"They wish to build you a house on the slopes of the dun, near Cama's spring. They would be honored if you would make your home here...\"\n\nAs their local goddess and tutelary spirit, Lhiannon thought wryly, with Rianor as chief priest of my cult!\n\nShe shook her head. She needed peace, not worship. To stay here would be ludicrous. But even the thought of returning to Mona, where she would be reminded of Ardanos at every turning of the way, made her spirit bleed anew.\n\n\"I cannot stay here,\" she said gently. \"We send those in need of healing to the Tor. I would like to spend the winter in retreat on Ava-lon, and then we shall see...\"\n\n\"We will need to gather provisions. The house will need repair. But it is not so far.\" His face brightened. \"I will arrange it, lady, in your name.\"\n\nhe days passed, and Boudica's strength returned to her, though her breasts continued to leak and her tears to fall. Had the mound-spirit stolen the life of her baby? Or had it simply been an evil chance? As everyone was so eager to remind her, in any family more children died than lived to bear children of their own. To be told that she was young and would have others hurt even more. She would rather have blamed someone, or something, than accept that the loss of her child had no meaning at all.\n\nShe thought of sending for Lhiannon, but somehow it seemed to her that she had called, and the priestess had failed her, and in any case, to call would have required her to abandon her lethargy. Her husband coped by staying at the dun he was building near the shore, as if, having lost his son, earthen banks would be his immortality." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Perhaps the child had been taken as a sacrifice, she thought grimly, for as the season progressed, it seemed as if the spirits of the sky had been appeased. The clouds moved onward and the muddy ground dried. On a few fortunate hilltops there was even a little grain. Boudica's spirits, however, did not improve, and Nessa began to suggest that she should pay a visit to the sacred spring.\n\nHer first reaction was revulsion. To return as she was now to that place where her marriage had truly begun, where she had felt such hope and known such peace, would seem a sacrilege. But as she thought about it, she began to realize that the lady of the holy well had wronged her by promising her so much and betraying it all. She should go, she thought grimly. She had a few things to say to the spirit of the spring.\n\nThey rode south from the dun on a smiling day when the first hint of autumn touched the air. Boudica made no attempt to discourage attendants. These days other people appeared to her as ghosts and shadows. If such wished to follow her, she could not summon the energy to discourage them.\n\nA half-day's journey brought them to the shrine. The place was full of pilgrims, some of whom were unceremoniously evicted from their shelters when the entourage of the queen of the Northern Iceni arrived. Boudica cared little where she slept, so long as it was not in the shelter she and Prasutagos had shared before. While the others arranged their bedding she walked among the trees. She ate the food they cooked for her, but it was not until the next morning that she went to the spring.\n\nMorning was for hope, she thought as the path curved and she crossed the steppingstones through the marshy area below the spring. But to her the sunlight seemed thin and the gurgle of water a mockery. Bits of fabric, some old, some new, still fluttered from the branches of the hazel tree. She reached up and untied the riband she had put there almost a year before." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The cool breath of the water had not changed, and the water itself continued to well upward from unknown depths, sweet and clear.\n\n\"I would rather have come hereto thank you fora safe delivery,\" she said quietly. \"If there is anything hereto thank-\" Her voice cracked. \"If you even care whether I give you a riband or take it back, whether I give thanks or spit into your pool!\"\n\nBut even in her anger Boudica could not bring herself to go that far. This might be no more than water, but it was no less, an element to be respected even now, when they had had so much of it. The Druids would have taken this as the cue for some mystic sermon, but at the moment their wisdom seemed worthless as well. All they had accomplished with their magic was to bring the Romans more quickly to Britannia's shores. In fact, just now she could not think of anything in which she did believe. As if with hope she had also lost the power of motion, she sank down on apiece of log that had been set as a bench nearby.\n\n\"I would hate you, if I had the energy,\" she addressed the pool. \"They say your waters are bountiful as the Mother's breasts. My breasts are dry. They say your pool is the womb of life. My womb is empty!\" It was also said that the tears of the Goddess filled the spring. As she leaned over the dark water, her own tears fell into the pool.\n\nWhen Boudica was here before, she had thought the Lady of the Well spoke to her. She would have resisted any such fancy now. But she could not resist the one thing the waters offered her... a place to at last be still. This was neither comfort nor forgiveness nor peace, but a place beyond them all. The sun moved inexorably westward; water continually welled upward and then trickled down the hill; reeds and grass and trees continued to grow. She lived." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Fora time she sat without thinking, but presently she became aware of a sound that did not belong to this woodland harmony-an intermittent whimper, coming from a patch of reeds. With the first twitch of curiosity she had felt since the baby died she got up to see. A twist of dirty linen was moving, half in and half out of the water. She peeled the cloth back to reveal what looked like a drowned rat, if there had ever been a rat that was white with one red ear and absurdly large paws.\n\nA puppy-someone had tried to drown a puppy in the sacred spring. Now that was surely a blasphemy! She felt her guts clench as the tiny thing wriggled in her hands. She wanted to be sick, and she wanted to kill whoever would do such a thing. But already she was stripping away the soggy linen, rubbing at the sodden fur with her shawl. She cradled the shivering creature against her breast and the small head turned and a very pink tongue licked her hand.\n\nBoudica wrapped the puppy in her shawl and took a step down the path. Then she stopped, picked up her riband from the ground, and draped it back over a branch of the hazel tree.\n\nWhen she returned to the shelter the relief on the faces of her servants made her wonder how long she had been gone. If any of them were curious about what she had wrapped so carefully in her shawl none dared to ask.\n\n\"Do you wish to stay here tonight, my lady?\" asked Calgac. \"If we left now we could be back at the dun before darkness falls...\"\n\nShe stared at him. Go back to Eponadunon, where every sight would remind her of what she had lost? She could not do it. She wanted space, and light, and abed where she had never lain in the deceptive shelter of her husband's arms. There was a farm to the west of here that she had visited once with Prasutagos, when he was introducing her to his people and his land. According to the wedding settlements, it belonged to her." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I will do neither...\" she said slowly. \"We will pack the wagon and take the road west to Danatobrigos. Go back to Eponadunon.\" She nodded to the warriors. \"You may tell my husband where I have gone, and that it is now safe for him to return to his dun. I will not be thereto reproach him-\" or to be reproached in turn...\n\nShe did not expect to find happiness, but perhaps in time some healing would come. But first, she thought as the puppy burrowed against her breast, she would have to find some milk for the little dog.\n\nTHIRTEEN\n\nnow fountained as the puppy hit the bank, his pale form disappearing and then bursting free like some winter spirit manifesting in canine form. He slid a few feet, then leaped again, leaving a series of splash marks down the hill.\n\n\"How he loves the snow!\" said Temella. With a shawl wrapped around her head, only the girl's big gray eyes and the tip of a red nose could be seen.\n\n\"Bogle loves everything,\" Boudica replied in amusement. When they had settled into the farmstead at Danatobrigos the previous autumn, bags and baskets and anything else within reach of his tiny teeth had become a plaything. As the puppy grew into the promise of his big paws he had found immense sport in the drifted autumn leaves. From his coloring they guessed him to be part hunting hound, but the other parent must have been something much larger. And now, as high as her knee and still growing, he had discovered snow.\n\nThe red mare stamped and snorted as the puppy slid under her hooves, barked, and was off again. But Roud was accustomed to his antics, since riding or walking, where Boudica went, the dog was nevermore than a whistle away. Temella was almost as constant a companion. The girl was the oldest of the children to whom Boudica had taken the soup the day she gave birth to her baby. She had appeared at the farm about a month after Boudica moved there and attached herself as maid, messenger, and shadow." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Boudica took a deep breath of crisp air. Some snow was to expected at this season, but a blizzard of the size that had kept them indoors for the past three days was unusual. Field and pasture had been transformed by the snowfall, all irregularities smoothed to an expanse of pristine white. Even the leafless branches of the ash tree that shaded the ritual hearth were mantled in white, and the ancient trackway that ran toward the coast was no more than a depression in the snow. Beneath that white blanket many things lay sleeping, from the body of her child to the seeds of next year's grain.\n\nIn the months since she had come to Danatobrigos, there had been times when she wanted to lie down beneath just such an obliterating coverlet, without thought or movement, until all feeling also disappeared. Even her husband's rare visits had not disturbed her lethargy. It was Bogle, thrusting his shaggy head beneath her palm to be petted, or dropping some amorphous slobbered object in her lap to be thrown, who had kept her connected to the world of the living. Sometimes, she even laughed.\n\nShe watched, smiling, as he dashed pasta stand of leafless oaks down the road, barking furiously.\n\n\"Someone is coming,\" said Temella as the dog bounced back toward them.\n\n\"Bogle! Be still!\" Boudica reined in and whistled, and the dog slowed, a low growl vibrating from his throat, plumed tail waving gently. He was uncertain, not alarmed, though at his age, she wondered, how would he tell the difference between what was dangerous and what was merely new? Still, it was unlikely any enemy would be abroad in this weather, especially now, when they were safe beneath the protecting hand of Rome." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "On the heels of her thought came the strangers themselves, Romans by their gear, moving in good order past the trees. As they drew closer she recognized Pollio with his escort, all mounted on native ponies whose shaggy coats shrugged off snow.\n\n\"Well met, my lady!\" he called, his breath making white puffs in the chill air. \"But I did not expect to meet you so soon! I was on my way to the ferry-I have a mission to the Brigante lands-and regretted not being able to break my journey at Eponadunon. Are you and your husband visiting hereabouts?\" He drew up beside Boudica.\n\n\"The king is at Eponadunon,\" she said flatly. \"I live here.\"\n\nHis dark gaze grew more intent. \"Truly? Then fortune is with me.\"\n\nShe lifted an eyebrow, wondering what he could possibly wish to say to her rather than to the king. \"Temella, ride to the steading and tell them we will have guests.\" The girl nodded and urged her pony into a trot. Bogle lurched after her, circled her pony, and then skidded back to Boudica.\n\n\"Will you ride with me a little up the road?\" Pollio asked, moving his mount closer to hers. \"Our horses should not stand in this cold.\"\n\nThat was true. She loosened therein and let Roud fall into step beside his gray.\n\n\"Winter agrees with you, lady.\"\n\n\"You do not seem to be suffering, either,\" she observed. The cold had brought an unaccustomed color to his sallow cheeks and brightened his eyes, though she noticed that even Romans grew out their beards in this cold. \"I suppose this is very different from your home.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Not as much as you might ihink-I was born in Dacia, and the winters there can be bitter indeed.\"\n\n\"That would explain how you come to be traveling in this weather. I thought you Romans spent Britannic winters stoking the furnaces of your hypocausts and cursing the cold.\"\n\nThis time he laughed out loud, a surprisingly pleasant sound. \"No doubt they are doing so in Camulodunum, but even your dog knows there is sport to be had in the wintertime...\"\n\nHer gaze followed Bogle, who had flushed a hare from the woods and was pursuing it through the snow, barking ecstatically, though it was not clear whether he was trying to hunt or to play.\n\n\"My mother was a noblewoman in Dacia.\" Pollio's eyes flicked to her face and then away. \"My father married her when he was stationed there. This is how the new provinces become part of the Empire.\"\n\nI already have a husband-why is he saying this tome? But she herself had told him that she and Prasutagos were living separately. She had heard that divorce was easy among the Romans. Perhaps he did not consider her married state an impediment. She glanced at him, seeing him for the first time as a not ill-looking man who clearly enjoyed her company. As if he had felt her gaze he turned to her once more, and she looked away.\n\nAs they passed through the wood, the horses, sensing their riders' inattention, had slowed. Pollio reached out and took her hand.\n\n\"Boudica, you are like aflame, burning in the midst of the snow. I thought so when I first saw you, glowing like a torch in the imperial purple gloom, but you were still a child. You area woman now, and you are magnificent!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Since that day she had borne and lost a child. If that was the qualification for womanhood she wondered how the race could survive. And how could she be aflame when she felt frozen inside?\n\nOr was she? Pollio had slid off his glove and now was easing his fingers beneath the woolen mitten that covered her hand. The touch was surprisingly intimate. She felt a sudden rush of heat, as if he had put his hand beneath her gown.\n\n\"You area princess of your people as I am a lord among mine. Together we could do so much for this land...\"\n\nThe horses had stopped. She trembled as he began to trace small circles in the sensitive center of her palm.\n\n\"I have dreamed of you, my lady,\" he said softly. \"Sweet and ripe as one of the apples we grow in the southern lands. I dream of tasting that sweetness, as I dream of warming myself at your fire. Blessed Boudica, fairest of women, welcome me to your hearth...\"\n\nBogle was barking, but the sound seemed to come from somewhere very faraway. Pollio leaned forward, his other arm reaching up to draw her to him. Her lips parted, awaiting his kiss.\n\nAnd the dog, yipping gleefully, bounded beneath the bellies of the horses. Pollio's mount bucked, kicking, and the red mare shied.\n\nBoudica grabbed a handful of mane and righted herself. The Roman was half off his horse, swearing as he tried to retrieve his reins. Bogle, apparently believing he had at last found a playmate, bounced in and out, dodging the hooves, and then dashed away again, barking in the tone that meant, \"People are coming, come see, come see!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She straightened, squinting against the glare of sun on snow as a group of riders approached from the other direction. A big man on a big horse led them. With some sense that went deeper than vision Boudica knew him. She sat back, willing her heartbeat to slow.\n\nBy the time Prasutagos reached them, Pollio had also gotten his mount under control. He nodded with a wary courtesy. \"Greetings, my lord.\"\n\nBoudica watched with mingled amusement and consternation. How long had they been insight before Bogle noticed Prasutagos and started barking? And what, at that distance, could he have seen?\n\nWhat, indeed, was thereto see? Would I really have allowed the Roman to kiss me? She felt nothing for Prasutagos, but next to him the Roman looked-small.\n\n\"It is a cold day for riding,\" the king observed. \"We don't often have such a storm.\" He turned to Boudica. \"I was at Coric's steading near the harbor. A roof on one of his outbuildings collapsed from the weight of the snow. I thought I should see if you needed any help here.\"\n\nIt was a reasonable question. The steading had been in some disrepair when she arrived. And she knew that during the past six months Prasuta-gos had spent most of his time traveling from one steading to another. To strengthen ties between king and people, they said, but it might be that he could not bear living at Eponadunon, either. Surely it was chance that he had happened to be in this part of his lands when the storm struck. But whether it was a happy chance or an ill one she did not know.\n\n\"Everything seems to be secure,\" she answered neutrally." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"That is good news,\" said Prasutagos. He turned to the Roman. \"To lodge your men and mine we will need the second roundhouse, and it would be best to have the horses under shelter as well.\"\n\n\"Oh there will be no need to crowd your warriors.\" Pollio's lips stretched in an equally polite smile. \"If we push on we should reach the ferry by nightfall. I have messages for the Brigante king that cannot wait, and I must take advantage of the calm to cross before more bad weather rolls in.\"\n\nBefore Prasutagos arrived, thought Boudica, he had seemed quite willing to spend the night with her.\n\n\"Perhaps you are wise,\" the king said thoughtfully. \"A ship came in just before the storm, so you will not have to wait long. Greet Venutios and Cartimandua for me.\"\n\n\"I am sorry we will not have the pleasure of your company.\" Boudica let the Roman take that as he would. \"But I understand the claims of duty.\" Including, she wondered warily, my own?\n\nPrasutagos had visited from time to time when he was in the neighborhood, staying long enough fora meal, but always off again before dark, checking on her as he would any other possession, she thought bitterly. The first few times she had scarcely noticed whether he was there or not, but lately she found his detachment a little unnerving.\n\nBogle sat down in the snow, tongue lolling, as Pollio summoned his men and the little troop plodded off down the road.\n\n\"They ought to thank us for breaking trail for them,\" observed Bi-tuitos, the older of the two warriors who were the king's primary guards. As big a man as Prasutagos, but ten years younger, he was some kind of cousin, with the family size and strength and coloring." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"But they had better hurry,\" added Eoc Mor, equally tall, but with the brown hair and gray eyes of the older race." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He had been destined for life as a farmer until someone noticed how deadly quick he was with a sword. \"If the Roman cannot read the weather, I can, and clouds are building eastward that will bring more snow before dawn!\"\n\nIt was true that the wind was beginning to rise, with a damp chill that cut deeper than the crisp cold of the morning.\n\n\"Perhaps we, too, should be on our way,\" she suggested. \"When we met the Romans I sent Temella to warn the household we would have guests. It is just as well you arrived-it would have been a pity to waste the food.\"\n\nituitos had read the weather rightly. By sunset the wind was driving the first flurries of snow across the downs. The interlaced framework of beams and withies that supported the thatched roof flexed and groaned with each gust and changing pressure sent smoke from the hearth-fire billowing beneath its tall peak. No one suggested that the king and his men should ride anywhere in such a storm, if indeed Prasutagos had ever had such an intention. She was aware of his presence as she had not been before, and did not know whether it was he who had changed, or she. He seemed thinner, she thought, fined down by hard riding to whipcord muscle and bone. Firelight glinted on his mustache and burnished the strong modeling of cheekbones and jaw.\n\nThere were two roundhouses at the farmstead, along with other buildings for stabling and storage. When the last of the mutton stew had been eaten, most of the king's men were sent off to the second house where old Kitto and his wife lived with the other men who worked the farm. Even to unlace the hide that covered the doorway long enough to let them outlet in a chilly blast that left Boudica shivering. The hides and rugs of heavy wool that hung on the inner side of the house walls caught some of the drafts, but the same permeability that allowed smoke to escape outward through the thatching also allowed cold air to filter in." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Temella found more skins and blankets, and Bituitos and Eoc rolled themselves into them beside the fire where Bogle already lay snoring, his heavy head resting on a bone. Usually, in weather as cold as this, Temella and Boudica would share abed, but the girl was laying out her own bedding in the partitioned section that was old Nessa's place. That seemed to answer the question of where Prasutagos would be sleeping. Boudica could feel his gaze following her as she banked the fire.\n\n\"Lady of the holy fire, ward this flame till morning. Brigantia, blessed one, be you the fire in the hearth as you are the fire in the heart. Against all evil that walks the night be our shield and protection.\" She drew the Lady's sun-cross in the ash and rose to her feet, dusting her hands.\n\nAs she started to turn, the king rose and fell into step beside her. She controlled a flinch-she had forgotten how tall he was. Together they passed through the wool curtains Boudica had woven in her own clan's russet and gold and gray to hang from the houseposts that defined her sleeping place. Swiftly she stripped off shawl and her outer tunic and shoes and lay down in shift and gown, curling defensively against the cold and away from the man whom she could hear taking off his own outer garments. The straw beneath the sheepskins and linen sheet rustled as Prasutagos got into bed beside her. She did not speak, but surely a turned back made her wishes clear.\n\nBoudica had forgotten that for somethings he needed no words at all.\n\nShe had been braced to resist his courtship, but this time there were none of the sweet whispers with which he had taken her virginity, only the rasp of his breath in her ear. She stiffened as he pulled up the skirts of shift and gown and curled around her, those strong hands, calloused from sword and bridle, taking possession of all that lay beneath. In silent fury she tried to break free, but legs that could grip a horse's barrel held hers, one muscled arm pinioned her arms while the other hand relearned the shape of her breasts." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"You are my wife...\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Words escaped set teeth as the same force that gave him the strength to hold her broke through the barriers that had kept him silent. She could feel each tremor that shook his body, pressed so tightly against hers. \"You may live without a man... but you shall not lie with any... man... but... me!\"\n\nThat answered the question of whether he had seen Pollio try to kiss her.\n\nBoudica was still trying to think of a response when with a last agile shift he had her, and as once before, when her body was constrained, her outrage exploded inward, driving the thinking self to one side. The Roman had called her afire, and now she was bursting into flame.\n\nI am the oven that bakes the bread... said a voice within. I am the kiln that fires the cup... I am the forge that shapes the blade. Burn!\n\nWhen Boudica woke the next morning, the snow had ceased and Prasutagos was gone. She might have thought his visit all a dream, but by the Turning of Spring, she knew that she was once more with child.\n\npring came to the Tor bearing a treasure of golden kingcup and yellow flag and heralded by a clamor of returning birds. To Lhiannon, it seemed as if the lengthening days were one long morning, releasing her from the shadows in which she had walked since the fall of the Dun of Stones. The long, slow cycles of winter had accorded with Lhiannon's mood, but with spring, the pace of life grew frenetic, and as she felt that same energy burning in her own veins she realized that so far as she would ever be, she was healed.\n\nSoon, she knew, she would have to leave the Tor, but as the world hovered at the Turning of Spring she found herself as undecided as the season. A year ago at this time she and Ardanos had been preparing to defend the Dun of Stones. Now the dun bore a Roman fort and most of the south and west were in Roman hands. Governor Plautius was driving westward across the midlands. Caratac had gone to ground somewhere in the mountains beyond. Even if Lhiannon had been willing to face more war there was nothing for her to do." }, { "from": "human", "value": "On the first fair day after the equinox an excess of energy drove her up the Tor." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "This time she did not walk the spiral, but it scarcely mattered. Her awareness of the Otherworld was always with her now. Wind ruffled the new grass. Below, the marshland pools, still full from the spring rains, spread across the levels in a shifting mosaic of silver and blue. But the spring sun was warm on her shoulders, and when she reached the summit she lay down to rest.\n\nWhether what came upon Lhiannon then was sleep or a vision she was never sure, but it seemed to her that she was in a place of wide skies and open fields where the air had the scent of the sea. Boudica was with her, more beautiful than ever, her breasts full but her face fined down to reveal the lovely curves of cheek and brow. In her eyes Lhiannon saw a grief to match her own.\n\n\"Lhiannon...\" across the miles she heard the cry. \"Lhiannon, I am afraid. I need you... come tome!\"\n\noudica knelt at the edge of the offering pit, fingering the ridges that ornamented the curve of the bowl she held. It was a fine piece of cream-colored pottery in the Gallic style her people had brought with them from across the sea, one of a set that had been included in the wedding treasure sent over from Eponadunon when she had taken up residence at Danatobrigos. It was filled with early primroses now, picked as she came through the wood that partly surrounded the Horse Shrine at the foot of the hill. On the other side the ground was open toward the path that ran alongside the stream. In the center of the enclosure the skull of the most recent equine sacrifice contemplated her from its pole.\n\n\"You old ones who were here before,\" she whispered. \"Your dust is part of the earth whose fruits feed me and my child. Give us your blessing.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Prasutagos's winter visit had shattered her peace. The quickening of her child roused her to panic and a frantic search for ways to protect the new life within. Once more, she had something to lose.\n\n\"The ghosts of this land have taken one life from me,\" she went on. \"Surely you don't need another! Please accept this offering!\"\n\nAs she stretched to lower the bowl she lost her balance and the smooth ceramic slipped from her hand, hit a stone, and cracked. She collapsed onto hands and knees, staring as the water ran out and soaked into the soil. Like an afterimage came the memory of how the kings had broken the swords and bent the shields before offering them at the Lake of Little Stones. Was this a sign that the ancestors had accepted her offering or an omen that her womb was as useless as the broken bowl?\n\nShe was no Druid to interpret it! She had refused to become a priestess, abandoned her duties as wife and queen... would she ever be a mother? She hunched over her belly, weeping.\n\n\"Boudica? Who has hurt you, child? What is wrong?\"\n\nFora moment she thought that soft voice a figment of her memory. Then she heard a pony snort and the creak of harness. She turned, vision blurring at the sight of a thin woman in blue with golden hair. Slowly she got to her feet.\n\n\"Lhiannon? You're real? I have wanted you so badly! Are you really here?\" As the priestess slid down from her pony Boudica ran forward, hugging her in a tumult of mingled laughter and tears.\n\n\"You've lost none of your strength, at any rate,\" Lhiannon said when Boudica released her at last. \"And you are blooming. But what are you doing here? They told me I had some days of travel yet to reach Prasutagos's dun. I only took this path to see if I might find a meal at the farm.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I am sure that Palos and Shanda would make you welcome, but there's no need to trouble them when my home is just up the hill!\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "exclaimed Boudica. \"The farm is busy with preparations for Beltane, but we can slaughter one of the lambs early fora feast of welcome! Follow me!\"\n\nAs they walked perhaps she could find the words to tell Lhiannon all that had happened to her since they parted at Camulodunon. The gods knew she had rehearsed the story often enough during those sleepless nights when she longed for the other woman to come.\n\nbelieve you,\"said Lhiannon.\" When the need is great there is power in such a cry. This time I heard you calling, I think, because I was on the Tor. I am only sorry...\" She sighed, tugging on therein by which she was leading the pony as it tried fora particularly juicy clump of new grass.\n\n\"That you did not hear me when I was birthing my son?\" said\n\nBoudica. \"I do not blame you now. Even the greatest of priestesses could not have instantly transported herself all the way across Britannia.\"\n\nIn the pastures to either side ewes were taking advantage of the abundance, surrounded by the leaping lambs that had given the farm its name. It seemed to Lhiannon that the fertility of the land and its animals was a good omen for Boudica's pregnancy. Now she understood the young woman's tragic radiance, but it was not yet clear what she should do. A great deal, she thought, depended on whether the king was a violent manor had simply mishandled his young mare.\n\n\"How long have you been on the road?\"\n\nLhiannon frowned. \"I left soon after the equinox, when the moon was just past the full, and now she is nearly round once more. It was hard going until I struck the old track near Carn Ava, and then I made good progress, except when a Roman detachment crossed my path.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Were you in danger?\"\n\n\"Our people are not yet so cowed that they do not honor my Order, and there was always some house where I could find shelter in exchange fora blessing or a spell.\" Indeed, the journey had reminded her why she was a priestess. As she had told Rianor, the Druids deserved the honor folk gave them because they served. And clearly, she was badly needed here.\n\nThe way Boudica was leading them passed through a wood and along the edge of afield. As the sun sank westward its slanting rays filled each leaf and blade of grass with light. It was peaceful here, a good place to seek healing. For both of them, it occurred to her then.\n\nAs they reached the hilltop the peace was split by the sound of barking. Lhiannon hung onto the pony's reins as a creature the size of a young calf burst from the gate in the wicker fence that surrounded the farmstead and came bounding toward them.\n\n\"Bogle! Down!\" Boudica caught the animal in midleap and wrestled him to the ground as he strained to reach the priestess.\n\n\"What in the name of An-Dubnion is that?\"\n\n\"He's my puppy.\" Fora moment Boudica's grin reminded her of the girl she had known. \"Down, Bogle, be polite! She's a friend!\"\n\nIt must be a dog, thought Lhiannon as the animal licked her hand, though it was of no breed she had ever seen. Wiry waves of creamy hair covered a lean, long-legged form with a dangerously whipping plumed tail. But the head above the powerful shoulders was broad, with a russet nose and one flopping white ear and one red ear." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Impressive,\" said Lhiannon in a neutral tone as the dog gave her a last slurp and bounded off to announce their arrival.\n\n\"I think the Goddess sent him to save my reason,\" Boudica replied.\n\nFOURTEEN\n\nhiannon watched Boudica carefully as Beltane month passed and the year began to ripen into June. It was a relief when the weather held fair through July-even without rain, for both of them that month held evil memories. And not for them only, she realized when one morning Bogle's barking announced the arrival of King Prasutagos and his men.\n\nHe had come by only twice since the visit in January of which Boudica had told her, and stayed only so long as it took to water his horses and assure himself that his wife was well. Surely that was no surprise, if the encounter had been as been as-intense-as Boudica had said. But Lhiannon knew very well that her relationship with Ardanos had hardly prepared her to judge a marriage. She was glad of the chance to see for herself what manner of man Boudica's clan had married her to.\n\n\"My lady, I salute you,\" Prasutagos said as Lhiannon emerged from the roundhouse to greet him. Fora moment his gaze rested on the doorway, but when it remained empty he turned back to her with a smile. He did not seem surprised to see her, but then word of her arrival would have spread quickly through the countryside. \"We are glad to offer you a refuge here.\"\n\nClearly, thought Lhiannon, he did not yet realize just why the priestess had come. She knew by the increased tension in his shoulders when Boudica appeared, bearing the welcoming horn of ale. She was wearing a linen tunica pinned at the shoulders, and she had tied the belt tightly beneath her breasts so that the new rounding of her belly was clear. Fora moment Prasutagos's face was utterly blank. Lhiannon waited for what would come next-joy, or anger? Instead what she saw was fear." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The blessing of the gods be upon you, my husband,\" Boudica said evenly.\n\nPrasutagos nodded as he took the horn. But he drank and handed it back to her without saying a word.\n\nThe king's silence was covered by the noise made by the other men as they saw to the horses and sat down to the meal the women brought out to them, for on such a fine summer day it would have been a pity to huddle inside. They had set logs for seats around the firepit, where a cauldron hung above a small flame. Prasutagos sat on a carved stool that had been a wedding present, with Boudica opposite him on the other side of the fire. Lhiannon was glad to be outdoors, where there was light enough for her to continue to observe them both, for she was still not certain just what was going on.\n\nWhatever it was, the past months had been hard on him as well. The prince she had met on Mona had been quiet, but forthcoming enough when speech was needed. The king she had seen at Camulodunon had been so contained he might as well have sent a stone image. If he had married in the same mood, Lhiannon was not surprised Boudica had reacted badly. She had always been a forthright girl. But what the priestess saw in him now went deeper. This was not quiet, it was constriction, as if his silence were a barrier to hold back emotions he did not dare reveal. She could seethe tension in the way he held his head, in the abrupt way he moved, and she could seethe pain in his eyes when he looked at Boudica.\n\nAfter the meal, Prasutagos went round the farm with old Kitto, who managed the work for Boudica. Most of his men remained where they could tease little Temella and exchange mock insults with Nessa, but presently Bituitos strode across the yard and came to attention before her, obviously searching for words." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Is there someway I can help you?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lhiannon took pity on him.\n\n\"Lady,\" said Bituitos, \"it is clear that the queen has great regard for you. Can you speak to heron behalf of my lord? He does not complain, but we know that he is suffering. Another man might have dragged her home by her hair, but he will do nothing, say nothing, until she gives the word.\"\n\nLhiannon nodded. \"Has he always been so silent?\"\n\nBituitos frowned. \"Compared to his brothers he was always the quiet one. But not like this, no. He lost his joy when his first wife died with the child. And then to lose all his brothers-it was hard.\"\n\n\"I would have expected shared sorrow to bring them together after their son died,\" said Lhiannon.\n\n\"I think grief drove them apart,\" muttered the warrior.\n\nShe considered him fora moment in silence. It was worth something to know that the king was a man whom his sworn warriors served not only from duty, but from love.\n\n\"I am sorry...\" she said presently. \"I know that you would shed your blood to protect him. But you cannot ward him from the wounds he gives himself. Nor can I so shield the queen. Perhaps things will improve between them when this child is born.\"\n\n\"May the gods grant it is so. I think it will kill him if things go wrong again,\" Bituitos said in a low voice. \"I saw his face when he thought she was dying like the other one.\"\n\nHe straightened, and Lhiannon realized that Prasutagos was coming through the gate, still talking to the old man. His face was quite different when he laughed. But as his men began to ready the horses he came to Lhiannon and his features became impassive once more." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Priestess, I am glad that you are here. I would never force Boudica back to Eponadunon, but I have feared for her, with no one near who had the authority to rule her and the household if she should take harm. Send tome if there is anything she needs.\"\n\nLhiannon might have thought those words only the speech of duty if she had not spoken with his man; if she had not seen how Prasutagos looked when he smiled. As it was, she nodded. But he was no longer looking at her. Boudica had come out once more, with the parting cup in her hands.\n\n\"A safe journey to you, my lord,\" she said clearly.\n\n\"The blessing of the Great Mother be on you, my lady,\" he answered in a low voice, and in a whisper, \"and on the child...\"\n\nWhen they had gone, the farmstead seemed very silent, and colorless, as if some of the life had gone out of the world. Or perhaps it was only Boudica who seemed suddenly pale.\n\nThat evening the queen sought her bed early, but around midnight, Lhiannon woke and heard her weeping. Quietly she parted the curtains and knelt beside the bedstead.\n\n\"Hush, my dear one, how is it with you? Are you in pain?\"\n\nBoudica stilled, hiccupped, and turned over. \"Only in my heart,\" she whispered. \"And I should be used to that by now.\"\n\nCarefully Lhiannon lay down and put an arm around her, drawing her in so that Boudica could rest against her shoulder.\n\n\"It will be all right... It will be well, my darling.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Some of the tension left Boudica's body in along sigh. \"I was so happy when I was with child before. But this time when I quickened, I was afraid. What if I lose this one, too?\"\n\nIt was what Prasutagos had feared as well. Lhiannon stroked the hair that curled with such vigor from Boudica's brow. \"Your husband...\" she began, but Boudica jerked away.\n\n\"He came to inspect his mare. Perhaps he'll leave me alone now that he knows I'm breeding again.\"\n\nThe opposite was more likely, thought Lhiannon, but clearly this was no time to say so. \"Never mind, then. I will take care of you.\"\n\nBoudica sighed and settled down beside her. Lhiannon's heart ached with pity for her, and for her husband as well, but it was strangely sweet to hold that strong young body, beginning to ripen now in pregnancy.\n\nAnd I will love you, silently she swore, and in Brigantia's name I will stand between you and whatsoever may threaten your life or that of your child!\n\ntwas a golden summer. As the grain ripened in the fields, Boudica felt her own body swell and bloom. And as one month followed the next without incident, her fears began to ease. She could feel Lhiannon's love like a protective shield around her. She blessed the fields as her men brought in the harvest, living model for the image of the Corn Mother they twined from the last sheaves in the field. And as the ninth month of her pregnancy began, she realized that she was looking forward to the birth with joy.\n\nShe was crossing the yard with a basket of scraps for the chickens-the heaviest burden they would allow her to bear-when she felt the familiar ache in her lower back begin. She stopped, biting her lip-she had had such pains before and had all the household in a panic around her, only to have them cease. Lhiannon said it was the womb's way of getting ready, practicing like a warrior for the battle to come. They would make her lie down if they knew this was happening, and the compulsion that was on her now was to walk. Not far-she knew better-but if she stayed within earshot she could circle the farmstead. She finished feeding the chickens and went out through the gate into the field." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Boudica had made three circuits, pausing from time to time to let a pain pass, when she realized that Lhiannon was walking beside her.\n\n\"Has it begun?\" asked the priestess.\n\nBoudica nodded, panting a little as another contraction rolled through her belly. \"Please, don't make me go inside...\"\n\n\"I may not have borne a babe, but I have helped at many births,\" Lhiannon replied tartly. \"Lean on my shoulder if you need to, and walk until you tire.\"\n\nThat did help, but when the time came that Boudica could not take two steps without doubling over, she let them lead her within. As Nessa helped her to disrobe, she turned to Lhiannon.\n\n\"Send... for my husband. He should be here... to see what he... has done.\"\n\n\"He's just down at the Horse Shrine,\" said Temella eagerly. \"He has been staying with Palos and Shanda at the farm.\"\n\n\"Damn him!\" she whispered. \"Spying on me!\" Then that mighty grip tightened around her belly and she had no breath to say more.\n\nWhen she bore her son, the pains had been sharp, but she recognized now that they had not lasted long. This labor went on and on. Awareness came and went with the pangs. During one respite she heard Prasutagos's voice and called his name. When the next contraction had passed he was sitting beside her. In the flickering light of the Roman lamp that hung from the crossbeam she could see his face, unmoving as the image of a god.\n\n\"You did this tome! You, with your face like stone! Don't you care?\" She realized that she was babbling and could not cease, nor could she control the words. She flailed and he gripped her hands. She hung on, panting, and as the pain passed, began to curse him once more. She was vaguely aware of Lhiannon and the others, coming and going in the room, but Prasutagos was the rock to which she clung." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Why didn't you come? I was cold and it hurt and you didn't come...\" she whispered in a moment of respite, and saw him close his eyes in pain. But when he looked at her again he had regained his calm.\n\n\"I am here...\" he said quietly. \"Boudica, I am here.\"\n\n\"Yes...\" she said in wonder. \"Stay with me...\" Then she gasped. It still hurt, but this was different. She struggled to sit up.\n\n\"It's time,\" said Nessa, who had seen even more babies come into the world than Lhiannon. But it was the priestess who got into the bed behind her, bracing her back as Prasutagos hauled on her hands.\n\nBoudica grunted, and suddenly mind and body were partnered once more. Again and again she pushed; she was being cleft in two, but it didn't matter. With a scream that was a battle cry, she drove toward her goal. And the child, red-haired, bloody, and already squalling, slid into Nessa's waiting hands.\n\nFora time, the relief was so great that Boudica scarcely cared what happened, as long as she could still hear the baby's lusty cries. But by the time the women had washed and dressed her and changed the bedding, the yells had been replaced by a lullabye.\n\nAs she focused, she realized that it was Prasutagos who was singing, sitting beside her with the sleeping baby in his arms. His hands looked scraped and bruised, and there were dark circles beneath his eyes. At least, she thought resentfully, he had suffered, too.\n\n\"I would like to name her Rigana,\" he said thoughtfully. \"She looks as my mother did when she was old.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Who did you expect her to look like, Pollio?\"\n\n\"I thought it was possible,\" he kept his eyes fixed on the baby. \"I would not blame you.\"\n\n\"Would you not?\" she snapped back at him. \"That was not what you said the night she was conceived. But the child is yours,\" she added, \"if you care...\"\n\nColor washed up from his neck to his forehead and then receded again. He looked down at the child.\n\n\"How strange that such a miracle should be the fruit of my madness. But perhaps that is why this one is a fighter...\" His voice sank to a whisper, \"and she will live...\"\n\n\"And have you nothing to say tome?\" Are you sorry? Her inner voice continued. She wondered that he could not hear.\n\n\"I am sorry... for many things. I never told you...\" He closed his eyes, and she suddenly felt she knew what he was going to say. \"I was afraid. You know I had a wife who died... giving birth to my child. When I saw that you were bearing I armored my heart lest I be hurt again.\"\n\n\"And then the baby died.\" Boudica said flatly. She could not yet forgive, but she was beginning to understand. But I have been hurt, too, and I am not yet ready to put down my shield.\n\n\"Silence becomes a habit,\" he said then. \"But I will try.\"\n\nhortling in triumph, Rigana fixed her chubby fingers in Bogle's fur and pulled herself upright, watched narrowly by Nessa, who was still not quite convinced that the big dog would not turn and eviscerate the child. Only last year Bogle had still been half a puppy himself, but once the baby arrived he seemed to have decided that she was an extension of Boudica, and therefore entitled to boundless patience. As soon as her infant fingers were able to grasp they had closed on Bogle's fur. He had become something to climb on as soon as she could crawl. And now that she was on the verge of walking, the dog was a portable support, with bared teeth to discourage any stranger who came too near." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And today there were many, thought Lhiannon, twisting more wool around her distaff and continuing to spin. Beyond the fence the stubbled field had sprouted anew crop of tents and shelters as the Northern Iceni clans arrived for the autumn council and horse fair. The Romans complained that the Britons were without civilization because they had no cities, but she realized now that these gatherings were the Celtic equivalent, manifesting when and where they were required. Here were traders selling cloth and jewelry and leather shoes, and vessels of copper and Roman glass. Blacksmiths and woodworkers plied their trade. Cattle for meat and milk grazed with the horses that were the reason they had all come.\n\nIt was the first time the clan council had been held here. Since Rig-ana was born Prasutagos had lived at the farm by the Horse Shrine. Not even for the council would he return to Eponadunon while his wife and child were here. They saw him often, and although Boudica had not yet invited him to share her bed, she was still nursing the child, so no one really expected it. They sat together now, listening to the messenger from King Antedios at Dun Garo.\n\n\"It is certain, then, that Governor Plautius will be returning to Rome?\" asked the king.\n\n\"His term is finished, and they do not like to leave men in place too long, lest they begin to think the land belongs to them and not to the Empire.\"\n\n\"This sun is too bright for my old head,\" said Nessa. \"My lady, shall I take the babe inside?\" Rigana and her canine servitor had maneuvered themselves halfway across the yard. The child was sitting between his paws, gathering the energy for another attempt to master the balance that enabled the adults to get around so easily." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"She is well enough where she is,\" said the queen. \"We are hereto watch her. You should go into the shade.\"\n\n\"Hmph,\" muttered the old woman as she turned toward the roundhouse. \"You named that child after a queen and she is growing up to think she is one. She must learn she can't always do as she wills, or mark my words, you'll have trouble one day!\"\n\nThat might be so, reflected Lhiannon as the thread spun out between her skillful fingers, but as Nessa prophesied disaster of one sort or another daily, her words were rarely marked at all.\n\n\"Who comes after him?\" asked Boudica.\n\n\"A man called Publius Ostorius Scapuola is being sent, but he cannot arrive much before winter, and that is no time to be starting a campaign, so we may have peace fora while...\"\n\n\"Here, certainly,\" Prasutagos sighed. \"We have paid enough to make them leave us alone...\"\n\nIndeed, the day was too beautiful to think about war. The heavens always seemed wider upon the shoulders of the chalk hills, an expanse of blue crossed by a few wisps of cloud, as if some of the wool had escaped from her basket into the sky. From beyond the hedge came a thunder of hoofbeats as some of the younger men practiced for the races that would beheld the next day. Yesterday they had raced with chariots. Lhiannon had not been there-her memories of the last charge of the Trinovante chariots still held too much pain. She supposed she ought to have watched. The Britons were the only people who still used chariots, and who knew when anyone would see such a spectacle again.\n\nSomeone shouted, and the hoofbeats grew abruptly louder. Spindle and distaff flew from Lhiannon's hands as a hysterical horse plunged through the gateway. The animal half-reared as its rider fought for control, sharp hooves striking apace from the child. The adults were out of their seats and running as the dog leaped for the horse." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The rider went flying into the fence and the horse went down, screaming. Blood splattered as sharp teeth ripped at its throat. Prasuta-gos scooped up his daughter and passed her to Lhiannon, who ran for the house. Boudica, seeing her child safe, turned to the dog, which was snarling horribly as he tried to reach the jugular.\n\n\"Bogle! Leave it! She's safe, lad. Leave it now!\"\n\nLhiannon, hovering in the doorway with Rigana in her arms, lifted an eyebrow. This was no spindle to be rescued from a puppy's jaws. Could even Boudica's voice penetrate the fury that ruled the animal now? Bogle's leap had been amazing. For him to release his grip and stand trembling, jaws streaming red as Boudica called him again, was a miracle.\n\nMurmuring softly, Boudica waited until the madness left his eyes. Then she got a grip on his collar and led him slowly pasta gathering crowd to the horse trough, where she filled his water bowl. The water turned red when he thrust his muzzle in. She filled it again and emptied it over his head, then let him drink until he shook the water from his fur and ambled off toward the roundhouse as if wondering why everyone was fussing.\n\nPrasutagos was speaking to the rider, who had picked himself up and was sputtering excuses to anyone who would listen. The king's voice was low and controlled as always, but Lhiannon had never heard that vibration of fury in it before. The rider slunk off, and Pra-sutagos knelt by the horse, which lay twitching and bleeding on the ground.\n\nAshe laid a hand on the soft muzzle the horse convulsed; a swinging forehoof knocked the king across the yard. Eoc ran toward him. After a few moments he stirred, waving the man away, and moving very carefully, approached the horse once more, this time from behind. The dog had not severed the great artery, but the animal's neck was too torn to repair. Steel flickered as someone handed a knife to the king." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"So, so... my beauty,\" he murmured, kneeling stiffly as Eoc watched with worried eyes. \"\"Twas not your fault, even so. Go now to Epona to run in her green fields, where no fool of a rider will do you wrong. Sleep, now, my hero.\" He laid one hand across the horse's eyes and the beast stilled. The blade struck once, deep beneath the jaw, and then across. The king leaned back as the horse jerked, blood pouring out in a crimson stream, and then subsided into immobility.\n\nBy this time Rigana's yells had dwindled into an occasional sniffle. Lhiannon handed her to Boudica and started forward as Eoc putout a hand to help Prasutagos stand.\n\nThe king took a step, bit his lip, tried to straighten, and stopped, breathing carefully.\n\n\"Come here,\" said Lhiannon.\n\n\"I'm all right,\" he muttered, not meeting her eye.\n\n\"Of course you are,\" the priestess said genially. \"Now come here so I can see.\" She put a touch of the priestess voice into it, and Prasutagos looked up in surprise. She could see him considering, then, with a sigh, he turned toward her.\n\n\"Shall I help him into the house?\" asked Eoc.\n\nLhiannon shook her head. \"Bring a blanket out here and lay him down. I will need light.\"\n\nBy the time they had pulled off his tunic and gotten the king on his back on the blanket he was pale and sweating. A fine golden stubble glistened on his chin. Boudica hovered indecisively, Rigana in her arms. On the left side, the skin above the king's lower ribs showed the red mark of a hoof. The flesh around it was already discolored and swelling. He would have a most colorful bruise there before too long." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Closing her eyes, Lhiannon held her palm above the area to identify the point where the energy body was most disturbed. Then, using eyes and fingertips, she began to probe along the ribs.\n\nAfter a moment she sat back and frowned. \"You area warrior, my lord, and by definition brave. But I can learn little if you insist on hiding your pain. Where does it hurt most? There?\" she poked gently. \"There?\" She nodded as he yelped. \"Yes, I thought so... You have a broken rib or two, and are lucky your ribs were thereto ward what lies within. We will bind them, but you should not be riding horses fora moon or so. Temella-\" she turned to the girl, \"-I'll need my healer's bag, and you should start water boiling for willow bark tea.\"\n\nBy the time Lhiannon had finished strapping Prasutagos's ribs, he was pale once more. Most of the onlookers, seeing that the excitement was over, had drifted away.\n\n\"Thank you,\" he whispered as Eoc helped him to rise. \"You have good hands.\"\n\n\"The way you calmed that poor horse was remarkable,\" she replied. \"If you talked to your wife half as much as you talk to your horses, many things would have been different these past two years.\" His twitch at that was not from physical pain. It was not quite fair to speak so when he lacked the breath to reply, but she had earned the right. It would give him something to think about as he waited for his ribs to heal.\n\nAnd Lhiannon, too, had something to consider. The messenger from Dun Garo had said that Caratac was in the Ordovice lands with his wife's kin, preparing to take advantage of the governor's absence to punish the Dobunni and Cornovii who had allied with Rome." }, { "from": "human", "value": "She had thought the cause for which she and Ardanos had endured so much was dead." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Did she betray his memory by staying herein safety with those whom Caratac would call traitors? She was useful here, but it was work that any village wisewoman could do. Should she return to Mona, or go to Caratac and take up the fight once more?\n\nFIFTEEN\n\no you think the king will be home soon?\" asked Temella.\n\nBoudica slapped the weaving sword down between the warp threads and swore as the weft thread wound around the shuttle broke. It would do no good to scream at the girl for asking. In truth, Boudica herself was not sure why the question annoyed her. She ought to have been glad that Prasutagos was still with Antedios the High King at Dun Garo. To have him so very much underfoot this last winter while his broken ribs were healing had driven her half crazy, though she had tried to hide it for the sake of the child.\n\nIt had not helped that where the king was, there came the messengers, and disturbing news continued to trickle in. The new governor had apparently never heard that winter operations were impossible, and attacked with such vigor that Caratac was forced to retreat northward into the inaccessible mountains that held the Ordovice strongholds. That should have been the end of it, but just after the feast of Brigantia a rider came galloping from Dun Garo, calling Prasutagos to an emergency council of the tribe.\n\nAnd now a moon had passed. If there had been an accident surely Eoc or Bituitos would have come to tell them. What could the council have to discuss that would take so long? And why did she grow more uneasy with each day her husband was gone? Boudica sighed and began to separate the broken ends of the yarn so that she could spit-splice them together again. It would be a little lumpy, but the weaving could goon." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She was to remember that observation in the days after Prasutagos came home.\n\nWhen Bogle's barking brought them all out to greet the returning riders she thought at first that the king must have suffered some wound. Even when his ribs were at their worst he had not looked so gray and grim. Nessa brought him a horn of mead, and poured him another after he drank the first one down. But it was Bituitos who had to tell them the news.\n\n\"The Romans have taken our land, our grain, and our gold. Now they are taking our swords!\" He saw the confusion in their faces and laughed without humor. \"They want us to disarm. This governor fears that if we have weapons we will join Caratac. He has ordered everyone on this side of the border they call the limes to give up all weapons of war-the conquered tribes and the allied tribes as well.\"\n\n\"They can't,\" exclaimed Boudica. \"We have a treaty. How can we be their allies if we cannot fight at need?\"\n\n\"They can...\" Prasutagos spoke at last. \"Cohorts are already going through the Trinovante steadings, commanding men to bring out their weapons, and if they are not convinced by what is put on the pile they tear up the thatching and stab their spears into the stored grain. They will be here before the Turning of Spring.\"\n\n\"The soldiers who are building the fort have conscripted the local farmers as laborers to build their walls. Some of the Trinovantes are already planning rebellion. Many of our southern chieftains and princes want to join them,\" Eoc said fiercely. \"Some are banding together in a secret group to plan resistance-they call it the Society of Ravens.\"\n\nBoudica shivered, remembering how the Lady of Ravens had spoken though her long ago. If they wanted her as their patroness, they must be desperate indeed." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Are we going to fight?\" Temella's eyes had grown very round.\n\nThe king looked at her and tried to smile. \"Whether to resistor comply is what we were discussing for so long...\"\n\n\"You cannot give up your father's sword,\" Boudica exclaimed. The sword that had comedown to Boudica's father had been lost with her oldest brother at the Tamesa. With it not only his son, but the symbol of his family's honor, had gone.\n\n\"No... but I see no hope infighting Rome. We will have to give them enough to be convincing, but we will save the weapons that have been blessed by the gods.\"\n\n\"You will give in?\" cried Lhiannon. \"Don't you see that this is our chance to take back what we have lost?\"\n\nBoudica stared at her. They had lived herein peace for sol ong-these days Lhiannon no longer even wore blue. She had assumed that like the rest of them the priestess had become resigned to living under the yoke of Rome. But even now, Lhiannon would sometimes wake screaming from nightmares of the war in the south.\n\n\"This Roman pig is right to fear! While Caratac hits them in the west, the south and east may rise. Only when something that outrages all our people equally happens will they forget old enmities! If we had been able to get all our people fighting on the same side we would not have lost four years ago.\"\n\nLhiannon's eyes were white-rimmed, her fair hair stood on end. This was not the beloved friend but some avenging spirit that stood shrieking above the fire. The blood pulsed in Boudica's ears.\n\n\"I fear to imagine what further disaster would be required to arouse our spirit if we let this opportunity pass us by,\" Lhiannon added. \"And if that should come to pass, what could we do? We will have no weapons to fight with, no young warriors trained to the use of arms! There will be blood! I see blood and ruin if you do not seize this chance!\"" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Carry on with the narrative as the plot partner.\nTags: fantasy, historical fantasy, druids\nAuthor: Marion Zimmer Bradley, Diana L. Paxson\nTitle: Ravens of Avalon\nChapter: 2" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Are we going to fight?\" Temella's eyes had grown very round.\n\nThe king looked at her and tried to smile. \"Whether to resistor comply is what we were discussing for so long...\"\n\n\"You cannot give up your father's sword,\" Boudica exclaimed. The sword that had comedown to Boudica's father had been lost with her oldest brother at the Tamesa. With it not only his son, but the symbol of his family's honor, had gone.\n\n\"No... but I see no hope infighting Rome. We will have to give them enough to be convincing, but we will save the weapons that have been blessed by the gods.\"\n\n\"You will give in?\" cried Lhiannon. \"Don't you see that this is our chance to take back what we have lost?\"\n\nBoudica stared at her. They had lived herein peace for sol ong-these days Lhiannon no longer even wore blue. She had assumed that like the rest of them the priestess had become resigned to living under the yoke of Rome. But even now, Lhiannon would sometimes wake screaming from nightmares of the war in the south.\n\n\"This Roman pig is right to fear! While Caratac hits them in the west, the south and east may rise. Only when something that outrages all our people equally happens will they forget old enmities! If we had been able to get all our people fighting on the same side we would not have lost four years ago.\"\n\nLhiannon's eyes were white-rimmed, her fair hair stood on end. This was not the beloved friend but some avenging spirit that stood shrieking above the fire. The blood pulsed in Boudica's ears.\n\n\"I fear to imagine what further disaster would be required to arouse our spirit if we let this opportunity pass us by,\" Lhiannon added. \"And if that should come to pass, what could we do? We will have no weapons to fight with, no young warriors trained to the use of arms! There will be blood! I see blood and ruin if you do not seize this chance!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Boudica's gut clenched as she realized that this was not the mask of the invoking priestess, but the Oracle prophesying doom. She had forgotten Lhiannon's training. Perhaps the priestess had forgotten it herself.\n\n\"What does the High King say?\" she asked.\n\nPrasutagos shook his head. \"Antedios is an old man, and ill. We have no war leader to match Caratac. The king is without a son, and your father, who is his tanist, is also old. The High King has ordered that we comply.\"\n\n\"You are not old,\" growled Lhiannon.\n\n\"Would you have me rebel against my king and the Romans, too? We would be as divided as the southern clans.\"\n\n\"Shall I summon Caratac hereto lead you?\" she spat. \"You are all old women, and you will be sorry you did not heed my words!\" She stalked out the door.\n\nBoudica stifled a burst of hysterical laughter at the image of Caratac manifesting hereby the fire. Lhiannon could probably do it, given the mood she was in just now. Boudica could almost hear the fiery speeches and the fury of the mob's reply.\n\n\"Perhaps...\" murmured Prasutagos, \"but I am a king for peace, and what is needed now is a leader of war...\"\n\ncannot stay here... thought Lhiannon.\n\nShe sat by the cauldron in the roundhouse, a veil bound across the betraying sigil on her forehead and a shawl around her shoulders, stirring the soup in the cauldron that hung above the fire. The first of the spring greens had gone into it-tender new nettles and dandelion to eke out the salted beef from their dwindling stores. But it was still winter in her soul." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She could hear the tramp of hobnailed sandals and men's deep voices outside, and the clatter of steel and bronze as swords and shields and spearheads were cast upon the pile.\n\nI came hereto getaway from warfare, but this is not peace, it is death...\n\nBoudica sat across from her, nursing the child. Rigana was mostly weaned, but when she was anxious she still sought her mother's breast. They winced at each clash of metal, but Lhiannon's slow fury boiled beneath a layer of ice. Prasutagos had no choice but to watch the confiscations, if only to control the fury of his men. She hoped that each sword struck him to the heart as it fell.\n\nShe started as the heavy hide that hung across the doorway was pulled aside. Light shafted across the center of the roundhouse as the Roman agent Pollio came in, backed by a legionary in a cuirass of overlapping plates like a centipede who held around helmet with a flared neck-guard under his arm.\n\n\"I beg pardon, ladies,\" he said in surprisingly good British, \"but my orders require me to search the house as well-\"\n\nBoudica rose to her feet, the sleeping child still in her arms. \"I understand,\" she said sweetly, but there was a dangerous glitter in her eyes. It was just as well they had tied Bogle securely by the horse pen. He was as dangerous as any steel, if the Romans had only known.\n\nPollio gestured, and the soldier moved hesitantly around the hearth, lifting covers and looking under chests. Lhiannon continued to stir the stew, drawing anonymity around her like a veil.\n\nWhen he touched the curtains around the bed-place, Boudica stiffened. \"Don't forget the mattress! We Celts are such hardy barbarians, we sleep on spears. And why confine yourselves to the furniture,\" she added. \"Search herein my bosom! I might be hiding a dagger.\" She pulled down the front of her wrap, still unpinned from nursing, to bare a white breast. The soldier gaped and turned his back, and Pollio colored up to his hairline. \"Or perhaps you would like to look in my baby's clouts to see if we have concealed a spearhead inside!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No, my lady, I know that you and your husband are friends to Rome,\" said Pollio. He muttered something to the soldier, who turned, looking relieved.\n\nHe would have seen nothing in the bed, thought Lhiannon. Were they really so naive as to think weapons would be hidden where they could so easily be found? The legionary would not discover Prasuta-gos's sword unless he could handle coals as she had learned to do on Mona. They had wrapped the heirloom weapons in oiled leather and buried them deep beneath the hearth. Let the goddess who guarded the family fire keep them until the time came to use them once more.\n\nAnd that day will come. As Pollio and his minion retreated Lhiannon glared at their backs. Those swords will drink Roman blood as now we drink Roman wine...\n\nShe had believed she was done with war. She had thought herself cutoff from prophecy. Awareness of both stirred in her now.\n\nI have stayed here too long...\n\nhe strangers came limping up the track just as the sun was rising. By the time they reached the gate, Bogle's flurry of barking had awakened the entire steading. Boudica pulled a shawl over her shift and stumbled sleepily to the door, gripping the dog's collar. At her word, his barking modulated to a subliminal growl.\n\nThere were three of them, with young bodies and faces prematurely old. One had his arm in a sling. Another had a stained cloth around his head. Together they were supporting the third, whose leg bore bloody bandages from ankle to thigh.\n\n\"Lhiannon,\" she said over her shoulder, \"come quickly. We have wounded men.\"\n\n\"Lady...\" said the one with the hurt arm, \"of your mercy, do you have any food, and is there a hidden place we could lie? We would not bring trouble upon you-with sunset we will be on our way-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"That you will not!\" exclaimed Boudica. \"You are no more fit to travel than my little girl. Come into the house-none here would betray you, but there's no telling who maybe about-you are not the first refugees to come this way.\" Since the order to disarm had been announced some had chosen to leave their homes rather than give in.\n\nBut these were not merely refugees fleeing a Roman advance, she thought with a sinking heart as she helped them inside. These men had seen battle, and that not long ago.\n\nThe man with the broken arm was called Mandos. He came from a small farm not far from the dun where Boudica had been born. Of his companions, the one with the knock on the head was Trinovante and the man with the wounded leg from near the coast somewhere. They had not known each other before the battle, he said. They had ended up hiding in the same thicket and had been together since then.\n\nBy the time the three were fed and washed, Prasutagos had arrived. Lhiannon was tending the man with the wounded leg, who was fevered, but the others seemed recovered enough to tell their story.\n\n\"I am glad you are here, sir,\" said Mandos. \"The gods know what stories are going around. I know you did not think we could win, and perhaps you were right...\" With the grime washed off, he looked barely eighteen, two years older than Boudica's younger brother, whom she prayed her father had kept out of the rebellion.\n\n\"Perhaps,\" said Prasutagos quietly. \"But it maybe that you were right to try. What happened?\"\n\n\"It should have worked!\" his companion put in. \"Our war leader was a man of the fens who knew the way to an old earthwork on a islet of raised land there. He figured we could lead the Romans there, where the ground would be no good for their cavalry, and wear them out as they attacked us.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Mandos nodded agreement." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"But the Roman commander was a fox, too. He dismounted his men and they rushed us. The ramparts turned into a trap once the Romans were inside. We were trampling over each other, trying to get out. Some of the local people had taken refuge with us. There were old men... children... they slaughtered them all. That was four days ago.\" He took another drink of nettle broth. \"We could only travel at night. By day the Roman patrols were hunting those who got away.\"\n\n\"You are safe here,\" said the king. \"We will find households where you can stay.\"\n\nMandos shook his head, his young face grim beyond its years. \"I thank you, lord. Our friend with the bad leg must certainly bide. But this Trinovante fool and I will goon until we reach a land where we are allowed to wear our swords!\" He caressed the battered blade at his side. \"Perhaps there will be others from the Society of Ravens there.\"\n\nBoudica saw her husband wince, and this time it was she who could find no words.\n\nThree days after the two young warriors had left, the third man died. At sunset they buried him near the Horse Shrine with his cherished sword in his hand. As they were walking back to the farmstead, a horseman came over the hill. He bore no signs of battle, but his face was grim.\n\n\"My lord Prasutagos, you are summoned to Dun Garo.\"\n\n\"Has the king called another council? I thought I had already made my opinion clear!\"\n\n\"My lord, King Antedios is dead. It is the Roman governor who has summoned you and all the surviving chieftains of the Iceni clans.\"\n\n\"I suppose he died of a broken heart,\" said Boudica when the messenger had been sent to Palos's farm for food and rest. She started up the track to Danatobrigos and Prasutagos, who had been silent since he heard the news, followed her. \"Antedios will have known most of those who fell. I probably played with some of them when I was a child.\" Despite Lhiannon's tales of the war in the south, it was hard to imagine that young men who should be riding horses and siring children could so easily die." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Fora few minutes they walked in silence, but in the king's eyes she glimpsed the glitter of tears. \"Well, don't you think so? Say something! Don't you dare turn into a stone again!\"\n\n\"Don't you think my heart is wounded, too?\" Prasutagos burst out suddenly. \"Ever since those young men came through our gate, I've been wondering if I should have joined the rebellion, if it might have gone differently with a few wiser heads to lead them, or at least with a few more swords!\"\n\n\"And it might be you lying dead in the fens if you had gone,\" she responded. \"And then what would we do?\"\n\nHe stopped in the path, his gaze following a scattering of crows as they winged across the fields. \"You got along without me quite well last year and the year before,\" he said softly, still watching the birds. \"I know that you tolerate my presence only for the sake of the child...\"\n\n\"That isn't true!\" Boudica exclaimed, and wondered suddenly when her feelings had changed. Prasutagos stood very still, head bowed, and she did not dare to break his silence. She crossed her arms across her breasts, feeling a little cold.\n\nAfter a few moments, he began to walk again. \"I think that if I had been there,\" he said in a low voice, \"I might have helped them to win the battle, but we would still have lost the war. Caratac was right-the time for the tribes to unite was four years ago, before the Roman eagles had sunk their talons into this land. All we can do now is to make the best accomodation we can.\"\n\nNow he stopped and faced her, a silhouette against the fading sky. \"My lady, do you agree with me?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Boudica looked at him in confusion. Why did it matter what she thought about anything? No doubt Lhiannon would say they should keep fighting, but she still remembered the agony in the face of that poorboy as he died. Wasn't peace, even with attendant inconveniences, better than that waste of men?\n\n\"Yes, my lord, I do.\"\n\n\"I must go down to Dun Garo,\" he said soberly. \"Your father was Antedios's tanist, but he is old. Of the royal kindred I am next in blood, and I think they will try to make me king of the united tribe. The Romans will allow it only if they trust my commitment to them. I don't want this, but it maybe the only way to keep what independence we have.\"\n\nIsolated on the farm, until the order to disarm, Boudica had been able to pretend that it was possible to live without being troubled by Rome. But Prasutagos had not had that luxury.\n\n\"When I leave, will you come with me, Boudica?\"\n\nShe could not see his eyes. She reached out to reassure herself that the words came not from a shadow but from a living man, and felt the hard muscle of his forearm quiver beneath her hand.\n\n\"I will, my husband. I promise you.\"\n\nhiannon untied the roll of bedding and laid it out next to Boudi-ca's. The roundhouse assigned to the queen and her women was barely large enough for them all, and none too clean, but she and Temella had managed to make it habitable. Whoever became High King, they would have to stay at least until Beltane was past.\n\nShe looked up as a shadow fell across the open doorway." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It is you!\" said a voice she ought to know. \"Someone said you had been seen-I can hardly believe it's true!\"\n\nAs Lhiannon got to her feet she recognized Belina, with the same comfortable figure, though there were new strands of gray in her hair.\n\n\"We've counted you lost these three years after Rianor reported that you had disappeared from Avalon,\" said the priestess. \"We set a place for you at Samhain, child. We thought you dead, or gone into Faerie-don't look so surprised-you're not the first to have met the queen of that land.\"\n\n\"I've been serving the queen of this one.\" Lhiannon found her voice at last.\n\nBelina laughed. \"Come out of those shadows and let me see you, darling! Still thin as a wraith-don't they feed you in those fens? But you look healthy, Goddess bless.\"\n\nLhiannon blinked as she emerged into the light. Dun Garo buzzed like a hive as the clans continued to come in. Men were dragging in logs to build the great Beltane fire in the meadow. Tents had sprouted in colorful disarray allover the farther pastures. On the other side of the river a palisade enclosed the neat rows of leather tents that housed the Roman governor and his men, a mute but eloquent reminder that although the clan fathers might elect their new High King, they had better not acclaim anyone not approved by Rome.\n\n\"But you don't need to wear that band across your brow.\" Belina plucked at the scarf Lhiannon had tied to cover the crescent of Avalon. \"Even if they knew what it means, the Roman pigs don't care what women do. And so far, no one has tried to enforce the ban on the Druid Order here.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lhiannon wondered if Belina had always chattered so, or did she need the words to cover her emotion at this unexpected reunion?\n\n\"We should have expected that you would go to Boudica,\" the other woman went on. \"She was always your pet when she was at the school.\"\n\n\"What are you doing here?\" Lhiannon got a word in at last. \"Who else has come? Is Helve-\"\n\n\"Oh no! Surely you don't think our beloved High Priestess would risk herself among the enemy, though she is willing enough to send the rest of us out to foment rebellion here-the other senior priestesses, that is.\"\n\nLhiannon laughed. It sounded as if little had changed. \"Is that what you are here for? You'll have no luck among the Iceni-their teeth are well and truly drawn, and Prasutagos is not a man to risk what he still has,\" she added bitterly. The king had not listened when her arguments might still have done some good. Now they did not speak at all.\n\n\"Does he cling so to power?\" asked Belina.\n\n\"Not to power,\" Lhiannon answered honestly. \"To peace. Boudica would make a better war leader than he would, had shebeen a man.\"\n\nBelina nodded. \"But will she make a queen? There is more to conferring kingship than an election. The transfer of sovereignty is women's business. It is best if the queen can do the rite, but we did not know if Boudica would be able. How much does she remember of what she was taught at the school?\"\n\nLhiannon lowered her eyes. \"We have not discussed it.\"\n\nOf late, Boudica and Prasutagos had seemed easier in one another's company, but she still did not sleep with him, even though the child was weaned. If Boudica did not share his power, could Prasutagos truly reign? Did that matter, now that the true power lay with Rome? And what was left here for Lhiannon, if Boudica did take her place at her husband's side?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What other commands have you brought from Lys Deru?\" she asked.\n\nBelina shrugged. \"From Helve, you mean. Lugovalos is failing, and she gives the orders now. I was told to raise what support I might for Caratac. The governor is sending his legions too close to the north and west for comfort.\"\n\n\"Do they threaten Mona?\" Lhiannon asked in alarm.\n\n\"He knows it is the Druid stronghold,\" answered Belina. \"He knows that Mona has some of the richest land in Britannia, and that with grain or with magic we will support anyone who is willing to fight. He would have to be stupid not to know that while we stand, his hold on Britannia will never be secure.\"\n\n\"The Romans are not stupid,\" Lhiannon said slowly. \"But this is a big island. If we keep worrying at them, they may decide it would be foolish to keep on wasting resources and men...\"\n\n\"You've lost none of your wits.\" Belina gave her an approving hug. \"Whether it is I or Boudica who does the honors, you should leave with me when the inauguration is done.\" Both women looked up as a sudden commotion rose from the direction of the council fire before the High King's hall.\n\n\"After the king-making...\" Lhiannon said slowly, \"I will give you my answer then.\"\n\nPeople were beginning to hurry pastas the noise grew louder.\n\n\"Prasutagos son of the hazel, Prasutagos son of the sun, Prasutagos son of the plow, Prasutagos Ricon, Iceni king!\" came the cry.\n\nSIXTEEN\n\nurn, my lady, and lift your arm-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Boudica complied, controlling a twitch at the feather-touch of the brush with which the old woman was painting a series of spirals along her side. Her breathing was slow and steady. Her pulse throbbed to the vibration beneath her feet, the heartbeat of the Beltane drums.\n\nRays of setting sun filtered through the roughly woven curtains with which they had walled and roofed the women's enclosure, scattering flickers of ruddy light across the grass. The mask of the White Mare hung from the center post, waiting to play its role in her transformation. Through the cloth walls the noise of the festival came oddly muted, as if this space were separated from the world.\n\nAs I am from my former self... she thought slowly. Waiting to learn what I will be... To endure the tedium of the body painting she had drawn on the disciplines she had learned at Mona; she sat as motionless as the image into which the painting was transforming her. Her naked back and belly already bore the running figures of the Hare and the Boar, the Wolf and the Eagle, Ram and Bull and Bear, with a wealth of horses twining among them, totems that the incoming Celts had inherited from the peoples whom they had conquered.\n\nIn the Earth-ring, Prasutagos would be receiving the blessings of the Druids who had witnessed the oaths of the chieftains. When Romans were present the priests went disguised. As long as they did not bring themselves to the attention of the conquerors, the current policy seemed to be to ignore them.\n\nBut the Horse Queen who blessed the Beltane rites was the priestess of an older magic. The Druids consecrated the king to the tribe. The Goddess linked him to the land on which they lived. Boudica did not yet know if she could submit to so overwhelming an energy. Belina was prepared to step in, but if Boudica failed she suspected it would mean the end of her marriage." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Apart of her mind lay immobilized within her body, its panicked yammerings suppressed by the same discipline that held her limbs. This time, she thought, she could not ride the red mare to freedom. This time, the White Mare would be riding her.\n\n\"All done,\" said the old woman. Slowly she lowered her arm.\n\n\"Comeback, my darling.\" Lhiannon's face appeared before her. \"You can rule your limbs now. Breathe in and out and in and out again. That is right-you are herewith me and soon the ritual will begin. Return!\"\n\nBoudica blinked as sensation rippled through her, aware of the stiff paint on her skin, the women's chatter suddenly loud in her ears. The sun had set; she was surrounded by shadows. She shivered. The king's procession would becoming soon.\n\n\"No!\" Nessa was saying to someone at the entrance. \"You may not see her. This space is forbidden to men, especially you! Go away before I call the warriors to throw you in the midden-for that they will need no swords!\"\n\n\"Who is it?\" Boudica called.\n\n\"No one you need to care about,\" muttered the old woman, sighing as she met Boudica's glare. \"It's that Pollio... he says he must speak with you.\"\n\nHer first annoyance gave way to alarm. \"I'll talk to him,\" she said in a low voice. \"Lhiannon, keep these others out of earshot until I am done.\" She stepped to the curtain.\n\n\"What is it? You must speak quickly,\" she murmured through the cloth.\n\n\"Let me see your face, Boudica,\" came the familiar Atrebate accent." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Goddess, no!\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She flushed with sudden awareness of her naked body. \"In the old days they would have staked you out for the wolves for coming even this close to the women's sanctuary.\"\n\n\"You don't have to do this!\" Pollio's words came in a rush. \"It's known that you refuse your husband your bed-you don't have to let him lie with you now. It will make no difference. Prasutagos is king because Rome supports him, not because of some barbarous ritual.\"\n\n\"What are you talking about?\" Since that day in the snow when he had tried to kiss her she had scarcely seen the man, and never alone. Had he been building up some fantasy in which she loved him all this time?\n\n\"Leave your husband! Come away with me!\" he hissed. \"You area princess of the royal house-I could make you a ruling queen like Cartimandua!\"\n\n\"You are mad!\" she said with conviction. \"And this is sacrilege!\"\n\n\"I love you, Boudica! I know that you are not indifferent tome!\"\n\n\"Indeed not,\" she answered with leashed fury. \"A man who would tempt the wife of anally to betray her marriage can only be despised! Is this the honor they teach in Rome?\"\n\nNo matter that she had been tempted to flee herself-she would never have gone with this pig of a Roman! And in that moment Boudica realized that her ambivalence had disappeared.\n\n\"But my lady-\" His words were cutoff as the golden blare of the carynx horn reverberated through the evening air.\n\n\"They are coming! They will kill you if they find you here. Begone and be damned to you, Roman! This warning is the last word you will have from me!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She heard a rustle of retreating footsteps as the horns called again and stepped back, breathing quickly.\n\n\"What did he want?\" asked Lhiannon.\n\n\"Nothing that matters,\" Boudica muttered, glad that the dim light hid the blush that was warming her cheeks. Lhiannon was the last person to whom she wanted to reveal the shameful proposition the Roman had made.\n\nOutside, drums boomed, commanding attention. The deep voices of the Druids rose and fell, closer and closer, then passing as the king was escorted to his place of honor near the fire. There was more at stake here than a ceremony. If Belina acted as priestess tonight, she would be linked to the king only while the Goddess was present. But for Boudica to take that role would admit Prasutagos as well as Epona into her heart. Boudica felt an anticipatory shiver pebble her skin. Lhiannon brought a white cloak and draped it over her shoulders against the cooling air. The door curtain moved and she saw her mother there.\n\n\"Oh my daughter, you are so beautiful-even more than on your wedding day,\" Anaveistl said with a tremulous smile. \"I just wanted to see you, and now I will begetting back to the house and our darling little girl-\"\n\nBoudica patted the older woman's hand. Upon meeting her granddaughter, Anaveistl had become instantly besotted. Rigana could ask for no more devoted guardian.\n\n\"What is happening now?\" she asked as her mother departed.\n\n\"The king has been seated,\" answered Belina. \"I think it is dark enough now to open the curtain a little. If you sit here, you can see-\"\n\nOne of the Druids knelt to set the fire he had carried from the Earth-ring to the stacked wood in the center; a great shout went up as it burst into flame. The drummers let loose with a thunder of sound as a line of young men came dancing around it, armed with staves." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There should have been more of them, thought Boudica sadly. These were the younger brothers of men who had died at the battle in the fens. But they twirled and struck valiantly. Was Prasutagos thinking the same thing? He looked tired, but his features displayed his usual calm control. As they must, she realized, if he was to rule. Gold rings gleamed from his strong arms, a golden torque circled his neck. They had garbed him in a kilt and cloak in the ancient style. She had never noticed that his legs were as muscular and well shaped as his arms.\n\nWell, when would I have had the chance? she thought with a flush of shame, and something more. A flicker of excitement warmed her at the realization that she was free to look at him all she pleased, and he could not see.\n\nNow some of the girls slipped out of the women's enclosure to join the line of maidens who were tracing sinuous patterns around the fire. They were crowned with hawthorn, and as they grew heated by the dancing, first one and then another undid the pins that held her garment at the shoulders so that it was held up only by her woven belt, leaving white breasts bare.\n\nSomeone brought Boudica a cup of wine; she felt the warmth in her limbs, and in her head a regular pulsing that matched that of the drums.\n\nThe young men returned to circle around the maidens, dancing forward until they almost touched, then whirling away once more. Eyes grew bright and faces flushed with more than the heat of the fire.\n\nPrasutagos was smiling. Did she imagine that the pulse at the base of his throat was beating more quickly, or was that only the throb she felt in her own?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "This festival was not only to honor the new king but to welcome in the summer, and to do all that men might to encourage a bountiful year." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Boudica cast a glance toward Lhiannon, remembering how the older woman had hoped to meet Ardanos at the Beltane fires. Child that she was, she had not understood the message of the drums. Her flesh comprehended it now.\n\nThey thundered in a final flourish; man and maid joined hands and ran laughing into the darkness. Suddenly the circle was still.\n\n\"It is time...\" said Lhiannon very evenly, as if she, too, were fighting for control.\n\n\"It is time indeed-\" Belina turned to Boudica. \"Are you ready, my dear?\"\n\nBoudica could not have found words, but her body was responding for her. She got to her feet. She reached out to take the mask of the White Mare from the priestess' hand. She settled the molded leather over her head, where her hair had been coiled to support it, and Lhian-non reached up to secure the ties. The neck of the mask extended down the back of her head to her shoulders, while the head hid her face, cheekpieces curving down to frame her own while the muzzle projected forward. Real horsehair had been added to form a mane.\n\n\"Now...\" Lhiannon's voice seemed to come from a very longways away. \"Now you area queen...\"\n\nBoudica scarcely noticed the leather's weight. As the mask enclosed her head, she felt a corresponding pressure within her skull that pushed the self she thought her own into some space from which she could only watch in terror and amazement as her body jerked like a young horse fighting therein. How many queens had borne this crown? They were all here, whispering, their voices blending into a single Voice.\n\n\"Is it time to run?\" came the question. \"Is it time to dance?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Tremors ran downward along her spine, out her flailing arms, down strong legs to feet that stamped and struck the earth. She reeled, and soft hands pushed her upright again. The mane tossed as she shook her head, breath exploded from her lungs with a sound that was halfway between a laugh and a neigh. She tried to fight, as she had tried to fight the Mor-rigan. This goddess was both wilder and more benign, but She was just as strong.\n\n\"You already know Me, my daughter, why are you afraid? Don't you remember how you rode the red mare?\"\n\nAnd as Boudica recalled that wild ride through the moonlight, past and present, rider and ridden, became one. When she was a little girl she had begged her father fora pony, and ridden her own galloping legs around the dun until he complied. Her body already knew the motions. Letting the cloak fall from Her shoulders, She swept the curtain aside and paced toward the fire.\n\nA whisper of awe swept around the circle, louder than the flutes and rattles that had finally remembered to play. \"The goddess is with us... Epona has come to us... the goddess comes to the king...\"\n\nThe totems of every clan rippled as muscles slid beneath white skin. She turned, arms extended, embracing them all. Women were weeping, men's eyes shone with a hope that had not been there before. She took Her time, for these people had suffered and had need of Her love. Once, twice, thrice, She paced around the circle, blessing Her tribe, and then at last She came to a halt before the king.\n\nPrasutagos's calm had shattered. On his cheeks shone the silver track of tears, in his eyes an astonished joy. The molded mask bowed before him, lifted with a shake of the mane. A quiver ran through Her body; She twisted, presenting Herself like a mare. But She was also a woman. She turned back to him, offering the firm breasts that had suckled his child, ran Her hands across Boudica's belly, outlining the womb that had received his seed." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Come!\" came the command in a voice that both was and was not Boudica's own." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The king stood, fumbling with the golden clasp of his belt, and let the wrapped kilt fall away. Already his phallus was engorged and rising. Was it the ritual, or was he really more generously endowed than other men? The people shouted out their approval as he stepped toward her. As She was the goddess, he stood before them as the image of the god.\n\n\"Come and serve Me,\" She whispered. Power jolted through them both as he took Her hand.\n\nA path was opening through the crowd before them. Beyond, the plowed field waited to become their bed.\n\nwish that you were not leaving us,\" said Boudica, picking up the traveling cloak that Lhiannon had just shaken out and folding it up again. At Dun Garo the queen and her women had a sun-house for their own activities, builtin a ring whose center was open to the sky. The light was welcome, but the company of so many chattering women grated on Lhiannon's nerves. But there was room hereto pack the many things that the queen had insisted she and Belina must take on their journey.\n\n\"We need you here, Lhiannon. We need your healing and your wisdom,\" Boudica continued.\n\nIf you had said'I need you here, Lhiannon,\" I might stay... she thought sadly.\n\n\"You are no longer alone on a farmstead,\" she said aloud. \"You have healers and wise men and warriors in plenty herein Dun Garo. It is time I became a priestess once more.\" She rescued the cloak from the queen's nervous fingers and draped it over one arm.\n\n\"Most Druids live at chieftains'duns, not at the school,\" Boudica replied. \"If you want to cram wisdom into the heads of youngsters, stay here and smack some sense into Rigana!\" That morning the little girl had managed to elude her keepers. Her short legs had carried her to the blacksmiths\" enclave before they heard Bogle barking and found her screaming because the dog would not let her reach the fire." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"For the kind of warding she needs right now Bogle is a better guardian than I could ever be,\" answered Lhiannon." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She bent to strap up her bag. \"My dear, this is not forever. I will visit, and when she is older, you may send Rigana to be trained as you were trained...\" If there is still a school for her to go to, came the thought. But wasn't she leaving so that she might do what she could to preserve the life they had known?\n\n\"Yes, but...\" Boudica's words trailed off. Lhiannon looked up and saw that the king had entered. The queen turned toward him as a flower turns toward the sun. Ever since Beltane it had been so. The marriage had at long last been consummated not only in the the flesh but in the spirit. The girl was become a woman, priestess to her husband as well as queen.\n\nNo, I am leaving because she no longer needs me, Lhiannon admitted to herself as Boudica moved into the circle of Prasutagos's arm. What had she hoped-that having lost the man she loved, she might find a substitute in Boudica, and still retain her virginity? Lhiannon knew quite well that it was not the physical contact but the emotional bond it created that was the distraction for an oracle. By that alone she was disqualified. I must recover my own sovereignty.\n\n\"Lhiannon, are you ready?\" Belina called from the doorway.\n\nShe picked up her bag. Prasutagos and Boudica came to embrace her-together. They would always be together now.\n\n\"My lady, I thank you for all you have done...\" murmured the king.\n\n\"Lhiannon-\" Boudica's voice broke. \"Take care! Take care!\"\n\nShe had no words. She kissed them both and walked out into the blinding light of the sun." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "oudica leaned on the rail at the top of the fence around the home meadow of Dun Garo, watching Roud move gracefully across the grass, her chestnut coat shining in the sun. The mare would pause to snatch a mouthful, then flirtatiously switch her tail, looking back to see if the king's gray stallion was following. Boudica had not realized that the red mare was coming into season. She wondered how long it would take the stallion to get her in foal.\n\nAnd how long will it take Prasutagos to do the same tome? At the thought, she could feel the heat flushing her skin. Her recollections of the Beltane rite were fragmentary, but to recall the authority with which her husband had taken her every night since then left her liquid with longing. And as if the thought had summoned him, senses she had never owned before told Boudica that the king was approaching now.\n\nShe turned her head and smiled a welcome, wondering that she could ever have watched that springy walk without wanting his strong body close to hers, or looked into those rugged features without wishing to make him smile.\n\n\"Well met, my lady.\" His lips quirked as he realized what was going on. \"The king and queen are expected to bring fertility to the kingdom, but I had not supposed the effect would be quite so immediate.\"\n\nLaughing, Boudica twitched her hips as the mare was doing now and took a step back so that her buttocks butted against his groin. She felt him hardening against her and moved quickly away again. She had danced naked before all the tribe at the Beltane rite, but she could not do so here.\n\n\"That was... wise,\" he said a little breathlessly. \"The king should demonstrate self-control as well as virility, and if I touch you, in another moment I'll have you on your knees in the grass...\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Yes...\" she said in a shaken voice, agreeing to more than desire. He took a deep breath and met her gaze. They were no longer touching, but she felt him as powerfully as if he had been inside her. This was not lust, or not lust only. \"What has happened to us?\"\n\nPrasutagos swallowed. Whatever it was, he, too, was its thrall. \"Between a king and a queen there should be regard and respect,\" he said, as if it were a teaching he had memorized. \"I never dared to hope...\"\n\n\"For love...\" she breathed, allowing herself to recognize and accept it at last. She saw his face grow radiant as he realized that for both of them this was forgiveness for what had gone before and a promise for what was to come.\n\nI owe an apology, thought Boudica, to the spirit of the sacred spring...\n\nhiannon bent to fill her waterskin, suppressing an impulse to takeoff her shoes and soak her feet in the pool. Her horse had gone lame that morning and she had walked, leading it, for the rest of the day. A few rags of cloth fluttered from the birch trees that grew around the water. The local people who had given them milk and cheese called the place Vernemeton, the holy grove. It would not do to offend the spirit of the spring.\n\nShe sat back, breathing deeply of the cool, damp air. There was great peace here. She wished that she could stay fora while. She tried to tell herself that it was because she was wearied by travel, but the longer she journeyed in the company of Belina and the other Druids who had joined their party as they made their way across Britannia, the more she remembered why she and Ardanos had been glad to getaway." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The moon that had been waning when the little party of Druids left Dun Garo had passed the full and was beginning to shrink once more. In the old days it would have been a somewhat shorter journey, but the Romans were patrolling the territory of their allies in the midlands more closely than expected, in case Caratac and the Ordovice warriors should attack again.\n\nShe sighed and got to her feet as Belina called her name. The others had afire blazing already. Lhiannon poured her water into the cauldron and Belina dropped in the loosely woven bag of dried meat and meal. Two of the Druids were arguing about ways to calculate the dates of the festivals. They were both old men from newly conquered lands, leaving the clans they had served for fear of the Roman ban. What would the people do for spiritual leadership if all the Druids sought sanctuary on Mona? What would the Romans do, she wondered uneasily, when they realized that was where all the Druids had gone?\n\nBy the time the food was ready it was quite dark. The overgrown ramparts of the abandoned hillfort above them loomed against the stars. These days it served the region as a site for the seasonal fairs and festivals. Lhiannon hoped that was all it would ever need to be. The last few years had given her a distaste for hillforts-it was too easy for those walls to trap those whom they were supposed to defend.\n\n\"And Lugovalos is certain that the Romans will not come to Mona?\" asked one of the men.\n\n\"Is anything certain, except, possibly, Helve's prophecies?\" asked Belina. \"But they can only come at us by the coast path, and that will be hard to manage with so many men.\"\n\n\"But if they do,\" the old man persisted, \"can the Arch-Druid defend us? I have heard that his health has been poor.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The past few years have been hard on him, as they have been onus all,\" Belina said patiently, serving out the porridge.\n\n\"If he does pass, who can succeed him? Cunitor is senior, but he is not very forceful, as I recall.\"\n\n\"I suppose the choice would fall on Ardanos, but we will hope that the need is long delayed.\"\n\nLhiannon blinked as the world became a whirl of darkness shot with fire. A burning pain on her thigh brought her back to awareness and she realized that she had dropped her porridge bowl. She swabbed at the mess rather clumsily with her sleeve.\n\n\"Lhiannon, are you all right?\" Belina was beside her with a cloth.\n\n\"I'm sorry,\" she said numbly. \"I didn't mean to waste the food. Ardanos-\" She drew a shuddering breath. She would not admit she had thought him dead all this time. \"I last saw him when the Dun of Stones fell. I am glad... he escaped.\"\n\n\"Oh of course, you have been so out of touch you wouldn't know that. He was wounded and left for dead, it's true, but he is fine now. He'll be glad to see you,\" she added brightly. \"He went around with a face like a sour apple for months, thinking you were lost. I had forgotten that you two worked together when Caratac was leading the Durotriges. I know you were quite close,\" she chattered on.\n\nClose... thought Lhiannon. As close as blood and breath. He is alive, and I will see him soon!\n\ns they rounded the granite cliff Lhiannon took a sharp breath, shivering as the cold salt scent fora moment gave way to the sweet verdant breath of the island beyond, a promise of sanctuary in the gray domain of the sea. Past the trees she could seethe blue waters of the strait and the island of Mona, a magic island surrounded by magic, glimmering golden in the afternoon sun." }, { "from": "human", "value": "She shivered again as the wind grew stonger." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Fits of trembling had seized her at intervals ever since she learned that Ardanos was alive. Be-lina had dosed her for the ague and Lhiannon did not gainsay her, though she knew this was no illness of the body but a symptom of the turmoil within.\n\nWould Ardanos have changed? Would he look older? Would she? They had lost so much time, wasted so many opportunities. She had seen in the fulfillment that Boudica had finally found what a true marriage could be. She would be the Goddess to Ardanos, and they would renew the world.\n\nAs one in a dream she reined her pony after the others down the path. A flat-bottomed boat was drawn up at the landing. Lhiannon went across with the second load. By the time they rode through the gates of Lys Deru the entire community had gathered. There were more than she remembered, priests and priestesses who had fled before the Roman advance. She did not envy the job Helve must have to keep them all fed and occupied.\n\nStill on her horse, Lhiannon searched the crowd for Ardanos's ginger head. The crowd was parting as the High Priestess herself came out to welcome them, Coventa, taller but otherwise little changed, a half-pace behind. And behind her a gaggle of others, but only one whose face had meaning for Lhiannon. As Helve moved forward he stopped, looked up, and met her searching gaze.\n\nHis lips moved, but there was no sound. All the color drained from his face. A woman reached out to hold him as he swayed. But by then, Lhiannon was off the pony and running toward him.\n\n\"Lhiannon,\" came Helve's voice from behind her. \"What a miracle to have you among us again! As you can see, our community has acquired many new members. Ardanos-you must introduce your wife and child...\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "For the first time, Lhiannon looked at the woman who was supporting him. Long, fair hair was knotted underneath a scarf. A green tunic covered a figure that had probably become more matronly with the birth of the towheaded two-year-old who clung to her skirts.\n\n\"Nay, my man is too flummoxed to say a word, and he a trained bard!\" the woman exclaimed in the accent of the Durotrige tribe. \"I am Sciovana, and this here is our daughter, Rheis. He has told me so much about you, my lady-I know it must be a wonder to him to see you alive!\"\n\nThat speech had saved both of them, thought Lhiannon as she looked from Ardanos, who was fighting to regain his composure, to Helve, who watched with what seemed a malicious smile. She could not scream at this woman who was beaming at her with such welcome, and she would not afford Helve the satisfaction of knowing that her little surprise had wounded Lhiannon as deeply as she could have desired.\n\nCoventa came up beside her. \"Lhiannon, you must be exhausted by your journey,\" she said softly. \"Come, we should put your things away-after dinner will be time enough to catch up with old friends...\"\n\ntwas true that it was easier to face most things on a full belly, thought Lhiannon, though she had not expected Coventa to know that.\n\n\"I am surprised you are still in plain linen.\" She indicated the un-dyed maiden's tunic that the girl wore. \"I would have expected to see you in priestess-blue by now.\"\n\nCoventa shrugged. \"I am ready, but Helve has judged the roads too dangerous to make the journey to my homeland after the ceremony at Avalon. Perhaps next year, if things settle down.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Well, that might be the reason. But there could be others. Coventa had always been delicate. Now she looked positively ethereal, as if she would not need to be in trance to visit the Otherworld.\n\n\"Have you been well, child?\" she asked.\n\n\"Oh, safe as I have been hereon the island, how could I be otherwise?\" Coventa said cheerfully. \"It is you who have been having the adventures...\"\n\nShe had made up abed for Lhiannon in the House of Priestesses and helped her to arrange her few belongings, and she had brought a bowl of barley and greens from the central fire so that she could eat in peace.\n\n\"When you are in the midst of the story, the danger is more apparent than the adventure,\" Lhiannon said wryly. \"Such moments are much better experienced secondhand in a bard's tale by the fire.\"\n\n\"Not all the good stories are about terrors,\" observed Coventa. She sat down cross-legged on the end of Lhiannon's bed. \"Tell me all about Boudica. I miss her so much. Is it really true that she ran away from her husband on their wedding night?\"\n\nLhiannon shook her head in wonder that the tale should have traveled this far. \"She did, but they are very happy together now-\"\n\nShe sighed, reminded that fora few short days she had hoped to find a similar joy, and as if the thought had summoned him, she heard Arda-nos's voice outside the door.\n\n\"Is Lhiannon there? Is she rested enough to come fora walk with me?\"\n\nCoventa looked inquiringly at Lhiannon, who got to her feet and reached fora shawl. She had known they would have to have this conversation sometime. Afterward she could forget her dreams, or if that proved impossible, throw herself into the sea." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The sun had set, but so close to midsummer the sky still glowed with no visible source of light. It reminded her of the light in the Faerie world. As they crossed the fire circle Lhiannon saw that more huts had been built around it. The carved gateposts were the same, like the trees that arched over the path to the Sacred Grove. And yet to her they looked strange, as the man who walked beside her was a stranger, limping a little as they moved down the path.\n\n\"Your child is very sweet, and your wife seems both good-natured and kind,\" she said politely.\n\n\"Lhiannon, I thought you were dead!\" Ardanos answered the question behind her words. \"Swords were swinging all around you, and then I was struck down. I thought I was dead myself. The Romans thought so, too, or I would be a slave in Gallia by now. They tossed me on a heap of corpses, and if I had not been found by people from the nearest farmstead looking for some of their own men I would have been food for the ravens.\"\n\nShe said nothing. The Sacred Grove lay before them. By unspoken agreement they paused just outside.\n\n\"Sciovana's family took me in,\" he continued. \"I had lost a great deal of blood and taken a fever. She nursed me, and when I lay raving with grief and pain, she held me in her arms.\"\n\nNot enough pain to keep you from taking advantage of her generosity, thought Lhiannon.\n\n\"I didn't know what I was doing, but when I came to myself and realized that I had got the girl with child, I was willing enough to marry her. What did it matter, if you were lost tome?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Could she blame him, she wondered, remembering how she had sought comfort with Boudica? If Boudica had loved her as Sciovana did Ardanos, she would not have been here at all. But here she was, and her own pain left her with little sympathy for his.\n\nHe stared at her, tears in his eyes. \"My love is a girl with hairlike the yellow flag,\" he whispered. \"Soft as the breast of the swan...\" He swallowed and took her hand. \"You area priestess, Lhiannon, as Sci-ovana can never be. In the great rites we can still come together, priest and priestess, raising the power!\"\n\n\"You have everything figured, I see!\" Lhiannon jerked her hand away. \"One woman for the altar, and one for the hearth. How very convenient! But I have not stayed virgin so long to become your magical mistress! Go back to your wife, Ardanos! She seems a good woman and deserves better, but it would appear that she loves you...\"\n\nHe tried to hold her, but with a quick twist, she was running back down the path. She did not stop until she reached the House of Priestesses where she collapsed, weeping, in Coventa's arms.\n\nSEVENTEEN\n\nelve asks if you will attend her this afternoon,\" said Coventa. Spring had come at last to the island, and the soft wind stirred her fair hair.\n\n\"My child, you lie.\" Lhiannon looked up from the quern in which she was grinding grain and smiled. \"Helve does not send requests to her inferiors. You were supposed to bring me her command...\"\n\n\"Well, yes-\" Coventa blushed. \"But she speaks that way because she thinks her dignity requires it. Truly, she can be very kind.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "To you, perhaps, thought Lhiannon. If a belief in Helve's goodness made the young woman feel better about her own position here, it would have been cruel to deprive her of it, especially now, when Helve had transferred her affection to anew girl called Nodona. Except for the fact that her hair was dark, she reminded Lhiannon strongly of what Coventa had been like when she was very young.\n\n\"You may tell the High Priestess that I will come.\"\n\nShe scooped another handful of grain into the hole at the top of the upper quern stone, grasped the use-polished stick that served as handle, and began to push it around once more. It was hard work of a kind that she should have delegated to someone like Sciovana, but the repetitive motion had a mind-numbing effect that helped her get through the days.\n\nBefore going to Helve, however, Lhiannon took the time to wash and change into a clean tunica. She was glad she had done so when she saw that the High Priestess was not alone. Lugovalos and Belina, Cuni-tor and Ardanos, and a selection of the more senior Druids who had taken refuge on Mona were also there.\n\nCoventa did not tell me that this was a council-perhaps because Helve feared I might refuse to attend, she thought wryly, though it wasn't true that she avoided Ardanos's company entirely: she only refused to see him alone. She settled into place beside Belina with an armored smile.\n\n\"Welcome, my sister-you complete our circle,\" said Lugovalos kindly. If he was aware of the undercurrents he gave no sign as he went on. \"I have called you all here because we have learned that the governor is planning to attack the Deceangli.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"To attack us, you mean,\" put in Divitiac, who had been chief Druid to the Durotriges before the Romans came." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He had been spirited away as the legions were marching into Tancoric's dun, and his limbs trembled, though his mind was still strong. \"Whatever toleration the Romans had for us is ended. The new governor is killing those of our Order wherever he finds them. We are all that remain, and the Decean-gli guard the path around the north coast that any invader must take to come here.\"\n\n\"We must flee!\" whispered a priestess who had been with the Belgae, and sometimes woke sobbing in the night from nightmares. \"We must take ship for Eriu. The Irish Druids are strong and will welcome us.\"\n\n\"And where will we go after that-the Blessed Isles?\" asked Cunitor with grim humor.\n\n\"One way or another we will all come therein the end,\" murmured Belina.\n\n\"If we run now we will never stop,\" objected Cunitor. \"Caratac is still fighting, and there are still tribes that have not bent the knee to Rome. If we can stir them up to rebellion, the Romans will leave the Deceangli alone.\"\n\nFor now, thought Lhiannon, but she did not say so aloud.\n\n\"My kin among the Brigante clans are not happy with Cartiman-dua's friendship with the Romans,\" Cunitor said. \"Perhaps I can persuade them that now is the time to make their feelings known...\"\n\n\"Caratac needs to know that we are behind him,\" said Lugovalos.\n\n\"I will go to him,\" said Ardanos. \"I have worked with him before.\"\n\n\"You are still recovering from your wounds, and you have a family,\" Helve said firmly. \"You are needed here.\"\n\nI can see where this is going, thought Lhiannon. No doubt she and Lugovalos decided on this course before the rest of us arrived. But she had no desire to resist their manipulation. She had endured the constriction of winter, but she did not think she could bear to be in the same place as Ardanos when all the world rejoiced at the coming of spring." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Send me-\" She smiled blandly at Helve." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Caratac saved me from death or worse. I owe him what help I can give.\"\n\n\"I will go with her,\" came another voice. She looked up in surprise as she recognized Brangenos, a shade more gray and thin, but otherwise unchanged. \"A wandering bard passes everywhere, and I have training as a healer as well.\"\n\nLhiannon frowned. She remembered how he had sung for King Togodumnos before the battle on the Tamesa. And she had heard of him among the Durotriges when Vespasian was laying waste to their lands. A bird of ill omen was this raven son. What disasters do you expect to celebrate when we are with Caratac, bard?\n\n\"That is settled, then. And we will ask among the younger priests to carry word elsewhere...\" rumbled Lugovalos.\n\nAs the others rose to take their leave, Helve beckoned to Lhiannon.\n\n\"We have never been friends,\" said the High Priestess when they were alone. \"But believe me when I say that I am not sending you on this mission to get rid of you.\"\n\nNo? wondered Lhiannon. I thought it might be because I threaten your influence on Coventa. She continued to smile.\n\n\"Whatever rivalry divided us in the past, we must work together now,\" Helve went on. \"You have great abilities, and the Goddess knows how badly we need every man and woman of power! I have no choice but to employ whatever tools I have, regardless of the cost. Neither you nor I matter, nor Ardanos, nor Coventa, nor Lugovalos, if by sacrifice we can save our tradition.\"\n\nLhiannon opened her awareness a little and was surprised to sense only sincerity. Helve believed what she was saying, and it might even be true. Perhaps she was growing into her job." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I understand.\" For the first time she accorded the High Priestess a respectful nod.\n\n\"Stay safe, Lhiannon, and comeback to us when your task is done.\"\n\noudica dreamed that she was walking on a narrow path through thickly forested hills, surrounded by men who carried swords. Their clothing was grimed with mud and blood, a fanatical glint lit their eyes. Before her marched Lhiannon, as dirty as any of the others, but looking fit and hard.\n\nIn the valley below lay a farmstead. Silently the warriors surrounded it. She glimpsed Caratac among them. As someone lit a torch his golden torque gleamed. They leaped to the attack, shrilling Silure war cries. Men ran out of the houses. Women screamed as the thatch caught fire. Soon there was more blood, and bodies lying on the ground. And then the attackers were retreating, some carrying livestock or sacks of grain. As they went by, Lhiannon turned and seemed to see Boudica at last.\n\n\"So shall we serve all who bend the knee to Rome...\"\n\noudica realized she had been weeping when she opened her eyes and saw her husband's worried frown. It must be morning. The door of their house at Teutodunon was open, and sunlight was filtering through the red-and-yellow striped curtains that surrounded the bed place.\n\n\"You cried out-are you in pain?\"\n\n\"A nightmare,\" she mumbled, wiping her eyes. \"It's already going,\" she lied, for she knew that she would remember this dream. Her youngest brother Braci and Caratac's brother Epilios had joined the rebellion the year before. But in the dream the Britons seemed to be winning. If Lhiannon had been here she would have asked her for an interpretation. Had the priestess sent the dream, and if so was it a reproof or a warning?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Come here and kiss the nightmare away,\" She pulled him back down, fitting her body against his in the way that had become accustomed in the two years since she had truly been his queen. He chuckled and nuzzled her neck, one hand sliding across her breast. She could feel his content, and his desire. Why had it taken her so long to realize that Prasutagos was most eloquent when he was silent?\n\n\"Mama, Papa! Bogle's got a hare!\"\n\nPrasutagos rolled away as the curtains were jerked back and a redheaded blur bounced onto the bed between them. Boudica blinked and reached out in an attempt to hold her daughter still.\n\n\"He caught it out on the heath an' brought it home. The puppies are fighting over it now!\"\n\nBoudica exchanged an exasperated look with her husband, who laughed and eased out of the bed, feeling around for the tunic he had stripped off so unceremoniously the night before. What did it mean, she wondered, when your clan totem was hunted down by your dog? It was bound to happen, she supposed, if they allowed Bogle and his numerous offspring to range the heathlands while they were in residence at her father's old dun.\n\n\"Rigana! Rigana-is the child therewith you?\"\n\nPrasutagos hastily pulled his tunic the rest of the way down as Boudica's mother hurried in.\n\n\"I'm so sorry, dears, did she wake you?\" her mother said. \"She runs so fast, you know.\"\n\n\"Yes. It's all right, Mama,\" said Boudica. \"I was getting up anyway.\"\n\n\"I thought you might be,\" said the older woman. \"The smith is here already with the new coins for the king to approve.\" Since Boudica's father died, Anaveistl had coped fairly well, but sometimes she forgot that she was no longer the queen." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Boudica hugged Rigana, delighting in the firm limbs and the flower scent of her hair. \"Is your little sister awake, sprout?\" The two girls slept with their grandmother and their nurses in the next roundhouse, close enough so that Boudica could hear if someone cried.\n\nAs if the question had been a signal, Nessa came through the door leading Argantilla, who had just begun to toddle, by the hand. Smiling like a sunrise, the smaller girl, as golden and gentle as her sister was fiery and active, clambered into the bed to join Rigana fora morning snuggle before their parents were distracted by the demands of the day.\n\nBreakfast beneath the spreading branches of the oak tree was a time to receive reports and plan the day. This morning they had silver coins with their porridge-the first of the new issue bearing a Roman-style image of the ruler on one side, and the legend'Subri Esvprasto Esico Fecit,\" with the horse totem of the Iceni, on the other. Esico might have minted them for Prasutagos, but far too many of those coins would have to go to the Romans in taxes. Others might be paid to chieftains who had collected produce from their clans to feed the Romans' never-ending need for supplies.\n\nEsico the coiner, a little dark man with missing teeth and an air of confidence that came from knowing his skills would be needed whoever was in power, also traded in information. His first offering was the news that the governor, finding his resources overstretched, was moving the Twentieth Legion from Camulodunum to a place near the head of the Sabrina estuary where they could keep an eye on the Silures.\n\n\"They are withdrawing all their forces from the Trinovante lands?\" asked Prasutagos." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Not exacthly,\" lisped Esico. \"They mean to turn the fort into a Roman-type town and fill it with old tholdierth. \"Victory colony,\" they call it.\" He spat out the words. \"Already they levy men to help with the building-an'with harvetht coming on-\" He shook his head. \"The Trinovante ain't happy, but what can they do?\"\n\nWhat can any of us do, thought Boudica, but carry on?\n\n\"Romans set great store on impressive buildings...\" Prasutagos said slowly as Esico departed. \"They consider them a mark of civilization.\" Boudica eyed him suspiciously, recognizing the enthusiastic gleam in his eye.\n\n\"The Romans will never allow us to build fortifications. Just what,\" she added carefully, \"did you have in mind?\"\n\n\"Nothing in stone...\" he said quickly. \"Nothing they'd consider a threat. But I was remembering the way the Romans put a second story on their houses, and I think we could build a roundhouse that way, with two tiers.\" Boudica blinked. She could not imagine what he was talking about, but it was obvious that Prasutagos could see it clearly. \"We'll clear out some of the buildings in the enclosure-move the weaving sheds into an adjacent yard and give the mint its own wall. Make a nice neat bank and ditch around the house here.\"\n\n\"Do you mean to challenge King Cogidubnos?\" She laughed. \"At Noviomagus he's building a Roman palace.\"\n\nHe shook his head. \"This will be purely Celtic, just... bigger.\" He grinned.\n\nBoudica sighed. The rise on which Teutodunon lay was high enough to give her a good view of the river, with the heathland golden in the morning sun beyond. The peace of the scene made the violence of her night visions seem even more unreal-or was this the dream? As she sighed, Bogle lifted his great head from one of her feet to lay it upon the other. She wiggled her toes to restore circulation. The dog, having made his contribution to the community's food supply, clearly felt entitled to a rest." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Assist the writer by carrying on with the story.\nTags: fantasy, historical fantasy, druids\nAuthor: Marion Zimmer Bradley, Diana L. Paxson\nTitle: Ravens of Avalon\nChapter: 3" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Not exacthly,\" lisped Esico. \"They mean to turn the fort into a Roman-type town and fill it with old tholdierth. \"Victory colony,\" they call it.\" He spat out the words. \"Already they levy men to help with the building-an'with harvetht coming on-\" He shook his head. \"The Trinovante ain't happy, but what can they do?\"\n\nWhat can any of us do, thought Boudica, but carry on?\n\n\"Romans set great store on impressive buildings...\" Prasutagos said slowly as Esico departed. \"They consider them a mark of civilization.\" Boudica eyed him suspiciously, recognizing the enthusiastic gleam in his eye.\n\n\"The Romans will never allow us to build fortifications. Just what,\" she added carefully, \"did you have in mind?\"\n\n\"Nothing in stone...\" he said quickly. \"Nothing they'd consider a threat. But I was remembering the way the Romans put a second story on their houses, and I think we could build a roundhouse that way, with two tiers.\" Boudica blinked. She could not imagine what he was talking about, but it was obvious that Prasutagos could see it clearly. \"We'll clear out some of the buildings in the enclosure-move the weaving sheds into an adjacent yard and give the mint its own wall. Make a nice neat bank and ditch around the house here.\"\n\n\"Do you mean to challenge King Cogidubnos?\" She laughed. \"At Noviomagus he's building a Roman palace.\"\n\nHe shook his head. \"This will be purely Celtic, just... bigger.\" He grinned.\n\nBoudica sighed. The rise on which Teutodunon lay was high enough to give her a good view of the river, with the heathland golden in the morning sun beyond. The peace of the scene made the violence of her night visions seem even more unreal-or was this the dream? As she sighed, Bogle lifted his great head from one of her feet to lay it upon the other. She wiggled her toes to restore circulation. The dog, having made his contribution to the community's food supply, clearly felt entitled to a rest." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "In another moment, however, Bogle raised his head again, ears pricking, then heaved himself out from under the table and took a few steps toward the gate.\n\n\"Are we expecting guests?\" inquired Prasutagos. The dog had shown an uncanny ability to distinguish between approaching strangers and the folk who belonged here.\n\n\"They are friends, apparently,\" observed Boudica as the plumed tail began to gently wave.\n\nIna few minutes one of the warriors on guard came trotting through the gate to report three women and a man riding up the road.\n\n\"They don't sound too dangerous,\" said Prasutagos, stroking his mustache to hide a smile. \"Why don't you go welcome them in?\"\n\nCuriosity gave way to wonder as the three women appeared in the gateway. Boudica had hoped to see Lhiannon, but the curly yellow head of the first figure was nearly as welcome.\n\n\"Coventa!\" she paused as she recognized Belina and Helve, of all people, behind her, and slowed her progress to something more befitting a queen.\n\n\"My lady!\" Her nod was carefully calculated to imply equality. \"You honor us!\" As she gave orders for food and drink she eyed them covertly, seeing Coventa grown tall, and Helve a little more matronly. The High Priestess was still beautiful, but she had some lines in her face that had not been there before. And that's no wonder, Boudica thought silently, the past few years have not been easy on anyone. She smiled again as their escort proved to be Rianor. Like the others he wore ordinary clothes.\n\n\"You'll be wondering what we're doing here,\" said Belina as they sat down to a plate of bannocks and a flagon of Roman wine. \"With the Romans busy building new forts near the Sabrina, the roads seemed safe enough for Coventa's womanhood ceremony at Avalon.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Boudica nodded, remembering her initiation at Lhiannon's hands." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She wondered if Helve could bring through the same magic, but then Coventa had enough magic herself for two.\n\n\"And now we are going to visit her kinfolk in the Brigante lands before she takes her vows,\" said Helve. \"It has been an interesting journey.\"\n\nAnd you have been picking up information everywhere you passed, Boudica observed. It would appear that the kind of thinking required to be a high priestess was not so different from that of a queen.\n\n\"I told them it didn't matter,\" said Coventa. \"No one has proposed a great marriage for me, and I would refuse it if they tried-though your little girls are sweet enough to make me think again about motherhood!\"\n\nBoudica smiled. \"Sweet\" was not a term she would have used for Rigana, but the two children had been on their best behavior to meet the priestesses, and she could see how they might be deceived.\n\n\"We plan to save some travel time by taking a ship from the north coast of your lands,\" Helve put in. \"We will be staying with Queen Cartimandua in Briga fora while before heading home. I thought that if your husband permits it, you might wish to go with us.\"\n\n\"Oh please do, Boudica!\" begged Coventa. \"We can only stay here one night, and that is not nearly time enough for all I have to tell you!\"\n\n\"I don't know,\" Boudica said uncertainly. The baby was weaned, and the girls surely did not lack for protectors, but she had not slept apart from Prasutagos for more than a night since he became High King, except when she gave birth to Argantilla, and fora week when he had a fever. Without him in the bed beside her she did not sleep well." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "n the end it was Prasutagos who counseled her to go, although she could see that he liked the prospect of separation no more than she. But they had not spoken with Cartimandua for sometime, and since the western Brigantes had rebelled the year before it had become important to know where she and her husband stood with regard to Rome.\n\n\"Cartimandua seemed to have a kindness for you at the wedding,\" the king observed dryly. Boudica realized for the first time that he was aware that the Brigante queen had encouraged her to ride away. \"She is a wily one, but perhaps if you are together fora time she will speak freely.\"\n\nIt was only after they had been on the road for some days that it occurred to Boudica that the reason Helve had invited her was the same.\n\nThree days'journey brought them to the small port on the Wash, on the north coast of the Iceni lands. There they found two wide-bottomed boats that could take the women and their escort four days\" sail up the coast and into a great estuary. At the landing they bought rough-coated ponies to carry them upriver until they came to Lys Udra, where Queen Cartimandua made her home.\n\nne sympathizes with Caratac, of course,\" said the queen.\n\nShe was still the sleek, wry-tongued creature Boudica remembered, with her black hair shining in the morning sun. Coventa was spending the week with her brother's family, leaving the Brigante queen to entertain her unexpected guests at her hall by the river. The land here was good for farming, but to the west rose moors and mountains where only shepherds could make a living.\n\n\"He and his brother were in a fairway to unite most of the south, had the Romans not come.\" She poured wine into cups of ruddy Samian ware and passed them to her guests. \"He is a fine-looking man, too, though depressingly faithful to that Ordovice woman hewed.\" She smiled." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Boudica raised an eyebrow. Did you try him, then, and get turned down? Cartimandua was known to have an eye fora handsome male. Her husband did not object, but then Briga was a wild land, where folk held to older ways than those of the Celts of Gallia who had conquered them. King Venutios was spending the summer at Rigodunon, near the Salmaes firth on the northwestern coast. Clearly his relationship with\n\nCartimandua was very different from the union she and Prasutagos had finally found. Boudica wondered if he had played any role in the rising there.\n\n\"They say that Caratac has taken his war band back to the Ordovice lands,\" said Helve.\n\n\"He may take them anywhere he likes, so long as they stay out of Briga,\" Cartimandua said with sudden venom. \"I'll not have him persuading anymore of our clans into arising that could only be put down by bringing the Legions in.\"\n\n\"I, on the other hand, can only be thankful they did. That rebellion saved Mona,\" observed Helve.\n\n\"Do you expect me to say that you're welcome?\" Cartimandua answered her unspoken question. \"I have no quarrel with your Order, but I like the Romans much better when their tax collectors, annoying as they maybe, are the only representatives they need to send into my land.\"\n\nHelve's lips tightened, but even she could hardly object to the queen's words while she was drinking her wine. It was good for the High Priestess to have to be polite to a fellow sovereign, thought Boudica. She wished that Lhiannon had been hereto see.\n\n\"They say that Caratac has a priestess of your Order with him, a White Lady with magic powers,\" added Cartimandua, as if Boudica had spoken her thought aloud. Coventa had told her that Lhiannon had gone to help the rebels. She was glad to have confirmation for her dream." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Indeed?\" Helve said stiffly.\n\n\"No doubt the Romans have heard this also. It will not make them more tolerant of your power.\" Cartimandua sat back and signaled to one of her women to bring more wine.\n\n\"If we do not stand up to them we will have no power,\" said Helve with more honesty than Boudica had expected.\n\n\"Ah well, we each play the game in a different way,\" said Cartiman-dua, smiling. \"It will be interesting to see who wins...\"\n\nhe evening before they were to leave Lys Udra, the Brigante queen held Boudica back as the others were seeking their beds after dinner in the great roundhouse that was the royal hall.\n\n\"What did she want?\" Coventa asked when Boudica returned.\n\n\"To warn me against you!\" Boudica tried to laugh. \"She believes that the Romans will seek to destroy the Druids as soon as they have pacified the tribes.\"\n\n\"I know that you cannot do much to help us, placed as you are,\" Coventa said seriously, \"but it will be a comfort to know that you still hold me in your heart...\"\n\n\"Oh my dear one, how could I not?\" exclaimed Boudica. \"But will you not rethink your own decision? I believe you will be safer with me than with Helve.\"\n\nCoventa shook her head with her usual sweet smile. \"I know you do not like her, but indeed she does desire to serve the people and the gods. And she has been kind tome.\"\n\nShe has used you, thought Boudica, but it would do no good to say so aloud.\n\n\"This journey has shown me how unhappy I would be if I had to live among people who see and hear only with their ears and eyes. Safe or not, being a priestess on Mona is the only thing I am fit for,\" said Coventa." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Then do it, and be happy-\" Boudica hugged the thin shoulders--for as long as you can. But in truth could she, could anyone, hope for more?\n\narvest was the most hopeful time of the year. In the old days, warfare ended when it was time to get the crops in. But now, except when it was necessary to pursue an occasional cow that somehow ended upon the other side of a tribal border, they no longer had to worry about fighting-perhaps the only one of Rome's promised benefits that had actually been welcome. When the grain turned golden, everyone, high or low, turned out to help in the fields.\n\nBoudica bent, scooped up the piled stalks before her, and added them to the bunch in the crook of her arm. Ahead, the line of reapers moved in rhythm to the beat of the harvest drum, grasping, cutting, and casting aside the stalks of grain. She squatted down to gather more into her armful, bound what she held with a twist of straw, and started the process allover again.\n\nSo much of the Iceni country was pasture or fenland. The places where grain would grow well were doubly precious, and the best were to be found in the high rolling land around Danatobrigos. Boudica had come hereafter her visit to Cartimandua, and the king had brought the girls up to join her while he traveled around his kingdom. They would all go back to Teutodunon when the harvest was done.\n\nShe always looked forward to the season and its festivities, but just at this moment she wished they were over. The sunburned bright, and sweat was running down her back, sticking the linen of the old tunic to her skin and itching where the omnipresent chaff had gotten in. Long sleeves protected her arms from the sun, but by tonight her face would be red and tender despite the oil she had slathered on it before she began and the broad straw hat she wore." }, { "from": "human", "value": "But they could not stop now." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Clouds were building over the waters of the Wash, and they would lose most of the wheat if it rained. The families whose farms were near the Horse Shrine harvested together, moving from one steading to another as the fields ripened. Today they were at Palos and Shanda's place. Earlier in the summer Palos had been ill, but he looked healthy now, his skin darkened and his brown hair bleached by the sun.\n\nNext to him, Prasutagos cut and cast another handful aside. The king had stripped off his tunic. Fora moment Boudica paused, appreciating the ripple of muscle across his back as he reached again, then took up the stalks he had cut and tied off another sheaf of grain.\n\n\"Here's water, Mother,\" said Rigana. Boudica stretched to relieve the ache in her back, then took the full skin. It tasted better than Roman wine. At least this was the last field. From the farm came the scent of cooking food-they would be feasting soon.\n\nVery soon, she realized, for the reapers were approaching the end of the field. A ripple of anticipation swept through the onlookers. Sickles flashed as the men raced to finish, then halted, drawing away from Pra-sutagos, who was reaching for the only clump still standing in the field. Hearing the silence, he stopped, realized he was the last, and looked around him with a rueful laugh.\n\n\"The Old Woman!\" \"The Corn Mother!\" \"Watch out, she'll get you!\" came the cries.\n\n\"Palos, this is your field-I'll let you do the honors,\" the king said hopefully, holding out the sickle to the other man.\n\n\"No, my lord.\" Palos grinned. \"It's you she's been waiting for. I'll not stand in your way!\" His golden-haired wife took his arm as if to make sure of it." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Prasutagos gave a dramatic sigh. \"Well, you've been sick, so I'll take heron-\" Drawing himself up, he took astride forward, grasped the stalks in his left hand, and with a swift slash cut them free. Ashe stepped back something brown and swift burst from the stubble and went bounding across the field.\n\n\"A hare!\" whispered someone, making the sign of warding. Boudica felt her arms prickle. Suddenly the king's laughing offer to protect the farmer from the Corn Mother's resentment at being cut down had a deeper meaning. Hares were uncanny beasts, sacred to the Goddess and not to be harmed. His gaze met that of the farmer, who had gone a little pale.\n\n\"'Tis the duty of the king to stand between his folk and danger,\" Prasutagos said gently, and smiled.\n\n\"A neck! A neck! He has the Old Woman!\" the others were shouting now.\n\nPrasutagos handed the sheaf to Shanda, who set swiftly to work to tie off sections into limbs and braid the figure a girdle and crown. As soon as she had the grain the other women seized the king, sticking straws through his clothing and into his hair. Then they hustled him down to the river and pushed him in.\n\nWhen times were truly evil, thought Boudica a little grimly, the ruler, or his substitute, would die for his land in truth and not in play. Would that be required of Caratac? But despite his ambitions, he had never been king for all Britannia. The acceptance must come before the sacrifice.\n\nNow they were pulling Prasutagos out again. Across the tops of their heads his laughing gaze met hers. They will take him back to the farm for the feasting, she thought as she managed an answering smile, and make him dance with the Corn Mother, and eat as much food as Devodaglos, and promise everyone more beer. That's not so great a sacrifice..." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Way-yen, way-yen...\" As the Corn Mother was borne back to the farm the call echoed triumphantly across the land.\n\nAs Boudica followed the crowd it occurred to her that the rough treatment given to the reaper was only a symbol, but each spring, the Corn Goddess, in the grain that made up last harvest's image, was dismembered and scattered to bless the fields.\n\nEIGHTEEN\n\nt had been along war. From the doorway of the command tent, Lhiannon watched the campfires flickering in the meadows that edged the river, where the men of the great coalition Caratac had forged had sunk their own past rivalries in hatred of a greater foe. Silures who were veterans of the southern fighting of two years ago and Durotrige survivors from Vespasian's campaign lay by Ordovices and Deceangli who had borne the brunt of the more recent battles, along with a scattering of men from other tribes. The last time so great a British host had been assembled had been on the banks of the Tamesa.\n\nBehind her, Caratac sat with the war leaders, drawing maps in the dirt. Brangenos had settled in the shadows beyond, playing something sweet and meandering that eased the soul without requiring attention.\n\n\"They say that the governor was a sick man when he got here, and I don't think his health has been improved by hunting me all around the hills. By all the gods, I am as tired of running as he is of chasing me!\"\n\n\"So you mean to face him?\" asked Tingetorix, an Iceni champion Lhiannon had known when she lived with Boudica.\n\n\"I mean to offer battle-at a place of my own choosing.\" Caratac bared his teeth in a grin. \"I doubt he will be able to resist the invitation.\" Eight years of warfare had transformed the fox of the Cantiaci to an old wolf, the red hair gone brindled roan, his weatherbeaten skin seamed with scars. But the fire in his eyes burned as hot as ever." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Did Lhiannon's? She, too, had left her first youth in these mountains. To the men of Caratac's army, whom she had nursed and comforted through illness and wounds, she was the White Lady. These days she wore undyed homespun. Her robe of priestess-blue had worn out long ago. But her true appearance no longer mattered-although she was not the only Druid with the army, like Caratac she had become a living talisman. And there were times, even here, when the trance of vision came upon her, not as in the ordered ritual of Mona, but as a sudden intuition that left her in a confusion of hope and fear.\n\n\"Our scouts report that the governor has brought the Fourteenth Legion down from Viroconium and the Twentieth up from the south,\" said one of the Ordovice men.\n\n\"The Twentieth, which used to beat Camulodunon?\" echoed Epi-lios. \"I look forward to seeing them again...\" His grin was a youthful reflection of his brother's-the last two sons of Cunobelin were together, leading the men of Britannia to war.\n\n\"They lie in marching camps down by the fords where the rivers join. Close to twenty thousand men in one camp, and the cavalry in the other.\"\n\n\"We have nearly their numbers, and cavalry won't be much use where I mean to bring them.\" Caratac gestured to Lhiannon. \"Tell them, maiden, the vision you shared with me-\"\n\nAll eyes turned to Lhiannon as she stepped into the firelight, putting back her veil. \"This was a dream-it is for you to interpret it, but this is what I saw. I was like a bird, looking down on the land of Britannia. Below me I saw eagles flying, following Caratac from ocean to river across the pastures and tilled lands. But when he took to the forest they struggled to follow, and when he took to the mountains they grew weary. My vision failed then and I could not seethe battle's end. But if you fight on a hill you have a chance. That is what I see.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The land itself will fight for us, you'll see.\" Caratac bent to his dirt map and began to point at the hills and rivers modeled there. \"The Romans fight like lions on level ground, but our men are like wildcats on their native hills. We will tempt them with a little opposition at the river crossing and then pullback to this hill-\" The stick he was using as a pointer stabbed down.\n\n\"The old hillfort?\" asked a Durotrige warrior who had been with him since Vespasian's campaign. \"You'll not be planning to trap us there!\"\n\nLhiannon shuddered. There were still nights when she woke whimpering from memories of the fall of the Dun of Stones.\n\n\"No, though it may serve as a last defense if things go ill,\" Caratac replied. \"We'll take up our positions on the slopes leading up to it, where the lie of the land will crowd them, and anywhere the climb is easy we can block with ramparts of stones.\"\n\n\"Stones we have in plenty,\" said one of the Ordovices, and everyone laughed.\n\nStones, and cold wind, thought Lhiannon as the breeze that always blew strongest at sunset searched out every imperfection in the weave of her cloak of creamy wool. The sun had gone down behind the western mountains and dusk was drawing a veil of shadow across the lesser hills. The men were arguing over which tribes should stand whereon the hill and had forgotten her.\n\nTomorrow they would be on the move again. Lhiannon made her way through the camp toward the tent she shared with Caratac's wife and daughter and the few other women whose value as potential hostages was too great to leave them where they might risk capture. Now and again a man would lookup as she passed his fire. She smiled in return. It cost her nothing to give that comfort. But who, she wondered, will comfort me?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She thrust the thought away. In her first months with the army the day's march would have left her too tired to think of anything but sleep when night fell. But after more than two years in the field she was as tough as any of the men. Sleep would come hard, with a battle in store. But she would have to try. If she was lucky, she would not dream.\n\nome men dreamed of wealth or glory. Prasutagos, his wife had come to realize, dreamed of buildings. When Boudica's gaze followed the curling smoke upward she still had to blink in amazement at the added height that the second level of the new roundhouse gave. The area around the hearth was large enough to seat all the chieftains; roomy chambers for the household were created by the partitions that ran from the main supports to the outer wall. There was nothing like the king's two-tiered hall anywhere in the Celtic lands.\n\nThey had only moved in a month before. Beneath the scents of woodsmoke and mutton stew there was still a hint of limewash and fresh straw. But for the children, to whom the whole world was made of wonders, their father's new house had become an accustomed miracle. At the moment, putting off the inevitable banishment to their beds was their concern.\n\n\"A story, Mama!\" Rigana begged. \"Tell us one of the stories you learned on the magic island!\" Little Tilla clapped her hands.\n\nBoudica smiled to think that her main use for the lore the Druids had taught with such solemnity was as a source of children's tales. And yet these stories were the wellspring of their religion. It was more important than ever that their children learn them now, when so many were turning to the victorious Roman gods.\n\n\"Well, now-since it is summer, I should tell you about one of the gods who make things grow. He plays the harp to order the seasons, and in His orchard there is always fruit on the trees. We call Him Dagdevos the Good God, or the Father of All, or the Red One All-Knowing, or the Good Striker, and He can do anything. He is one of the kings of the Shining Ones.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Like Papa,\" said Tilla wisely.\n\n\"Just like Papa,\" Boudica agreed, keeping her face straight with an effort as her husband blushed. \"When the monster-people attacked His land He had to survive the tests they set upon Him. He had to eat a porridge made from four-score gallons of milk, and He did it, though His belly was so full His tunic scarcely covered him.\"\n\nAt this, the look the girls turned on their father was frankly speculative, and Temella and Bituitos both gave way to laughter.\n\n\"His belly's not all that was dragging, I've heard,\" whispered Eoc, and the laughter began once more.\n\n\"Oh, do you mean His club?\" Boudica asked innocently. \"When He strikes, it kills instantly, but if He touches you with the other end you comeback to life once more.\"\n\n\"That's the end He uses on the Lady of Ravens,\" Prasutagos retaliated. \"Battle goddess though She maybe, He has a weapon to win Her...\"\n\n\"But His best possession is a magic cauldron,\" said Boudica, though by now she was blushing as well. \"Some say it is the same as the one into which you put dead warriors to bring them alive, but others say it can feed an army, and whatever food you like best it will serve.\"\n\n\"Would it serve honey cakes?\" asked Rigana.\n\n\"An' bilberries in cream?\" her sister echoed. \"I want to go there!\"\n\n\"Where you should be going now is your bed,\" Prasutagos said with a comical frown. \"You can feast with Dagdevos in your dreams...\"\n\nWhen both girls had been hugged and kissed and handed off to their nurses, he turned to Boudica. \"You did not tell them the story of how Dagdevos makes love to the Morrigan each Samhain to still her rage and restore balance to the world,\" he murmured with a glance that brought the blush back to her skin." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I think that one can wait until the girls are older,\" she said primly. \"And I have never quite understood how even gods can manage to do it, straddling the stream...\"\n\n\"Do you prefer abed, then? For if so, I have one...\"\n\nAshe took her hand Boudica smiled, knowing herself blessed by the gods.\n\nith the other Druids, Lhiannon had made the offerings to Le-nos, which was the name they gave the war god here, spilling the blood of a bull upon the ground and hanging the carcass from the branches of an ancient oak tree. Had it been accepted? There had been no roll of thunder, only the ravens, calling as they always did when an army was on the move. It took no Druid to interpret that omen-where humans fought, ravens would feed.\n\nBut that night, Lhiannon had dreamed again. Once more she soared above a battlefield, and this time the Romans, like armored insects, were advancing up the hill. The eagle god strode before them with a tread like thunder and the Britons fell before them, blood splattering the rocks like rain. She had been weeping when she woke, knowing it fora dream of doom. And she had known as well that there was nothing she could do. The Romans were already on their way. Any rumor of defeat would break the British army before they struck a blow. Caratac could have escaped with a small band into the wilderness, but a force so great had no choice but to stand. Even to tell the king what she had seen might deprive him of the hope that could prove her vision wrong. She could only watch, and pray, and hope the gods of Britannia were listening.\n\nOr is it that we are praying for the wrong things? she wondered suddenly." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The hill from which they watched the battle unfolding did not give her quite the vantage of her vision, but neither did she have the same detachment. After slowing the enemy's crossing with slingstones and arrows, the British had retreated in good order to the slope of the hill, pulling into meet the Roman advance in depth as it grew steeper, shooting and throwing spears from behind the drystone barricades that protected them from the ballista bolts of the enemy.\n\nAbout midmorning, Caratac's wife and daughter began to cheer, seeing the Roman auxiliaries driven back by the intensity of the defense. But the legions were forming up behind them. And now the blocks of marching men were covered by overlapping shields upon which the British missiles struck in vain. And despite the fury of the defenders, they kept oncoming, foot by foot and yard by yard, until they reached the stonewalls and threw them down, and then it was sword against sword and shield against shield, and the blood flowed down the hill.\n\n\"Morrigan, goddess of battles, be with them now!\" she prayed. The anguish she heard in the wailing of Caratac's women as they watched the British line break and disappear was the same paean of pain she heard from the ravens that circled the hill. The goddess is with them, Lhiannon shuddered in appalled understanding. To death and beyond. But she cannot, or will not, save.\n\nSomeone shouted that soldiers were coming. Too stunned to move, Lhiannon stood still in the midst of confusion as the others left her alone among the trees.\n\ndarkness like the wings of a thousand ravens had closed around the world. The Roman forces had passed on, pursuing a large band of Silure tribesmen who had managed to get off the hill, leaving the battlefield to those with the courage to seek for anyone left to save. Lhiannon walked like a ghost among them. A pitiful few were able to drink the water she carried. For others, a sure thrust of her dagger was the only possible mercy. Numbed by the horror of the shattered bodies around her, she offered both with equal calm." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And thus, wandering the battlefield in her pale gown, she came upon the king.\n\nIt was only by the twisted gold of the torque around his neck that she knew him. Caratac was covered with blood, his clothing mostly torn away. He was sitting with the body of a warrior in his arms. Lhian-non did not recognize the dead man. Perhaps that did not matter. He was all of them.\n\nAs she approached, Caratac lifted his head. \"The White Lady...\" he whispered. \"Have you come to take me, too?\"\n\n\"My lord,\" shock broke through Lhiannon's detachment. \"You should not be here!\"\n\n\"No... I should not. That is very true...\" He gazed around him. \"Oh, my warriors! See how still they lie... Why am I living? I fought hard... I did not flee... You know that, don't you?\" he addressed the dead man. \"You will tell them, where they feast with the heroes, that I tried...\" His head drooped once more.\n\n\"Caratac, getup! The Romans will return and they must not find you here.\"\n\n\"Does it matter?\"\n\nIt was a question that she had been trying hard not to ask. \"It might matter to the ones who escaped this field,\" she said carefully. \"They will be wanting you to lead them again-\"\n\n\"As I led these?\" he asked bitterly. But he seemed at last to recognize that the man he was holding was past all listening. There was along silence. Then, very gently, he laid the body down. \"The Ordovices are broken,\" he said in a more normal tone. \"And the Roman swine will be putting all their attention on the mountains here. Our only hope is to seek support in a direction they will not be looking.\" Once more he was silent, but he had begun to look like the man she knew. \"The Brigantes were willing to rise against them before. What say you, White Lady?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lhiannon shook her head. \"Don't look tome for answers, my lord. I am empty. When I was at Mona two years ago, the Arch-Druid wanted me to go and study in Eriu. It is said they have knowledge we have lost. But I chose to come to you. I should have gone-I have been little use to you here...\"\n\n\"We area sad pair indeed,\" Caratac said softly. \" But you are wrong,\n\nLady. You have given me a reason to live. Go west to Eriu and find some wisdom for our future, and I will go east, to Cartimandua.\"\n\nou are going to Cartimandua?\"Boudica frowned at the man before her.\" Are you certain that is wise?\"\n\nShe had come upon him at the gates of Teutodunon, sitting hunched in a hooded cloak, anonymous as any other broken man washed up by the wars. When she paused to give him a bannock from the bag she carried for such eventualities, she glimpsed beneath the rag tied around his neck a glint of gold.\n\nHe pulled the scarf away. Her face paled as she recognized the torque, and then the fierce gaze of the king.\n\n\"My lord Caratac! Be welcome! Come into the dun and let me give you a proper meal!\" And a bath... and dressings for those wounds... she added silently.\n\n\"No.\" strong fingers closed on the hand she held out to him. His glance flicked to the road, where a wagon carrying rolls of woolen cloth from their weaving sheds to Colonia was rumbling by.\n\n\"You have too many people here who are friends of Rome. For your sake and mine it is best if no one else knows that I have come.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"But we must talk... We heard of the battle. Some said you were taken, others that you had been slain-\" She halted at the pain that darkened his eyes.\n\n\"Perhaps I was, and it is only my ghost you see here. I have felt like a ghost these past weeks, making my way unseen across the land. Many-too many-of my men lie dead upon that hill.\" He hesitated, then looked up at her. \"Bracios was one of them. Your brother fell defending mine.\"\n\n\"Thank you for telling me.\" Boudica replied after a few moments had passed. She had scarcely seen her brother since they were both small; she supposed the pang of grief was more for the death of her childhood than for him. \"But you are alive, and I can see that you need feeding... If you follow the path to the river you will come to the grove of Andraste. Wait for me there.\"\n\nAnd now, with a basket full of food and drink and bandages, she sat facing Caratac in the shadow of the circle of oak trees that surrounded the shrine.\n\n\"It has been along time since I had such a vintage.\" He took another swallow from the wineskin. \"Of late it has been only water, and before that, heather ale. I have rejected all things Roman but this.\" He sighed. \"Our people might be free today if we could have forgone our taste for Roman wine.\"\n\n\"My husband and I will not betray you, but neither can we help you,\" Boudica said. \"I have heard tales of the desert the Romans leave behind when they impose their \"peace\" upon a conquered land. And really, I don't think we would be much use to you even if we dared. The Iceni with the fire to fight the Romans did so at the dun in the fens four years ago, and died.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I wish you well of the peace that the Romans have left you,\" Caratac said dryly." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I hope that it may last.\" He nibbled on apiece of bread and set it down. \"You have grown into a beautiful woman,\" he said. \"When you bore the mead-cup around the hall at Mona, you were like a young filly, all legs and nervous energy.\" He took another drink of wine.\n\n\"And now I am the Red Mare of the Iceni-I am not supposed to know that the people call me that.\" She smiled. \"But it is the Black Mare of the Brigantes who should concern you.\"\n\n\"I can at least hope that she will listen. Cartimandua had a kindness for me long ago.\"\n\nShe lusted after you, corrected Boudica with an inner sigh. These days Prasutagos had grown somewhat substantial around the middle, but she could warm herself at his steady flame. The man before her still had the hard body of a warrior, but the fire that had drawn men to him, and women as well, was burned to ash.\n\n\"I must do something,\" he went on. \"The Roman swine captured my brother Epilios, and my wife, and our daughter, my little Eigen, my only remaining child. You have children-surely you can understand how I feel!\"\n\nBoudica nodded. \"Rigana is six now, and has her first pony. Argan-tilla is almost four.\" If she and Prasutagos had no more offspring it was not for lack of trying, but she had not conceived again. Almost the only thing that had the power to wake her fury these days was the thought of danger to the bright, if sometimes exasperating, offspring who looked likely to be the only children she would have.\n\n\"If I give myself up now I can do no more than stand in chains beside them. But I maybe able to negotiate for their release if the Romans see meas a threat once more,\" Caratac went on." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Not long ago, thought Boudica, this man swore to defend all Britannia. Now his ambition was limited to the freedom of a man, a woman, and a child. But didn't it always comedown to that? No matter what words men used to cloak their ambitions, the abstraction they fought forbore a human face and name.\n\n\"All that I can offer you is supplies for the road and my blessing,\" she began.\n\n\"No-there is one thing more you can do for me.\" He lifted his hands to the torque, gripped the ornate ring-shaped terminals, and began to twist open the spiral rope of gold wires. \"This much of your warning I will heed. This torque was made by an Iceni craftsman.\" Wincing, he dragged it off, leaving a semicircle of white around the base of his neck where it had lain. \"Keep it for me, Boudica. If things go well, I will reclaim it. If they go... badly, I will not shame the gold by wearing it with Roman chains.\"\n\nf Mona was called the golden island, wreathed in magic, the lump of rock separated from the rest of it by a tidal strait was said to be more holy still. From this height at the western tip of Mona, one gazed out upon a silver ocean half veiled by mists. Some said it was the last port from which one might set sail for the Isles of the Blessed. Lhiannon was only going to Eriu.\n\nBut it felt like death, to be sure, to leave Britannia. She clung to the rail of the tubby little craft as it eased out from the shelter of the harbor and began to roll and dip to the rhythms of the sea. She left behind the limited satisfaction of knowing that the Roman governor Ostorius had died, and sorrow at the news that Queen Cartimandua had sent Caratac to the Romans in chains. By now he, too, must be upon the sea, headed for Rome. To have his wife, daughter, and brother with him was surely no comfort, when all they could hope for was death or captivity." }, { "from": "human", "value": "With the death of the governor, the Silures had resumed a vicious guerrilla warfare." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The tribes of the western mountains still stood between Mona and the Romans, but the southern lowlands lay in uneasy peace. There was nothing Lhiannon could do to help Britannia. She told herself she would be glad to begone.\n\nThe uncertainty beneath her feet was all too reflective of her own inner turmoil. All that she had known was disappearing behind her, she had no firm foundation, and the future was shrouded in a mist as gray as the fog that lay upon the sea.\n\nBack on the shore she could still seethe blue figure that was Helve. Lhiannon had not expected the High Priestess to see her off. Only when they were on the road did she realize the other woman wanted a chance to talk to her away from the whole Druid community's ears.\n\n\"The Romans will try to destroy us,\" Helve said grimly. \"I have seen it and Coventa has seen it as well. Despite our resistance, the new forts they are building are closer every year. They have learned of the gold in the heart of the mountains and the silver in the Deceangli lands. That will draw them, and then they will find the coastal road that leads here. Those mountains will not protect us anymore.\"\n\n\"Then why are you sending me away?\" Lhiannon had asked.\n\n\"You have proven yourself to be adaptable. I believe that you have the best chance of learning whatever skills the Druids of Eriu can teach. Mearan believed you were the most talented of the younger priestesses-it will be up to you to preserve our tradition if we fall.\"\n\nThe shock of that statement had held Lhiannon speechless. \"I thought you despised me,\" she said at last.\n\nAnd Helve had looked at her with an expression halfway between exasperation and anger. \"You were my rival. But if these ornaments are ever yours-\" she touched the gold at her neck, \"-you will find that the work takes precedence over whatever you may feel. Love and hatred are luxuries I can no longer afford. And if you become High Priestess it will mean that I am dead and beyond all jealousy.\" She gave a bitter laugh. \"So take care of yourself and learn all you can...\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "NINETEEN\n\nwant you to keep your eyes open.\"Boudica addressed her daughters with a warning glare.\" The Roman town will be very new and strange. You must always stay insight of Temella or one of the house guard-do you understand?\" The glare fixed on Rigana, who at seven had added to her independence of spirit an uncanny ability to elude her keepers. Fora moment the queen wished they had brought Bogle, but the dog was growing old for such a journey, and she winced at the thought of how he might react to the new sounds and smells of the Roman town.\n\nShe wondered just how strange Camulodunum, or Colonia Victricensis-the City of Victory-as they were supposed to call it now, would be. She had seen the fort they had built on the hill above the old dun, but she had not been this far south for some years and knew the town only from what she had heard.\n\n\"They are confident,\" observed Prasutagos as they started up the\n\nhill.\n\nA straggle of huts and gardens lined the road, and the ditch and bank that had supported the walls were no longer crowned by a palisade. Many of the old legionary buildings had been converted to homes and shops, but there was also a great deal of new construction going on. The retired soldiers had adapted well, but then a legion was like a mobile city, with men trained in every trade. Some had imported wives from their homelands, and others had married girls of the tribes. Boudica wondered how the Trinovantes felt about having so many strangers set down in the midst of their territory. But as a conquered tribe there was little they could do about it. All the more reason, she thought grimly, for the Iceni to maintain their protected status as anally." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"They have reason to be,\" she replied." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The new governor, Aulus Didius Gallus, had forced the Silures to surrender. With Caratac a prisoner, no British leader with the stature to head a rebellion remained.\n\n\"Look, Mama-a big rock with doors!\"\n\nArgantilla could be forgiven for not recognizing the gate as a work of man. She had never seen a building made of stone, and this structure with its twin arches and carved pediment had no real purpose except as a statement of Roman pride. Sunlight gave way to shadow as they passed beneath the arch and into the town.\n\nunlight sparkled on the fountain in the midst of Julia Postumia's garden, its subtle tinkle and plash a background to the murmur of women's voices. It reminded Boudica of the waters of the sacred spring. Though this might be more manicured and orderly than the kind of sanctuary her own gods loved, it was still a welcome change from the straight lines and sharp corners of the Roman town. This garden grew nothing so practical as cabbages or beans. It was a shrine to beauty, complete with a stone grotto where the image of a goddess smiled upon the flowers. The gods who had led the Romans to Britannia were Jupiter and Mars. This lovely lady semed a deity of a more gracious kind.\n\n\"Who is the goddess?\" Boudica asked. Her Latin was still halting, and she spoke with the accent of the Gaulish slave whom they had bought as a teacher and freed, but it served. Postumia had been visibly relieved to find they could speak without needing a translator.\n\n\"That is Venus, the lady of love. Do you have such a goddess among the tribes?\"\n\n\"A goddess for love alone?\" Boudica shook her head. \"But all of our goddesses are lusty.\" She smiled a little, remembering some of the tales she had heard about the Morrigan, \"even our goddess of war.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Postumia laughed. \"They say that Venus fought in the Trojan War, but not very well. Since then, the bedchamber has been her only battlefield.\"\n\n\"No doubt your men prefer it that way,\" Boudica replied. \"They seem uncomfortable with women in power, even queens.\" It still rankled that Prasutagos had been invited to the council of chieftains and she had not. Her only consolation was that the prohibition applied to\n\nCartimandua, who sat on the other side of the garden, as well. At least I trust Prasutagos to tell me what goes on, and ask my counsel, she thought then. From all accounts, since Cartimandua betrayed Caratac she and Venu-tios had scarcely exchanged a word.\n\n\"It was very kind of you to entertain us while our husbands are otherwise occupied,\" she said politely. While your husband is reminding ours who really rules Britannia, her thought went on.\n\n\"Oh I think we have the best of it,\" answered the governor's wife. \"We can sit comfortably in the fresh air while they must sweat in that stuffy hall. But if we follow the emperor's example, that may change. I'm told that when Caratacus and his family were paraded through Rome, Agrippina sat beside her husband on her own throne.\"\n\n\"Do you know more about what happened there?\" Boudica asked in a neutral tone.\n\n\"He is a brave man, your Caratacus. The others, they say, hung down their heads in despair, but the king wore his chains like royal jewels. He asked why the Romans should want Britannia when they already possessed so magificent a city. Then he told Claudius that the difficulties he had caused us only magnified our glory in taking him captive, and pointed out that dead, he would be forgotten, while living, he would bear witness to the emperor's magnanimity. Romans always appreciate a good speech, so Claudius let him live, and gave him a house in Rome.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But Caratac will never again see Britannia... thought Boudica. I think that I would rather die than endure even so kinda captivity.\n\nPostumia looked up as one of her slaves appeared at the gate with Temella close behind.\n\n\"Domina-\" he began, but Temella pushed past him.\n\n\"My lady, the girls are gone!\"\n\nBut Boudica was already on her feet, muttering an apology to her hostess before Postumia had had a chance to reply. I should have brought Bogle, she thought as she hurried away.\n\nIt was their Gaulish freedman, Crispus, whose knowledge of Roman towns proved most useful.\n\n\"I fear this may have been my fault, mistress,\" he said as they hastened down the road. \"I told the girls about the shops, and they couldn't wait to go see.\"\n\nBoudica had wanted to visit the shops herself, and had promised to take them. Visions of her children frightened and bleeding alternated with scenarios of what she was going to do to them when she found them safe and sound.\n\nFrom ahead she could hear shouting. That sounded promising. She exchanged a grimace with Temella and began to run, with Calgac, the warrior who had been assigned as her escort, pounding along behind.\n\nThe scene she found brought her up short, tears of relief vying with a strong urge to laugh. Rigana, wearing a ferocious scowl and gripping a pole that had apparently once held up the sunshade that drooped behind her, was standing off a crowd of arguing adults. Apparently the quality of the children's clothing had made the townsfolk think twice about taking stronger action. Behind her sat Argantilla, her arms clasped protectively around a dark-haired boy little older than she who looked equally terrorized by the shouting grown-ups and his small protector. Baskets of beans lay overturned on the ground." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"She is surely your daughter, my lady,\" murmured Calgac. \"Good form with that, um, spear.\"\n\nBoudica changed her smile fora regal frown, straightened her tunica, and strode forward. Men parted to let her through, as impressed, she hoped, by her air of authority as by the spear in the hand of the man who followed her.\n\n\"Mama,\" cried Rigana as she came into view. \"They were going to kill the boy!\"\n\n\"Nay, Lady-noble queen!\" said around little man with a very red face, simultaneously trying to bluster and bow. \"I beat the boy because he is stupid and lazy, and the little girls started to yell at me and the red-haired one hit me, and look at the mess they have made of my stall!\"\n\nBoudica looked more closely and saw the beginnings of a notable bruise on his cheek. Good for you, Rigana! \"I see...\" she said aloud. Unfortunately, the man was within his rights, and she had no desire to fight this out in a Roman court of law. \"I suppose the boy is your slave?\"\n\n\"He is, to my sorrow, and a more stupid, worthless-\"\n\n\"Then his value is doubtless small,\" she cut across his words. \"Will this compensate you for the insult to your honor, the damage to your shop, and this worthless boy?\" She stripped off one of her golden arm rings and held it out to him.\n\n\"Yes, but the boy cost...\" His protest faded as he got a good look at the gold. \"Yes, great queen, you are most generous!\"\n\n\"I am, for that arm ring is worth more than you and your shop and everything in it.\" Men straightened and bowed their heads as she swept the crowd with a regal glare. \"Before all the gods, I call you to witness that compensation has been offered and accepted, and to attest to that fact if required.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Yes, Lady,\" came the murmurs, and from those who recognized her, \"yes, my queen!\"\n\n\"Crispus, get a few names in case we need them, while Calgac and I take these mighty warriors home to face their own justice,\" murmured Boudica, moving forward to collect her offspring and their prize.\n\n\"Which of you had this idea?\" she asked as they entered the Roman-style house that had been assigned to them during their stay.\n\nRigana eyed her dubiously, clearly trying to decide whether claiming leadership would bring her praise or blame.\n\n\"Riga wanted to seethe shops,\" Argantilla said precisely, \"but I saved the boy!\"\n\n\"Ah yes...\" Fora moment she considered the younger girl. Rigana had always been more aggressive, but clearly Tilla also had steel. Then she sighed and turned to the boy. \"Well, let us take a look at you, child.\" She lifted his chin and gazed into dark eyes wide with defiance and fear. \"What is your name?\"\n\n\"He called me \"you little bastard,\"\" muttered the boy, \"but there was a woman who called me Caw.\" She could see now that he was desperately thin, and she glimpsed the weals of the whip beneath the tattered tunic he wore.\n\n\"Was she your mother?\" Boudica asked more gently. He spoke with the accent of the Trinovantes, but that was to be expected. With such hair and eyes, he could be a Roman bastard or the child of a Silure woman taken in war.\n\n\"Dunno...\" Caw looked down.\n\n\"Well it's no matter, you belong to us now. We will make your freedom legal once you are grown. And we do not beat our servants, slave or free!\" She turned to the warrior. \"Calgac, will you take our new child and find him food, a bath, and clothes? When you are recovered, Caw, you will attend my daughters. I expect you to help them, but you must not let them push you around. And you two-\" she turned to the girls, \"-must treat him with courtesy.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Yes, Mama,\" they chorused, impressed into good behavior, at least for now.\n\ntwas hot in the square. As the line of richly dressed men and women moved sedately forward, Boudica pulled her veil forward to create a little shade. Prasutagos looked at her enviously. His hair was growing thin on top, and he would have a very red pate by the time they were done. The Roman citizens among them had pulled the ends of their togas over their heads. She had always assumed that the voluminous folds of the toga were intended to demonstrate that the wearer was not expected to do anything practical while wearing it, but clearly, in their native land, the garment also served to provide protection to men who had to stand about for hours of official ceremonies in the hot Italian sun. She could feel sweat trickling down her back beneath her linen gown.\n\nSweet smoke eddied through the air, veiling the tile roofs of the buildings that surrounded the square. This place was the most emphatically Roman part of Colonia. It had been laid out at the eastern edge of the town, where the battlements had been leveled to provide more room. On one side the half-built walls of the new theater gleamed white in the sunlight. Though she saw no image ofJupiter, his brooding presence hungover the place like an invisible cloud. But the figure of Victory on her tall column gazed complacently upon those who had come to the civic altar to offer incense to the genius of the emperor. Boudica had no objection to participating, though this rite seemed stiff and perfunctory after the power of the Druid rituals. Anything that increased the virtue of the ruler could only improve the way he dealt with Britannia.\n\nPrasutagos gave a patient sigh as step by step the kings and chieftains moved forward. At least he had been able to amuse himself by looking at the buildings. She had learned to interpret his sighs as she did his silences. This one expressed a number of things he was too politic to say, such as his opinion of the togas some of the Catuvellauni wore. Britons who had come over to the Roman side early had been rewarded by making their tribal center a town, Verulamium, and given the status of citizens. The Peace of Rome required her to be polite to them, as it kept her from speaking her mind to Cartimandua." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Through the smoke she met the Brigante queen's dark eyes. You despise meas a traitor, they seemed to say. Yet here we both are. Caratac came to you in secret, but tome he came openly. Can you swear that faced with my choice you would not have done the same? And Boudica, recognizing that she might have betrayed Caratac herself if giving him up had been the price of her children's safety, was the first to look away.\n\nHer nostrils flared at the sweet spicy scent as they came to the altar. She bowed her head and cast a pinch of crumbled resin on the fire. Then they were done, and moving toward the chattering group gathered under a sunshade at the edge of the square.\n\n\"Do they really think that going through this show will make us love Rome?\" she murmured.\n\n\"I don't think it matters,\" Prasutagos replied. \"Romans are always most concerned about the forms of things. So long as we go through the motions, they don't seem to care what we really believe. I think they show their faith in the things they build...\" His gaze went back to the square. \"Even the walls of their houses are straight and tall, like ramparts, hiding what lies within.\"\n\nBoudica smiled, wondering what he was dreaming of constructing now, and let him lead her into the shade.\n\nIt was cooler beneath the awning. Slaves in green tunics moved among the crowd, bearing trays of spicy tidbits and wine in cups of blue glass.\n\nBoudica's expression of pleasant interest grew a little fixed as she saw Pollio coming toward them.\n\n\"A lovely afternoon, is it not? Almost warm enough to make us Romans feel at home.\" His tone was casual, but she flinched from the intensity of his gaze and drew her veil around her shoulders and across her breast as an additional shield. \"It is my honor to present my new assistant-Lucius Cloto from Noviomagus in the Atrebate lands.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Boudica blinked, mentally subtracting fat and facial hair to match this narrow-eyed man to a boy shouting curses as Ardanos dragged him away." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Unfortunately Cloto had been right about the power of Rome, and clearly he had been rewarded, though his awkwardly draped toga looked as though it was about to trip him. From the new name, he must have become a client of Pollio when he became a Roman citizen.\n\n\"King Prasutagos, of course, you know, but you may not have met his lovely wife, Boudica,\" Pollio went on.\n\n\"Oh I knew Boudica when she was only a gangly girl, long ago,\" said Cloto. He and Boudica exchanged edged smiles.\n\n\"Since then many things have changed,\" she said blandly. It would probably be neither politic nor dignified to mention that in those days she had outrun him on the hurley field.\n\nIndeed, my lovely wife, said Prasutagos's raised brow, I sense a tale I have not heard.\n\n\"No doubt we will meet again this fall, when we make the rounds after the harvest,\" said Cloto. I was right... and now you will pay, he smiled.\n\n\"Did you know that the people here call him by the name of one of the Greek fates, \"Clotho\"?\" asked Prasutagos when the two tax collectors had gone. \"He measures out the amount due.\"\n\n\"He was a student at Mona when I was there,\" said Boudica, \"and just as unpleasant a boy as he is a man. He'll be dangerous-he knows what people are likely to have and what they will be trying to hide... Will this affect the building project at Teutodunon?\" The double-tiered roundhouse had not satisfied the king for long. Prasutagos's new plan called fora group of buildings in a vastly expanded enclosure.\n\n\"I shouldn't think so,\" he said thoughtfully. \"I'm providing work for people who would otherwise be potential rebels. The Romans ought to thank me forgetting them off the roads.\" He shrugged. \"The Romans say that fate is something that no one can evade.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Prasutagos smiled but Boudica did not." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Certainly all that the Druids had done to evade the fate foreseen by the seeresses had only helped to bring it to pass. Which of their own efforts to preserve their people would instead bring disaster? Despite the warmth of the day, she felt a chill.\n\nhe day had dawned clear but a cold wind was herding clouds across the sky. The Turning of Spring always brought unsettled weather, thought Boudica, picking up a bundle of bedding to transfer from the two-tiered great house to the new roundhouse that had been built for the women beside it. Geese were winging northward, and the royal family was moving out of the two-tiered hall. It would be a relief, she thought wryly, not to have to fall asleep to the sound of men arguing around the central fire.\n\n\"Mama! Bogle is gone!\"\n\nBoudica turned as Argantilla came running toward her.\n\n\"He's an old dog, darling. I am sure he has only lain down somewhere out of the way fora nap.\" Though it was hard to know where that might be, with the dun a-bustle with men digging the new bank and ditch, now that they had finished the roundhouses that would flank the council hall.\n\n\"But I've looked everywhere!\" At eight, Argantilla was growing into a sturdy, responsible child, red-faced with exertion just now, with her father's thick fair hair. It was a relief to have one daughter who could be depended onto know where she had left her shoes the night before, but Tilla's conviction that she was the only responsible person in the family could sometimes annoy.\n\n\"No, you have not,\" Boudica said tartly, \"or you would have found him. These days he is too lame to have gotten far. Ask your sister to help you look, or Caw.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Rigana is out on her pony, helping the men bring in the cows,\" Tilla said disapprovingly. \"I think Caw is watching the blacksmith.\"\n\nRaised in the Roman town, Caw did not have the ease on horseback of her girls, who had ridden since before they could walk, but he was clever with his hands. Argantilla still regarded him as her discovery, and the boy revered her as his rescuer. Boudica had no doubt he would drop whatever he might be doing if Tilla asked.\n\n\"Go find him, Blossom,\" she said aloud, \"and find the dog, and then you can comeback and help me.\"\n\nPrasutagos ought to be helping as well, but he had discovered a convenient errand to Drostac of Ash Hill. Now that the two roundhouses flanking the Council Hall were completed, Boudica and the girls were taking all their things to the one allotted to the queen. Except fora few things he would need at night, the king's gear had to be moved to the Men's House on the other side. The gods alone knew how he and his house guard would organize things over there, but that was not her problem.\n\nWhat she would have preferred, Boudica thought wryly, was a separate house just big enough for her and him. It was time the king and queen made another journey through the tribal territories, though now that he was High King she supposed they could never be as entirely alone as they had been when she ran away from their wedding feast and woke to find him cooking breakfast over her fire. She smiled reminis-cently, then gave herself a mental shake and picked up the bundle of bedding once more.\n\nShe had arranged all her own gear and she and Temella were making up the great bed when Caw appeared at the door. It was anew bed, and she was looking forward to testing it when her husband got home." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"My Lady,\" said Caw with the formality that even after three years in their household he still used. \"We have found the dog.\" He waited.\n\n\"Is he injured?\" Boudica asked.\n\n\"I believe something is wrong. He lifts his head, but he will not rise. Argantilla is with him down at the end of the new ditch. He is too heavy, Lady, for us to carry home.\"\n\n\"Of course he is.\" Lately the dog had lost flesh, but he still probably weighed as much as one of the girls. Argantilla would have not hesitated to order the men to help them, but she could understand why the girl had stayed with the dog. She was always the one to whom people would bring a bird with a broken wing.\n\n\"If he is hurt he should be moved carefully. Run to the workmen who are building the palisade and have them use some of the poles to make a litter. Tell them it is my order,\" she added when he looked dubious.\n\nLeaving Temella to finish with the bed, Boudica sniffed the air, then took up her shawl and strode across the yard. The sky was now completely gray, and the air heavy with the promise of rain. She could have wished that Prasutagos had not designed the new rectangular enclosure to be so big. He could have fitted an entire Roman fort inside. The original bank and ditch had been filled in, and as each section of the new one was finished the woodworkers were adding the palisade, while the diggers extended the ditch some more.\n\nAs she hurried toward the far corner of the enclosure she glimpsed Argantilla's fair head and then the sprawled, creamy limbs of the dog. Bogle lifted his head as she neared, tail twitching in welcome." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Hello, old friend,\" she murmured, kneeling beside him and settling the great head in her lap." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"How is it with you?\"\n\nThe dog gave a gusty sigh and closed his eyes as she began to fondle his ears. Boudica's heart twisted in pity, feeling the bone beneath the loose skin. She had known Bogle was aging, but he was a white dog, and there was no graying at his muzzle to warn her just how old he had become.\n\n\"Where is the trouble then, my lad?\" Gently she worked her hands along his spine, flexed the joints, probed the long muscles of back and thigh. The dog did not wince or move, except for the lazy beat of his tail.\n\n\"Mama, what's wrong with him?\"\n\nBoudica shrugged helplessly. \"I can find no injury, Blossom. I think he is simply old and tired.\"\n\n\"Like Grandma got?\" asked the girl.\n\n\"Yes, darling.\" Boudica's mother had died the year before, and in her last days Argantilla had been the one to keep her company. \"Bodies wear out, for dogs and humans as well.\"\n\n\"But he is only two years older than Rigana!\" Tilla exclaimed.\n\n\"Dog years are different,\" said Boudica. \"Fora big dog, Bogle is very old...\" As old as her little son would have been, if he had lived. How strange that a dog's whole life could have passed, when her baby's death still seemed like yesterday.\n\nIt was getting cold. Where were the men with the litter?\n\n\"But I don't want him to die...\" muttered the child.\n\nBeyond her, Caw's face had grown very pale. He has seen death, thought Boudica, and knows what it is. Do I?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "When her mother died she had been away from home, and the shell that was left seemed unreal. If she had seen her son's body, perhaps she would not have been haunted for so many years by dreams in which she heard him crying that she had abandoned him, or if she had felt his little life flicker out beneath her hand, as she felt Bogle's life flickering now.\n\nShe bent closer, trying to soothe the dog as he twitched and shivered in her arms.\n\n\"They will have to be very careful when they lift him,\" Argantilla was saying as Bogle stiffened, relaxed, and began to tremble once more.\n\n\"Oh my poor puppy,\" Boudica whispered, \"beat ease, beat peace. The fields of An-Dubnion are full of hares, they say, and Arimanes loves a good hound...\"\n\nDeath had surrounded her in these years when the Romans had killed her brothers and so many other men, but she had always missed it. She had no choice but to embrace it now.\n\n\"You were a good dog, Bogle, a good dog...\" she got out through an aching throat. Thank you for all your love for me...\n\nThe plumed tail slapped the ground. She held him tightly as he convulsed once more, and then was still.\n\n\"We have made a litter, Lady. Shall we take the dog to the house?\"\n\nBoudica straightened, acknowledging their presence, though at this moment she could not remember their names. She felt as if an age had passed.\n\n\"No. We must find a place to bury him,\" she whispered, and Tilla began to cry. \"Have the holes for the gateposts been dug?\" When the men nodded, Boudica added, \"We will lay him there, where he can continue to guard us, and carve his head upon the pole.\"" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Continue the tale as the plot helper for the writer.\nTags: fantasy, historical fantasy, druids\nAuthor: Marion Zimmer Bradley, Diana L. Paxson\nTitle: Ravens of Avalon\nChapter: 3" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "When her mother died she had been away from home, and the shell that was left seemed unreal. If she had seen her son's body, perhaps she would not have been haunted for so many years by dreams in which she heard him crying that she had abandoned him, or if she had felt his little life flicker out beneath her hand, as she felt Bogle's life flickering now.\n\nShe bent closer, trying to soothe the dog as he twitched and shivered in her arms.\n\n\"They will have to be very careful when they lift him,\" Argantilla was saying as Bogle stiffened, relaxed, and began to tremble once more.\n\n\"Oh my poor puppy,\" Boudica whispered, \"beat ease, beat peace. The fields of An-Dubnion are full of hares, they say, and Arimanes loves a good hound...\"\n\nDeath had surrounded her in these years when the Romans had killed her brothers and so many other men, but she had always missed it. She had no choice but to embrace it now.\n\n\"You were a good dog, Bogle, a good dog...\" she got out through an aching throat. Thank you for all your love for me...\n\nThe plumed tail slapped the ground. She held him tightly as he convulsed once more, and then was still.\n\n\"We have made a litter, Lady. Shall we take the dog to the house?\"\n\nBoudica straightened, acknowledging their presence, though at this moment she could not remember their names. She felt as if an age had passed.\n\n\"No. We must find a place to bury him,\" she whispered, and Tilla began to cry. \"Have the holes for the gateposts been dug?\" When the men nodded, Boudica added, \"We will lay him there, where he can continue to guard us, and carve his head upon the pole.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Drops of moisture sparkled on the dog's white coat and she thought it had begun to rain, but it was only her tears.\n\nTWENTY\n\nt Samhain, the doors are open between the old year and the new, between the living and the dead, between the worlds. This year, the new gate of Teutodunon was open as well, with torches set into the ground before the posts where the heads of the cattle sacrificed for the feast had been hung. The inner bank and ditch had been completed, though the palisade was still going in. Now Prasutagos had gotten the idea of adding another outer wall, with a forest of posts between them. Only the Good God knew how long that would take to build.\n\nThis was the season when the herds were brought into the home pastures. Next week, when they began to cull those they could not keep through the winter, the scent of blood would hang heavy on the air. But now, as Boudica watched the sun fade into the west, the wind carried the smell of roasting meat and woodsmoke and the promise of more rain.\n\n\"Mother, what are you doing? We are waiting for you!\" Rigana had just turned eleven and with every moon, it seemed, she grew taller. Along with the height came an apparent conviction that her parents were inferior beings who alternately annoyed and amused. Boudica told herself that the girl would grow out of it, but she recalled being much the same.\n\nWell, Mama, you have your revenge, she thought with an inner smile. And perhaps tonight her mother's spirit would hear.\n\n\"Yes, dear, I'll come now,\" she said peaceably, and followed her daughter into the two-tiered hall.\n\nPrasutagos was already seated in his carved chair on the other side of the fire. Her stool was next to his, but then came two seats that would be left empty for her mother and father. The king's guard and the rest of the household were settling into their places. There would be empty seats there as well; one of the warriors had been killed when his horse fell, and the wife of another was dead bearing her child." }, { "from": "human", "value": "An ordinary year, she thought, not like the autumn after her marriage when half the feast had been set aside for Prasutagos's brother and all the men killed at the battle of the Tamesa." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "If the gods were good, she would never see a Samhain feast like that again.\n\nPrasutagos looked at her with a worried frown and she managed a smile. The feast was sacred, but most years it was not a time of sorrow. The Druids taught that the Otherworld was only a breath away from this one. The dead were not gone, and at Samhain, the veil between the worlds grew thin.\n\nNow the food was coming in on wooden trenchers-bread and honey cakes and steaming barley, dried wild apples and ribs of beef and slices of roast boar. They had been brewing for weeks to get ready, and cups and horns were kept filled.\n\n\"I salute my mother, Anaveistl,\" said Boudica. \"Teutodunon has changed a lot since you were lady here, but I hope you are not too disappointed with our housekeeping!\" That got a laugh from those who remembered her mother's heroic bouts of spring cleaning. Boudica drained her cup, and the toasting went on.\n\nShe bit off the last bit of meat that human teeth could remove from a beef rib, reached down to give it to Bogle, then stopped, tears pricking in her eyes as she remembered why he was not there. But surely the dog had been as valued a member of the household as many of the others they were hailing-with a silent prayer she set the bone on the earth where he had so often lain.\n\nThe toasting continued, sometimes with a song or a story as the dead lived again in memory. But as the evening drew on, Boudica saw her daughters beginning to look more often at the open door.\n\n\"I think that someone wants to keep watch outside,\" she said smiling. \"Eoc Mor, will you go with them to the gate?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And because she was listening, even before the girls came running back, Boudica caught the deep vibration of the distant drums.\n\n\"The White Mare is coming! The White Mare!\"\n\nThe whole company poured out into the torchlit night. Overhead a few clouds were playing tag with the moon and a little fog was rising from the moist ground. Beyond the gateposts at the other end of the enclosure she saw a glimmer of light. It was not the great bonfire that burned beyond the gateway, for this light was moving. The misty air lent a quality to that brightness that made the hair prickle on her arms. It pulsed in time to the rattle of pebble-filled bladders and skirling of birch flutes and the throb of the drums. Boudica felt her heartbeat settling to that rhythm and laughed.\n\nAnd now she could seethe beings that bore those torches tumbling into the enclosure, masked and caped to mimic the animals that were the families' totems, or fantastic creatures from the Otherworld. Capes and sleeves fluttered with streamers of colored wool and metal bits and clattering bones. Some had the shape of men, but had painted themselves like the warriors of the old race whose blood they bore. Some had no disguise but chalk paste that turned their faces to skulls from which eyes glittered with unnerving intensity.\n\nAnd rising from the midst of that screeching, chattering mob was the White Mare Herself, the bleached skull poised with clacking jaw above the drape of the supple white hide. Copper discs had been set into the eyeholes, polished to catch the torchlight with a baleful gleam. This was not the lively, loving horse goddess whose mask Boudica had borne at the kingmaking. At Samhain Epona showed the face of Life beyond life, to which Death was the door." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "At Samhain she walks with the Lady of Ravens, thought Boudica, and that is an aspect no one in her senses would ask to bear...\n\nThe invaders formed into a rough semicircle with the White Mare in its center and began to sing-\n\n\"Behold, here we are, Come from afar, Your gates, friends, unbar, And hear us sing!\"\n\nEach district had its own variation on the festival. Teutodunon had been Boudica's childhood home, so it was for her to step forward with the reply-\n\n\"Wise ones, tell me true, How many are you,\n\nAnd give your names, too That we may know.\"\n\nShe probably knew the men who were responding, but through the masks their voices sounded blurred and strange.\n\n\"You must give us to eat Both barley and wheat, As the spirits you treat So shall you prosper!\"\n\nAs the girls ran back to the house for the bannocks and ale, Boudica kept the interchange going. Ina few minutes the food and drink were being distributed to the masquers.\n\n\"The White Mare will sing, The spirits will bring New life and blessing To everyone...\"\n\nThe massive head dipped. Boudica stepped back, dizzied as if it were she who had drunk the ale, seeing not a horse skull and hide but the entire animal, limned in glimmering skin and bone.\n\n\"A gift from you gains a gift from me... What would you ask, Iceni Queen?\"\n\nWas she hearing that with her ears or with her heart?\n\n\"Give me back my little son...\" she whispered in reply.\n\n\"He will return, but not to you. It is not through your children that you will gain immortality. But I will give you back your guardian.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Then the crowd surged between them and the connection was broken. Blinking, Boudica found herself at the edge of the throng.\n\n\"My Lady-\"\n\nShe turned and recognized Brocagnos, a boar-mask dangling from his hand. On his other side something white was moving.\n\n\"When you visited my dun last fall my white bitch was in season, and that dog of yours-well you can seethe pup is the spit of him. I thought to keep him, Lady, but I think he belongs here...\"\n\nBoudica scarcely heard. \"Bogle...\" she whispered as a massive whitehead with a russet nose and one red ear appeared at roughly the level of Brocagnos's hip. \"Bogle,\" she said again, \"is it you?\"\n\nThe silky ears lifted. Then, with a joyful bark, the dog launched himself into her arms.\n\nhe ripening grain in the fields around Danatobrigos rippled like an animal's pelt in the cold wind that blew in each day at sunset from the sea. Prasutagos had gone down to Colonia for the annual meeting of the chieftains, but it was five years now since Boudica had accompanied him. She preferred to spend the summer here, on the land she had learned to love, where the girls, now ten and almost thirteen, could run as wild as the ponies they rode.\n\nDuring the day she was too busy to miss Prasutagos, but when the shadows lengthened and evening began to steal across the world it had become her custom to whistle up the dogs and walkout to the track across the downs. There were a good half dozen of them now, old Bogle's offspring by bitches allover the Iceni lands. After Brocagnos brought the young dog, others had gifted her with puppies in which his blood ran strong, and now her walks were attended by a frothing of white, red-spotted hounds." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They coursed back and forth, giving chase to a hare that had been hiding in the hedge, barking at the crows that rose in yammering flocks and winged across the fields to their roosting tree. And yet beneath all the surface noise there was a deep quiet in the land that soothed Boudi-ca's soul. Presently she came to the road and gazed southward, hoping to sight the party of men and horses that would herald her husband's return.\n\nBoudica could see nothing on the road, but the dogs had come to a halt, heads lifted, scenting the breeze. She stood waiting, fondling first one and then another furry head as it pushed against her palm, and presently a single figure came into view. It was a man, young by the vigor of his walk, in a worn tunic of undyed wool with a pack on his back and a hat of woven wheatstraw pulled down over his brow.\n\n\"Well met, wanderer,\" she said as he came to a halt before her.\n\n\"Why it is Rianor!\" she exclaimed as he swept off the hat. He was a full priest now, she saw by his beard and shaven brow. \"I hope you were coming to see us at Danatobrigos. If not, my hounds and I will carry you off anyhow.\"\n\n\"So long as it's not Arimanes's pack you have there,\" he said, still smiling. \"They look like Faerie hounds, but they seem friendly. But that cannot be your old dog Bogle, unless he's gone to the Land of Youth and returned-\"\n\n\"Very nearly. This one was born after the first one died, and as you can see, his markings are almost the same.\" The dog had settled into her life so smoothly that even without the White Mare's prophecy she would have believed him to be the same." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Somehow Lugovalos's lectures never mentioned the reincarnation of dogs, but I suppose it could be so.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Rianor grinned.\n\n\"Tell me what you are doing here?\" Boudica asked as they started up the path to the farmstead.\n\n\"Being among those still young and strong enough to do so, I mostly carry news and messages. And when the soil seems favorable, plant a few seeds that may sprout into rebellion when the stars are right. All that practice in memorizing, you know.\" He smiled. \"Anyhow, that is why I am here.\"\n\n\"Not to persuade me to rebel, I hope-\" she began, but he shook his head.\n\n\"No. I've a message for you, from Lady Lhiannon.\"\n\n\"Have you seen her? Where is she? Is she well?\"\n\nRianor held up a restraining hand. \"I traveled to Eriu, and I hope never to do so again. The ocean and I do not agree. But indeed I did seethe lady, and she is well. She is living with a community of Druids in the kingdom of Laigin, and truly they area wonder, so numerous and powerful they can afford to fight among themselves when they are not using their magic to aid their kings. They are still as we were, I think, before the Romans came.\"\n\n\"And she sent word tome? You had best give it now. The girls are just the age to think you a figure of great romance. Once they catch wind of you the rest of us won't get in a word until you have told them the full tale of your wanderings.\"\n\n\"Very well.\" They had come to the wood below the farmstead, and Rianor seated himself on a fallen log and closed his eyes. \"These are the words of the priestess Lhiannon to Queen Boudica...\" His voice acquired a lighter timbre, as if Lhiannon had imbued him with her spirit as well as her words." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"My dear, I take this opportunity to send word by one you know well." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He will tell you that I am well and happy. It was very hard to leave Britannia, but I am glad to have come. I have learned a great deal that I hope to share with you one day. But the chief news is that I have a daughter-no, not of my body, but a little girl that I found weeping in the marketplace one day, with hair as glossy as a blackbird's wing and eyes the blue of the sea. Her parents had a house full of little ones they could not feed, and were happy enough to sell her tome.\n\n\"My little Caillean, which means \"girl\" in the tongue of Eriu, does not know when she was born, but I think she must be nearly the age of your younger girl. It is hard to tell, for she was undernourished when I found her, though she is shooting up fast with good food and care. She is a bright little thing, and eager to learn. I understand something of your delight in your daughters as I watch her change from day today.\n\n\"I think of you often, and hope to see you again, though I cannot say when that will be. You may send a message through Rianor, who says you were well and happy-and beautiful-when he saw you seven years ago. If the gods are good, he will be able to bring it tome.\n\n\"You have my love always, dear. I remain your Lhiannon.\"\n\nFora few moments the Druid was silent, then he shook himself and opened his eyes.\n\n\"Thank you,\" said Boudica. \"How much of that do you recall?\"\n\n\"You don't understand-when a message is set in me in trance I don't remember, and it's frustrating when people want more information, and I have no idea what it is that I've said.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"That must be difficult, but I am sure you delivered the message faithfully." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It sounded as if she were speaking tome.\"\n\n\"I'm glad.\" He smiled warmly.\n\n\"Come now, our dinner will be ready and I am sure you must be hungry. Did you come from the south? As we walk you can tell me the latest news from Colonia.\"\n\nRianor was a good observer, with a gift for describing the things he had seen. They had all wondered what would happen when the emperor Claudius was succeeded by his stepson Nero, but as far as the Druid could see, the major local result seemed to be the temple being builtin the dead emperor's name. It was strange that a man who in life had been despised by many should in death be honored as a god, especially since it was widely rumored that his wife had poisoned him. But only the good qualities of the dead were remembered, as if the divine spirit to which they had offered incense was all that remained. The ancient kings whose barrows were allover Britannia were still honored, so perhaps the beliefs of the Celts and the Romans were not so different in that regard. But however benign the emperor's spirit might be, it seemed hard that the Trinovantes, whom Claudius had deprived of king and kingdom, should have to pay for the deification of their conqueror.\n\n\"I did not see your husband, but I heard that he was there. He is much respected. They call him \"the prosperous King Prasutagos,\" did you know?\" Rianor stopped. They had almost reached the farmstead. Above the hedge the roofs of the roundhouses rose in dark points against the fading sky, but light streamed from the doorways, and there was an enticing scent of cooking beef in the air.\n\n\"Before we go in, there is a thing I would say to you. When we were younger,\" he said with sudden diffidence, \"I hoped that you would stay on Mona, and maybe dance with meat the fires.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And then you fancied yourself in love with Lhiannon, thought Boudica.\n\n\"But when I was herewith the High Priestess and Coventa I saw how your husband looks at you. He is no firebrand, but he has clearly been good for you. Some women only grow old, but you have grown more beautiful.\"\n\nWas that a declaration or a renunciation? Boudica repressed a temptation to laugh. Now that her daughters were approaching marriagable age it was consoling to know that she herself was still pleasant in men's eyes. \"We have been very happy,\" she said at last. \"But I am honored by your regard.\"\n\nAs they came through the gate the dogs came whirling back in a tumult of lolling tongues and wagging tails, followed by her daughters.\n\n\"Where were you, Mama? We've been back forever, and dinner is done!\"\n\noudica swallowed a last spoonful of beef and beans and considered her husband, finishing his own bowl on the other side of the fire. For the first time since she had known him Prasutagos looked old. He and his men had ridden in earlier that afternoon, and fora time they had all been busy unloading the bags and bales of goods and gifts that they had brought with them from Colonia. For Rigana there was a bridle of red leather with fittings of bronze for her pony, and for Argantilla a selection of embroidery yarn in every possible color. The younger girl was already more clever with her needle than her sister, better, really than Boudica herself would ever be.\n\nShe wished that Rianor could have stayed with them until the king arrived. It would have been interesting to compare his information with whatever it was Prasutagos had learned at the council... the bad news that he was saving until they were alone. It had to be political, she thought unhappily. They would already have heard anything public from the men. The others might think that the king was so quiet because he was tired. Prasutagos did look more fatigued than he ought to, even after such along ride, but after sixteen years of marriage, his silences said more to her than most people's words." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "oudica had always loved the diffuse glow that lit their bed place when the light from the coals on the hearth filtered through the curtains. Neither light nor darkness, it made of their marriage bed a place protected and separate from the world. Now she raised herself on one elbow, looking down at her husband, carefully brushed back a strand of thinning hair, and kissed him on the brow.\n\n\"I have missed you,\" she said softly, and kissed his lips. He pulled her down and the kiss became deeper.\n\nWhen they came up for air, she snuggled into her accustomed place with her head on his shoulder and her arm across his chest, listening to him breathe.\n\n\"And I you,\" he murmured. \"I missed holding you in my arms, and I missed talking to you when the meetings were done.\"\n\n\"Did you? So what is it that you have been so carefully not saying since you got home?\" She moved her hand across the muscle of his shoulder, relearning its contours.\n\n\"Is it that obvious?\"\n\n\"It is tome.\" She tweaked his chest hair and he winced and laughed.\n\n\"Money.\"\n\nHer caressing hand stilled. \"What do you mean? The harvest was good this year-\"\n\n\"To raise the wealth we will need, every grain in every ear would have to be made of gold...\" He sighed. \"All the imperial loans are being called in. You remember, those convenient funds that were offered by Claudius and his patrician friends the year of the floods, and the money we borrowed to build the hall at Teutodunon. The men who rule for young Nero want their money back. They say that Seneca has loaned forty million sesterces to British chieftains. Keeping so large an army here is expensive, and the mines have not proved as rich as they expected. The new procurator, Decianus Catus, seems to have been chosen because he will take a hard line.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"But can't the governor rein him in?\" She stared unseeingly at the canopy.\n\n\"Varanius is dead. A man called Paulinus is on the way, but we don't know what his policy will be. For the time being, Catus is in charge.\"\n\n\"Catus and Clotho...\" She shivered, remembering the meaning of the procurator's name. \"One to figure out how to cheat us and the other to measure the price. They should deal very well.\" Mentally she was tallying stock and stores, wondering what could be sold and what they could spare. The curtains around their little world no longer seemed so secure a barrier.\n\n\"I suppose Rianor knew better than to talk rebellion here, but elsewhere he has found willing ears,\" Prasutagos said. \"So far everyone still hopes the blow will not fall on them, but once the seizure of property begins, any spark will be enough to set the land aflame. The mood in the council was ugly, thereat the end.\"\n\n\"We'll find the money somehow. We have to-rebellion can only bring disaster now...\" Boudica sat up and set her hands on his shoulders, trying to make out his features. His eyes gleamed in the gloom. \"And next year I will go to the council with you. I'll not have you coming home again looking like something Bogle dragged in from the moor.\" She stroked the strong muscles of his chest and belly as if her touch could make him whole.\n\n\"I am reviving already,\" He tried to laugh but his breathing had grown uneven. She smiled and reached lower, cupping the warm weight of his manhood. Ashe rose to meet her she straddled him and welcomed him home.\n\nTWENTY-ONE\n\nver since the Feast of Brigantia it had been raining, a soft, persistent precipitation that left a pervasive damp behind it, as if earth and sky were both dissolving into primal ooze. If this kept up, thought Boudica, Dun Garo would slide into the river. The sharp cold of winter would have been more welcome." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "When she went to the doorway of the weaving shed she could look down the muddy road. But the trees faded into mist beyond it. In such weather she would not be able to see Prasutagos approaching until he was at the gates. Drat the man-he should have been back by now! Dro-stac from Ash Hill had been waiting for two days for judgment in a boundary dispute, and though he accepted her authority as queen, she wanted her husband's counsel.\n\nThis morning a little party had come in from the Trinovante lands, dispossessed from their farmstead by a Roman official who was giving it to one of his underlings. It was a hard thing to be forced from the land where you knew the spirits who lived in each stone and stream by name-harder still to flee to the territory of a different tribe. But they no longer had a king of their own toward that sacred relationship. Would Prasutagos take them under his cloak? Could he, wondered Boudica, when the strain on their own resources was already so great? Between the king's building projects and Roman taxes there was not much left in the coffers.\n\nThe greed of the Romans seemed unending. She had already sold a great deal of her jewelry to help her people. Of the major pieces, only the torque of Caratac still lay hidden like a secret defiance at the bottom of the oak chest. The Romans did have a legal right to repayment, though among her own people it would be a poor ruler who would not forgive his people their tribute when times were hard. Even the Romans provided their citizens with bread. That was the difference, she thought bitterly. The Romans fed their own people, but despite all their fine words about the benefits of belonging to the Empire, the Britons were still the enemy.\n\nBoudica let the door flap drop and strode back to her loom. Temella looked up inquiringly but knew better than to ask questions when the queen was in this mood. Fora moment she stood staring at the pattern of greens and blues, then turned restlessly away. Weaving required patience and calm, neither of which she currently could claim. She wanted to be out and doing something, and until Prasutagos returned, there was nothing she could do." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was with a sense of profound relief that she heard the sound of horses coming into the yard. As the dogs began to bark she sped to the roundhouse. Crispus had already poured the welcome cup. She took it and stood waiting.\n\nThe door was pushed open with a blast of damp wind. Prasutagos was coming in, half supported by Eoc, with Bituitos right behind. Her words of greeting, and the reproof that she had meant to follow them, were forgotten.\n\n\"What is it?\" she exclaimed as the king shrugged off his helper. \"Was there an accident?\"\n\n\"I am fine! Fussing old women.\" Prasutagos stood swaying, not seeming to notice that Bituitos had slid a supporting hand under his elbow. Frowning, she handed him the cup. Was that grimace supposed to bean answering smile? He started to drink and went off into a fit of coughing. She handed the cup back to Crispus, then took her husband's head between her hands.\n\n\"He's burning with fever!\" She looked at his men accusingly. \"What were you about to let him travel in this weather. He's ill!\"\n\n\"Lady, I know it, but he would come!\" said Eoc desperately. \"And he is the king-\"\n\n\"He said your touch would make him well,\" added Bituitos.\n\n\"My touch will put him in bed where he belongs,\" she muttered, easing an arm around her husband. \"Help me get him there!\"\n\nOnce she had Prasutagos out of his wet clothes he did seem easier. She sat by the bed, spooning hot soup into him until he would take no more.\n\n\"All right then, if you will not eat, report!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Yes, my lady,\" he said with his old smile, though he was still breathing carefully. \"Well... I got Morigenos to agree to loan Brocag-nos grain for the spring planting... They'll share the labor and the harvest.\"\n\nBoudica nodded. That was one more clan that would survive. \"And was there any news from Colonia?\"\n\nHe nodded. \"Paulinus has finished subjugating the Deceangli. Rumor has it-\" he paused for breath, \"-he means to march on Mona and end interference by the Druids once and for all.\"\n\n\"He'll have little luck,\" she answered, hoping it was true. \"Half the Druids in Britannia are there. Mona will be defended by powerful magic. I've heard news as well. Cartimandua has not only broken with Venu-tios, she's taken his armor bearer Velocatos as her lover.\"\n\nPrasutagos raised an eyebrow. \"Is that intended as a warning? I shall have to keep an eye on Bituitos.\" His laughter turned into another spate of coughing, and this time when he finished, there were spots of blood on the cloth.\n\n\"You will do your watching from this bed, then,\" she said tartly. \"You've been coughing your throat raw.\" She laid her hand on his forehead and found his fever a little less than it had been.\n\n\"Your fingers are cool,\" he murmured, closing his eyes. \"I can rest now. I don't sleep well... when you are not by my side...\"\n\nNor do I, my love, she bent to kiss his brow. It seemed strange to see him lying there so quietly when it was still day. She'd had to nurse her daughters through various childhood ailments, but Prasutagos had always been aggressively healthy. Strongmen were always the most difficult patients. She hoped this illness would not last long." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She wished that Lhiannon were here.\n\n\"Sleep, my dear one... and heal,\" she said aloud. \"I must see to the feeding of your men.\" He would rest, and the fever would break, and he would get well. No other outcome was possible.\n\nhy doesn't Father get better?\" Rigana kicked at her pony's sides and brought her up alongside the white mare that had replaced Roud as\n\nBoudica's regular mount. The men whom Prasutagos had insisted she bring along trotted behind.\n\nThe mare was called Branwen, and she considered herself queen of the road. Boudica saw the white ears flick back and slapped her neck before she could nip the pony. It was a fine day just before the Turning of Spring, and both horses were frisky.\n\nCould she mouth some reassuring platitude when the same question battered at her brain? It had been over a moon since Prasutagos had taken to his bed. He was still coughing, and each time he tried to getup the fever returned. Boudica glanced sidelong at her daughter. Rigana was almost fifteen-more than old enough for her woman-making rite. Boudica had delayed it, dreaming she might take the girl to Avalon to be initiated as she had been. But they could not make so long a journey when Prasutagos was ill. There were other closer shrines that might serve. At this rate, Argantilla would be ready for her own ritual by the time Rigana had hers.\n\n\"You are worried about him,\" Rigana said accusingly. \"You don't sleep. There are circles beneath your eyes. If you have to do the king's job-\" she indicated the farmstead, \"-you should let me and Tilla help with yours.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"That is very thoughtful of you darling, but-\"\n\n\"Mother! Don't insult me. I don't need to be protected.\"\n\nExcept, perhaps, from yourself... thought Boudica, uncomfortably reminded of herself at the same age. She had brought Rigana with her from some vague sense that the girl ought to be learning a chieftain's responsibilities, since she would probably marry a ruler someday. The queen did not allow herself to reflect that Rigana was also Prasutagos's heir.\n\n\"Perhaps you don't,\" she said mildly. \"But when you have children you will understand why parents feel they have to try...\"\n\n\"It's Father who needs help,\" Rigana said repressively. \"If you cannot heal him, you should find someone who can.\"\n\nBoudica sighed. \"Lhiannon is in Eriu, and the Druids of Mona are hiding behind their wardings, waiting for the Romans to come.\"\n\n\"You can still ask-maybe there's someone who would rather be safe here instead!\"\n\n\"Very well,\" answered Boudica. She could tell herself that she was calling for help to please her daughter, not because of the terror that kept her waking in the dark hours when she lay beside her husband, listening to each labored breath. Calgac was a dependable man. She would speak to him about it when they returned to the dun.\n\nDrostac's farmstead lay on a little rise. Cattle and horses grazed in the surrounding fields. As they approached the farm a tide of dogs surged out of the yard, barking furiously. She saw a soldier on guard by some of the horses-apparently the Romans had already arrived.\n\n\"There, my lady.\" Calgac pointed toward a group of men who were arguing in the next field. One of them, she saw with distaste, was Cloto." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Boudica considered jumping Branwen over the wicker fence and arriving on horseback among them, but that would not only have upset Cloto, but spooked the cattle they seemed to be discussing, and besides, it lacked dignity.\n\n\"I owe ye three cows,\" Drostac was exclaiming. \"I do not deny it. I've penned them yonder. This beast is a bull, and ye'll not betaking him away!\"\n\nThe animal in question, a brown bull with heavy shoulders and a suspicious glint in its eye, was standing a few paces away.\n\n\"It is I, not you, who will decide which beasts I am taking,\" said Cloto. \"I have selected that one.\" He smiled, and Boudica was suddenly sure that he knew exactly how much pride Drostac took in that bull.\n\nHeads turned as she came toward them, Rigana apace behind. She looked from Cloto to the Roman official who accompanied him, a small man who kept stepping from foot to foot as if afraid he would sink into the mud, and clearly uneasy in the presence of the bull.\n\n\"You want the bull?\" Boudica produced a titter of laughter. \"Why Cloto, have you forgotten everything you ever knew about farming?\" She shook her head pityingly and turned to the Roman. \"I suppose you will be wanting to tax this man again next year? Where do you suppose the calves will come from if you take the bull away?\"\n\nDrostac closed his lips on whatever he'd been about to say as the Roman frowned. Cloto's face had darkened. Ashe turned to reply, Boudica uttered a small shriek and edged away.\n\n\"Rigana dear, I want you to get back behind the fence,\" she said in a high voice. \"And good masters, I think we should do the same. That animal does not look safe tome...\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Rigana's outrage at being ordered faded as she saw her mother wink. The Roman official needed no more encouragement to follow her. Boudica and Drostac came after him, leaving Cloto to face the bull, which by this time really was disturbed and had begun to paw the ground.\n\nOnce through the gate, Boudica took the Roman's arm. \"If you did slaughter the beast, he'd not be good for much but sandal leather,\" she said confidentially. \"Your troops will thank you for the meat of three tender heifers, believe me, where they'd curse you for trying to feed them that bull.\"\n\nn the field they were passing, new lambs played with an energy one could not imagine their mothers had ever had. Now and again one of the ewes would lift its head in an admonitory baa. Boudica sympathized. As if her speculations had been a prophecy, just after the Turning of Spring Argantilla had come to her mother to announce that she had begun to bleed'from the woman's place,\" and when could they have her ceremony? Though Rigana considered her monthly flowering an annoyance, Argantilla had always been much more comfortable with her femininity. To initiate them together seemed the obvious response, and now that they were on the road, the girls were cantering their ponies up and down the line with equal enthusiasm.\n\n\"Calm down, you two,\" she called as her younger daughter bounced by. \"If you wear out your mounts before we get there you'll be walking beside them.\"\n\nBoudica found herself content to hold the white mare to a gentle amble, her anxiety at having left Prasutagos behind at Dun Garo warring with a guilty relief at being free in the open air. Should she have stayed with him? He had insisted that she should take the girls to the sacred spring." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They could have made the journey in two days, but the wagons in which some of the other women were riding moved slowly. Temella was with them, and some chieftains'wives. Her own mother had died long ago, but they had sent someone to bring old Nessa down from Danato-brigos, and Drostac's wife was bringing her own daughter, Aurodil, to share in the ritual.\n\nas the ritual like this for you?\" asked Argantilla as they settled into the shelters beneath the trees.\n\nBoudica put an arm around her daughter's shoulders. Tilla had not yet gotten her growth, but her figure was already sweetly rounded. She must have inherited that womanly body and her calm nature from her father's side of the family, thought the queen. It was nothing like the rangy energy she herself shared with Rigana. She would not have been ready fora womanhood ritual at the age of thirteen, but for Argantilla it was time.\n\n\"No, for I was with the Druids on Mona. When my courses began we had a celebration, but the ritual was always delayed until a girl was ready to decide whether she wished to become a priestess. So I was much older-\" And in someways, much younger, she reflected, giving the girl an extra hug. On Mona the Druids lived in lofty separation from the demands of the world, or at least they had until now, she thought apprehensively. Growing up in the High King's household had given both her daughters a sophistication beyond their years.\n\nThat night, however, the giggling that came from the shelter where the three girls were supposed to be sleeping was all too appropriate to their age. Boudica lay wakeful, remembering how Prasutagos had come to her in the darkness, touching herself as he had touched her, imagining he was beside her now. They had not made love since he had fallen ill. She had not realized how much she needed the release she found in his arms." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "In the dark hour before the dawning they were awakened, and followed the priestess who tended the sacred spring down the path, rushlights flickering in their hands. When they reached the pool they set their lights around it and stood waiting.\n\nBoudica's hands were tied to those of her daughters. As they approached, the priestess barred the way.\n\n\"Who comes to the sacred spring?\"\n\n\"I am Boudica, daughter of Anaveistl, and these are my daughters,\n\nRigana and Argantilla. Through all the years of their growing I have protected and nourished them. It is my right to stand with them now.\"\n\n\"The children you cherished are no more,\" said the priestess. \"They are women, and their own blood flows red at the call of the moon. On the journey they are beginning they must walk alone.\"\n\nShe turned to the girls. \"Rigana, Argantilla, the Goddess has called you to take on the responsibilities of womanhood. Are you willing to separate yourself from your mother and obey?\"\n\n\"I am,\" they answered her.\n\nThe priestess turned to Boudica. \"And are you willing to let them go?\"\n\nAs she gave her assent her heart was crying No! They are only children. It is too soon! But the ritual, like the years that had brought them to this place, had a momentum that carried her along.\n\n\"Then I cut the cords that have bound you. From this moment, you shall walk free.\" With a little sickle-shaped knife the priestess severed the bonds.\n\nAs the cord gave way Boudica felt the loss of another connection that she had not consciously realized was there. I should not have done this for both girls together, she thought frantically. I am not ready to lose both my babies atone blow!" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She stood aside as the process was repeated for the other mother and her girl, and followed, unhappily aware that from now on her only function here was to stand as witness. Three of the younger women had stripped off their garments and were helping the girls to disrobe before leading them into the pool. Boudica saw the goosebumps pebble their skin and winced in sympathy. Even at the height of spring the air was chilly at this hour, and the water was always cold.\n\nIn the dawn wind ribands fluttered from the branches, some old, some new. She supposed that the one she had left here so many years ago had become dust by now, like the body of her son. But the image of the Goddess was still there-or perhaps it was another one made to the same pattern. Boudica imagined a sequence of such statues, one replacing another as the first decayed, just as new generations of daughters took their mothers' places at the sacred spring.\n\n\"Now let the water bear away all stains and soil,\" chanted the young women, dipping up water and pouring it over the girls. \"Let it dissolve all that bound you, let all that hid your true selves be washed away... Feel the water caress your bodies, and remember the waters from which you were born.\"\n\nRed and dark and fair, the girls turned to receive the blessing. In the flickering light their bodies gleamed like ivory, glittering where the water made rivulets across rounded limbs. Boudica's breath caught in wonder at the beauty of budding breasts and the sweet joining of slim thighs. At places like this one and the Blood Spring of Avalon she had sensed a holy power. And there had been times when she had felt it within. But as the three girls embraced each other she saw the Maiden Goddess manifest in all Her infinite variety, radiant with potential, and her tears fell to mingle with the waters of the sacred spring." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Rigana, Argantilla, Aurodil, clean and shining, revealed in your beauty, arise, O my sisters, and join us now...\"\n\nThe girls got out of the pool with more alacrity than they had gone in, gasping with cold and laughter as they rubbed each other dry and pulled their tunics on. Meanwhile, the women faced each other along the path, arms clasped in pairs to make a tunnel through which the girls must pass to reach the feast that waited in the clearing beyond.\n\n\"From the blossom comes the fruit and from the fruit the seed,\" the women sang. \"Dying, we are born again, and buried, we are freed...\"\n\nBoudica and Aurodil's mother opened their arms to catch Rigana, holding her close.\n\n\"With this embrace you are born into the circle of women,\" whispered Boudica.\n\n\"With this embrace you are born into new life,\" the other woman replied.\n\nThen they were releasing her to the next pair, and opening their arms to Aurodil. Ahead of them the song continued.\n\n\"Birthing and rebirthing, passing, we return, Releasing, we are given all, relinquishing, we learn...\"\n\nAs the initiates passed through, the line unraveled behind them and the rest of the women followed. Light from the newly risen sun shafted through the branches in long rays made visible by the steam that rose from the pot boiling over the fire. The girls had been given seats of honor and crowned with wreaths of early primroses and cowslips. Laughing and blushing, they received the wisdom and warning, much of it bawdy, that the women were thereto provide.\n\nBoudica sipped the mint tea Nessa gave her in silence. She had felt this mingling of joy and loss after childbirth. And why should she be surprised? She had expected it to hurt when she birthed her daughters' bodies, but this second separation tore at her heart with anew and unexpected pain." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But her children were still with her. The Druids taught that death was another kind of birthing. If her husband made that passage what would she do? After today she would still be able to hold her daughters in her arms even though their relationship had changed. But if Prasutagos died...\n\nGoddess! Lady of the Sacred Spring! I will give him your waters to drink, and if he recovers we will build a temple here at your shrine. Lady of Life! Let my husband live!\n\nrasutagos lay in the great bed, utterly still.\n\nSweet Goddess, is he dead? Boudica stopped short with the curtain half lifted, staring.\n\nSurely, she thought in blind assurance, he would have waited-he could not leave her without saying farewell-and then, more sensibly, surely they would have told her if he had died. She saw his chest rise and fall and her heart began to beat once more. And though she had made no sound, his eyes opened and he greeted her with his old sweet smile.\n\nBoudica forced her lips to respond though her heart was weeping. He is so thin! I should never have gone away!\n\n\"So, our daughters are women now...\"\n\n\"The rites went well,\" she said, letting her cloak slide to the floor. The thongs of the bedstead creaked as she sat down beside him.\n\nHe sighed. \"Surely the years fly fast, when it seems no more than a season since I first held Rigana in my arms... You look no older now than you did then, my wife... when you began to forgive me for begetting her...\"\n\nBoudica blinked back tears. \"I saw strange horses in the pen,\" she said with forced briskness. \"Do we have visitors?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"One for you... one for me...\" His lips twitched. \"Or I suppose they are both... for me, though I only summoned one.\" His breath caught suddenly and his chest heaved as he struggled for air.\n\nBreathe! Boudica leaned over him, willing him strength, and was rewarded as he drew a shuddering breath. \"Shh... don't try to talk!\"\n\n\"It will ease in a moment, my lady,\" said anew voice. The curtains stirred and a tall thin man in a white robe came in. He took the king's wrist, feeling for the pulse.\n\nBoudica stared at him, memory gradually matching the lean features and graceful hands to those of a Druid she had last seen on Mona more than half her life ago. There was scarcely more silver in his black hair than she had seen there then.\n\n\"Brangenos! What are you doing here?\"\n\n\"Responding to your call, my lady,\" he replied. \"I trained as a healer-I use medicine to heal the body, and song to restore the soul.\" He looked down at Prasutagos, who seemed to have drifted into sleep, and drew Boudica aside. \"I can ease the king's pain, but music is the best treatment I can offer now.\"\n\n\"He is dying?\" She closed her eyes against his answering nod.\n\n\"Do not blame yourself, my queen. It would have done no good if I had come sooner. This is not the coughing sickness, but some deeper ill. He tells me that a horse kicked him in the chest some years ago. That might be the first cause, or some other evil that we cannot know.\"\n\n\"But he seems so cheerful,\" she said weakly.\n\n\"He knows what comes to him, but he will not show his pain to you. Not yet. But you studied on Mona-soon you will have to remember your training. He will fight-and suffer-until you give him leave. You must be the Goddess for him, my lady, and ease his birth into the Otherworld...\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Boudica shook her head. I don't remember... I am not a priestess... I can't let him go...\n\n\"But not yet,\" came a whisper from the bed. Boudica and Brange-nos both turned. \"First... we have work to do.\"\n\n\"Yes, my lord.\" The Druid bowed. \"Do you wish the Roman to come in?\"\n\n\"While you tended our daughters'spirits... I have tried to safeguard... their inheritance,\" Prasutagos said as Boudica's brows lifted in surprise.\n\nShe resumed her seat beside him as the curtains were drawn aside and Brangenos returned, followed by Bituitos, Crispus, and a bald man in a Roman tunic who eyed her with mingled appreciation and apprehension.\n\nWhat on earth has he heard about me? She forced her grimace to something more pleasant. I won't hurt you, little man, no matter how unwelcome you maybe.\n\n\"This is Junius Antonius Calvus, a lawyer from Londinium,\" said Crispus, in British, and then in Latin, \"Sir, this is the queen.\"\n\n\"She speaks our language?\" asked Calvus, as if finding it hard to believe.\n\nBoudica bared her teeth in a smile.\n\n\"She does, but Bituitos here does not. Therefore I will translate so that he may serve as witness.\"\n\nThe lawyer cleared his throat. \"Very well then. Domina, your husband has asked me to draw up a will in our fashion, as he is a client of the emperor and a friend of Rome. Ordinarily, this would have been done long ago and the document sent to Rome to be recorded in the temple of Vesta, but we can keep it in the Office of the Procurator for now.\" He opened the leather satchel at his side and withdrew a scroll." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Boudica tried to listen as the sonorous Latin rolled forth, its lilting British echo driving the sense of it in. The dower lands already settled on Boudica remained her own, but the king's possessions were divided between his daughters and the emperor. As Calvus read, Prasutagos listened, his features set in the lines of stubborn determination Boudica knew so well.\n\n\"In Roman law, it is usual fora woman to inherit from her family, not her husband,\" the lawyer said apologetically when the reading was done. \"A man leaves his wealth to his children. Daughters may inherit when there are no sons.\"\n\n\"But-the emperor?\" she asked.\n\nCalvus grew a little pink and looked away. \"You maybe aware that there are men... close to the emperor, who exercise a great deal of power...\"\n\nBoudica nodded. Seneca and the other old men who controlled the boy emperor had been raping Britannia of her wealth these past few years.\n\n\"We think... that if Nero is co-heir with your daughters, they will not dare to challenge the will. It was the only legal way I could devise...\" His voice trailed off. He still looked, thought Boudica, as if he thought she might eat him. She turned to her husband.\n\n\"My love, is this indeed what you desire?\"\n\n\"My desire is to live,\" he breathed. \"But if I cannot... this is my will. I ask the council to confirm... you to rule.\"\n\n\"Until Rigana is grown and chooses a husband,\" added Bituitos. \"The Romans supported Cartimandua because she served them, but they are not comfortable with ruling queens.\"\n\nPrasutagos's eyes had closed. Brangenos, who for such a tall man had a remarkable ability to fade into the background when he desired, stood up. The Roman jumped, having apparently not realized he was there." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The king has exhausted hist trength-he must sleep now.\" The Druid's frown was a command.\n\nCalvus hastened to gather his things and was escorted out by Cris-pus. Bituitos followed. But Boudica remained standing. Her defiant gaze met the compassion in that of the Druid, who bowed. When he had gone, she stood gazing down at Prasutagos's closed features, memorizing the arch of his nose, the line of his brows. There was a little line between them, as if even in sleep he felt pain. His mustache was entirely silver now.\n\nHer vision blurred, and she sank to her knees beside the bed, weeping soundlessly. Along time later, it seemed, she felt a touch upon her hair and jerked upright, trying to dry her eyes.\n\n\"Go ahead and cry,\" he said. \"The gods know I have done so. Do you think it is easier for me to go than for you to stay?\"\n\n\"Yes!\" she dashed more tears away. \"Was it not worse for you when your first wife died? And you had only lived with her fora year. You and I have been bound for nearly half my life, and you are leaving me alone!\"\n\nPrasutagos closed his eyes. Boudica held her breath, appalled at her own words. They had never talked about the first woman to call him husband. What madness had made her mention that now?\n\n\"When she died... I wept because I could not save her,\" he whispered at last. \"Now... because I will not be able to protect you...\"\n\noudica liked to walk down to the horse pen when Brangenos insisted that she leave Prasutagos to get some air. Now it was only here that she allowed herself the luxury of tears. Bogle and the other dogs trailed her in uncharacteristic silence as they sensed her mood. The afternoon was fading. The white mare came to the fence, butting at her shoulder in hopes of a treat, and Boudica put her arms around the strong neck and buried her face in the mare's white mane. She did not pray. She had not been able to pray since she returned from the sacred spring, but the mare's solid strength was some comfort." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Beltane celebrations had been awake instead of a festival, though Prasutagos still lived. The chieftains, shocked at the prospect of losing their king, had been willing enough to agree to all that he asked. Summer was blessing the land with joyous growth, but with each hour the king's strength ebbed as his failing lungs lost their battle to take in air.\n\nWith her face pressed against Branwen's coarse mane, Boudica sensed, rather than saw the ebbing of the light. Then the mare stamped and shook her head, and Boudica realized that someone was calling her.\n\n\"Mama...\" Rigana said tightly. \"Brangenos says that you should come.\"\n\nA shudder she could not prevent ran through Boudica's frame, but when she turned, her eyes were dry. She reached out and took her daughter's hand. As they approached the roundhouse she could hear harp notes, sweet as memory. The Druid's potions were no longer of much use, but music seemed to ease the king's pain. As they passed into the entryway she stopped, steeling herself against the smell of sickness.\n\nRigana joined her sister at the other side of the bed. Bituitos and Eoc were there, and others. Boudica did not see them. Prasutagos's face had grown more gaunt even in the time she had been gone, the flesh shrinking upon his bones. Each uneven breath was a struggle. Was he unconscious, or only so focused on staying alive that he had no attention left for the outside world? Now the tears that blurred her eyes were from pity, not her own sorrow.\n\nWhat Brangenos had said was suddenly real to her. Her husband could not live. Each hour only prolonged his pain. Was this how Pra-sutagos had felt when he watched her struggling to give birth to his child? He labored now to release his spirit, and to her fell the task of midwifing his soul." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I cannot do it, she thought.\n\nI must...\n\nShe took a step forward and her husband's eyes opened. His lips moved, trying to shape her name.\n\n\"Prasutagos...\" She spoke as he had spoken to her so long ago. \"Prasutagos, I am here...\" She knelt and took his hands, willing strength through their linked fingers, and his agony seemed to ease.\n\nHis lips moved once more, the words almost without sound. \"Watch over my people, Boudica. Guard my girls...\"\n\n\"Yes, my love,\" she answered steadily. \"I will.\"\n\nWith an effort he drew another breath, the body still fighting to live. She leaned forward. Her lips brushed his brow.\n\n\"You have done all that you could,\" she whispered. \"No woman ever had a better husband. It is finished now, my beloved. Go onward-go free...\"\n\nAs she sat back his lips curved in their familiar sweet smile. He did not speak again.\n\nBoudica waited, remembering suddenly how it had been when she took ship to go to Avalon, how it had seemed as if it were the shore, not the boat, that was slipping away. Along time later, she became aware that the labored breathing had ceased. His fingers were growing cool against her own. She released them and gently crossed his hands upon his breast.\n\nThen she rose to her feet. If others spoke to her, she did not hear them. Prasutagos was still. In all the years she had railed against his silences, there had been none like this. Plead as she might, he would not answer her.\n\nBoudica turned, brushing aside those who tried to stay her. Her steps led her to the horse pens where the white mare was waiting. What need had she for saddle or bridle? She leaped to the mare's back, and in a moment they were through the open gate and away." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The queen rode the white mare as once she had ridden the red, her wild hounds baying behind her, and men fled inside their houses where she passed. \"Epona rides...\" they whispered. \"Epona mourns the king.\"\n\nBut no matter how wildly she galloped, she would never overtake him now.\n\nTWENTY-TWO\n\nhiannon gripped the rim of the coracle that had brought her from the larger ship to the shore, and carefully clambered over the side. Sand crunched beneath her feet. She bent and scooped it up with her hand.\n\n\"I bind myself to this earth of Britannia,\" she murmured, \"to its soil and stone, stream and spring. To each thing that grows and to all that walks and flies, to the people of this land I pledge myself, not to leave it again.\"\n\nTo her right loomed the gray masses of the holy mount. A few huts clung to the slopes. Fishing boats were drawn upon the shore, where crows squabbled with the seagulls for scraps from the last catch they had brought in.\n\n\"Is this Lys Deru?\" asked the Irish Druid who had come with her, looking around him dubiously. His elders, responding to rumors of a potential influx of refugees from Britannia, had sent him to see for himself what was going on.\n\nLhiannon laughed.\n\n\"This is but the bare, stormy face Mona shows to the sea. No doubt these good folk will give us some food in exchange fora blessing, and then two days of walking will bring us to the village. But if I have not lost all my magic, someone may meet us sooner with beasts for us to ride.\"\n\nThe prospect did not make the man look much happier, but he asked no more. Lhiannon sighed. If I have not lost all my magic, she thought, and if the Druids of Lys Deru are not too distracted by fear of the Romans to hear my call. The crew that had brought them from Eriu had carried disquieting rumors of a Roman advance. She had hoped to bring Caillean with her, but with the situation so unsettled it did not seem wise. The girl would be safe with the family Lhiannon had paid to keep her until she sent for her to come." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was the dream that had awakened Lhiannon just after Beltane that concerned her now. She had heard Boudica weeping, and then she had seen a goddess on horseback who rode wailing across the skies.\n\nhe keening of the women cut through the murmur of the crowd. After three days of public mourning, Boudica no longer really heard them. Now that Prasutagos's voice was silent, there was not much that she cared to hear. When the chieftains began to arrive she spoke to them, but a moment later could not remember whom she had seen.\n\nThe morning after Prasutagos died, the mare, having run herself out, had brought Boudica home. By then, preparations for the funeral were well underway. Old women had appeared at the dun to wash and layout the body. Men were already digging a burial pit and gathering wood for the pyre. And by ones and twos and families the Iceni were coming in.\n\n\"Mother-it is time to go...\" Argantilla's warm hand closed on hers.\n\nBlinking, Boudica focused on the scene around her, the somber faces at odds with the splendor of festival clothing-Temella, Crispus, Caw as usual at Argantilla's side. They were all waiting for her to mount the white mare and lead them to the burial ground. Rigana was already on her bay horse, face pale from nights spent weeping. Fragmentary memories told her that it was gentle Argantilla who had held the household together during these past days. A whisper of reviving maternal instinct wondered why that should surprise her. Rigana is too much like me... she thought numbly. She is a sword without a sheath.\n\nObediently she allowed Calgac to give her a leg up and settled herself. Branwen, too, was on her best behavior, pacing sedately along the road as if she could not imagine galloping wildly across the moors." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A stretch of heathland to the north of Dun Garo bore a series of round barrows raised for ancient kings. Now anew pit lay open beside them. Her eyes avoided the wood-framed burial chamber where the flesh that Prasutagos had left behind rested on sheepskins laid over a bier. During the days he had lain there his people had come to say good-bye. They stood now in a great silent mass, waiting.\n\nThere should have been rich grave goods around the body, but much of what would have been offered had been sold. The wealth of'the prosperous King Prasutagos\" had gone to help his people. But other items had been added to those she recognized-small things whose value was measured by the heart, not by the scales: apiece of embroidered cloth, a use-smoothed wooden bowl, even a child's toy horse. Such treasure could never be taxed by Roman conquerors.\n\nBrangenos stood by the pyre. Beside him, a burning torch was fixed in the ground. He had found a clean robe somewhere. Its snowy folds billowed in the light wind. He was a Druid of many talents, she thought grimly. Whether you needed music, medicine, or ritual, he was there. She would have liked to hate him for failing to save the king. But that would have required her to feel.\n\nShe dismounted and took her place with her daughters before the pyre, where Bituitos and Eoc had kept vigil since their lord was put into his grave. They had stood at the king's shoulder since he and they were boys. Boudica supposed that their loss must bite almost as sharply as her own. Weeping, they jumped down into the grave-chamber and lifted their lord so that others could bear him to the pyre." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"This is the body of a man we loved.\" The Druid contemplated the bier. \"But Prasutagos is not this flesh. This flesh is earth and the food of earth, borrowed fora time. Now we must give it back again. From the waters that are the womb of the Goddess this man came. As blood, those waters flowed through his veins. Now the land is fed by the blood of the king. Through this body passed the breath of life. He has released it to the wind. Breathing that wind we take in his spirit... and let it go once more. Within this body burned immortal fire. Let that flame now set him free!\"\n\nHe pulled the torch from the ground and plunged it into the oil-soaked logs. Instantly the greedy flames raged upward. Boudica felt her daughters' fingers dig sharply into her arms and only then realized that she had started toward the pyre. Why do you stop me? she thought resentfully. If I burn with him I, too, will be free...\n\nRigana began to sob, and with an instinct that transcended her sorrow Boudica gathered her into her arms while Argantilla tried to hold them both. Boudica was suddenly acutely aware of the warmth of their flesh against her own. He lives in them... so long as I have our children, he is not completely gone... And suddenly that heat melted the ice that had numbed her spirit and the healing tears flowed from her own eyes as well.\n\nAs the body burned, people were descending into the burial chamber, taking up each item and ceremonially breaking it, the cloth ripped, the metal snapped in sacrifice, to lie therewith the king's ashes once the burning was done. Bituitos brought out the gold-hilted sword that had been hidden when the Roman inspectors came, set the point against a stone, and leaned on it until the iron blade cracked. Eoc bent the bronze-covered shield whose whorled boss glittered with red enamel. The jeweled brilliance blurred through her tears. How could the sunshine so brightly on such a day? Even the skies should have been weeping to lose this man." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Brangenos took up his harp and began to sing-\n\n\"The king who reigns in peace is the shield of his people-Their praise is his glory, his wealth is their love, Until his time is done.\n\nThe king who wards his people by the gods is welcomed-He feasts with the blessed, he walks in the light, Until he shall come again...\"\n\nSmoke billowed blue in the sunlight, the scent of destruction mingling with the pungence of the herbs on the pyre. She would not look, would not bear witness to the withering of his hands that had touched her so sweetly, the destruction of his features-whimpering, Boudica faced the flames, for surely the reality could be no worse than the images her mind was creating now.\n\n\"Fire burn!\" cried the Druid. \"Wind blow! Flesh consume! Spirit go!\"\n\nHer vision was dazzled by the blaze. Fire, said the Druids, released the spirit, reducing the flesh that had confined it to its component elements. No wonder the world was rejoicing-Prasutagos was apart of everything now.\n\nEverything... Fora single eternal moment Boudica was one with the world around her, her daughters, the land, the people who wept for their king. Prasutagos had loved them all. Fora moment she felt his presence enfold her once more.\n\nShe lifted her head, a sudden tingling awareness shocking through her. Had the heat of the pyre set that shimmer in the air, or was the world only a veil of light that concealed a more enduring reality?\n\nys Deru seemed smaller than Lhiannon remembered. Or perhaps it appeared so because so many more people were now crowded within. She should not be surprised-the influx of refugees had begun even before she went to Eriu-but it was strange." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Proceed with the plot as the storytelling partner.\nTags: fantasy, historical fantasy, druids\nAuthor: Marion Zimmer Bradley, Diana L. Paxson\nTitle: Ravens of Avalon\nChapter: 3" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Brangenos took up his harp and began to sing-\n\n\"The king who reigns in peace is the shield of his people-Their praise is his glory, his wealth is their love, Until his time is done.\n\nThe king who wards his people by the gods is welcomed-He feasts with the blessed, he walks in the light, Until he shall come again...\"\n\nSmoke billowed blue in the sunlight, the scent of destruction mingling with the pungence of the herbs on the pyre. She would not look, would not bear witness to the withering of his hands that had touched her so sweetly, the destruction of his features-whimpering, Boudica faced the flames, for surely the reality could be no worse than the images her mind was creating now.\n\n\"Fire burn!\" cried the Druid. \"Wind blow! Flesh consume! Spirit go!\"\n\nHer vision was dazzled by the blaze. Fire, said the Druids, released the spirit, reducing the flesh that had confined it to its component elements. No wonder the world was rejoicing-Prasutagos was apart of everything now.\n\nEverything... Fora single eternal moment Boudica was one with the world around her, her daughters, the land, the people who wept for their king. Prasutagos had loved them all. Fora moment she felt his presence enfold her once more.\n\nShe lifted her head, a sudden tingling awareness shocking through her. Had the heat of the pyre set that shimmer in the air, or was the world only a veil of light that concealed a more enduring reality?\n\nys Deru seemed smaller than Lhiannon remembered. Or perhaps it appeared so because so many more people were now crowded within. She should not be surprised-the influx of refugees had begun even before she went to Eriu-but it was strange." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Thank you for sending out the horses,\" she said as she followed Coventa down the path to the council hall.\n\n\"After my other recent visions, that one was very welcome.\" Cov-enta looked back with a sad smile.\n\nIt seemed strange to see Coventa in the dark blue robes of a senior priestess, but she must be past thirty by now. Well, Lhiannon thought sadly, we all grow older.\n\n\"Did you return because of Boudica? Her husband has died, they say. Rianor left to see if he could be of service to her. If he had known you were coming perhaps he would have stayed...\"\n\nLhiannon stopped short in the path. \"I felt... that she was in some trouble,\" she murmured. \"Thank you for telling me.\"\n\n\"I'm not surprised. You two were always close. They say he was a good man.\"\n\nThat was true, but after so many years the bond that had been forged between Prasutagos and Boudica at his kingmaking might have faded to the habitual affection most married couples knew. And yet Lhi-annon had felt Boudica's anguish. She would be devastated, but... the king was gone. Where now would his queen look for comfort?\n\nFrom the hall ahead she could hear the mutter of conversation-of argument-she realized as they drew near.\n\nThe wicker walls had been removed to let in air, and the benches beneath the thatched roof were full. Helve satin the great chair at the head of the fire pit, her eyes bright as those of some predatory bird. But her hair was liberally streaked with gray. And the man beside her-Lhiannon missed a step as she realized it was Ardanos." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Even in Eriu she had heard that Ardanos had been chosen Arch-Druid when Lugovalos died. But she had not expected him to change. He sat like an image in the white robes, even his hair set in stiff curls. But perhaps his heart was not so armored as it appeared, for it was he who turned first, and as their eyes met, something kindled in his glance.\n\nWhatever she thought she had seen was almost immediately veiled. He bowed his head in greeting and Helve looked around, her expression an odd mixture of exasperation and relief as she saw Lhiannon standing there.\n\n\"Our sister Lhiannon has returned from Eriu,\" she said pleasantly. \"I am sure she will have much to tell us when our present deliberations are concluded. In the meantime, let us make her welcome.\" Her gaze swept the assembled Druids, male and female, and an appropriate murmur rose from among them. Lhiannon recognized Belina and Cunitor and some of the others, and was that stalwart young man with the brown beard little Bendeigid? But many of those sitting there were older priests and priestesses whom she did not know.\n\nShe followed Coventa to a seat on one of the backbenches.\n\n\"This is the situation.\" Ardanos's voice was even and controlled. \"The governor Paulinus has spent the winter in his fortress at Deva, building boats and gathering supplies. The supplies might take him anywhere, but boats-flat-bottomed boats that can run upon mudflats or a sandy shore-can only be intended to bring soldiers here. And now the season of storms is over...\" At the murmur of protest he lifted a hand. \"We have long known that it might come to this. We should be grateful that the gods have protected us so long.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"This island is full of Silure and Ordovice and Deceangli warriors who escaped when the Romans conquered their tribes,\" said Helve. \"On the mainland, there is no British king with the force to defend us. We have called you here together to decide whether to disperse, to resist with all our powers, or to surrender to the mercy of Rome.\"\n\n\"The latter is no choice, surely,\" said someone. \"They have none for our kind.\"\n\n\"They hate what they fear-then let us prove them right to do so!\" This was an imposing old fellow with along white beard who had clearly been the chief Druid to some tribal king. \"For the warriors who have come here there is nowhere else to run, and when have there ever been so many Druids of our stature gathered in one place? Let us call down the wrath of the godson Rome!\"\n\nSweet Goddess, thought Lhiannon, what have I returned to? It will be like the campaign with Caratac allover again. In nightmares she still wandered across that final battlefield, though the memories had faded while she was in Eriu.\n\n\"First, surely, we should seek their favor,\" said one of the priestesses. \"When we fled to this place we brought our treasures. Swords and chariots are not a Druid's weapons. Let us give them to the gods!\"\n\n\"Better sunk than displayed in a Roman triumph,\" muttered someone behind her.\n\n\"The warrior prepares for battle by practicing his skills,\" Ardanos said sternly. \"You who served in dun and village had more need for the rites of growth and healing than for high magic. And our purpose here at Lys Deru has been to nurture spirits. If we are to stand against the Romans, everyone of you must spend the time we have left in prayer and purification, disciplining the mind and preparing the soul.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lhiannon wondered how much use that would be. She had seen enough warfare to know that the farmer whose hands were more accustomed to wielding a hoe than a spear was useful mostly to fill out the battle line. To use a sword effectively required constant practice. In Eriu, the Druids were often called upon to raise storms or spirits against the armies on whom their kings made war, but only a few of the Druids here-like Ardanos... and me, she thought grimly-had actually seen fighting.\n\nLost in thought, she was taken by surprise when the meeting ended. Before she could protest, Coventa was pulling her into the circle that had formed around Ardanos and Helve.\n\n\"Is your family here?\" she asked politely as the Arch-Druid turned to her. \"I trust that they are well.\"\n\nArdanos's features relaxed. \"They are indeed, but not here. They are safe, thank the gods, with Sciovana's family in the Durotrige lands. My little Rheis was married to Bendeigid just last year, and is expecting a child.\"\n\nLhiannon blinked, mentally tallying the years, for it seemed only yesterday that she had returned to Mona to find Ardanos married with a little child. But the world had not stood still while she was in Eriu. By this time, Boudica's daughters must be husband-high as well.\n\nAt the sound of his name Bendeigid looked up. Lhiannon realized that inside that muscular body still lived the lad who used to climb trees to look at birds' nests, just as somewhere within her was a girl who had loved Ardanos. And despite that shell he has built for protection, there is something in Ardanos that still cares for me...\n\nShe felt no surprise when he came to her after supper was done." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Walk with me, Lhiannon.\"\n\nShe looked at him dubiously, remembering the last time they had been alone. Reading her expression, Ardanos looked away.\n\n\"You need not be afraid,\" he said in a constricted voice. \"I shall say nothing to you that could not be said in full view of the entire Druid community, nothing of a personal nature, that is. But as I also wish to speak frankly of matters that concern the others, I would as soon they did not hear.\"\n\n\"Very well, my lord,\" she replied. \"I will come with you.\"\n\nThis time he led her down the road toward the shore. The cliffs on the other side were thickly wooded. On the height beyond, a point of light marked some shepherd's fire. The dark waters of the strait lay quiet beneath the young moon, belying the strength of the current below, but the tide was coming in and the wavelets, each one a little closer, lapped gently at the sand. It was hard to believe that soon those waters might run with blood.\n\n\"You were right to address meas \"lord\" a little while ago,\" Ardanos said presently. \"The heart of the man who loves you tells me to send you away while I can, but the Arch-Druid answers to other imperatives. You have seen my \"army,\"\" he added bitterly. \"Good priests and priestesses, most of them, but these are not adepts. Helve, little as you may like her, does have power. So does Coventa, if there is someone to direct it. Most of those who were young enough to remember their training went off to help the warriors and died. But you, Lhiannon, were the most powerful priestess of your generation. We will need you badly. For the sake of our Order, I ask you to stay.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"What chance do we have?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "she asked.\n\nArdanos sighed. \"This governor Paulinus worries me. I fear he is another Roman of the breed of Caesar. His gods must love him. He takes risks and wins. He should have died a hundred times when he was in those mountains-\" he gestured toward the dark shapes that brooded beyond the water, \"-but he always came through.\"\n\nLhiannon nodded. The fact that Paulinus had been able to finally subdue the Ordovices, who had kept on fighting even after Caratac was gone, bore witness to that.\n\nHow could she weigh the need of one woman-even one she loved-against that of the community that guarded the traditions of an entire people? It was the old argument allover again. What good did it do to preserve the body if you lost your soul? And if this enemy was indeed too strong, if all the war gods of the tribes together could not contend against Jupiter and Mars Ultor, could she bear to live in safety with Boudica, knowing that she had not even tried?\n\ne are gathered hereto take counsel for the future of the Iceni tribe,\" Morigenos said with the kind of sober grandeur that he adopted even on less momentous occasions. As the eldest of the clan leaders, he had become the spokesman for the men who were gathered around the great fire before the house of the king.\n\nThe cluster of buildings within the palisade had not changed much since she had come here for her wedding, thought Boudica wistfully. Except for the little temple just outside the dun, even in his passion for building Prasutagos had not ventured to alter the ancient home of his line. Once more the elders of the Iceni clans had assembled at Dun Garo to choose a king.\n\n\"We have buried a noble lord, Prasutagos son of Domarotagos, son through many fathers of Brannos, who led us to this land. There is now no male remaining of the blood of our kings.\" Morigenos pulled at his brindled beard." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Boudica sighed, remembering her lost son. If he had survived he would be nearly the age of the young emperor.\n\n\"It was the will of our lord that his daughters inherit with the emperor.\" Morigenos's lip curled at that, but he said no word that could be reported against him. It was the other chieftains who glared at Cloto, who had arrived the day after the funeral, unheralded, uninvited, and unwelcome.\n\nAt least it was only Cloto, thought Boudica. She had feared that Pollio might come to the funeral. She herself was here only for the sake of the living children who sat to either side. Her moment of exaltation at the funeral had gone as swiftly as it came. Without Prasutagos it was a barren world, but for their sakes she must learn to live in it.\n\n\"With that we have no quarrel. A man may leave his possessions where he likes-\" and where it is politic, came the unspoken addendum. \"But it is for us to choose who shall lead the tribe.\"\n\n\"On both counts you are wrong.\" Cloto's voice overrode his. \"Prasutagos was a client of the emperor. That relationship dies with him. It is for the emperor to choose another man to rule these lands as client-king or to administer them directly as a conquered territory.\"\n\n\"We were never conquered!\"\n\n\"We are Rome's allies!\"\n\nThe meeting erupted in a babble of protest.\n\n\"And who are you to speak for the emperor, toad?\" roared Bituitos.\n\n\"One who is trusted by Nero's procurator. While the governor is in the west it is Decianus Catus whose word you must obey. Neither your will nor that of Prasutagos has any meaning until confirmed by the real rulers of Britannia.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"If they do not do so, they betray that Roman Law they praise so highly!\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "snapped Drostac, his mustache bristling.\n\n\"And they show themselves without honor and unworthy of our obedience,\" added Morigenos.\n\nCloto shrugged. \"I tell you this for your sake, not for mine.\"\n\nBoudica surged to her feet. \"How dare you say such things while my husband's ashes are still warm? He trusted Rome. Go back to your masters and let them teach you the meaning of honor, if they can!\"\n\n\"Do you think yourself another Cartimandua?\" he sneered. \"They do not trust her, and they will place even less faith in you-\"\n\nFrom the throats of the men around the fire came a deep growl, like that of dogs when they scent an enemy. For the first time, Cloto seemed to realize that he might be in danger. Standing, he draped his cloak over his shoulders with what dignity he could muster.\n\n\"On your heads be it,\" he repeated. \"You have been warned.\"\n\n\"We have heard you.\" Boudica drew herself up. The men laughed as he wilted beneath her glare. \"Now begone!\"\n\nWhen Cloto had departed, she resumed her seat and nodded to Morigenos. \"I apologize for interfering. Continue.\"\n\n\"We thank you for ridding us of that cur-\" Fora moment he considered her, then turned to the others once more. \"Not that I believe him. The Romans have been strong in their support of the Brigante queen. Why should they not accept a queen in the Iceni lands? There is no male of the old blood, but Boudica and her daughters are of that line, and she has ruled at her husband's side. I propose that we acclaim her now. When her daughters have husbands it will be time enough to consider the election of a king.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"This is what I hoped for!\" Rigana squeezed her hand. \"Mother, why do you look so surprised? It was the obvious thing.\"\n\nBoudica had not expected it. But as the tribesmen began to cheer she heard once more the voice of Prasutagos asking her to guard his people. For you I will do it... she said silently. For you...\n\noudica stood in the Earth-ring where she and Prasutagos had been bound. The body to which the marriage rite had linked her was no more, but he was still apart of her soul. Standing here, with the green fields rolling away on every side, she could almost sense him beside her. He had loved this land, and she had loved him. If she followed in his footsteps perhaps he would walk with her, and she might dare to feel once more.\n\nThe Druids who had conducted Prasutagos's rite were long gone, frightened into exile or hiding when the Romans had begun to enforce the ban on their Order. Brangenos, with the surprising assistance of Ri-anor, who had turned up unexpectedly at their gates a few days after the council, was conducting the ceremony.\n\n\"Boudica, daughter of Dubrac, of the line of Brannos, son of the White Mare, will you stand as queen for the people and Lady of the Land?\"\n\n\"I will.\"\n\nThey had purified and blessed her already with fire and water, with earth and with air. She felt herself suddenly grown heavy, as if she had taken root in the soil.\n\n\"And will you swear to be as a mother to the Iceni, nourishing them in time of peace, protecting them in war, upholding the rights of the weak, and punishing the wrongdoing of the strong?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Suddenly she was acutely aware of the people around her, the chieftains inside the Earth-ring and everyone else outside. The air throbbed with their energy. Her own voice trembled as she replied-\n\n\"I so swear.\"\n\n\"And by what will you swear all this, daughter of Dubrac?\"\n\n\"I swear by the gods of our people.\" She swallowed as the air around her seemed to thicken. People swore by the gods all the time. She had never before been so certain that They were listening. \"I swear by Epona Mistress of Horses, by Brigantia of the Fire, and by Cathubodva Lady of Ravens. I swear by Lugos the Many-Skilled, by Taranis of the Turning Wheel, and by Dagdevos the Good God.\" She felt the fine hairs prickle up her arms as invisible witnesses crowded around her.\n\nShe took a deep breath and continued, \"I swear by the spirits of my ancestors, and if I fail in this oath may the sky fall and cover me, may the earth give way beneath me, and may the waters swallow my bones.\"\n\nThe Druid waited, as if to allow time for the oath to reach the Other-world.\n\n\"And what shall bind you, Lady of the Iceni,\" he said then.\n\n\"My heart's blood I offer in pledge,\" she answered, drawing her dagger and making a quick slice across the fleshy mound at the base of her thumb. She held out her hand so that the red blood dripped into a slash that had been made in the green turf that covered the ring. She blinked as the opening seemed to shimmer with energy.\n\n\"I offer it now to this holy earth, which stands for the whole land, as I have offered my service to you who bear witness, on behalf of the people who here dwell. And if need should require it, I will offer my life as well.\" As Corn Mother gives her grain to feed us all... she thought, remembering the harvest ritual." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Druid turned to the others. \"Thus your Lady takes oath to you; will you pledge her your service in return? Your food for her table, your warriors for her defense, your obedience to all lawful commands?\"\n\nThe answer roared around her, \"We will! We will! We will!\"\n\nor our faith and our people we make this offering. Look upon us kindly. O ye holy gods.\" Helve's voice rang out clearly, though her form was barely distinguishable in the misty darkness. It had rained off and on through the night, and though somewhere the sun was rising, the Druids\" fire seemed the only light in the world.\n\nLhiannon huddled into her wool cloak, listening to coughs and sneezes from the people around her. Pray for the stormy weather to continue, Helve, she thought with grim amusement. And perhaps the Romans will not come...\n\nAt the ill-fated ritual when the kings made their offering here the dawning had been fair. Today no seagulls swam in the water. Perhaps this grim sky was a good omen.\n\nShe wanted to weep, thinking of the treasures that had gone into the pool-swords with gleaming blades and sharp spearheads and bronze shields. There had been a wonderful bronze carynx horn from Eriu, great cauldrons, and the sickles with which they cut the mistletoe. Neck rings and chains of iron once used on prisoners followed the other things into the water. Smaller ornaments had flamed in the firelight before sinking into the dark depths. But she could not feel any difference in the atmosphere.\n\nAll those with the strength to make the journey had followed the wagon full of offerings. The very elderly had been sent away by sea, or if they were too frail to travel, taken to crofts and farmsteads elsewhere on the island where they could be passed off as grandmothers and old uncles if the Romans came. The three dozen priests and priestesses who remained stood now with unlit torches in their hands on the shores of the Lake of Little Stones." }, { "from": "human", "value": "From her place on the western side Lhiannon looked across the dark waters at Ardanos." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "At the south stood Helve, and across from her, Cuni-tor. Helve always was fire to my water, thought Lhiannon. It is no wonder we have found it hard to get along.\n\nArdanos lit his torch and touched it to that of the next man, and he to the priestess beyond him and so from one to another until the pool was circled by flame. Points of fire danced in the water as if the spirits of the pool were joining the ritual. Lhiannon felt a quiver along her spine as the circuit was closed and the Druids set their torches into the ground. Perhaps the gods would hear them after all.\n\n\"By earth and water, air and fire, We cast the circle of desire. Between the darkness and the day, Between the worlds we find the way!\"\n\nAs their voices joined in the chant, Lhiannon sensed the inner dip and expansion of oncoming trance, and knew the magic was beginning.\n\n\"By sacrifice, the gods are fed, In offering, our blood we shed-Cathubodva here we hail, Make the Roman warriors fail!\"\n\nAnd one by one, each priest and priestess stepped forward, drew a sharp knife across the soft pad at the base of the thumb, and let the blood drip into the pool. This was the change in the ritual that Helve had decreed-that they should offer neither horse nor bull nor even a hare, but their own blood as a gift of energy.\n\n\"Their arms grow weak, their weapons break, Their courage chill, their strength we take! By the dawning of the day, They falter, turn, they flee away!\"\n\nAgain the chant was repeated, and again. To Lhiannon, it seemed as if a mist were forming over the water. Such a thing might often be seen above chill pools when the air began to warm with the approach of day, but these vapors pulsed with afire-shot darkness. She reached out to right and left as the power they were raising began to push against the boundaries of the circle, felt Helve's passion and Cunitor's faithful strength, and across the pool, Ardanos's keen intelligence balancing the surge of her love." }, { "from": "human", "value": "The circle held, and the energy, contained, swirled upward." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Around the pool day was breaking, but above it darkness roiled like a cloud of black wings.\n\n\"Let fear chill them and fire burn!\" cried Helve.\n\n\"May they see all they have built destroyed!\" echoed Lhiannon.\n\n\"Morrigan, Great Queen, send them swiftly away!\" called Cunitor.\n\n\"Cathubodva, fare eastward, bring death to our foe!\" Ardanos opened his arms and the feathered darkness flowed toward him. In the same smooth movement he received it, turned, and released it towing eastward into the dawn.\n\nAs it passed, Lhiannon perceived, with a sense beyond hearing, a sound that was at once a raven's screech and a woman's laugh.\n\nTWENTY-THREE\n\now could she have thought she would miss Prasutagos less at Teutodunon?\n\nBoudica blinked back tears as she listened to the last posts being set into position in their row. Two weeks had passed since her husband burned on his pyre, and still she found herself noting things she must tell him, and then she would remember, and the pain would come. It was worse here, where she had only known him healthy and strong. Surely at any moment the king would come striding through the gate, glowing with pride at the completion of his great achievement and calling to her to come and admire.\n\nIt was a worthy monument. The rectangular enclosure had been extended to the size of four hurley fields laid side by side, its bank and ditch enclosing two new roundhouses that flanked the two-tiered council hall he had built before. It was the posts outside the ditch that made the place unique. Nine rows of tree trunks and another bank and ditch surrounded the enclosure, doubling its size. She wished they could have been living trees, but the heathland soil would not support such a forest. Roman builders had helped to layout the site, but the design washer husband's dream." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Oh my beloved, it is everything you hoped for, she thought as she started back through the fenced circle that served as forecourt for the roundhouse in which she and the girls were living now. And fora moment she felt him touch her cheek as he always used to do, or perhaps it was the wind.\n\nBut someone was calling. She turned again. From between the tall gateposts carved with the totems of the Iceni clans came a rider on a sweated horse. Her heart sank. Men bearing good news did not ride so desperately. But she had just seen her daughters safe inside the house-for whom else did she have to fear, now that Prasutagos was gone?\n\nThe rider pulled up as he saw her coming out to meet him and slid off the horse with a hurried contortion that was not quite a bow. Now others had heard the commotion and were coming out to see.\n\n\"My queen!\" he forced himself to breathe. \"You must do something-the Romans-\" He sucked in air again. \"The Roman pigs have sent men to seize Brocagnos's farm.\"\n\n\"But his taxis paid,\" she said in bewilderment. Her mother's gold armband had been sacrificed to pay that debt, she recalled.\n\n\"He's not the only one, lady-\" the man went on. He began to list names, most of them farmers living near the southern border. \"They're driving off stock and taking people as well.\"\n\n\"For the army?\" An angry pulse was beginning to throb behind her eyes. Many families had given sons to the military levies. The boys were usually sent to serve in places very far from Britannia. Occasionally a gift from some distant land would arrive, but most of them were as lost as her brother Dubocoveros who had died while a hostage in Rome." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"They are taking slaves, lady-women and men!\"\n\n\"They can't do that, can they?\" asked Argantilla, who had come out of the house. The yard was filling with people as word spread.\n\n\"Crispus, I need you,\" Boudica yelled. \"Get your tablets-we must send a message to Colonia. Pollio will know how to sort this out.\"\n\n\"Maybe some Roman official thinks he'll make some quick money while the governor is away,\" said one of the men.\n\nBoudica hoped it was that. But even as she marshaled words for the message, she was trying not to wonder if Cloto had known what he was talking about after all.\n\noudica walked with Prasutagos in a hazel wood. From the creamy primroses that starred the ground beneath the trees she judged it must be near Beltane. She rejoiced to see him so strong and healthy-bigger and more solid than he had ever been. Those memories in which she had seen him waste away must be some evil dream. He had a great club balanced on his shoulder, and he was wearing a sleeveless tunic so short she glimpsed his buttocks beneath it. She walked faster, wondering if what she could see from the front would be even more interesting.\n\n\"Here is the clearing where I will build the new dun,\" he said as they came out into the sunlight. He swung the club in a powerful circular stroke that plowed a great ditch in the soil, throwing the earth up beside it in a tumescent pile. He turned to her, his smile radiant, growing bigger as he came to her, the great club in his hand...\n\nThe scene dissolved around her as the ground heaved, but it was the bed that was shaking as Bogle jumped up, barking. She woke with a gasp, loins throbbing, and began to weep as she realized that Prasutagos had been the dream, and she was alone." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But this was at least a better delusion than the nightmares in which she endlessly pursued his fading form through a barren land. She put her arms around the dog, seeking comfort from his warmth as she rubbed behind his ears. Even in the midst of her tears, the memory of Prasutagos's delight in the prospect of building made her smile.\n\ntwas just past noon when the Romans came. Shortly after dawn, clouds had begun to gather, blotting out the sunlight of Boudica's dream. In that gray light the cloaks of the soldiers were the color of old blood; even their armor had a dull sheen. Pollio was leading them. Bogle, who did not like Romans, barked furiously. Boudica told Crispus to tie the dog at the back and bore the beaker of welcome-ale with a grim smile. If Pollio thought her weak because her husband was no longer beside her he was about to learn better. Now they would have an accounting, and the underlings who were responsible for these outrages would suffer for their sins.\n\n\"Junius Pollio, salve!\" she offered him the ale.\n\nThe twitch of the lips with which he returned her salutation could hardly be called a smile, but then his long face always seemed shadowed. His dark eyes searched her face as they always did when he encountered her, as if he hoped her feelings for him might have changed. As Pollio reached out for the cup his horse moved suddenly and it slipped through his fingers to smash upon the ground. Fora moment Boudica watched the dark liquid soak into the earth. Then she gave herself a mental shake and managed a smile.\n\n\"It's no matter-come into the Council Hall and I shall send for more.\"\n\n\"Where are all your warriors?\" he asked as he followed her into the central roundhouse." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Riding the countryside, to gather evidence of Roman crimes...\" She took her seat upon the great chair before the fire whose warm light cooled as it met the illumination coming in from openings in the upper tier. Pollio glanced about uneasily as he took the lower chair at her side. From firepit to the apex of the roof the interior was the height of four tall men. Here were no marble columns or statues of bronze, but the images embroidered on the hangings that covered the walls seemed to move in the shifting light of the fire. Roman buildings boasted their owners'might; Prasutagos's hall hid his in mystery.\n\n\"Call them back, Boudica,\" he said in a low voice. \"There is nothing you can do.\"\n\n\"What do you mean?\" she snapped. \"It is my duty to protect my people. I am queen of the Iceni and a client of the emperor.\"\n\n\"No. You are not. Rome makes no treaties with queens.\"\n\nFora long moment she simply stared at him. \"But Cartimandua-\"\n\n\"-is legitimized by her husband's oath, even though he is in rebellion. Your husband is dead.\"\n\nThe words were like a sword to her heart. Boudica had been learning to live again. For hours at a time, now, she might lose awareness of her grief in dealing with other things until some incautious word, like a dead branch thrust among the coals, would kindle the flame anew.\n\n\"Prasutagos was anally of Rome,\" she said finally. \"Some of that property your men are seizing was left to his daughters by his will. It must be returned.\"\n\n\"The will means nothing. Prasutagos was not a citizen.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Boudica shook her head, unbelieving." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Has Governor Paulinus said this?\"\n\n\"The procurator says it. Decianus Catus says it.\" Pollio replied in the same flat voice. \"The alliance, and the kingdom, died with Prasutagos. It's over, Boudica.\"\n\nHow odd, she thought numbly. He sounds as if he is pleading...\n\n\"This hall-everything-belongs to Rome...\"\n\nWithout quite knowing how she got there, Boudica found herself on her feet. Pollio rose as well, reaching out to her.\n\n\"Boudica!\" his voice shook. \"I have loved you since I first saw you! Once I offered you my protection and you refused me. I make the same offer now. I know you are not indifferent, Boudica-\"\n\nHe meant that aborted kiss in the snow, she thought, before she had known what a kiss could mean... To her that memory was dim with distance, but to him it was still real. How barren his life must be.\n\n\"No.\" She pulled her arm away, tried to show some pity with a smile.\n\n\"You don't understand! I will marry you!\" he gripped her again, pulling her against him.\n\n\"It is you who do not understand-\" Her voice was low and dangerous. \"I was the wife of a king, a manlike the Good God himself! I would not go into your bed, Roman pig, if the alternative were slavery!\" She spat in his face.\n\n\"It maybe!\" he hissed, grabbing for her other arm. \"You have no choice, bitch-you need a master, and Jupiter witness, if you will not lie in my bed, I will have you on this floor!\" Pollio jerked her hard against him, his breath hot on her face." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Fora moment shock warred with hysterical laughter. He fumbled for her breast and the pin from one shoulder of her tunica tore loose. Then volition returned, and Boudica wrenched free. Does he think I am some soft Roman female who cannot piss without permission from a man? she thought in outrage. Cloto could tell him differently!\n\nWith an oath Pollio grabbed her again. They swayed dangerously close to the hearth and one of the chairs tipped over with a crash. The blood beat in Boudica's ears; she grabbed his wrists, then brought her knee up with brutal force between his legs and as he screamed and spasmed, forced him into the fire.\n\nThe mingled stinks of burning wool and shit filled the air. Boudica laughed and let him go, recoiling as the space filled with men in armor.\n\n\"Take her!\" Pollio rolled free of his smoldering cloak, still curled in agony. \"Get me out of here!\"\n\nMore men pushed through the door. These were soldiers, not tax collectors. The ones who dragged Boudica out into the yard had muscles like rope and hands of iron. Others followed, supporting Pollio. His face was the color of whey as he tried to stand.\n\n\"If you don't like my cock I have other weapons,\" he gasped. \"Tie her to that-\" He pointed to the fenced forecourt of the Men's House. \"Flog her until she bleeds!\"\n\nStill struggling, Boudica was forced to the gate, tied spread-eagled to the posts with ropes at wrists and ankles. Someone grabbed the back of her tunica and ripped the other side free, then used apiece of twine to tie up her hair. Bare to the waist, she twisted, watching in disbelief as the decanus who commanded the soldiers walked toward her, a whip with a knotted thong in his hand." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Slaves were flogged. Not free women... not queens.\n\nPeople gathered, whispering with wide eyes. Boudica heard a rattle of hooves as a horse was urged into a gallop. One of the soldiers started toward his own mount but Pollio called him back again. She tugged at her bonds; the rope rasped her wrists but the knots held fast.\n\nThen the first lash burned across her shoulders. Shock surprised her into crying out. She set her teeth against doing it again. The ropes creaked to the strain as the next blow drove her forward.\n\nThe decanus was counting slowly in Latin, \"Unus, duo, tres...\"\n\nShe tried to focus on the words. I can bear this... she thought, and then I will have revenge...\n\nFrom the corner of her eye she saw Rigana running from the Women's House, brandishing a spear. \"Let her go!\" she screamed, settling into a crouch with the weapon held ready.\n\n\"Look, a gladiatrix!\" laughed one of the men, pointing as Argantilla came after her, carrying a shield.\n\n\"Back!\" Boudica could only grunt. \"Get back inside!\"\n\nThe soldiers were laughing too loudly. The girls could not hear.\n\n\"Quattuor, quinque...\"\n\nRigana started toward the decanus, jabbing with the spear. Still grinning, one of the legionaries drew his sword and batted it aside. In the next moment another man grabbed her from behind while the first wrested the weapon from her grasp.\n\n\"Sir, what shall I do with this lion's cub?\" he called.\n\n\"Pull her claws-\" raged Pollio, his avid gaze still on Boudica. \"The lioness is chained! Do what you like with the cub-and with her sister-let all the bitches spread their legs for Rome!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No!\" Boudica screamed as she had not for her own pain. Argantilla whimpered as a soldier gripped her arm and wrenched away the shield. \"Not my daughters, not them, please...\" The breath was driven out of her as the decanus, who had paused to watch, began his work again.\n\nPrasutagos! her spirit cried. But he had left them. He would not come to save her now.\n\n\"Octo... undecim... tredecim...\"\n\nBoudica's back and shoulders were webbed with fire.\n\n\"Do it!\" repeated, Pollio as the soldiers hesitated. \"Take them now!\"\n\nThey had torn Rigana's tunica already; she struggled, her young breasts bobbing, and kicked wildly as a soldier pulled the garment the rest of the way off and reached up between her thighs.\n\nNot my daughters not my babies not my little girls...\n\n\"Sedecim... viginti...\"\n\nAbused flesh recoiled in nauseating waves. Fire and shadow pulsed behind her eyes.\n\n\"Please, why are you doing this?\" sobbed Argantilla. One of the servants ran forward to help her and was struck down. Now men had gotten both girls on the ground. Someone threw dice to see who should have the first turn.\n\n\"Vigintiquinque...\"\n\nBoudica thrashed, groaning, as her daughters began to scream. She could not protect them... she could not break free!\n\n\"Help them! Help me!\" Thwarted, her fury drove inward, shattering the boundaries of identity.\n\nFrom depths beyond knowledge came a Voice that she had heard once long ago. \"Let Me...\"\n\n\"Triginta...\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "The lash came down, dividing self from Self." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Boudica slumped in her bonds as ravaged flesh and spirit gave way.\n\nAnd with a cry like a battlefield of ravens, the Morrigan came in.\n\nShe straightened. One by one, She snapped the bonds. Blood splattered from Boudica's ruined back as She turned. Mouths working, men\n\ncringed. The soldiers who were holding the girls backed away. The goddess picked up the man who was pumping atop Rigana and threw him aside, broke the one who had Argantilla as well. The others ran.\n\nPollio stumbled back as She turned, his face contorted in a rictus of fear. She reached out and drew him into her embrace.\n\n\"Mercy,\" he croaked. \"Let me go...\"\n\n\"As you let them go?\" The Morrigan indicated the weeping girls. \"But I will be kinder than you were-I will not force you to live...\"\n\nPollio struggled as she gripped his head and twisted. There was a sharp click. He went limp and she let him fall.\n\nHoofbeats thundered outside the dun. Bituitos and the warriors were returning. The terrified soldiers tried to outrun them.\n\nThey did not get far.\n\navens were calling, harsh voices echoing back and forth from somewhere very near...\n\nBoudica realized that she was lying on something soft; she started to turnover, gasped and groaned as the general ache across her back burst abruptly into a cacophony of individual pains. And there was an odd pressure in her head, as if more than her own brain had been packed into her skull.\n\n\"My lady-how do you feel?\"\n\nThe voice was resonant and calm. Why did she associate it with sorrow?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"As if I had been beaten with-\" Her throat closed as memory returned-Latin numbers, and agony, and a mental torment that transcended anything her body might feel. \"My girls!\" She jerked upright, staring. The curtains of her bed-place contained the dim world around her. Brangenos was sitting beside the bed, his long face lit by the flicker of the little Roman lamp in his hand.\n\nThe Druid set the lamp on the table. She flinched as he reached out to take her hands.\n\n\"Don't touch me,\" she said hoarsely. The rope marks around her wrists were still raw. \"No one will ever hold me again!\" Her gaze sought his face. \"Where are my daughters?\"\n\n\"They are sleeping, lady,\" he said softly. \"Their hurts have been tended. Don't try to go to them-\" he halted her involuntary motion. \"Sleep is the best medicine for them just now. They were not much damaged-there was not time for more than two or three,\" his gaze darkened, \"to have at them before you... rescued them.\"\n\nBoudica drew a quick breath at the sudden increase of pressure in her head. \"She stopped them, then...\"\n\nHis eyes met hers once more. \"How much do you remember?\"\n\n\"She was there, inside my head, and then I... was not. I think it was Cathubodva. She spoke through me once before, long ago.\"\n\nThe flicker of expression in the Druid's face was swiftly calmed, but Boudica had recognized a mingling of curiosity, excitement, and fear.\n\n\"It would explain... much,\" he said drily. Suddenly they were both very aware of the raven voices outside. He looked up at her, his face growing grim. \"She killed Pollio and therapists. Our warriors took care of the rest.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Boudica stared at him in alarm. \"The Romans will want revenge!\"\n\n\"First they have to find the bodies.\" He sighed. \"We might even have been able to pretend they never reached here, but the Goddess wants vengeance, too.\" He looked up at her once more. \"She commanded your warriors to raise the countryside. Already men are beginning to come in.\"\n\n\"I must speak to them-\"\n\n\"Not yet, lady-please. You are healing well-much faster than one might expect,\" he added as if to himself. \"But you, too, need sleep, and there is no need to face the tribe until everyone has arrived. The ravens are arriving, too,\" he said reflectively. \"The first ones came as we buried the bodies-I was tempted to let them feast-and more keep flying in.\"\n\n\"They are so loud... I will never be able to sleep.\" Torment of mind and body buzzed in her brain.\n\nFrom his pouch he took a little bottle of Roman glass and poured some of its contents into a spoon. \"I will give you tincture of poppy. That will separate you from the pain.\"\n\nhere shall we feed? Where shall we feed?\" cried the raven." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "With one part of her mind, Boudica knew its clamor had words because she wandered in poppy dreams. She did not care-she had always wanted to know what the birds were saying in their endless conversations among the trees.\n\n\"In the wood there's a ripe badger, three days old,\" cried another bird.\n\n\"In the midden there's burned barley,\" called a third.\n\n\"And what shall we eat tomorrow, tomorrow?\" the first raven croaked.\n\nBoudica knew that her body lay in the great bed, but her spirit was awake, with senses it did not normally own.\n\n\"In the duns the smiths are forging swords and sharpening spears,\" answered another.\n\n\"Soon the Lady will give us man-meat to eat...\" crowed the third.\n\nIn her present state, it seemed to Boudica only right and proper that the ravens should have their food.\n\n\"Do you think so, My child?\" came another voice, honey sweet, with an undertone of bitter laughter. \"That is well, for we have work to do.\"\n\nThis was no raven. Boudica tried to open her eyes and found she could not move. \"Where are you?\"\n\n\"I am as close to you as your own heartbeat,\" the Other replied.\n\n\"Who are you?\" Boudica whispered, though her lips were still.\n\n\"I am Rage,\" the Voice resounded through her soul. \"I am Destruction, I am the Raven of Battle-\"\n\n\"You are the Morrigan,\" Boudica replied. \"You avenged my girls!\"\n\n\"But who will take vengeance for your people?\" the goddess asked, and Boudica could find no answer." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Pollio had been right-the peace of Prasutagos was ended. Their only choice now was between slavery and rebellion. The one would be a living death. The other might lead to death-but there would be glory.\n\n\"If you will give Me a form to wear,\" the goddess said then, \"I will give you power...\"\n\n\"Will You punish the Romans for all they have done to us?\" she asked. The men who had attacked her daughters might be dead, but those who had sent them still ruled. If they were not punished, how many more mothers would weep for the lost innocence of their little girls?\n\n\"They will wail in terror and call in vain upon their gods...\"\n\n\"And we will have victory?\"\n\n\"You are Victory, and your name will live!\"\n\nShe had had to make this decision before, when she came to Pra-sutagos as the White Mare. Then she had assented with joy. She surrendered now in grief, but from an equal need.\n\n\"Then I give myself to You as horse to rider,\" said Boudica. \"Use meas You will!\"\n\n\"A fractious, willful mare you are,\" came the response, \"but strong. Sleep now, My child, and heal.\" The laughter that Boudica heard was gentle as she slid down into the dark.\n\noudica satin the darkened roundhouse with Argantilla in her arms, watching Rigana pace. She would have held her as well, but the girl was strung as tight as a war bow and flinched from any touch. Ar-gantilla simply trembled, her eyes welling with soundless tears. Boudica bit her lip and hugged the younger girl more tightly. The wounds on her back did not hurt her half as much as her children's pain." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Outside the Women's House, the voice of the crowd rose and fell like the wind. \"I will have to go out and speak to them soon,\" she said softly. \"Will you come with me?\"\n\nArgantilla shuddered and buried her face against her mother's shoulder. Rigana turned, breathing hard.\n\n\"How can you ask that of us? They are men! They will look at us and they will know...\"\n\n\"They will look at you and see their own daughters,\" replied Boudica. \"They will look at me and see their wives. They will feel the shame I felt when I could not protect you, that you felt when you could not help me, and they will want revenge...\"\n\n\"More than you have already taken?\" Rigana's gaze sharpened. \"I saw your face when you pulled that animal off me-but it wasn't you, was it, Mother?\"\n\n\"It was... the Morrigan.\" Boudica's breath caught. Even to speak that name woke awareness of the Presence within.\n\n\"Will She come again? Will She lead us against Rome?\" Rigana stopped finally, gazing at her mother with avid eyes. Argantilla stiffened and ceased her weeping.\n\n\"She will come...\" Boudica heard her own voice deepen. \"She is here...\" The healing wounds on her back tingled with cool fire as her awareness was pushed gently aside. Soon, came the thought, they will turn into wings...\n\nShe felt that prickle of Otherness flow across her skull and down into her body, stretching and twisting as the goddess mastered it. Just so, she thought with inner amusement, she herself would test anew mount until she was certain it would obey. Bogle, who had been lying across the door, stood suddenly, hackles lifting, dark eyes intent." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Will you come with Me?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She stood up, lifting Argantilla easily, and stretched out Her hand. As Rigana stepped into the shelter of Her other arm, Boudica felt only gratitude that the goddess could give her girls comfort where she had failed. \"You shall be My attendants, and you-\" the goddess snapped Her fingers and Bogle fawned at her feet, \"-shall be My hound.\"\n\nBoudica's awareness came and went as they left the Women's House and passed through the forecourt. Night had fallen, and torches flickered around the enclosure. Beyond the bank the lines of tree trunks brooded like a protecting forest, stark against the stars.\n\nBefore the Council Hall men had raised a platform flanked by a line of poles. Bogle growled as they passed the first, and she realized that the dark thing at the top was Pollio's head. His legionaries grinned from other poles beside him. Brangenos had not told Boudica that they took the heads before burying them. Perhaps he had not known. Most of them were missing their eyes already-it gave her a grim satisfaction to know that the ravens had gotten their feast after all.\n\nAs they mounted the platform the murmuring crowd grew still. Pra-sutagos had designed the enclosure for just such assemblies, but thank the gods he could never have imagined what its first use would be. In the flickering torchlight familiar faces appeared and disappeared-Brocagnos and Drostac and old Morigenos. She saw Rianor, who had arrived just after the king's funeral, with Brangenos. They had been out tending a sick child when the Romans came. Tingetorix, who had fought under Caratac, was standing with Carvilios and Taximagulos. She recognized with some surprise the faces of Segovax and his sons Beric and Tascio. He was one of the richest of the Iceni, and she would have expected him to support the Romans-but she did recall hearing that his wealth was based on Roman subsidies. Catus must have tried to collect on the loans." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Men of the Iceni...\" The voice that rang out through the night was Boudica's, but men stiffened, staring, as they felt its power. \"Sons of Epona-you chose meas your queen, as your priestess before the gods, to guide and guard this land!\" She had dressed carefully, coiling her red-gold hair high on her head and confining it with golden pins. Gold drops hung from her ears, and from her neck gleamed the great golden torque that Caratac had left in her keeping ten years before. \" I swore to uphold the laws the good king Prasutagos made, and to keep the oaths he swore to the Emperor of Rome.\n\n\"But see how the Romans have betrayed their honor! Many among you have already suffered from their greed-Drostac, they have taken your livestock-Brocagnos and Taximagulos, they have seized your farms! They have taken away the weapons that marked you as men! Goods and gear they have stolen, they have marched our young men away to die far from their homeland, they have sold our women as slaves. But now they progress from greed to blasphemy!\" She turned and pointed to Rigana, who stared defiantly, sheltering her sister in her arms.\n\n\"They have defiled the daughters of the king, the flower of this land, and they have treated your queen as if she were a slave.\" Men flinched as they felt the anger in Her gaze. \"Behold!\"\n\nShe unpinned the great golden brooch that held the cloak and let it fall. She wore a skirt, but no tunic. Boudica would have flinched to bare herself before so many eyes, but Cathubodva displayed Her breasts, still high and full even though Boudica was now thirty-four, with pride. She heard the intake of breath from the men below, and then, as She turned to reveal the ruin of Her back, a whisper of horror that rushed through the crowd like the sighing of trees before the storm." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Boudica felt consciousness receding as the Morrigan turned back to face the tribe." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Too long,\" She cried, \"have the Romans defiled our land! We must cast them forth! Their soldiers we must slay; their cities burn!\"\n\nShouts echoed Her words, but others were objecting that the Romans had defeated them thirteen years before, and why would they do better against them now?\n\n\"If your arms have forgotten the weight of a sword, they can learn once more!\" She cried. \"Your hearts are strong! If the Iceni are not enough to drive the Romans into the sea we must call on all Britannia!\" She touched the torque that gleamed from Her neck. \"This is the torque of King Cunobelin that Caratac took from the body of Togodumnos his brother and wore when he raised the tribes!\"\n\n\"Even for him they would not all come,\" called Segovax. \"Why should they rise for you?\"\n\n\"Because I am the Great Queen! I am the Raven of Battle, and I shall lead you!\" She shook her head and pins flew like sparks as Her hair flamed free. \"Because I am Victory!\"\n\n\"What shall we do? Where shall we go?\" came the cries.\n\n\"This is the clanhold of the Hare-let Andraste's holy animal show us the way!\" She leaped down from the platform.\n\nMen fell back before Her as She strode toward the carved gates, falling in behind in a swirling, shouting mob. Bituitos was close behind Her, holding a bag where something struggled and squirmed. They passed under the lintel and between the fences that lined the way to the road. She waited for the crowd to pour through the opening behind Her, falling silent as they spread out to either side. And when there were sufficient witnesses, She reached into the bag and drew forth the hare, which lay limp and trembling in Her predator hands." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Fear not, little one,\" She murmured, stroking the gray pelt. \"This is not the night when thou shalt die...\"\n\nThe land lay quiet around them, rolling away beyond the rise that held the dun in long swaths of heathland and pasture, dotted with the huddled shapes of trees. She tipped her head, feeling the tension return to the animal's muscles as its fur bristled with energy.\n\n\"Andraste! Andraste! Sister, I call You, Lady of this Land! Show us the way, Lady! Lead us to victory!\" She cradled the hare against Her breast and whispered in its long ear: \"Run now, and show us our road, run fast and free!\"\n\nShe bent, placed the hare on the ground, and opened Her hands. Fora moment the little beast crouched, quivering. Then with a mighty leap it sped down the road-southward-toward Colonia.\n\nThe great cry of the Iceni bore the hare forward on a wave of sound. Men brought up horses, tucking the red-painted war arrows through their belts and grasping torches in their hands. At Her word they sped outward, racing like shooting stars through the night to bear word to the people of every tribe that the Britons were marching to reclaim their native land.\n\nTWENTY-FOUR\n\n\"The Great Queen rides a good gray mare, Above her, ravens fly. Where she fares, the eagles fear, Where she goes, men die!\"\n\nhe mare shook her head and snorted as Boudica reined her in. Behind her streamed an irregular, relentless tide of people and horses and wagons, beginning to slow and eddy now as they moved off the road to setup camp for the night. Bogle, who had trotted at the mare's heels, lay down with a sigh and the other dogs, footsore with the day's march, settled beside him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "The Iceni had started south on the second day after the gathering, and Brangenos had started the song to cheer their march." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The ravens flew with them, black specks circling above the dust, calling in harsh descant to the clatter of hooves and the rumble of wagon wheels.\n\n\"Ho-Tingetorix!\" she called as a grizzled warrior on a spotted pony came into view. He walked with a limp got in Caratac's wars, but he could still outride most of the younger men. \"How many swords did they send us today?\"\n\nBack at Teutodunon, the smiths were still hard at work beating out new weapons and repairing the old. Everyday a rider would catch up to the column and unload a bag or two more.\n\n\"A dozen-\" he brought his pony alongside her, \"-and as many spearheads.\"\n\n\"That's a dozen more lads who can stop using sticks to practice with, and turn their staffs into spears,\" she said with satisfaction.\n\nPrasutagos was not the only one to have hidden weapons. Some had come to Teutodunon with supplies and such weapons as had survived the Roman confiscations, but many more had only their bows and slings, or perhaps a hunting spear. The main force was constrained to the pace of the ox-drawn wagons, and there was more than enough time fora horseman to gallop home and retrieve a sword or a shield and helm that his fathers had borne to war, and persuade his neighbors to join him while he was there.\n\n\"Brangenos says my back is healed enough to start sword work,\" Boudica told him. She had always been strong and active, but she had never needed to develop the specific muscles required to use sword and shield. Even men whose upper bodies had been hardened by years of farm work found themselves aching in unexpected places when they began to train." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Did he now?\" said the warrior. \"I shall see you, then, after the evening meal.\"\n\nBoudica laughed. The flex and sway of riding had left her back sore, but could not sour her spirits. \"Then you had better summon the chieftains to meet with me now. We must send someone to the city.\" She heard her voice deepen and closed her eyes fora moment as she felt the dizzy lurch that meant the Morrigan was moving to the fore. \"We need to find out if they know we are coming, what defense they have, and whether they have called for aid.\"\n\nBy the uneasy flicker in his gaze she knew that Tingetorix sensed the presence of her inner adviser. He and the other experienced men had been surprised to find her so knowledgeable about the problems of training and supply. With every hour the partnership between the Iceni queen and the Great Queen was becoming smoother.\n\nWhen the Morrigan was with her, Boudica did not feel the emptiness Prasutagos had left in her soul.\n\n\"Yes, my queen.\" He bent his head and put his horse into a canter to do her will.\n\nWhen she turned back to the road, her daughters were there. Like her, in body they had recovered well.\n\nRigana was surveying her with a frown. \"Is he going to teach you to fight?\" she asked abruptly. \"I want to learn, too. I don't want to be helpless before a man ever again.\"\n\nBoudica started to shake her head, but there was something very un-childlike in Rigana's eyes. Among those who had joined the rebellion there were boys who were no older and not much bigger, and who had far less reason to kill Romans than she." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And what about you?\" She looked at Argantilla.\n\n\"Caw says I am too small to do anything but carry more arrows to the archers,\" she said a little tremulously, \"but I will do what I can...\"\n\nThe child Tilla had rescued in Colonia had gotten his growth this past year and promised to be a big man. He had become her most devoted protector.\n\n\"Don't even think about sending us somewhere safer-if there is any such place now!\" Rigana said dangerously.\n\nBoudica sighed. That was true enough. If this rebellion failed, there would be no refuge for them anywhere. She looked at her daughters, and felt the Morrigan's fury amplifying her love and her pain.\n\n\"Very well... we will seek our fate together, whatever it maybe...\"\n\nhey had been on the road for three days when a small man in a ragged Roman tunic came limping into camp. Boudica left Rigana struggling to hold her sword steady at arm's length fora count often and followed Crispus back to the fire in front of the wagon that carried her gear. A tightly woven woolen cloth had been stretched from the wagon to provide some protection from the thin drizzle, supported in front by spears.\n\nTingetorix was already questioning him when she arrived.\n\n\"My lady-\" He turned to her. \"This man brings news both good and bad.\"\n\nThe man's eyes widened as she came into the firelight, and she wondered what he had heard. He made an obeisance.\n\n\"Great Queen, I was once a freeholder and a notable man among the Trinovantes. Now I am called Tabanus, a debt-slave in Colonia. There are many of us-we will help you however we can.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "She nodded." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"They've heard we are coming, then?\"\n\n\"Yes, Lady, and they are afraid. There have been evil omens-the statue of Victory fell from its pedestal, and in the theater and senate house evil cries have been heard. Someone had a vision of a devastated city down by the seashore, and the waters turned red.\"\n\n\"Our gods are stronger than those of the Romans because they belong to this land,\" she said softly. A slight fuzziness in her awareness told her that the goddess was with her. She was grateful. Cathubodva would know best what to say now.\n\nTabanus nodded. \"A few hundred men are stationed in the fort at the old dun, and in the city there are men who once served in the legions, but they are old now, and Colonia has no walls. They have sent to the procurator in Londinium, and another messenger has gone to the fort north of Durovigutum.\"\n\nBoudica nodded. The Romans had built an outpost to guard the road they were putting through the fens.\n\n\"No one knows what force the procurator may send them, but Petil-lius Cerealis has part of the Ninth Legion and some cavalry.\"\n\n\"Is he the sort of commander to sit and wait for orders, or will he set out immediately he gets word?\" asked the queen.\n\n\"They say he is a hothead. I think that he will come as soon as he can muster his men.\"\n\nBoudica could feel the goddess considering. \"How many experienced warriors are there among us?\" she asked. Though the Morrigan might know all things in Her own realm, the part of Her being that was acting through Boudica depended on information available to the queen. \"Gather them together, and men who are good hunters as well. Tingetorix, I want you to take our fastest horses and lead them north. Send scouts to learn what road they are taking, and attack them from ambush. This is important-you must not let them catch you in open country. Hit them from cover with javelins and arrows and slings, shoot from trees.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I understand.\" His sidelong glance noted the slave's wonder at her expertise and he smiled beneath his grizzled mustache. \"You need not fear any surprises from the Ninth Legion, my queen.\"\n\nhe Romans have built a camp on the heights above the strait,\"said Ardanos.\" Paulinus has brought men from two legions. They will take another day to rest, or maybe two, and then they will embark. I have sent runners to every farmstead. Every man who can carry a weapon will be here soon.\"\n\n\"But it would be far better if the soldiers never reached our shore,\" observed Helve. Someone stifled nervous laughter. \"We do not have the powers of the masters from the Drowned Lands who could use sound to move great stones, but here are thirty trained singers. We will raise a barrier of sound against the enemy. Go now and rest while you can...\"\n\nAs the meeting dispersed Lhiannon found her steps lagging. Would the thatch above the meeting hall soon be blazing, or would this place become a healers' shelter where she worked to bind up wounded men? She looked around her with a sigh. The first vision was far more likely. If the Romans managed to cross the strait, she did not think the refugee army the Druids had put together would be able to stand.\n\nWhat use was the rite they had performed at the Lake of Little Stones? The power had been raised and sent eastward, but at most it had only delayed the enemy. Would their singing do more?\n\nShe ought to seek her bed as Helve had commanded, but tension sparked along each nerve. There would be no rest in the House of Priestesses, where she would have to barrier her mind against Coventa's nightmares and old Elin's weeping. Her frown relaxed as she realized that her spirit had already set heron the path to the Sacred Grove." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A soft wind was whispering through the leaves of the oak trees. Even in her moments of greatest anguish Lhiannon had always found peace here. \"Holy goddess... holy goddess...\" The melody sang in her memory, though it was only afternoon. She closed her eyes, opening her awareness to the spirit of the grove.\n\nBut it was another spirit, more familiar but infinitely less peaceful, that she found. She blinked, and saw a man in a white robe sitting beside the altar stone. She hesitated, fighting an impulse to flee, but he was holding out his hand. When she first saw him in the robes of the Arch-Druid he had looked like a stranger. Now, for the first time since she had known him, he looked old.\n\n\"Once more we sit together on the eve of battle,\" he murmured. \"And once more I desire only to know that you are near...\"\n\nThat was just as well, she thought tartly, for if he had asked her to lie with him now she would have slapped him. If in him the fires still burned, he had learned to keep them banked, and as for herself, the armor she had grown around her heart could not betaken off in one afternoon.\n\n\"What do you think will happen when they come?\" she asked.\n\n\"It will be our magic against the spirit of Rome,\" Ardanos said thoughtfully. \"I keep thinking about the stories Brangenos told of Vercingetorix, who could not defeat Caesar though he had all the Druids of Gallia to help him.\"\n\n\"And you are afraid that the will of this commander may bind his men into an entity that can resist the Druids of Britannia?\"\n\n\"It is possible. And if they make a landing, I fear our warriors will not be able to hold them. Lhiannon, if that happens you must save yourself. You said that becoming Arch-Druid changed me, and it is true. I have to plan for defeat as well as for victory. Coventa has had visions of a house of priestesses on the mainland within a sacred grove, with you as their leader, but for that, you must survive.\"" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Assist in storytelling, proceed with the tale.\nTags: fantasy, historical fantasy, druids\nAuthor: Marion Zimmer Bradley, Diana L. Paxson\nTitle: Ravens of Avalon\nChapter: 4" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A soft wind was whispering through the leaves of the oak trees. Even in her moments of greatest anguish Lhiannon had always found peace here. \"Holy goddess... holy goddess...\" The melody sang in her memory, though it was only afternoon. She closed her eyes, opening her awareness to the spirit of the grove.\n\nBut it was another spirit, more familiar but infinitely less peaceful, that she found. She blinked, and saw a man in a white robe sitting beside the altar stone. She hesitated, fighting an impulse to flee, but he was holding out his hand. When she first saw him in the robes of the Arch-Druid he had looked like a stranger. Now, for the first time since she had known him, he looked old.\n\n\"Once more we sit together on the eve of battle,\" he murmured. \"And once more I desire only to know that you are near...\"\n\nThat was just as well, she thought tartly, for if he had asked her to lie with him now she would have slapped him. If in him the fires still burned, he had learned to keep them banked, and as for herself, the armor she had grown around her heart could not betaken off in one afternoon.\n\n\"What do you think will happen when they come?\" she asked.\n\n\"It will be our magic against the spirit of Rome,\" Ardanos said thoughtfully. \"I keep thinking about the stories Brangenos told of Vercingetorix, who could not defeat Caesar though he had all the Druids of Gallia to help him.\"\n\n\"And you are afraid that the will of this commander may bind his men into an entity that can resist the Druids of Britannia?\"\n\n\"It is possible. And if they make a landing, I fear our warriors will not be able to hold them. Lhiannon, if that happens you must save yourself. You said that becoming Arch-Druid changed me, and it is true. I have to plan for defeat as well as for victory. Coventa has had visions of a house of priestesses on the mainland within a sacred grove, with you as their leader, but for that, you must survive.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Lhiannon shivered, though the wind had ceased." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Golden rays of late afternoon sunlight shimmered through the trees. \"Mearan saw something of the sort when she lay dying.\" The old High Priestess had seen Mona drenched in blood as well. \"But I hardly dare to believe in this prophecy, since all the others have served us so ill...\"\n\n\"Perhaps...\" He took her hand. \"But Lhiannon, it is the only hope we have!\"\n\n\"And what about you?\" She turned to face him. \"Will you flee as well?\"\n\n\"While our priests stand Helve and I are bound to stand with them,\" he said with a sigh. \"Just now, my dear, my own survival does not seem very likely. But I can face my own end with more peace knowing you are free.\"\n\nAnd how will I face life, knowing you are gone? she wondered. Suddenly the shield around her heart did not seem so impervious. From a tree in the grove a raven called, and from somewhere across the fields its mate replied.\n\navens perched on the gate to the palisaded fortlet that the Romans had built up against the dike that had once defended Camulodunon. It was open, its garrison fled. It had been only five days, thought Boudica, since they had marched out of Teutodunon. Now she watched her haphazard army streaming down the road past the Roman dike that had once sheltered the emperor's encampment and making camp in the remains of Cunobelin's dun. Tents and wagons covered the land halfway around the city whose red roofs glowed from the hilltop two miles away.\n\nShe recognized Tabanus pushing through the crowd, and signaled to Eoc to let him approach her.\n\n\"I am glad to see you safe.\" She had been surprised when the Tri-novante slave had volunteered to go back to Colonia, and found it amazing that he had been able to leave once more." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The man shrugged. \"My master is running about like a chicken destined for the pot, and for certain, no one else is paying attention. Some of the veterans wanted to blockade the main roads, but we started a rumor that this would encourage you to attack the houses on the side streets, and their neighbors stopped them.\"\n\n\"How many have left the city?\" asked Morigenos, joining them.\n\nTabanus shrugged. \"A few... the others fear they will be picked off more easily if they leave.\"\n\n\"What are they thinking?\" asked Boudica, sitting down on a bag of grain. \"Without walls, they must know they cannot resist us.\"\n\n\"Their leaders were in the legions,\" the goddess spoke within. \"They think that no barbarian can defeat Rome. They believe that their brother soldiers will rescue them...\"\n\n\"And will they?\"\n\n\"Listen-what do the ravens say?\"\n\nBoudica smiled, remembering how she had heard them during her poppy dream. One was calling now from the fort, and from somewhere overhead another answered. As she looked up, it flew over her right shoulder, and she saw a few white feathers in its wing.\n\n\"The ravens say that someone brings us good news,\" she said aloud, and in the next moment they all heard the stuttering hoofbeats of a horse fast ridden coming down the road. Eoc gave her one of those uneasy looks that had become the common response to her pronouncements, then turned to watch with the rest as the rider appeared. A wave of cheering followed him.\n\n\"We smashed \"em!\" The messenger slid off his horse, still talking. \"We did what you said, my lady, and got most of the men on foot. The commander skittered off with his cavalry, didn't stop till they reached their outpost, and doesn't dare stick his nose outside his walls. Tingeto-rix and the rest are on their way back, but he wanted you to know right away. Attack Colonia whenever you please, my queen-there's no one to stop you now!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Boudica nodded as the murmur of angry anticipation that spread through the camp found an echo within. As they neared Colonia, ragged men of the Trinovantes had begun to join them, with no arms but their shovels and hoes. They had suffered far more than the Iceni, and far longer, and their eyes burned with a fanatical fire. Secure in her own country, Boudica had not understood the extent to which the Romans had forced the Trinovantes to pay for their own subjugation.\n\nPollio is dead, but the men who sent him, the men who raped my people, are still in the town. They, too, must die.\n\nMore men, and more weapons, arrived everyday. Now men of substance were coming in, bringing supplies and workers in wood and leather andiron as well as more food. It would take a day or two more to organize them, but any Roman who changed his mind about fleeing Colonia would not get far now.\n\n\"The Great Queen's army fills the plain, She leads them to the war-A hundred thousand in her train And everyday brings more.\"\n\nShe gazed up at the city with narrowed eyes. Count our campfires, Romans. Listen to our songs... We won't keep you waiting long!\n\nhat are they waiting for?\" murmured Coventa.\n\nLhiannon squinted across the water as the afternoon sun glanced off Roman helmets. Through dry lips she murmured, \"It must take a lot of time to organize so many men.\" There were certainly a lot of them; the shelving ground on the other side of the strait shimmered with points of reflected light.\n\nThe first files had been sighted just after dawn, and by noon the Britons had formed up to meet them where the meadows sloped down to the mudsands, a bare half-mile across the water. Veterans from the Durotrige and Silure wars waited with men from allover Mona, and in front of them the Druids, the white robes of the priests mixed with the priestesses' dark blue." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Now and again someone would peer toward the point, where they had stationed a lad with good eyes. Even so, the sound of his horn was a shock after waiting so long. Lhiannon gave herself a mental shake. Eventually all things, good or evil, ended. Had she thought they would sit here like some army out of legend until they all turned to stone?\n\nNow she could make out movement at the far edge of the water. Ardanos was moving down the line of Druids. If there had been clouds, they might have tried to raise a storm against the Romans, but fora week now, Mona had enjoyed blue skies. Lhiannon sipped from her water flask, holding the liquid in her mouth before swallowing.\n\nArdanos stood with closed eyes, staff outstretched toward the invisible barrier. Against one man, or a few, it would hold, but not against the massed will of thousands. Dark shapes moved on the water as the Romans' landing craft began to putout from shore. The Arch-Druid turned.\n\n\"Sweetly, now, my dear ones,\" he murmured. \"Sing now as the Children of Lyr sing beneath the waves, and raise the wall of sound!\"\n\nAnd softly, as he had commanded, the first vibrations rolled from thirty throats. Breathing slowly and easily, Lhiannon let the sound flow, and as the rhythm was established began to shape it with words and will.\n\nIt was an ancient spell, so old the words' precise meanings were unclear. Only the sense behind them remained. From voice to water the vibration was passing... water shivering, shimmering... particles shifting, lifting as they reached the barrier to rise in a sorcerous mist that curled and curdled across the water in shapes of terror.\n\nLost in sound, Lhiannon sensed the Roman ships lose way and drift helpless on the tide. She noted without comprehension the sun's slow slide toward the west. But beyond the barrier the Druids were raising she could feel the pulsing pressure of another will." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As the day faded the Druids'strength lessened, and that opposition grew stronger. Lhiannon tried to sing louder as first one, then another voice stilled. It was almost dark now. One by one, the remaining Druids fell silent. With a low cry Coventa collapsed against her. Lhiannon's breath caught and abruptly her own voice stopped. A moment later the last male voices cutoff. She blinked, and saw one of the warriors catch Ar-danos as he swayed.\n\nRed light flared as someone got the piled logs aflame. The glow showed her the slumped forms of the Druids and the warriors withdrawn swords behind them. Wavelets caught the light in red glints as if blood already flowed. She heard a drumbeat. Through the thinning mist the prows of the Roman boats were beginning to emerge.\n\nDruids staggered toward the shelter of the trees. Lhiannon gulped water and got her arm around Coventa. She was weary to her marrow, but that did not matter now.\n\n\"Coventa, getup, girl! Remember your training! Breathe!\" Was she speaking to Coventa or to herself?\n\nShe handed her water flask to the other woman and took up two of the torches from the heap by the fire, handed them off to Belina and Brenna, and got more. Of the dozen priestesses, only nine remained standing. They would have to be enough. The Romans fear our priestesses-let them see us, and be afraid!\n\nShe plunged her torches into the fire and held them high. Helve bared her teeth in a smile and together they led the others forward to stand in front of the warriors in a widely spaced line.\n\nThe drumbeat faltered as the men in the first boats caught sight of the dark-robed priestesses. But the pressure of the multitudes behind pushed them forward. Lhiannon could see faces now within the gleaming helms. Behind the priestesses Ardanos had gotten the remaining Druids together and in a hoarse voice was calling down curses upon the enemy. Her own throat was raw, but she no longer needed to sing, only to scream..." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As the first prows grounded on the mudflats the priestesses rushed forward, ullulating like the furies the Romans feared. The first Romans who jumped out of the boats recoiled, shouting as they sank into the mud. But some canny commander had anticipated the problem and in another moment they were slapping boards on the soft ground. The next men off faced the flurry of Celtic javelins with braced feet and raised shields. In close ranks they began to move forward and as others pressed in behind them the boats in which they had come pushed off and started back across the strait for more.\n\nAs the first legionaries reached solid ground the Britons rushed forward to meet them.\n\n\"Lhiannon! Helve! Flee!\" Ardanos's voice rose above the din. \"Now it is work for swords!\"\n\nLhiannon cast her flaming torches at the nearest foes and ran.\n\nhe stink of burning buildings lay heavy on the air. Boudica had smelled it once or twice before when the thatching of a roundhouse caught fire-a heavy, acrid smell quite unlike the scent of clean logs. She had ordered the attack at dawn, when the townsfolk, tired of waiting for the Britons to make their move, should be less alert, but they might as well have slept in-there had been little resistance.\n\nShe stood now in the atrium of the big building that had housed the city offices and the governor when he was in town. Afternoon light showed her amass of broken tile, blackened plaster, and smoking beams. The bodies of the servants who had been left to defend them lay among the ruins. Fragments of scorched parchment fluttered in the wind. But the garden where the governor's wife had entertained her was untouched, and the goddess on her plinth still watched with a secret smile." }, { "from": "human", "value": "A warrior put a rope around the statue to pull it down and she waved him away." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"As one goddess to another, I thank you...\" said the Voice within.\n\nTascio picked his way through the debris, making an obeisance as he saw her there. \"Lady, Bituitos says to come-\"\n\nSmoke rose now allover the city. Boudica hoped that the men were remembering to search the buildings for weapons and foodstuffs before settng them afire. They needed no encouragement to pickup any ornaments or jewelry that they found. The streets were littered with abandoned boxes and debris from the burning, with the occasional body, some not quite dead.\n\nShe felt little sympathy. As they marched south she had heard a hundred tales of Roman injustice and brutality to rival her own. This was a city of over two thousand. The only surprise was that there were not more bodies on the ground. Of course Celtic slaves and servants had been fleeing ever since the Iceni showed upon their doorstep-many of them had joined the horde, but the Romans and foreign slaves should have been here. She wondered where they had gone.\n\nA pack of grim-faced Trinovantes trotted by. As they passed a building that was still whole, a man in a Roman tunic appeared in the doorway with two scared slaves brandishing clubs behind him. He had a sword, while the Trinovantes were armed only with hoes and pitchforks, but fear was no match for fury. With a feral cry the Britons were on him, and in moments Roman and slaves alike went down. She could seethe attackers' arms rising and falling long after the cries had ceased. When they stopped at last, the Trinovante leader had a sword.\n\nLaughing, the men entered the house, and a few moments later a woman screamed. Boudica suppressed a shudder, but she knew better than to try and stop them. Did she even wish to? Romans had raped her daughters. Let their women suffer now. As she turned away, a flicker of movement in a doorway caught her eye. She shouted, lifting her shield as half a dozen armed men burst into the road between her and her escort." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Ho, a gladiatrix!\" called one, leaping toward her as the other two turned to engage Tascio and the other men.\n\nThat was what the Roman soldier had called Rigana.\n\nA surge of fury rent away Boudica's awareness and the Morrigan flowed in, drawing her sword in one smooth sweep that knocked the man's blade from his hand. The laughter hardly had time to change to fear before the sword whirled around and back across and took off his head.\n\nAs She leaped forward to fall upon the others, the sound that burst from Her throat was halfway between a shout of rage and a raven's cry. She took one man with a thrust through the back and used Her shield to shove another onto Tascio's blade. By this time his companions had brought the others down.\n\nThey stood, breathing hard, listening to distant shouts and a moan as the last of their assailants died. Slowly, as if she were rising up through deep water, Boudica came to herself. Her arm trembled like a bowstring after the arrow has gone. Her blade dripped red. Thank you... she thought numbly, bending to wipe off the blood on the tunic of one of the men she had killed, and felt the approval of the goddess within. Tas-cio and the others were staring at her with wide eyes. She did not feel like explaining that the week of training had strengthened her muscles, but it was the goddess who had used them.\n\n\"Good work,\" she said steadily. \"Now let us be moving on...\"\n\nThey dodged as burning debris from another house showered down, and came out into a crossroads. Men had got ropes around the great bronze statue of the emperor Claudius on a horse that stood there. Having met the emperor, Boudica doubted that he had ever ridden such a horse in his life, certainly not in full parade armor. Everything about this image but the protruding ears was another Roman lie. She smiled in grim satisfaction as men began to heave on the lines. The piece was solidly built, but no match for their rage, especially after they found a smith to knock free the bolts that held it to the pedestal." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Boudica jumped back as the thing crashed down. Screeching triumphantly, someone swung an ax, and in another moment they had gotten the severed head on a pole, still surveying the scene with a gentle frown. As they admired it, Tascio came around a corner, saw her, and grinned.\n\n\"We've found them,\" he cried. \"The soldiers and the rest of the people have holed up in the Temple of Claudius. It's going to take awhile to winkle them out-the thing is made of stone.\"\n\n\"Secure the rest of the city,\" she answered him. \"Let them sit there and stew for another day, hoping the legions will come to save them... and imagining what will happen if no one does,\" she said, baring her teeth in a smile.\n\nTWENTY-FIVE\n\nys Deru was burning. Flames billowed skyward, filling the sky with lurid light, as if the fires had consumed the stars. Below, sparks moved across the meadows as legionaries with torches scoured the land. Their commander had sent several detachments out to form a perimeter and work inward, driving fugitives before them as men might drive game.\n\nLhiannon lay in a hollow beneath a thorn hedge where a badger's burrow had fallen in. From time to time she heard cries and knew another fugitive had been found. Sometimes it was a woman, and then the screams continued. As long as night lasted her dark robes would hide her-it would be another matter when the sun rose. It was all very well for Ardanos to tell her to save herself, she thought grimly. If he had wanted her to stay safe, he should not have allowed her to stay at all.\n\nBut there might be no safety fora Druid priestess anywhere on Mona. The Romans went about their work in an appallingly methodical way. When they had finished scouring the area around Lys Deru, no doubt they would search the island. By now they must know what it meant when a woman bore a blue crescent on her brow. The tattoo would mark her as a priestess even if she got rid of the blue robe." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Sweet Goddess, watch over Caillean, she prayed." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "If I cannot return to Eriu to claim her, keep her safe-keep her free! She would have thrown herself back into the fray and sought a quick ending if it had not been for the child.\n\nShe had seen Cunitor struck down as she fled the shore, and glimpsed Brenna being dragged away. It seemed unlikely that Ardanos could have survived. So many men and women she had known were dead, and if she had not liked them all, they still compelled her loyalty. But it would be time enough to feel guilt for having survived them if she lived to see another dawn.\n\nShe heard the tramp of hobnailed sandals and a mutter of Latin and grew even more still. I am night... I am shadow... she thought, slowing her breathing, fighting to quiet her soul. You see nothing here-move on...\n\nShe heard two sets of footsteps, and a regular whisper and thump she could not identify. Closer they came. Through the grass stems she glimpsed a metallic gleam and knew it fora spearpoint an instant before it stabbed past her head.\n\nEven Druid training could not prevent a gasp. One of the Romans swore and turned, and in the next momenta hare burst from the hedge and leaped across the grass. The other man laughed, and the pair moved on.\n\nHoly Andraste! thought Lhiannon, remembering the goddess and totem of Boudica's clan. If I survive this, I owe you an offering!\n\nIt was along time before she dared to move again. When she raised her head at last, the fires of Lys Deru were burning low. But a little to the east new flames were rising. With a sinking heart she realized that they had set fire to the Sacred Grove. For some reason the sight of the burning trees pierced her heart with a pain she had not yet allowed herself to feel for her fellowmen. Weeping silently, she watched the flames and waited for the dawn." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "he embers of Colonia were smoldering. From time to time a charred roof-beam would fall in, or a last bit of wicker fencing would burst into flame. It had taken nearly twenty years to turn this Trinov-ante hilltop into a crude imitation of Rome. The Britons had destroyed it in two days. Colonia Victricensis was victorious no more, except for this final symbol of imperialism, this ultimate hubris, the temple of the deified Claudius, that stood surrounded by devastation, stone columns glowing as men held their torches high.\n\nBoudica felt a flicker of amusement from the goddess within as she reflected that she was the last person to deny that a human could be a vehicle for divinity, or even that each human soul held some spark of the divine. But it was the god that ought to be worshipped, not the man. Even the ancestors at whose barrows her people left offerings took time to grow into their godhood. Let the Romans pay their honors to the Deified Claudius at his own tomb and build him a temple there if their prayers were answered. To worship him here was an insult and a blasphemy.\n\nThe building was unscathed except for the scars on the bronze doors where the battering ram had failed. Ina detached way Boudica could appreciate the elegance of its proportions. She supposed that Prasutagos would have wept at the thought of destroying it-one more thing she could be glad he was not hereto see. She herself had no such compunctions. The only way to get to the meat of an egg was to crack the shell, and this shell still sheltered half the population of Colonia-men, women, children, the soldiers from the fort, and the paltry two hundred the procurator had sent them from Londinium." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"There's noway to burn it from the outside, see,\" said a gnarled little man with a missing front tooth who had been forced to help build the temple. Boudica turned to look at him, vaguely aware that he had been talking to her for sometime. \"Outside's all faced with stone, aye? And bronze allover the doors. But the roof, now-\" he glowered upward, \"-over the roof-beams there's just tiles. I should know, Lady, half broke my back helping to put'em there. Tear those loose and you've fine stout wooden beams to burn. We can smoke'em out, just like putting fire down a badger's hole. They'll open the doors themselves and come out when it's a choice between facing us and not breathing!\"\n\nThe men around them were nodding. Boudica sensed anticipation from Cathubodva. A raven called, settling atop the bronze eagle attached to the peak of the temple's roof as if to show them the way.\n\n\"I hear you,\" she murmured, then turned to the men around her. \"Yes-do it now!\" As men dragged out the ladders they had been building and swarmed up the side of the building she told herself there was no work of man that other men, with sufficient motivation, could not destroy. Tiles clinked as men hammered to loosen them and then began to pitch them down, nibbling at the expanse of terra-cotta until the roof began to look like a moth-eaten wool cloak. Soon she saw the long beams laid bare.\n\nShouts echoed from within as some of the men began to shoot through the openings. But now men were hauling up jars of olive oil and pouring it over the wood, hammering stakes smeared with pitch and flax into the beams and setting them alight. They dropped the remaining jars through holes and followed them with flaming arrows as a promise of what was to come." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The attackers scuttled down the ladders as tendrils of white smoke changed to black, followed by tongues of flame.\n\n\"Burn, Claudius,\" whispered Boudica, \"for surely your own people never made you such a noble pyre or gave you so many offerings!\" This was a midsummer bonfire such as Britannia had never seen.\n\nAbove the mutter of the flames she could hear screaming.\n\n\"Not long now,\" said one of the men.\n\nInside it would begetting hot and dangerous, as flaming fragments of roof began to shower down. Black smoke billowed through the roof, but as much again must be swirling inside as fire worked its way along the undersides of beams. Those who died from lack of air would be the lucky ones.\n\nA shout brought her attention back to the front of the temple. The bronze doors were opening.\n\n\"At last!\" exclaimed Bituitos, striding forward. \"They will come out to die like men!\"\n\nSoldiers appeared in the doorway, each man's shield protecting half his body and the sword arm of his neighbor. Their blades flickered in and out like an adder's tongue. Fora few moments they held off the attackers, but the pressure of people behind them was pushing them forward. Now she could see space behind them, and in the next moment the Britons had flowed around to attack them from in back and by sheer weight bore them down. Others tore into the massed bodies behind them. Some tried to retreat, trampling those behind them, only to be thrust out again.\n\n\"Pullback,\" cried someone. \"We can't kill them unless we give them room!\"\n\nClouds blazed in the light of the setting sun as if the heavens, too, were aflame. Even at the edge of the square Boudica could feel the heat as the flames rose higher. The attackers began to edge away, leaving a tangle of bodies behind. The blood that covered the temple steps glowed an even more vivid crimson in the light of the fire. A few more Romans emerged from the doorway. Fora momenta woman with a child in her arms stood silhouetted against the flames, then turned back again." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "After that, no more appeared. Boudica fought to clear her mind of the image-they were Romans! They deserved to die. The shifting wind brought her the reek of the smoke and the choking scent of burnt flesh; she pulled her cloak across her face to filter it, and for one horrible moment she was back at Dun Garo, watching Prasutagos burn on his pyre. The men and women inside the temple were wives and husbands... they were Romans... anguish seized her, but in the commotion no one heard her moan.\n\nA cheering crowd surrounded her. She could not runaway. \"Help me,\" she whispered, but even Eoc, who stood beside her, could not hear.\n\nOnly the goddess, rising like a dark tide within her, recognized her agony, and shared it, and absorbed it, drawing a soft veil between Boudica and the world. As one who watches from afar distance she saw slabs of stone crack and pop outward from the walls, leaving a skeleton of burning uprights within. And then even that was gone, and she was in a golden country watching Prasutagos building a wall.\n\nIn Colonia, Cathubodva watched the Temple of Claudius burn. Now only the building's facade was still standing. Men began to cheer as it wavered. For another moment the eagle on the rooftree showed stark against the flames, then a gout of smoke swirled around it and it fell.\n\nCeltic horns blared in triumph, but their music was overwhelmed by the shouts of the crowd. Standing in the midst of them, the goddess wept Boudica's tears.\n\nhiannon woke with a start. She still lay beneath the thorn hedge. Heart pounding, she tried to identify what new danger had startled her. It was day, but the sun had not yet lifted above the mountains on the mainland. From the direction of Lys Deru she heard shouting, and then the harsh music of a Roman trumpet. Again and again it blew. Wincing as the movement woke a host of pains, she peered through the leaves." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Black smoke still drifted from Lys Deru and the Sacred Grove. On the students' playing field legionaries were gathering, more and more of them as the trumpets continued to call. Lhiannon shrank back into her hole as a pair of soldiers jingled by at a swift march, perhaps the same two who had nearly found her the night before. They were not hunting now. From the sound of their muttering they were as puzzled as she.\n\nThere was a disturbing beauty in the speed with which the confusion of men settled into orderly ranks. You would never see Britons bracing to attention like so many images as an officer came by. As she watched, men continued to arrive. They must be pulling in the perimeter guards as well. But why? Surely they would want to do another sweep for fugitives in the light of day.\n\nLhiannon watched throughout the morning, but no more soldiers came near. A little before noon the trumpets blew once more, and still in their precise formations, the Romans marched back to the shore. As the last of them disappeared, Lhiannon began to weep, releasing all the tears that through that long and terrible night she had locked within. And when she was done, she wriggled out of her refuge and started across the fields toward what remained of the Druids' sanctuary.\n\nThe reek of charred thatch lay heavy on the air. Lhiannon tied her veil across her face, but it did little good. As she got closer she could smell a sickening hint of burned flesh and the iron tang of blood. The timbers of the gatepost lay charred, but before they burned, someone had hacked at the swirling sigils that had given them magic. The devastation beyond made a mockery of the bright day.\n\nSweet Goddess have mercy, she thought numbly, am I the only one who survived? She stiffened as something moved, but it was only a raven lifting from the corpse of one of the community's dogs with a flick of black wings." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As she let out her breath, something stirred in what she had taken fora pile of rags. It was Belina. Slowly the older priestess focused on Lhiannon, and humanity came back into her eyes. There was a bruise on her cheek and the livid marks of fingers on her arms.\n\n\"Lhiannon... you are alive...\" Her lips twisted in what was intended to be a smile.\n\n\"How is it with you?\" Lhiannon knelt at her side.\n\n\"No worse than one might expect, save fora knock on the head.\" Belina winced as Lhiannon helped her to stand. \"Help me to wash their filth away. Thank the Goddess I was no virgin.\"\n\nAnd what of those who had been? wondered Lhiannon. Was a quick death the best fate she could hope for them?\n\nA dead cow lay half in and half out of the stream, but the water above it ran cold and clear. Both women felt better when they had washed and drunk. Lhiannon was even beginning to wonder if any food had been left unfouled. They returned to the houses and began the grim work of identifying the dead. Some of the older Druids had chosen to burn in the houses. Elin had died beside the hut where she kept her herbs. Mandua seemed to have found a knife and killed herself after the Romans were done.\n\nAnd astonishingly, some were still alive.\n\nLhiannon was binding up along gash in the leg of one of the younger Druids when anew sound brought her around. The blood left her head as she looked up and saw Ardanos, leaning on Bendeigid's arm. Or perhaps it was his spirit, for she had never seen such grief in the eyes of a living man." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He had bruises and scrapes, but otherwise seemed unharmed. His lips opened, but no words came.\n\n\"Sit down, my lord,\" said Bendeigid gently, leading him to a bench that had somehow escaped destruction. \"You see, you are not the only one to survive...\" His bleak gaze met the women's stares. \"And it is a wonder he did,\" he said. \"He would have thrown himself on the Roman swords. I hauled him away from the fighting-we spent most of last night in the water. He was cursing me, but I made him live. We will need him to lead us when we fight again...\"\n\n\"No...\" Ardanos whispered. \"Never again. We cannot fight Rome.\"\n\n\"When you are recovered, sir, you'll feel differently,\" Bendeigid replied, but Ardanos continued to shake his head.\n\n\"The soldiers are all gone?\" asked Lhiannon. \"I saw them forming up and marching away-\"\n\nBendeigid nodded. \"Just past dawn another boat crossed the strait with a courier clinging to the rail. He went haring up the road as soon as it touched sand, and soon after we heard the trumpets. They are gone, though the Goddess knows why.\"\n\n\"Something has happened...\" said Belina in a still voice. \"Our magic worked. Only not... in time...\"\n\n\"In time for us to save something!\" said Lhiannon as briskly as she could. \"They would have found the rest of us by the end of the day.\"\n\n\"Where are the others?\" Bendeigid's face grew grim as he saw the row of bodies. \"Where is the High Priestess? The Roman scum took no prisoners with them-they cannot all have died...\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "hey found Coventa behind a screen of willow branches at a bend in the stream where the girls had made a shrine to Brigantia. She was naked, curled against the altar, shivering. At the sight of the blood on those white limbs Lhiannon putout a hand to stop Bendeigid.\n\n\"Go back and find something to cover her-\"\n\nSoftly she knelt at Coventa's side.\n\n\"It is all right, my dear one, you are safe-we are here...\"\n\nCoventa's eyes opened, and somehow she managed a smile. Belina held the water flask to her lips. She drank eagerly, then lay back with a sigh.\n\n\"Why did they do it?\" she whispered. \"I never wanted a lover, but I saw how eagerly women went to the Beltane fires... I thought that when men and women came together there was joy. This was like being attacked by animals!\"\n\n\"Coventa, that's what they were-\"\n\n\"When they hurt my body, I willed myself not to feel-but I couldn't close my mind to their rage and their fear. And all the time they were shouting-animals don't curse, Lhiannon!\" she exclaimed. \"It is not true, what they say about the ability to see visions depending on virginity...\" she went on. \"Since then I cannot stop seeing images, but they are all evil-blood and a burning city, bodies everywhere...\"\n\nLhiannon winced. Was this why they said the Oracle must be virgin, not because of the intimacy of the body, but because for an adept, intercourse must also bring intimacy of the mind?\n\n\"Those images were in the minds of the men who raped you,\" said Belina. \"Let them go.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"They couldn't be-\" Coventa shook her head. \"The men I saw were of our people, and Boudica was with them, waving a bloody sword.\"\n\n\"Desire shapes her dreams,\" murmured Belina. \"Boudica protected her when they were young, so she summons her image again.\"\n\nLhiannon was not so sure, but she could do nothing for Boudica, and there were those who needed her help desperately here and now.\n\n\"It was Boudica, but it was not-\" Coventa babbled on. \"I saw the shape of a great raven rising up behind her, with blood on its beak and claws...\"\n\nhe Lady of Ravens stalked through the ruins of Colonia, directing the storage of looted supplies, the distribution of captured arms, the assignment of camping space to the men who continued to arrive. Queen, icon, no one questioned Her right to lead them, though Boudica's household had begun suggesting She take time to eat and sleep as the night passed and the next day drew on.\n\nIt was nearly sunset when Brangenos came to Her, Rianor at his side. Behind them, Rigana and Argantilla watched warily.\n\n\"My Lady, how is it with You?\" the elder Druid said carefully.\n\nIt was clear that he knew Whom he was speaking to. Why did he not say what he meant?\n\n\"I am very well-how could I be otherwise, after such a feast?\" She laughed. \"Or did you mean to ask after My horse?\"\n\nSome of the others looked at them in confusion, as the queen had been on foot all day, but Brangenos answered.\n\n\"Yes, my Lady, as You know full well, and You are too good a horsewoman to ride a willing mount to exhaustion.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I suppose that is true.\" She sent awareness inward, noting sore feet and an aching back. They had kept Her supplied with beer, but what the ravens ate put nothing in Boudica's belly. A glance around the camp showed things in as good an order as it was possible for these people to achieve. She could see that in another moment he was going to pass from request to command, and with the body so tired, She might not be able to retain control.\n\n\"Would you like Me to leave her now?\" She grinned.\n\n\"Please, Lady, comeback to your tent-\" Brangenos cast a wary glance at the interested faces around him.\n\nPerhaps he had a point. Amusing as it might be to drop Her mount right here, it was probably best to let the Britons believe that it was Boudica who was leading them.\n\n\"Mother-we need you, too,\" Argantilla said then, and at the sound of that voice, Boudica began to wake within.\n\n\"Yes... it is time...\" The goddess leaned on the older Druid and allowed the younger to take her other arm, withdrawing a little more with each step, so that by the time they reached Boudica's camp, the Druids were supporting her.\n\n\"Is this what you desired?\" She laughed softly. Then Her eyes closed and She was gone.\n\nhen they had gotten Coventa back to the shelter of the Council Hall and she was sleeping peacefully, they left Belina to watch her and went out again to look for Helve. They found the High Priestess at the Sacred Grove.\n\nThe outer ring of trees had burned, but in the center the trunks of the great oaks were only scorched and their leaves baked brown. Helve sat with her back against the altar stone, a Roman javelin lodged in her side. She still wore the torque and armrings of her office. Dark blood soaked the blue robes." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"They were afraid to touch her,\" Bendeigid said softly." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"She made her stand here, and I'll warrant she cursed them. That's why her body was not defiled.\"\n\nHe stepped back, fingers flickering in a sign of warding as the dark draperies stirred. But Lhiannon stiffened, pointing-\n\n\"Look-that blood is still red-she is alive!\"\n\nBendeigid went to her side, calling her name, but there was no response.\n\nArdanos straightened, with an effort putting on the authority of the Arch-Druid once more. He knelt at Helve's side.\n\n\"Helve-I call you. From the place where your spirit wanders I call you back. Open your eyes, my lady, and answer me...\"\n\nA quiver ran through the still form as the priestess opened her eyes. New blood welled from the wound. Slowly her gaze fixed on Ardanos.\n\n\"My lord...\" It was only a breath of sound, but she winced as if even that much movement caused her pain. \"Knew you... would come.\"\n\nEven now, thought Lhiannon, Helve's voice held not gratitude but pride.\n\n\"Helve, you are wounded. We must remove this blade.\"\n\nThe priestess raised one eyebrow. \"Dying,\" she corrected. \"Let me... speak, then... pull the spear.\" She fell silent, breathing carefully. \"I gave Nodona the kiss of blessing... she shall be High Priestess...\" she plucked at the torque, \"until Lhiannon comes back... from Eriu.\" She drew a shuddering breath and her eyes closed.\n\n\"Helve, I am here!\" Lhiannon took the woman's cold hand.\n\n\"She thinks I hate... her,\" the pale lips twisted. \"She was too... good. I was afraid.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No-I understood,\" Lhiannon said, trying to stop herself from babbling. \"You did well.\"\n\nThis was wrong. A high priestess should pass with all her women around her. Save for Belina, not one of them was in any condition to come to the Sacred Grove, even Nodona, who was still hysterical, though aside from rape her body seemed to have taken little harm.\n\n\"I saved... the sacred stone...\"\n\nDid Helve even realize that Lhiannon was there? Behind them Ben-deigid had begun to murmur the chant that eased the passage of an adept to the Otherworld.\n\nHelve's eyes opened, and with an effort she focused on Ardanos. \"My lord... I am ready. Pull... out the damned... spear!\"\n\nArdanos was shivering, but when he sang his voice was firm. \"You are not this pain... you are not this body... From all oaths that bound you, be free. You are Light, you are Joy that cannot die. Rise, holy one, on the wings of the morning. Speed westward until you come to the Isles of the Blessed. There you shall rest until it is time to take a body once more. It is the Arch-Druid of Britannia who releases you. Beat peace, Helve. You have leave to go...\"\n\nHelve's eyes were closed. Ardanos's face had gone white, but his hand was steady as he grasped the shaft of the javelin just behind the head and slowly eased it from the wound. A gush of bright blood followed. Helve's body jerked, struggling, then went slack. Fora moment Lhiannon seemed to see a mist of brightness above the still form, but perhaps it was a haze of sunlight passing through the trees. Then it was gone." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I should belying beside her,\" Ardanos breathed. \"What use was all our wisdom and our magic? Lys Deru is gone. We failed.\" And then, at last, he began to weep.\n\nf Colonia, only rubble and a few wisps of smoke remained where some stubborn flame still burned. Most of the inhabitants were ashes, but a few had been nailed to the charred beams of their houses as a warning, and at the little fort, heads now adorned the gateposts. For four days the Britons had been celebrating their victory, as drunk on the Roman blood they had spilled as they were on Roman wine.\n\nBoudica sat before her tent in a Roman curule chair set with ivory and gold, listening to the chieftains who lounged on a variety of seats around her fire. It was a surprisingly comfortable chair-a good thing, considering how many of her muscles were still sore.\n\n\"The City of Victory, they called it!\" exclaimed Segovax. \"It's the City of Victims now!\"\n\n\"This is the oldest Roman settlement in Britannia,\" said King Co-rio. \"Well, it was...\" he said, grinning. The Dobunni lord had arrived while she was sleeping, along with several chieftains from the Catuvel-launi lands. \"The others won't stand a chance!\"\n\n\"If all the people rise in rebellion,\" said Boudica, \"no conqueror can hold a land. But all of us must attack the Romans-and we must take the forts as well as the towns.\"\n\nWhen Boudica had awakened after a night and part of the following day, she had found half a dozen chieftains from the Cantiaci and Catu-vellauni waiting. They listened with a respect that surprised her. Whatever the goddess had been doing during the day after the Temple of Claudius had burned had apparently done her reputation no harm." }, { "from": "human", "value": "She signaled to Rigana to carry the wine pitcher around, suppressing an impulse to ask for beer instead." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Her head still had that feeling of having been swept clean, like the shore after high tide-the pressure she had felt from the goddess was almost gone, but Boudica had the feeling that certain things, like beer, or blood, would bring Her back again. That day of absence had frightened her daughters. She must not give into the temptation to lose herself in the goddess without need. At least Cathubodva seemed to have left some of Her wisdom behind.\n\n\"We have enough war arrows to send to all the tribes, and these have been reddened in Roman blood. We need four more hosts the size of this one to pin down the legions, to convince the Romans that Britannia is a pit into which they may cast their gold and their men fora century and still it will not be filled.\"\n\n\"An offering pit,\" murmured Brangenos, \"a gift for the gods...\"\n\nAt the words, Boudica felt aflutter of raven wings within. She is still hungry... At the thought, the scent of carrion grew stronger, carried on the wind.\n\nhen the wind blew through the Sacred Grove one could smell the burning, though four days had now passed, but the scent of burned wood was clean compared to the reek that still hungover what had been Lys Deru. Of the Druids who had remained at the sanctuary, barely half had suvived to chant the funeral hymn while the others burned. Of those, some might recover in body, thought Lhiannon as she watched Coventa gaze vaguely at the play of the light in the leaves; she was less sure about their minds.\n\n\"Lys Deru is no more,\" said Ardanos. \"The magic is departed.\" He had made sure of it, ordering them to pull down the remains of the buildings to fuel the funeral pyre. \"We will leave nothing for the Romans to triumph over when they return, as they surely will...\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "He blinked twice, a facial twitch that had appeared the day after the attack." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Despite the energy with which Ardanos had supervised the demolition and funeral, Lhiannon wondered if he ought to be counted among the wounded as well.\n\n\"And where do you wish us to go?\" she asked gently. She looked around the circle. The day after the Romans departed, some of their neighbors had appeared bringing supplies, so at least they were clothed and fed, though it was strange to see Druids in the natural colors of wool and flax instead of white and dark blue.\n\n\"Fora time we must disperse. We come from many tribes-we must seek those of our Order who remain in the clanholds to arrange for shelter in remote farmsteads where those who are injured can heal.\"\n\nAnd our priestesses can wait to learn if the seed the Romans planted will take root in their wombs, Lhiannon thought grimly. Belina was already talking of raising any sons to take vengeance, and of all the raped women she was the closest to sane. We are all broken in one way or another... it remains to be seen if we will be able to mend.\n\nOne by one the survivors began to speak of places they might find refuge.\n\n\"I have no family left in the Cornovii lands,\" said Lhiannon when it came to her turn, \"but there are those in the Summer Country who will shelter me. I will take Coventa and go to Avalon.\"\n\n\"And we maybe able to return here one day,\" said Belina. \"One of the fisherfolk heard talk among the soldiers as they moved out. There is a rebellion in the east-in the Iceni and Trinovante lands. That is why the legion left so suddenly. Maybe this is the revolt for which we have waited, when all the tribes of Britannia will rise as one.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lhiannon stiffened, understanding flooding her. Boudica was caught up in this somehow. She twitched with sudden exasperation at all these wounded people. Ardanos was right-Lys Deru was gone, and with it the Druid power. Perhaps she belonged now with those who had not yet given up the fight...\n\n\"Is it possible that our sacrifice bought time fora rebellion to begin?\" asked old Brigomaglos. \"To believe that it achieved something would ease my soul.\"\n\n\"I will not deny the possibility of a miracle,\" Ardanos said in a dry voice. \"But we dare not assume that this will be the time our people achieve a unity they were never able to manage before.\" He shook his head. \"No-we will go into hiding, and we will do whatever we must to survive. Let the Romans think us broken until we can find away to live with them in safety.\"\n\n\"Will we cease to be Druids?\" asked Belina. \"Our High Priestess is dead.\" Her gaze moved to the bloodstain that still marked the sacred stone.\n\n\"She said that Nodona should succeed her,\" said Brigomaglos.\n\n\"But will she be able to serve?\" Belina asked.\n\nLhiannon kept silent. Too many here knew of the tension between her and Helve. Anything she said would be suspect now. And she could not forget how like manacles the golden rings had seemed as they weighted Helve's arms. She had dreamed of being High Priestess for so many years, and never realized how much she liked being free.\n\n\"Until we have a place in which to perform the ceremonies once more, does it matter?\" Brigomaglos asked. \"By the time we do, the girl will have recovered. If she survives the ordeal and is able to bear the power of the Goddess, then Helve's will maybe done. If not-we shall choose again.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Some of the other men were agreeing. Ardanos looked at Lhiannon as if about to speak, but she shook her head. In time she might regret allowing the priests to claim so much power, but just now she found it hard to care. Could they not see that everything depended on the Iceni rebellion? She understood Coventa's vision now. Boudica bore the power of the Morrigan. If she succeeded, no one would question the power of the priestesses. And there might be no hope for any of them if she failed.\n\nTWENTY-SIX\n\noudica laughed and grabbed for the rail as the chariot bounced beneath her, the javelin swinging wildly in her other hand. It was ancient, one of several that had been brought in after the attack on Colo-nia. Its leather fittings were much in need of repair, but an inspiring reminder of the glories of the past.\n\nTascio, her driver, ducked with an oath, wrenching the ponies'heads around to avoid Rigana's chariot and throwing Boudica to the other side. Footing was tricky-with Tascio seated on the platform before her and her shield and spears attached to the wicker sides, there was scarcely room left to stand.\n\nAs they cantered around again the people cheered. The sight of a war cart evoked ancient glories-reason enough to shrink new iron rims to wooden wheels and replace the leather fittings. For Boudica to appear in a chariot confirmed her role as leader. She had given one of the restored vehicles to her older daughter on the understanding that Calgac, who was driving it, would get her away at the first sign of real danger. But unless they could learn to use them properly, no one was going to take the chariots into battle at all." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Boudica had a moment to envy Rigana's resilience as they sped by. Constant walking and riding had kept her fit, but she could not match a fifteen-year-old's flexibility.\n\n\"Balance! Don't hold on!\" called Tingetorix. His bad leg kept him on horseback, but if he could not set an example, he could certainly tell the rest of them what they were doing wrong.\n\nThe leather straps that suspended the bouncing wooden platform creaked as the wheels skittered over the rough ground. Boudica had thought the heaving deck of a ship unsteady; this was like trying to stand on a quaking bog. As another turn flung her against the rail she could feel Cathubodva laughing. The goddess danced on chaos as Her ravens danced on the wind. For humans, the stability of the ground was the only certainty. But tempting as it was to let the goddess takeover, Boudica had schooled enough horses to know that the more reflexes she trained into her muscles, the less her rider would have to do.\n\nAs a tiny girl she had loved watching her older brothers practicing with the chariots. Dubi had been able to run out along the shaft to the yoke that linked the two ponies, fling a javelin, and get back again. He usually hit the target as well. That would not be a problem in battle-as long as you launched a projectile in the right direction it was bound to hit somebody.\n\nTascio brought the chariot around and fora moment she had it, balancing on the balls of her feet to keep the same relationship to the earth no matter which way the platform was jumping. Then the ache in her leg became a sudden cramp.\n\n\"Whoa...\" she gasped as she slid the javelin into its rest and bent to massage the limb." }, { "from": "human", "value": "When she could stand again, she saw Rigana's chariot thundering toward her." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As they passed the girl let out a skull-splitting screech and flourished her javelin with a grin that had been absent for far too long. Boudica waved back, then turned as someone called.\n\n\"That will be enough for now, Tascio-bring us in.\" She straightened as he turned the ponies toward the knot of people who had gathered at the edge of the crowd, doing her best to support the image of a bold warrior queen without revealing how grateful she was for an excuse to standstill.\n\nFrom the chariot Boudica could see much of the camp, which since the fall of Colonia had come to resemble a gathering of clans for the Lughnasa fair. Warriors were still arriving, but now they were bringing their families, and bards and merchants were arriving as well. Anywhere you walked you might hear singing, or find some impromptu contest of strength or skill. A giddy, holiday atmosphere filled the air.\n\nBut the men who awaited her were not in a festive mood.\n\n\"Have the scouts returned?\" she asked, looking down at them. After the defeat of the Ninth Legion she had sent men to watch all the Roman forts, especially in the east, where the governor had posted the Twentieth and Fourth, and the southeast, where he'd placed the Second Legion. A host the size of her impromptu army could not move unnoticed-she was surprised that there had been no other response from the Romans by now.\n\nThe group parted to let a weary man step forward. \"I rode east, my lady, as you ordered. Didn't have to go farther than that new fort they call Letocetum, on the Great Road. There was plenty of news in the wineshop there.\"\n\n\"Is the Twentieth coming?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Aye, with the Fourth right behind them, but they'll be on the road awhile. They were on Mona, my lady! They burned the sanctuary to the ground and killed every Druid they could find!\"\n\n\"Sacrilege!\" came the cry. \"The gods will strike them-\"\n\nBoudica closed her eyes, clutching at the rail of the chariot as a murmur of horror spread through the crowd. She had just seen the devastation fire could wreak on a city. Her imagination pictured only too vividly flames rising from the house circle at Lys Deru and the Sacred Grove. What had happened to Belina and Coventa, and the others whom she had loved? She prayed to the gods that Lhiannon was still safe in Eriu.\n\n\"The gods will strike them indeed,\" she echoed, dashing tears from her eyes. She jerked her javelin from its rest and held it high. \"My arm is their weapon! And yours-\" She swung the spear above the crowd. \"Every fist that can hold a blade is the hand of the gods. And we will avenge!\" She felt her face flush at the roar of fury that answered her.\n\n\"The Twentieth will be some weeks on the road,\" the messenger went on. \"My news is from the cavalry troop that rode in with Governor Paulinus three days ago. They barely took time to eat and sleep before they were on fresh horses heading south to Londinium.\"\n\n\"Will he try to hold the city? What will he do for men?\" came the questions.\n\nBoudica had been undecided which way to lead her forces. This was the news she had needed.\n\n\"I don't know what he'll do,\" she said viciously, \"but what we must do is clear! Cry the word through the camp, all of you! Give your beasts a good feed and pack up your wagons. Tomorrow we march on Lon-dinium, and if we are very lucky, we'll catch the butcher of Mona there!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "he ship rolled and lifted and dipped once more as a fair wind drove her toward the Summer Country. Since the funerals, three days had passed, and it was not until they got out into the strait that the brisk sea wind drove the last taint of burning from the air. Only then did Lhiannon realize how accustomed to that reek she had become. Even Cov-enta, though she had been sick that morning, seemed to be reviving.\n\nBut was she herself any better off? The piled purple mountains beyond the shoreline slid by like a dream. The sea glittered in the bright air, and the sky was a beneficent blue. In the old days, Lhiannon would have said that the sea gods had blessed their journey, but just now she found it hard to believe that they cared.\n\n\"I wish that we could stay forever on the sea,\" murmured Coventa, \"between the worlds.\" She was still quiet and pale, but the visions only came at night now, as dreams. \"No one knows where we are... no one can tell us what to do. I thought you were an exile, and was sorry that you could not stay safe with us. But I begin to see why you spent so much time away.\"\n\n\"It was not all a holiday,\" Lhiannon observed reminiscently. \"When I was with Caratac I was often hungry or cold or in danger, but it is true that I did not have the Druids telling me what to do every time I turned around.\"\n\n\"I have been very naive,\" Coventa said quietly. \"I am like some wild bird that has been bred up captive in a cage, and when the door to freedom is opened I do not know how to fly. I am not fit for this new world we have been forced into. But you are, Lhiannon. I hope you will not let Ardanos put you into a cage. He is so afraid-and perhaps he is right-the world is more terrible than I could have imagined. If there is ever a place where our priestesses can live all together again, I think he will try to make it a fortress.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Ardanos would never... the thought faltered. The Ardanos she had loved would not have tried to rule with so heavy a hand, but the Romans had done something to his soul.\n\n\"The world goes as it will, not as we would have it,\" Coventa continued, \"and all we can do is to try to serve the gods.\"\n\n\"The gods! If I believed that all this was their will I would curse them-\" Lhiannon stopped short, realizing only now how long she had been refusing to face her despair. \"As it is, either they hate us, or they have no power. Everything we have done to propitiate them has only made things worse, so far as I can see...\"\n\nShe had spoken softly, but Coventa was looking at her in shocked surprise. I am a priestess, she told herself. For her sake I should pretend to believe... That was what she had done ever since the crescent of the Goddess was placed between her brows.\n\n\"What do you want me to say?\" she burst out suddenly. \"Do you want me to tell you that everything will be all right? It won't! It's not...\"\n\nHer throat ached too fiercely to say more. Through war and disaster she had been kept too busy dealing with crises to consider their implications... but on this sunlit, smiling sea she had letdown her defenses and now she was lost. She held her hands over her face, shaking with sobs.\n\nAfter what seemed along time she felt soft arms around her. Cov-enta was holding her, rocking her as the ship was rocked by the sea. And presently she came to the end of her tears.\n\n\"Thank you,\" she whispered. \"I've stopped now.\" She hugged Cov-enta back and saw the younger woman relax, but for her the brightness had gone out of the day." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lhiannon understood now why some Druids retreated to the wilderness to live out their days in a cave by a sacred spring. Though the changing seasons held their own disasters, in nature there was an underlying order in which one might find some certainty. But she could see no such hope in the world of humankind.\n\nrom the next street over Boudica could hear a howling that sounded more like beasts than men. The white mare danced beneath her, ears flicking nervously, and Bogle growled a warning as another band trotted by. Two men were carrying Roman heads on their spears. The others bore bags of loot and supplies. The tangle of homes and shops and warehouses that had sprung upon the north bank of the\n\nTamesa seemed to huddle beneath a lowering sky. One could trace the progress of the attacking Britons by the ravens that followed them through the town.\n\nLondinium, like Colonia, was undefended. Decianus Catus had fled to Gallia when Colonia fell, and his staff, including Cloto, had gone with him. They had missed the governor by two days. Paulinus had at least made an attempt to evacuate the city, but those inhabitants who were stubbornly determined to protect their property or too old or infirm to flee remained, and were dying in the place of those more deserving of killing as the Britons swept from one street to the next.\n\nBoudica had given orders that the city not be burned until they had stripped it of everything of value. Most of those who had joined her had brought food, but they could not risk running short before they caught up with the governor. And much of what these warehouses held had been taken as Roman taxes. She found a grim satisfaction in the symmetry of taking it back again." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As they turned a corner the shouting grew louder. Boudica's escort drew in protectively as they sighted a knot of struggling men. A woman's scream pierced the babble like a blade to the heart. Unthinking, Boudica urged the mare forward. She saw blades flash as the attackers scrambled out of the way. Their features were those of men she knew, but in this moment their faces were stamped with a single identity.\n\nA Roman stood behind the splintered door of his house, holding up a table as a shield. A Briton with an ax hewed at it, making chunks fly like kindling, while others jabbed with spears. Boudica recognized the ax man. He had been a small farmer who got into debt and fought back when the Romans came to seize his land. In the struggle he had escaped, but his wife had been captured and sold into slavery.\n\nThe man lurched as one of the spears pierced his leg; the next blow of the ax sent the battered table spinning. Many hands pulled him out into the street and the red blades rose and fell. With a rending of wood others knocked the remains of the door away and pushed inside. The woman began to scream once more.\n\nA little boy burst through the doorway, his thin wail abruptly silenced as someone clubbed him and tossed the body aside. Then men were dragging his mother into the street, tearing at her tunica and forcing her down. Boudica saw her desperate eyes white-rimmed above a muffling hand.\n\n\"If you try to stop them they will turn on you,\" came the voice of the goddess within as she opened her lips to protest. The white limbs thrashing before her merged with the image of Argantilla's body as the Roman had dragged her down.\n\nAre we no better than they? her spirit cried." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"This is not about lust, but about power-\"\n\nHelp her! Vision blurred as the conflict drove awareness inward. Boudica felt the horse move beneath her as she grabbed a spear from one of her men, but the unerring aim was Cathubodva's, like the power that drove the spear past therapist's shoulder and into his victim's heart.\n\nThis is your work, Lady, she thought despairingly. If it must be done, I don't want to see. This time she willingly abandoned consciousness, and the mercy of the Morrigan folded dark wings between her and the pain.\n\nEven the queen's escort left a distance between them and the One they followed through the streets where blood flowed in the gutters, for the calm, clear voice that directed them whereto search for valuables held a resonance that was more than human, and the mind that directed it had a deadly patience that they did not understand.\n\nBut Boudica found herself walking through an oak wood drifted with autumn leaves and scattered with what she took to be acorns. As she drew closer she could see that they were human heads. Their faces were contorted, but she could not tell if it was in exaltation or rage.\n\n\"This is My harvest... their blood will feed the land,\" came a harsh voice from above.\n\nShe looked up. Balancing on one of the branches was a Raven with red eyes.\n\n\"Men are no different from any other creature,\" said the Raven. \"When one group is stronger they conquer, and when they weaken, another comes and feeds on them in turn. Conflict and competition are necessary. The fury passes through like a great fire, burning weakness away, and in its light the essence is revealed. The strongest in both groups survive. Blood and spirit are blended and what grows from them is stronger still.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Is this the only way?\" Boudica cried.\n\n\"This is the way you must follow now,\" came the reply. \"Britannia is a mingling of many bloods already, from peoples that strove against each other as they came to these shores. In time more will come and today's victor will fail, leaving his own strength in the land.\"\n\n\"That is a hard teaching,\" Boudica said.\n\n\"It is my truth-the Raven's Way. One way or another the cycle must continue. The balance must be maintained. And there is more than one kind of victory...\"\n\nhen Boudica came to herself once more she was back in their camp, dismounting from the mare. Brangenos caught her as her knees buckled and Eos took therein to lead Branwen away. Red smeared and splattered the mare's white hide. The stink of blood was all around her. Boudica looked down and saw her legs splashed with clotting red to the knee. Bogle whined and sat down. He was blood-smeared as well.\n\n\"It is a red woman on a white horse that leads us...\" ran the whispers, \"and with her the hunters of the Otherworld, the white, red-eared hounds...\"\n\n\"Is my horse all right?\" Her voice seemed to come from a distance.\n\n\"She needs to be cleansed, like you, but she is Branwen, the white raven. What better mount for the Lady of Ravens to ride?\"\n\nBut I was the horse, thought Boudica dizzily. She wondered what had happened after the goddess severed her from her own identity.\n\nThe faces around her were warmed by a sunset glow, but the horizon was dark. Slowly she realized that the light was reflecting off the clouds over the burning city. It was over, then-for now-and the dead had their pyre." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Move the narrative forward in collaboration with the writer.\nTags: fantasy, historical fantasy, druids\nAuthor: Marion Zimmer Bradley, Diana L. Paxson\nTitle: Ravens of Avalon\nChapter: 4" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Is this the only way?\" Boudica cried.\n\n\"This is the way you must follow now,\" came the reply. \"Britannia is a mingling of many bloods already, from peoples that strove against each other as they came to these shores. In time more will come and today's victor will fail, leaving his own strength in the land.\"\n\n\"That is a hard teaching,\" Boudica said.\n\n\"It is my truth-the Raven's Way. One way or another the cycle must continue. The balance must be maintained. And there is more than one kind of victory...\"\n\nhen Boudica came to herself once more she was back in their camp, dismounting from the mare. Brangenos caught her as her knees buckled and Eos took therein to lead Branwen away. Red smeared and splattered the mare's white hide. The stink of blood was all around her. Boudica looked down and saw her legs splashed with clotting red to the knee. Bogle whined and sat down. He was blood-smeared as well.\n\n\"It is a red woman on a white horse that leads us...\" ran the whispers, \"and with her the hunters of the Otherworld, the white, red-eared hounds...\"\n\n\"Is my horse all right?\" Her voice seemed to come from a distance.\n\n\"She needs to be cleansed, like you, but she is Branwen, the white raven. What better mount for the Lady of Ravens to ride?\"\n\nBut I was the horse, thought Boudica dizzily. She wondered what had happened after the goddess severed her from her own identity.\n\nThe faces around her were warmed by a sunset glow, but the horizon was dark. Slowly she realized that the light was reflecting off the clouds over the burning city. It was over, then-for now-and the dead had their pyre." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Come,\" said Brangenos. As she steadied, he set his hand beneath her elbow. \"You need water. You need rest.\"\n\n\"Yes, but not to drink. First I must get clean.\"\n\nThey had made their camp by one of the streams that ran into the Tamesa. Ignoring the startled exclamations of her household, Boudica plunged through the reeds and into the water, Bogle bounding after her. The cold shocked her fully into her body as it washed the blood away. When she struggled back ashore she was shivering with reaction. The dog pushed through the reeds and shook himself, sending out arcs of spray.\n\nTemella hurried toward her with a blanket. When she was dry and had a bowl of hot soup in her hands Brangenos settled beside her. Beyond the tent poles men bowed as they passed.\n\n\"I saw that man in the city,\" she said as a burly figure with an ax stuck through his belt went by. \"He was killing a Roman who was defending his home. But he looked different-\" She gestured toward the crowd. \"They all did. Now they look like themselves again. Was it my imagination? What did I see?\"\n\nThe Druid sighed. \"Another spirit can possess men who are joined by great emotion. I do not know if it is a curse or a mercy.\"\n\n\"The mercy of the Morrigan,\" she said bitterly. \"Is it like the thing that happens tome?\"\n\n\"Somewhat, except that this is a shared ecstasy, created when many souls under pressure become one.\"\n\n\"Will they remember what they did?\"\n\n\"In such a state men are capable of great feats of valor-or of cruelty.\" His lean face was somber. \"To be unable to remember the former relieves them of the yearning to reach a level they will never again be able to attain. To forget the latter... do you think they could face their own wives and children if they had full memory of what they had done?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"But if they do not remember, they will do it again,\" she said, knowing she had no right to judge, having given up her own will to a force equally implacable. \"And if the Battle Raven rides me again, so will I...\" She swallowed. \"Is there noway to make war with honor?\"\n\n\"With perfect warriors-with perfect discipline,\" he replied. \"In the old days the champions would go out to fight between the armies, and the will of each side rode with its defender, and all were ennobled by their strife. The Romans will not allow us that kind of war. What we have here is not an army, my queen. It is a mob, a creature composed of outrage and pain that burns its way across the land.\"\n\n\"She said something like that,\" murmured Boudica, and saw his gaze sharpen. \"While She was doing battle She was also talking tome in an oak wood where men's heads lay on the ground.\" Haltingly she recounted Cathubodva's words.\n\n\"It is a harsh teaching indeed,\" the Druid agreed when she was done. \"But it is all we have. If this fire you have started can kindle the valor of all the tribes we may yet drive the Romans from this land. If not, our own blood will feed the ground. You cannot stop it now, my queen, you can only fan the flames and hope they burn quick and clean.\"\n\nBoudica gulped soup, but its heat could not warm her. Now, more than ever, she understood why Prasutagos had sought peace so earnestly. Suddenly she ached with the need to feel his arms around her, to make life in this wasteland. Would he turn from her in horror if he saw what she was doing now? But the peace the Romans would have given them was a living death, destruction with no hope of renewal." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"My lady, if you wish I can mix you something to make you sleep,\" said Brangenos.\n\nShe looked up, seeing him suddenly as a man, still strong, despite the white in his hair. If she asked, would he lie with her? Their eyes met, and she knew his answer.\n\n\"No-\" She shook her head, denying him, denying herself the respite that she craved. \"If those who died today could bear their pain, the least I can do is endure my dreams...\"\n\nhe journey by sea had gone by like a dream, but the Summer Country seemed scarcely closer to the world of death and battle Lhian-non had left behind. As the boatman poled the long, flat craft through the marshes, reed and willow closed around them, and their only enemies were the midges that rose in humming clouds as they passed.\n\nEach morning the mist rose from the water to veil the marshes in mystery. Lhiannon found herself half hoping that when it cleared she would find herself in the Otherworld, but the long shafts of afternoon sunlight showed the same landscape as before. But with each day the pointed tip of the Tor appeared more clearly above the tangled trees, until they came with the last light of sunset to the shores of Avalon.\n\nThe little house in which Lhiannon had lived had lost some of its thatching-the Druids had not had much time for initiations in recent years, and only one old priestess, a woman called Nan, remained-but everything else seemed unchanged. The slender, dark-haired folk of the\n\nmarshes provided them with food and brought their sick for healing. As the Summer Country drowsed through the long days, Lhiannon found her heart easing. If Avalon held no answers, at least here she could sometimes forget the questions." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Her only anxiety was Coventa, who continued to be sick during the day, and troubled at night by evil dreams." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A week after they had arrived on the isle Coventa awoke one morning weeping. With a sigh, Lhian-non rose and held her until the sobs began to ease.\n\n\"Nan, will you makeup the fire and fill the hanging pot with water so we can have some chamomile tea?\"\n\n\"Thank you,\" said Coventa when the old woman brought her the cup. \"I am sorry to be such a bother to you all.\"\n\n\"Was it another bad dream?\" Lhiannon asked the girl.\n\nCoventa sighed. \"I dreamed that I gave birth to a son, who grew up tall and strong with golden hair. But when he was grown he turned into a raven and flew away.\"\n\n\"Is that why you were crying?\"\n\nCoventa shook her head. \"He was a beautiful boy. It made me happy to see him. I wept because when he is grown he will become a warrior.\"\n\n\"In your dream,\" said Lhiannon, frowning.\n\n\"In this world.\" Coventa looked up at her with an odd smile. \"I never expected to have to know such things, but living among women one cannot help learning something. My breasts are tender and I have missed my courses and I am sick in the mornings. I think I am with child.\"\n\n\"By the Romans...\" breathed Lhiannon.\n\n\"By one of them,\" Coventa corrected, \"even among the Romans I believe there is only one father for each child.\"\n\n\"I know of herbs you can take to cast the abomination from you,\" said Lhiannon. \"I will ask the marsh folk to show me where they grow.\"\n\n\"No. What I carry is not yet a child, but I cannot deny him life. I believe that in the future he will have some part to play.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Lhiannon stared at her, uncomprehending." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I would tear out my womb rather than bear a Roman's child! Coventa will not be the only one burdened this way, she thought then. Perhaps the other women will be more sensible, and if\n\nthey cannot kill the babes before they are born, they will destroy them after. But she did not say so aloud.\n\nCoventa looked better than she had for many days, and Lhiannon was unwilling to jeopardize any belief that led to happiness.\n\nlearly our next objective should be Verlamion,\"said Vordilic.\" Or rather, Verulamium,\"he said, adding the Latin ending with a vicious snarl. Grizzled as a badger, he was a man of the Catuvellauni, some kind of relation to Caratac.\" The royal enclosure on the banks of the Ver was the sacred center for my tribe. The town that squats there now is a Roman blasphemy.\"\n\nFrom the circle of chieftains and kings who had gathered around Boudica's fire came a mutter of agreement. The stretched cloths that kept off the evening dew were costly fabrics that had once curtained Roman doorways. The discussion had been lubricated by an amphora of Roman wine.\n\n\"But they are Britons,\" someone objected.\n\n\"They are traitors,\" Vordilic spat. \"They were once Catuvellauni, but they have abandoned their name and race to wear the toga and boast of being Roman citizens.\"\n\n\"That makes them worse than honest enemies,\" another man replied. \"They show us what will become of us if we do not win. We must make them an example for all Britannia.\"\n\n\"That great road the Romans carved across our holy earth at least makes it easy to travel. If we set off tomorrow, we could be in Verlamion in two days!\" Vordilic had joined them when they reached Londinium. His skin hung loose on his bones and the good cloth of his tunic was worn threadbare. Everything about him spoke of a vanished prosperity." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Boudica drew back. Vordilic's tattered clothing was only a visible representation of the hatred that was eating away at his soul. Being near him was like standing by some noxious bog. The problem with calling on all the tribes was that the people most motivated to fight the Romans were the most damaged, in body or in mind, and the least willing to conduct an intelligent campaign.\n\n\"We could be,\" she said mildly, \"but should we take the time to attack? Unlike an army, a town cannot runaway. The legions are on the move, and we should begetting ready to meet them.\"\n\n\"We obliterated the Ninth with half the men we have now,\" boasted Drostac. \"Why should the men of the Twentieth and the Fourth give us more trouble?\"\n\n\"The Second Legion will not reinforce them,\" said someone else to general laughter. \"The word we hear from the Durotriges is that their camp prefect thinks the situation \"too uncertain for secure operations.\" They're staying in Isca.\"\n\n\"Whereas we gain more warriors everyday!\" said King Corio. \"We don't need a fancy strategy-we can crush them by sheer numbers!\"\n\nNumbers they certainly had. Campfires dotted the rolling country north of what had been Londinium like poppies in a wheatfield. They had captured enough wine and meat for everyone to make merry. The night wind was musical with laughter and song.\n\nBoudica traded glances with Tingetorix. He was the best commander they had, and he had done his best to make her understand how men made war.\n\n\"Numbers are not enough. We defeated the foot soldiers of the Ninth Legion because we made the land fight for us,\" the old warrior said reprovingly. \"If we can catch Governor Paulinus on the march, we have a good chance of whittling away his strength. But we dare not let him force us into a pitched battle.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"And that means we must march northward, and quickly,\" said Boudica, \"even if some of the wagons, especially the ones with the women and children, are left behind.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Perhaps she could persuade her daughters, as representatives of the royal house, to stay with them.\n\n\"We'll move out in the morning,\" she continued. \"Tingetorix, I want you to take your best horsemen and scout ahead. Morigenos, will you work with the men who have just joined us? Show them where they should march, make sure they have weapons. Drostac, you are in charge of the supply wagons. We must take some care with the food-we do not know how long it will have to last.\"\n\nCities had warehouses. Gathering supplies for the horde had been another reason to attack Londinium.\n\n\"There is food in Verlamion,\" muttered Vordilic.\n\n\"And it will still be there when we have the time to deal with the town as it deserves.\" Boudica frowned, and the Catuvellaunian looked away.\n\nIn the golden days of the heroes it had all been much simpler, she reflected as the chieftains finished their wine and made ready to go. When they celebrated ancient battles, did the bards simply skip over the challenges of strategy and supply? Her young men had grownup denied the experience that would have taught them the realities of war, and the old men seemed to have selective memories. The responsibilities she shouldered now had little to do with the glory of which the poets sang, but though they might be far greater in scale, they were not so different from the planning any woman who ran a large household must do everyday.\n\nBut fighting Romans was not like killing rats in a store shed. These werewolves. As if he had sensed her thought, Bogle lifted his great head with a soft growl.\n\nTWENTY-SEVEN\n\nhe ravens were dancing, black wings scattering shadows across the Roman road. Boudica watched them lift and dive, rolling over and under in an ecstasy of flight, her own body flexing easily as the war cart swayed." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "From somewhere down the line she heard singing-\n\n\"The Great Queen sows the land with flame The black smoke rises high Where dying warriors call her name And ravens soar the sky.\"\n\n\"And is it a celebration or a war dance they are performing up there?\" she wondered aloud.\n\n\"A dance of anticipation, perhaps. We fed the ravens well at Londinium,\" said Tascio, following her gaze. \"They will be hoping for another battle soon.\"\n\nLondinium was not a battle, it was a massacre, thought Boudica, but she doubted Tascio would understand her lack of enthusiasm for slaughter. Yet even the Morrigan did not love blood for its own sake, only for what it could buy.\n\n\"Perhaps they are entertaining themselves while they wait for us to catch up with them,\" she said aloud.\n\n\"They would have to wait longer if we were traveling over hill and dale,\" said Tascio. \"The Romans build good roads...\"\n\nBoudica nodded. The Great Road cut straight as a sword slash through the country north of Londinium, where a Celtic trail would have followed the contours of the land.\n\n\"The Great Queen tramples down the grain, She treads upon the vine,\n\nHer meal is ground with heroes' pain, their blood she turns to wine.\"\n\nBehind her they were still singing. In two days the horde had come farther than she would have believed possible. But a Roman legion could march more swiftly still. As the riders and chariots moved north with the vast, untidy mob of men and wagons streaming out behind them, Boudica seemed to hear like an echo the steady tramp of hobnailed sandals on stone.\n\nThe Romans were coming. The last scout to arrive said that Pauli-nus had rejoined his army. Would he keep them at the fort at Letocetum or would they continue southward? The Roman road was a channel through which Britons and Romans were being forced toward an unavoidable confrontation. Boudica thought of the turbulence at the seashore when the waters rushing down from a mountain stream collided with the incoming tide-two unquenchable currents, each obeying the law of its own nature. Where they met they created a chaos in which neither could win." }, { "from": "human", "value": "The road is a trap..." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "she thought, eyeing the ribbon of stone that drew her toward the horizon. Before we meet the Romans we will have to get off it into country where we have some cover. But in the meantime, horses and wagons were rolling forward at a steady walking pace.\n\nAlready the sun was dipping toward the western hills. In the distance she glimpsed the gleam of water through a line of trees. That might make a good place to camp. Tonight she would gather the chieftains and make them agree on a route that would take them around Verulamium.\n\nThe ponies tossed their heads, snorting, and Tascio reined in as they heard a clatter of hoofbeats from the other side of those trees. In another momenta horseman clattered into view, coming fast.\n\n\"Verulamium!\" he cried. \"It's just beyond the river, and undefended!\"\n\nMen cheered as the news was passed down the line. In moments, horsemen were galloping forward. Boudica glimpsed Tingetorix, but the tumult was already too loud for her to make out his words. She closed her lips on the order she had been about to give. The old warrior had told her himself that a command that could not, or would not, be obeyed was worse than useless. The road had already trapped her. Men and horses were following the ravens toward the town, eyes alight at the prospect of more slaughter. Whether she wished it or not, they were going to attack Verulamium.\n\nunset light slanted through the trees, intensifying the ruddy color that stained the stones around the pool. The day had been a warm one, but there was always a cool breath of air beside the Blood Spring. Lhian-non dipped up another mouthful of the iron-rich water and sat back with a sigh." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I feel stronger already,\" said Coventa, gazing into the pool as the dark waters stilled.\n\nIron to nourish a Roman child... thought Lhiannon, the liquid turning bitter on her tongue, and tried to will the thought away. She would not allow the Romans to steal the Tor from her as well. To show Cov-enta her favorite places on the isle had given her joy. As the younger woman pointed out, when you traveled with Helve you did not have much time to listen to the land.\n\nThis afternoon they had bathed in the Blood Spring, and Lhiannon observed with mingled pain and wonder the new glow that pregnancy imparted to her friend. Since she had learned she was with child Cov-enta had not wept in the night. Was it possible that such a horror could leave a blessing behind it? Lhiannon did not want to believe it, but she was not so cruel as to question any happiness Coventa might find.\n\nShe shut her eyes, striving to lose herself in the musical murmur the water made as it passed through the channel from the spring and trickled into the pool.\n\n\"Blood...\" whispered Coventa.\n\nFora moment, Lhiannon thought she was commenting on the spring. She opened her eyes, alarm bringing her upright as she saw the other woman crouched and rigid, staring into the water. Mearan had told them that the waters of the Blood Spring could be used for s crying-she should have warned Coventa not to look into the pool.\n\n\"Coventa,\" She steadied her own voice to a soothing murmur. \"What do you see?\"\n\n\"A river in a valley... blood in the water... red sunset, red flames, red everywhere...\" Coventa's tone was detached, and Lhiannon thanked the Goddess forgiving her this knowledge as an oracle's vision instead of a dream." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Where is it?\" Lhiannon asked. Clearly virginity was not required for vision, although there might beside effects she could not foresee. But the damage was done now, and they might as well take advantage of it.\n\n\"The land is gentle. I see scattered roundhouses and others that are straight-sided with strange red roofs like scales. There are buildings beside a road. As the men attack, one collapses and scatters pieces of ice across the road-no they are pieces of glass.\"\n\nRoman buildings, thought Lhiannon, beginning to suspect what, if not exactly where, this must be.\n\n\"There is a strange square enclosure with some longhouses in it. They are built of wood and they burn well.\"\n\n\"Who is doing the burning?\" asked Lhiannon.\n\n\"Our people...\" came the answer. \"They drag men out of the buildings and strike them down.\"\n\nLhiannon had been taught that a Druid should respond to both joy and sorrow with equal detachment, but she could not repress a spurt of vicious satisfaction.\n\n\"Men... and women, too...\" Coventa faltered. \"Women with fair hair. They are our people, too-\" She shook her head. \"I don't want to see this anymore...\"\n\n\"It's all right, Coventa-let it go, let it fade away,\" Lhiannon said quickly. She recalled now that the people of Verlamion had adopted Roman ways, and understood only too clearly what must be happening there. \"Do you seethe road that goes through the town? Follow it, my dear. Leave the fighting behind.\"\n\n\"The road is before me...\" Coventa gave a grateful sigh. \"Night is falling and the land is at peace. What would you have me see?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Follow the road northward and tell me if anyone else is on it. Fare northward, seeress, and look for Roman soldiers,\" Lhiannon said grimly.\n\nFor several moments Coventa said nothing, her fair hair falling forward as she bent over the pool. Lhiannon watched her closely, waiting for the moment when she stiffened and began to tremble.\n\n\"They can't see you, they can't touch you,\" she murmured. \"Rise into the heavens and look down and tell me what you see-\"\n\n\"The road runs across a plain. To the west the ground rises. There is a small fort, but the Romans are not in it. I see many campfires and those leather tents they use. They are camped on arise at the entrance to a fold in the hills, with woods behind them. Between them and the road there is a river, edged with reeds.\"\n\n\"Go higher, Coventa,\" murmured Lhiannon, but she was thinking hard. If the Romans were not marching, Paulinus must have chosen a battlefield. \"You've seen enough, my dear-speed back to us now, eastward across the land until you come to the Tor. All that you've seen you leave behind you... you will not remember, you will not care... comeback now, your body is waiting-\" She reached out as Coventa collapsed into her arms.\n\n\"Will she be all right?\" asked Nan, her wrinkled brow furrowed, as Lhiannon laid the younger priestess down.\n\n\"Ina little while she will wake, and very likely remember nothing at all.\" With a gentle hand Lhiannon smoothed back the curling hair.\n\n\"Do you think that what she saw was true?\" the other priestess asked." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I am afraid so,\" answered Lhiannon. \"I think that Queen Boudica is attacking Verlamion now.\"\n\n\"But the Romans are waiting for her,\" said Nessa.\n\nLhiannon sighed. \"Yes,\" she said grimly. \"And she does not know.\"\n\n\"But there is noway we can tell her...\" Nan looked at her in sudden alarm. \"Is there?\"\n\n\"I must try to warn her,\" said Lhiannon, decision crystallizing as she spoke. \"They will give me a horse and food in Camadunon, and I can ride quickly at need.\"\n\n\"But it will be dangerous!\"\n\n\"No Briton would harm me, and all the Romans are hiding in their forts or waiting for Boudica. You and Coventa will be safe hereon Ava-lon. Hush now, she is waking,\" she said as the other woman began to stir. \"Boudica needs me, but I promise I will comeback to you!\"\n\noudica rode into Verulamium in her chariot like a Roman general at his Triumph, but her heart held no joy. These had been Britons, however traitorous, and they were not the only ones who had succumbed to the temptation to ape the conqueror's ways. How would she win back her people if all she could offer was revenge? She had at least been able to stop her warriors from attacking the nearby farmsteads, but the palisade that surrounded the civic buildings was burning merrily.\n\nVordilic stood before its gate, to which a man had been bound in mockery of a Roman crucifixion. A pile of white cloth that might have been a toga lay on the ground. His well-fed flesh was bruised and scored, but he was still alive. Blood matted his gray hair and ran from his mouth where they had severed his tongue." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Vordilic looked around as Boudica neared. It was not only the hatred in their eyes that stamped the crucified man and his tormentor as kin.\n\n\"Behold Claudius Nectovelius filius Bracius-\" There was venom in each syllable. \"Magistrate of Verulamium. I have taken the tongue with which he denied his people and his gods. Next, perhaps, it will be his eyes-his testicles have been no use to him for many a day.\"\n\n\"Was he of your family?\" she asked softly. A sob came from the gatepost where a woman and two children had been tied.\n\n\"My ancestors deny him!\" spat Vordilic. \"Let him go to Hades with his Roman friends!\"\n\n\"Then it shall be so!\" The words vibrated without and within. Vordilic blanched as the goddess seized Boudica's body. Ina single sure move She grasped a javelin and thrust it through flesh, heart, and the wood on which they had crucified the man.\n\nThe gathering crowd hooted and cheered as the pudgy body jerked and twitched and then with a last convulsion went still, but that part of Boudica that watched from within understood that this had been mercy.\n\n\"Give the carrion to the birds and purify this place by fire,\" the voice, at once more harsh and more resonant than her own, penetrated the babble of the crowd.\n\n\"Have we done well, Lady?\" a dozen voices asked.\n\n\"You have done what you must,\" came the reply. \"You are My fire, you are My sword, you are My fury... But understand this,\" She said, Her gaze sweeping the upturned faces that then grew still. \"The fire that burns your enemy burns you as well, and the blood and fire will not cease until they have run their course throughout Britannia.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "The Morrigan gestured toward the slack body on the gate." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "From the gash in Nectovelius's chest a trail of red blood twined across the pale flesh to drip to the dirt below. \"Your blood or theirs-it all feeds the ground.\"\n\n\"Then let all of it flow!\" snarled Vordilic, frustrated bloodlust hurling him toward the woman by the gate. A shout rose from a hundred throats and clubs and swords blurred through the air. In moments Nec-tovelius's family had gone to join him.\n\nIs this, too, Your mercy? gibbered Boudica within.\n\n\"Would you not have welcomed it, after you lost your king?\" came the reply. The resulting surge of anguish plunged Boudica back into her body with a shaken sob.\n\nShe took a deep breath, staring around her. Afire-haired goddess red with blood was turning away from the battered bodies at the gate. A jolt of recognition sent fire through Boudica's veins. This is how they see Me, before they die... said the goddess within. Boudica closed her eyes, dizzied at the doubling of vision.\n\nWhen she opened them she was fully herself once more. With a mother's appalled certainty she recognized the figure before her as Rigana.\n\n\"What are you doing? Getaway-\" She bit back the words, observing the lingering battle fury in her daughter's eyes, and knew herself fora hypocrite for wishing to deny her daughter the same release she craved. \"Rigana...\" her voice sounded strange in her own ears. \"Rig-ana, it's over... comeback tome, my child...\"\n\nThe thought washer own, but it was the goddess who put power in the words. She continued to murmur as the fire died in Rigana's eyes, until she was only a girl again, her eyes widening in disquiet as she realized who and where she was. But this final sacrifice seemed to have satiated the bloodlust of the mob as well, which was now focusing more on loot than on vengeance." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "That night the Ver ran red below the town.\n\nigana, I must talk to you.\"Boudica took her daughter by the arm and made her sit down with Argantilla beside their fire. The Britons had settled in a loose cluster of tents and wagons just beyond the embers of Verulamium. Now they were gorging themselves on the looted food and getting drunk on captured wine.\" We will be fighting the Romans soon.\"\n\n\"And what have we been doing for the past moon?\" Rigana jerked free and looked around her with a laugh.\n\n\"Slaughter,\" Boudica said grimly. \"We have destroyed three towns, none of which were defended by soldiers. The legions will be another matter. When we fight them, I don't want you in the battle. You and Argantilla will stay with the wagons.\"\n\n\"You want?\" Rigana's eyes flashed. \"And what gives you the right to deny us the choice that's free to everyone else here?\"\n\n\"You are children-\" Boudica began.\n\n\"The Romans didn't think so...\" muttered Argantilla.\n\n\"We are women! Remember, the umbilical cord was cut at the sacred spring!\" Rigana exclaimed. \"If we are old enough to risk death in childbed, we are old enough to risk it in battle!\"\n\n\"What do you mean?\" Boudica scanned them in alarm. \"Did those vermin leave you with child?\"\n\nRigana fixed her mother with a bright, bitter gaze. \"No, Mother. Our moon blood still flows, and mine will continue to do so, for I see no reason to ever want a man. But if you do not know that for the past two weeks your little Tilla has been sharing her blankets with Caw, you are blind indeed!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The flush staining Argantilla's fair skin as she glared at her sister told Boudica all she needed to know.\n\n\"You take life,\" the girl protested, turning to her mother again. \"I'd rather give it. I have loved Caw since we were children, and when I was weeping because the Roman pigs had defiled me he comforted me. When his arms are around me, I am perfect and whole.\"\n\nBoudica gazed at her helplessly, shaken by a surge of longing as she remembered how she had been completed in Prasutagos's arms. If Ar-gantilla had found such a love, should she forbid it? Could she?\n\n\"You are royal women of the Iceni,\" she said weakly. \"We do not marry at our own whim...\"\n\nBut Rigana was laughing. \"Are those only the Iceni I hear out there? When we have fought the Romans you will be the mistress of Britannia or of nothing. If we win, the chieftains will not cross your will. If we lose, what you want will not matter at all.\"\n\n\"I am your daughter.\" Argantilla straightened and wiped away her tears. \"If you can lead an army, I can at least choose my own man. And I swear to you that I will have no other, so if you wish the line of Pra-sutagos to continue, you will accept my will!\"\n\n\"After we have fought the Romans we'll speak of this again,\" said Boudica repressively. But her daughters were smiling.\n\nTWENTY-EIGHT\n\no look at the fields, one would have thought the land at peace. The swelling heads of wheat and barley hung heavy on the stalk as they waited for harvest. In the fields with a southern exposure the reapers were already at work, scythe blades flickering in the summer sun. Just so the swords would flash when the time came for the Morrigan to begin her harvest, Lhiannon thought grimly as she passed. Now and again a worker would lookup, then bend to his task with steady patience, as his fathers had served these fields before ever the Druids came into the land." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And as they will when we are only a memory, she reflected, urging her horse forward.\n\nRumor held that the soldiers of the Second Legion were still hiding behind their walls at Isca. The road they should have taken to reinforce the governor carried Lhiannon north more swiftly than she could have imagined, though her heart sped faster still. As she moved into the midlands of Britannia, the farmsteads where she stopped were full of rumors of the destruction of Verulamium.\n\nFarther north, though, the talk grew more guarded. Lhiannon had been traveling for just over a week when the farmer whose fields she blessed in exchange fora bed and a meal told her that she was nearing the point where the Isca road crossed the road from Londinium. A day or two's journey farther north lay the new Roman fort at Letocetum, though the legionaries had marched out of it a week or so before.\n\nBut they had not passed the crossroads. They were waiting, thought Lhiannon, on that hillside where Coventa had seen them. Did Boudica know?\n\n\"The Great Queen is coming up the other road to the east of herewith all the warriors in Britannia in her train,\" the farmer said with mingled pride and fear. \"If you wish to join her, my son Kitto will go with you. He has been begging my leave to join the army, and I take your coming as a sign that he is meant to go...\"\n\nThe Great Queen... With an effort, Lhiannon kept her face serene. That title could have more than one meaning. Not for the first time, she wondered who was really leading that army, and to what end.\n\n\"The Great Queen gathers all the brave To muster in their might, To strike with spear and sword and stave And put the foe to flight!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The people in one of the nearer wagons were singing. That song had been a frequent accompaniment to the rebellion, but this evening it came constantly, now from one direction and now from another as anew group took up the refrain. Boudica had heard birds do that in a wood, the song shifting and swelling from one tree to another as a migrating flock settled there.\n\nSince the destruction of Verulamium a little more than a week had passed. The Britons had come to the plain beside the little river as the sun was going down, catching the glitter of Roman armor on the hill above it, where the governor had taken up position to wait for them. Boudica had hoped to catch them on the march. Attacking them uphill would be difficult, but if the Romans wanted to stay safe they would have taken refuge in their fortress. This evening the Celts feasted on the oxen the Druids had sacrificed to the gods who govern war. When they faced the legions tomorrow the Romans would have to comedown the hill, and one way or another, the song would have an end.\n\n\"She is the Raven and she is the Dove, The ecstasy of battle and of love...\"\n\nThe chorus followed. Brangenos had begun it, but not all the verses men were singing now were his own. The song has escaped him, thought Boudica, as the army escapes me. I am not their leader, but their icon... their talisman. That much had been clear to her for sometime. A Roman general might be able to command from the rear, but as they journeyed north, Boudica had been thinking. Her only hope of directing what her warriors did tomorrow was to be the point of their spear.\n\nAnd if she must be in the forefront of the battle, what were the chances that when it was over she would still be alive? The question came with a cold clarity that surprised her, but no fear. Her life would be a small price to pay for victory. Given their numbers, she found it hard to doubt the confidence of her men. And if they were defeated? The world the Romans would make then was one in which she would not want to survive. But it would be hard to part from those she loved." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Boudica considered them as they passed the wineskin, their faces warmed by the light of the fire." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Some belonged to her life with Prasutagos. She had grown close to others on this journey. Argantilla sat with Caw, her bright head close to his dark one as they whispered. Rigana was at Tingetorix's feet, listening to the war stories of which he had an endless store. Brangenos was speaking calmly to Rianor.\n\nThe old storm crow had seen so many battles. This one would just be another verse for his song. But even as the thought came to her she suppressed it as unworthy. During the past weeks the older Druid had been a welcome source of counsel. As if he had felt her thought, Brangenos looked up. Before that calm gaze, her own slid away to rest on Eoc and Bituitos, who would standby her to the end, whatever that might be.\n\nShe missed Prasutagos and Lhiannon most of those she had loved. But if her husband had still been alive none of them would be here. She tried not to think about him. The king walked now on the Isles of the Blessed. Would he even recognize the person she was becoming now?\n\nLhiannon, she devoutly hoped, was still on the Isle of Eriu. Once, Boudica's anguish had drawn her friend all the way from Avalon. But too much time had passed, and their bond had surely weakened. She tried to be glad the priestess lived now in a peace and safety that Boudica would never know again, and even as she did so felt her heart twist with longing to see her friend's luminous eyes smiling at her across the fire.\n\nThey all looked up as young man appeared at the edge of the firelight and bent to whisper in Tingetorix's ear. It was Drostac's son, who had been on patrol. Boudica got to her feet." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What is the news?\"\n\n\"The Romans appear to have no more than ten thousand men, to judge by the number of their fires.\"\n\n\"It's kind of them to make it so easy for us to count them,\" Bituitos laughed.\n\n\"They don't have to send scouts to guess our numbers,\" observed Eoc. \"They can see us from that hill!\"\n\nBoudica smiled. On their march yet more men had come in. She herself had no real idea how many Britons had camped on the plain, but surely they outnumbered the Romans at least ten to one.\n\n\"See us, and tremble,\" Bituitos replied.\n\n\"We've no need to draw sword against them,\" said Drostac with a grin. \"We can stampede across them and trample them into the dust.\"\n\nBoudica exchanged glances with Tingetorix. Numbers could be a handicap if they were not well used, but she was not about to tell any of these people to go home.\n\n\"Get some rest, lad,\" she said to the scout. \"Whether you use your sword or your feet, tomorrow you will need your strength.\"\n\n\"We should all sleep,\" said Argantilla seriously, \"including you, Mother.\" Drostac had taken his son's arm. Others began to rise.\n\n\"I know.\" Boudica gave her younger daughter a hug. \"But my legs are too restless to lie still. I will walk fora little, and then I promise that I will lie down.\"\n\nArgantilla looked dubious, but Caw had taken her hand. She will beloved, thought Boudica, picking up her dark cloak, whatever happens tome. From nearby she heard more singing and smiled.\n\n\"The horn blares and the carynx sounds When the Great Queen rides, White with red ears, her seven hounds Run baying at her side.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As if the song had summoned him, Bogle rose from his place by the fire and thrust his great head beneath her hand. The other dogs were leashed for the night, but they had learned the futility of trying to keep Bogle from following.\n\n\"You see, I will not be alone.\"\n\nBoudica moved among the wagons, stopping now and again to exchange a word with one of the men she had come to know on their journey. From the fires she heard song and laughter, or the rhythmic scrape and screech where someone was putting a better edge on his sword. From the shadows beneath some of the wagons came the soft sounds of people making love. Some of the women were wives, but men would lie with anyone willing when on campaign. It was natural enough-when people faced death there was a powerful urge to affirm life.\n\nEven the Morrigan, on the day before a battle, made love to Da-godevos, thought Boudica, suppressing an unwelcome tremor of arousal. But She had no mate hereto balance Her destructive powers with love. From somewhere close by a woman cried out at the moment of fulfillment. The queen stopped, touching her own breast. But that was no solution-she had tried, in the long nights when she slept alone. It was not only her husband's body that she missed beside her, but his spirit, enfolding her own.\n\nLovers raise the power and offer it to each other, she told herself grimly. I can only offer my need to the gods. She forced herself to move on.\n\nIn the center of the camp the people had built a votive shrine, surrounded by torches and poles on which hung the heads and hides of the animals that had been offered to the gods while the meat was boiled in a thousand cauldrons and roasted on a thousand fires. The scent of blood lay heavy on the air." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The altar itself was a construction of poles and logs covered with rich fabrics looted from Londinium. Among their folds the people had placed silver plates and kraters and dishes of Samian ware, carved wooden stools, amphorae of wine and statuary and clothing with embroidery. At the top were the heads of two Roman scouts who had been caught by the Celtic vanguard, and above them, a hurdle of poles from which three crows dangled, blood from their death wounds red on their black breasts.\n\n\"You, I recognize,\" Boudica said softly. \"You are the three of ill-boding, always slaughtered and always receiving the sacrifice...\"\n\n\"Some die that others may live...\" said the goddess within, \"and their blood feeds the ground.\"\n\n\"I know...\" the queen replied. It was not a man she needed, but answers, and whether they came from the goddess or her own heart, to hear them she must be alone.\n\nShe turned away from the wagons and made her way across the field toward the reedy banks of the stream.\n\nater gleamed where the brook flowed across the pale ribbon of the road. Lhiannon's pony pulled at therein and she loosened it to let him drink.\n\n\"Lady, it grows late,\" said the farmer's boy. \"Should we not make camp for the night? There's water here, and we could shelter by those trees.\"\n\nLhiannon straightened her legs, trying to ease the ache of muscles cramped by a ride that had begun early that morning. His suggestion was tempting, but the urgency that drove her was, if anything, greater than it had been the day before.\n\n\"How far is the Roman fort from here?\" she asked.\n\n\"It might be five miles to Manduessedum, but we won't want to camp near there.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"No, Kitto, where I want to camp is with the queen's army." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The signs of their passage are so recent, they cannot be far.\" Even by night the traces where so many men and animals had passed were clear.\n\nIn the stillness when the pony lifted his head it seemed to her that she could hear a faint murmur, like the distant sea.\n\n\"We will continue until midnight, but I think that before then we will find them.\" She shortened her reins, set heels to the pony's sides, and they went on.\n\n\"Yes, Lady,\" said the boy, clearly assuming her certainty came from Druid magic. Lhiannon did not tell him that what drove her was fear that the battle would be fought before they got there, and she would never see Boudica again.\n\nBut at last the gods seemed to be smiling. Before they had gone a mile she realized that ahead the stars were dimmed by an orange glow, and presently, on the hill to the left of the road, she saw the regular lines of Roman fires.\n\n\"The Great Queen's folk lie ahead of us on the plain,\" she pointed up the road. \"We can afford to push the horses now, for they will have rest soon.\"\n\nShortly thereafter a man rose up like a spirit from the side of the road and barred their way with a spear.\n\n\"It is Carvilios, is it not?\" Lhiannon peered through the gloom. \"Where will I find the queen?\"\n\n\"In the center of the camp, Lady, to the right of the road.\" He grinned. \"She will be glad of your coming.\"\n\nBut it was Crispus and the rest of the household who made her welcome.\n\n\"She went off a little while ago to walk through the camp,\" said Temella. \"She often does so before she sleeps, but I thought she would be back by now.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Perhaps I should look for her,\" said the priestess. \"My legs are cramping from too many hours in the saddle, and I need to walk the kinks out of them.\"\n\n\"We would be grateful.\" Crispus looked relieved. \"She said she was too tight-wound to sleep. Well, so are we all, but not all of us will be fighting a battle tomorrow. She must rest, my lady. She will listen when you tell her to come in.\"\n\ntwas very quiet herein the no-man's-land between friend and foe. The ducks that paddled in the water by day were asleep in the reeds, but an owl slid past on silent wing. Above the murmur of the current Boudica could hear a familiar splash and slap. She glanced at the dog, but Bogle's tail was wagging. She followed the path along the banks toward the ford, and halted as she saw a figure kneeling at the water's edge.\n\nWhat she had heard was the sound of someone beating laundry. But why in the middle of the night before a battle woulds omeone-her thought stopped as the woman turned. Pale in the starlight, the face before her washer own.\n\n\"What are you doing?\" Did the question come from without or within?\n\n\"I cleanse the clothing of the slain... Ravens gnaw the necks of men, blood spurts in the furious fray, flesh is hewn in battle fury, and blades bite bodies in red war. Heroes in their battle-heat harry the foe with hacking blows. War is waged, each trampling each...\" On the smooth cheeks gleamed the silver track of tears. \"Do not fight tomorrow. It will be your doom.\"\n\n\"I have no choice but to pay that price,\" Boudica replied. \"To do otherwise would be to betray my people-\" She gestured toward the scattered fires. \"You wear my face, but I know You, Strife-Stirrer, Gore-Crow, Raven of Battle. You delight in conflict. Why do You pretend to weep? You led these people here.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The woman shook her head. \"They would say they followed Boudica.\"\n\n\"But You are the one with the power!\"\n\n\"My heart is your heart. My rage is your rage. You are the goddess-\"\n\nBoudica realized that as the woman spoke she was saying the words as well. She shook her head in desperation. Was this a delusion, or had shebeen deluding herself all along?\n\n\"And are my hands Your hands?\" she cried.\n\nThe woman got to her feet and Boudica saw herself reflected in the Other's eyes.\n\n\"Only when you allow Me to use them,\" came the soft reply. \"You shape the gods as We shape you. But the forms in which you see Us have been honed through many lives of men. Through Us you pass from mortality to eternity. Through Us, the Divine becomes manifest in you.\"\n\nBoudica realized that she was trembling, and did not know whether what she felt was terror or ecstasy.\n\n\"Then will You use my hands tomorrow?\" Boudica retreated to a fear she did understand. \"Will You lead us to victory?\"\n\n\"It will end as it must for the greater good,\" came the reply. \"To give everything in the cause of life is one path to growth, but conflict is another. In war, you are tested to destruction. Winners and losers alike can fail, giving way to greed or fear. And winners and losers alike can transcend mortality. But only those who fall fighting bravely tap the last reserves of valor. Only those who give everything win the glory that lives in song and feeds generations to come. That is a prize that the winners cannot claim.\"\n\n\"And to gain that victory, will many die?\" Boudica asked then." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Death is only a doorway, but how you go through that door will change what you see on the other side...\"\n\nhiannon stopped, skin prickling at the presence of power, as she saw the figure standing by the stream. The great dog sat at her side.\n\nWhen Crispus asked her to look for the queen Lhiannon had wondered if power had made Boudica willful. But if so, she thought now, the power, and the will, were not the queen's. The figure before her stood tall beyond the height of mortals, with alight around her that did not come from the stars. Leached of color by the night, her hair flowed down in waves of shadow. From beneath the closed eyelids came a steady stream of tears.\n\nThe priestess took a deep breath, forcing her voice to calm. \"Great Queen-the night is passing, and the body You wear must rest.\"\n\nThe goddess turned, opening eyes that held a sorrow older than the world.\n\n\"You have so little time, and so much to learn...\"\n\nLhiannon fought the temptation to use this opportunity to ask a few questions of her own.\n\n\"No time,\" she agreed, \"if the woman is to sleep at all. In the name of Dagdevos, Lady, let her go.\"\n\nAfter a thoughtful moment, the still features were transformed by a smile. \"In the name of He who loves the one Boudica loved, I will...\"\n\nOnce more the eyes closed, but now the face was changing as the energy ebbed away. Lhiannon reached as Boudica's limbs gave way, and staggering a little, for since she had seen her last the queen had gained mass and muscle, lowered her to the grass." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Lhiannon...\" Boudica struggled to sit up. \"I dreamed you had come.\" She looked around her in confusion as Bogle whined and nosed at her hand. \"Or is this the dream?\"\n\n\"This,\" said the priestess with a tartness born of relief, \"is the eve of battle, and we all belong in our beds.\"\n\n\"There was a woman washing bloody clothes.\"\n\n\"I know Who you met here,\" Lhiannon said grimly and sighed. \"Do you think you can walk now, or do I summon men to carry you?\"\n\n\"In the morning we will fight,\" Boudica continued as if she had not heard. \"Watch over my daughters, Lhiannon. Keep them safe for me!\"\n\n\"Yes, Boudica-\" If I can...\n\nBoudica caught her breath and focused fully on the priestess for the first time. \"Oh Lhiannon, thank the gods you are here! I have needed you so badly, for so long!\" She turned, weeping, and Lhiannon gathered her into her arms.\n\nTWENTY-NINE\n\nhe gods had given them a beautiful morning. The sun filled a transparent sky with light, and the poppies glowed like spots of blood upon the bright gold of the ripening fields. On the plain between the stream and the slope the Britons were assembled by tribe and clan. In that clear light, their striped and checkered garments and their painted shields were a riot of fierce hues. Some had stripped to the waist, the swirls and spirals of warpaint showing bright against fair skin. Others wore mail shirts whose links shimmered in the sun. Sunlight glanced from shield boss and gleamed on bright blade. The same light glared from the armor of the Romans who waited on the hill." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Holding the high ground gave the enemy an advantage, but they were facing into the sun, thought Boudica as she jumped into the chariot behind Tascio. She worked her shoulders back and forth to distribute the weight of her mail. The shirt had been made fora large man and except across the bosom hung loosely. The added weight seemed to give her more stability in the chariot, though after the miles she had journeyed standing in the thing, balance was no longer a problem. As Tascio reined the ponies toward the line the ruddy plaid of her own cloak streamed out behind her. She could feel the raven wings attached to her cone-shaped helmet flutter in the wind. A second chariot, bearing Rigana and Argan-tilla, followed. When the fighting began Calgac would drive them back to the wagons drawn up in a semicircle at the other end of the field. Ar-gantilla, at least, could be trusted to stay there.\n\nAs the chariot bore her along the line the men began to cheer. \"Boud! Victory! Boud-ee-cah!\" Ravens flew up from a cluster of trees, cawing exultantly.\n\nLady, I hear You... Boudica's heart answered. Do You hear me? You brought us here-help us now! Help me!\n\nShe flinched as the first wave of sound vibrated through flesh and bone. She could see faces now. She lifted her sword in salute to Brocag-nos and his boys. Segovax and his older son Beric and their men made a group near the clan of Morigenos. Farther down the line Drostac of Ash Hill and his household shook their spears.\n\n\"Boud-i-ca!\" came the shout, and with it a surge of energy that was like the power when Cathubodva came in. Other faces emerged from the blur before her-Mandos, who had returned from his exile in the Brigante lands when he heard about the rebellion, bearing the sword he had refused to yield; Tabanus, who had been a slave in Colonia; Vordilic and his grim band of Catuvellauni; Corio of the Dobunni with the men of his tribe. She saw Iceni and Trinovantes, Durotriges and Dobunni, and smaller groups from a dozen other tribes. There were even a few Silures who had fought with Caratac, who saluted as they recognized the torque she wore. At the far end of the line Tingetorix led a mixed group of mounted warriors. They were all cheering, waves of sound rolling through the bright air." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Boud-i-ca! Victory!\"\n\nIf this was not the whole might of Britannia, there were men from more tribes than even Caratac had ever gathered assembled here. Last night Boudica had wept because so many would be slain, but today, with all the host before her, it seemed to her that they could lose half their men and still have the numbers to crush the enemy who huddled up thereon the hill.\n\nTascio halted the chariot on a little rise.\n\nAs the multitude grew still, Boudica fought to contain the energy that sparked through every vein. At her neck Caratac's torque was warm to the touch, as if it were absorbing power. She had wondered where she would find the strength to reach these warriors, but the power was theirs-their spirit, their fierce joy at finally coming to grips with their foe-all she had to do was to find the words. She did not know if this was the Morrigan's answer, but it would serve.\n\n\"Men-no, warriors of Britannia!\" she corrected, meeting Rigana's glare. \"The Romans despise you because you follow a woman, but I am not the first queen to have led Britons to victory. Ask the men of Colonia and Londinium if a woman knows how to avenge her injuries!\" She paused to let the cries of invective rise and fall.\n\n\"At long last, we face our foe with sword in hand. You whose sons have been carried off to die in other lands, defend your own earth now. You who have been driven from your homes, reclaim them! You whose wives and daughters have been outraged, as I and mine were defiled-\" she pointed to the other chariot and anew roar shook the skies, \"-restore our honor!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "With each word, the power the warriors had given her flowed back to them, inchoate rage transmuted into purpose and focused on the enemy. When she drew breath, she could hear a tinny gabble from the slope and knew the Roman general must be addressing his troops as well.\n\n\"Look at them, cowering on their hill!\" She swept her sword toward the enemy. \"We destroyed one legion with only a tithe of the force we have now. Lift your voices and Taranis the thunderer will crush them with sound!\" Anew cry shook the heavens as she stabbed at the air. \"They cannot even stand against our shouting, much less resist our swords and spears!\" As she drew breath the curses changed to grim laughter.\n\nFrom the trees the ravens echoed them. Boudica felt the hairs lifting along her arms and sensed that the Morrigan was near.\n\n\"See what a fair day the gods have given us!\" she cried. She could hear her own voice becoming more resonant and knew that the glamour of the goddess was being added to the power raised by men. \"Roman blood will be a worthy offering! See how the glory of the Otherworld shines through the surface oft hings-I see that same glory blazing in your eyes. Go forth to battle and may the gods go with you, as they are within you.\"\n\nAnd in me... the silent thought came as her last fears faded away.\n\n\"Those who live will have honor unending; those who fall will feast with the blessed gods. In this battle I will conqueror I will fall-that is a woman's resolve! And as for you-fight as men or live as slaves!\"\n\nHer arms rose as if to embrace them all. No longer patient oxen beneath the yoke of Rome, they pawed the ground like stallions. In that moment Boudica loved her people as she had never known how to love them before." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Be My sword, Boudica...\" came the voice of the goddess within, \"and I will be your shield.\"\n\n\"Boudica! Victory!\" shouted the host. \"Great Queen! Boudica!\"\n\nhe ground trembled as the warriors of Britannia stamped. Their battle cry shook the air. At the other end of the field, Lhiannon could feel the vibration in her bones. The fine hairs on her arms stiffened with energy. Even when Caratac addressed his troops she had never felt such power, but Caratac had only had a White Lady toward him. Today, the Battle Raven Herself would lead Britannia. Lhiannon had watched her people fight at Durovernon, on the banks of the Tamesa, in the Ordo-vice hills. But for the first time since she had arrived at Manduessedum, Lhiannon began to believe that this time they might win.\n\nShe stood up in the wagon, shading her eyes with her hand, as the chariot bearing Argantilla and Rigana made its way through the gaps between the groups of warriors, splashed across the stream, and rumbled toward the semicircle of wagons. Caw, who had been expressly ordered by the queen to stay and guard them, moved restlessly beside her and Bogle tugged at his rope and whined. Lhiannon understood their frustration. The power Boudica had invoked thrummed in her veins; she, too, wanted a sword in her hand.\n\nThe rest of the host was beginning to move toward the foe. Now and again an individual champion would dart forward, shaking his spear and shouting invective. What must it be like for the Romans, forced to stand sweating in their armor as they waited for this horde of humanity to rollover them? It would be like trying to stand against the sea." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The chariot drew to a halt, and Argantilla jumped down and ran into Caw's arms. Rigana remained where she was, watching with a superior smile. Then she picked up her helmet, unadorned and rising to a rounded point, and settled it over her russet braids. She was already wearing a sleeveless shirt of mail.\n\nWell, that answered the question of whether Boudica's older daughter was going to stay with the wagons. Lhiannon tried to summon the resolve to plead with her, but it was taking all herself-discipline not to join her. Instead, she lifted her hands in blessing.\n\n\"May the strength of Sucellos shield you, may the skill of Lugos guide your arm, and may the wrath of Cathubodva carry you to victory!\"\n\nRigana answered with a flashing grin so like her mother's that\n\nLhiannon's heart twisted. She and Boudica had parted with few words that morning, the queen's mind already focused on the demands of the day, that of the priestess too full for words. And surely they had said everything that was needful the night before. Only now, seeing the child whom she had swaddled as a squalling infant armed and ready to face the foe, did Lhiannon understand that even if she had stayed with Boudica all those years, there would not have been time for all she might wish to say.\n\nRigana grabbed one of the javelins from its slot on the rim of the chariot and brandished it. Then Calgac shook the reins on the ponies' necks and they sped away.\n\noudica braced as the chariot rocked into motion, the other five war carts that the Britons had been able to repair rattling along behind her. For this, she had no need to seek oblivion in the Morrigan's embrace. Their lust for this battle was the same. A swift glance back showed her Rigana's helm at the end of the line. She had no time for regret, or even surprise. As they neared, the blur of men in the Roman formation was swiftly resolving into a series of matched shields and helmets, each man with his pilum in his hand. But any hope she might have had that the chariot charge would panic the enemy faded as the slope grew steeper and the ponies began to slow." }, { "from": "human", "value": "The Roman general had disposed his men in three blocks." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "In the center she could seethe hated legionaries standing in cohorts eight ranks deep, spaced a little over a man's width apart with twice that much room between the lines. More lightly armed auxiliary troops stood in blocks to either side. The cavalry must be hidden in the woods behind.\n\n\"Turn,\" she said to Tascio. \"Bring us along the line-\"\n\nWith an invocation to Cathubodva, she plucked a javelin free, drew back her arm, and threw. Her first missile fell short, but the second arced past the front line and pierced the neck of a man in the second row.\n\n\"First blood tome!\" She gave them a snarling smile.\n\nA quiver ran through the enemy ranks, but a clipped Latin order steadied them. Again and again Boudica threw. Some of the javelins were caught on shields, but several more got through. Then she ran out of missiles and Tascio reined the ponies back down the hill. The other chariots followed her, but the Romans refused to advance after them.\n\nAs she approached her own lines she drew her sword, and at the signal, Celtic arrows filled the sky in a whickering cloud. Perhaps that would sting the Romans into action. The Britons' numbers would be of little use unless they could draw the enemy away from the wooded slopes that protected their flanks.\n\nThe warriors drew aside to let the chariots back through. Near the edge of the field men were waiting to hold the horses. As Boudica took up her shield and started back toward the front, Bituitos and Eoc fell in behind her in the traditional triad formation. To have these men who had guarded her husband at her back was almost like having Prasutagos himself there." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As she reached the end of the Britons' line one of the carynx players caught sight of her and let out a triumphant blare. In the next moment they were all blowing, the wooden clappers in the mouths of the bronze dragon heads buzzing like maddened bees. Tascio ran past her to join his father and brother. She felt the battle rage of her warriors lift her as the host of Britons surged forward, screaming.\n\nhen Lhiannon was in the mountains with Caratac she had once heard the roar of a distant avalanche. The sound that rose from the battlefield now carried the same explosive sense of releasing tension. Light shattered on the points of myriad spears.\n\nBoudica's wagon had been parked where the ground rose on the northern side of the field so it could serve as a healer's station for the wounded. Beyond the bright surging mass of the Britons Lhiannon could seethe strongest warriors surging up the slope toward the silent line of steel. Closer and closer-in another moment the enemy must be swept away.\n\nAt forty yards movement shivered through the Roman ranks. As each man cast his pilum, a glittering blur filled the air. Five thousand flung spears scythed down the leading Britons; a moment later a second volley felled those behind. Suddenly the slope was a tangle of writhing bodies. Above the battle cries she could hear a dreadful descant of screams.\n\nExultation changed to horror as the Celtic charge faltered. Lhian-non forced herself to breathe. She had seen the chariots driven to the sidelines. Had Boudica had time to get back to the center of the line? Washers one of the bodies lying there?\n\nRoman trumpets blatted their own defiance. With a deep shout, the center of the legionary line extended and the block of troops became a wicked wedge that stabbed into the confused mass below. And yet the Britons still outnumbered their enemies by the thousands. Now that the Romans were moving, they could surround them." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Help the author by continuing the tale.\nTags: fantasy, historical fantasy, druids\nAuthor: Marion Zimmer Bradley, Diana L. Paxson\nTitle: Ravens of Avalon\nChapter: 4" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As she reached the end of the Britons' line one of the carynx players caught sight of her and let out a triumphant blare. In the next moment they were all blowing, the wooden clappers in the mouths of the bronze dragon heads buzzing like maddened bees. Tascio ran past her to join his father and brother. She felt the battle rage of her warriors lift her as the host of Britons surged forward, screaming.\n\nhen Lhiannon was in the mountains with Caratac she had once heard the roar of a distant avalanche. The sound that rose from the battlefield now carried the same explosive sense of releasing tension. Light shattered on the points of myriad spears.\n\nBoudica's wagon had been parked where the ground rose on the northern side of the field so it could serve as a healer's station for the wounded. Beyond the bright surging mass of the Britons Lhiannon could seethe strongest warriors surging up the slope toward the silent line of steel. Closer and closer-in another moment the enemy must be swept away.\n\nAt forty yards movement shivered through the Roman ranks. As each man cast his pilum, a glittering blur filled the air. Five thousand flung spears scythed down the leading Britons; a moment later a second volley felled those behind. Suddenly the slope was a tangle of writhing bodies. Above the battle cries she could hear a dreadful descant of screams.\n\nExultation changed to horror as the Celtic charge faltered. Lhian-non forced herself to breathe. She had seen the chariots driven to the sidelines. Had Boudica had time to get back to the center of the line? Washers one of the bodies lying there?\n\nRoman trumpets blatted their own defiance. With a deep shout, the center of the legionary line extended and the block of troops became a wicked wedge that stabbed into the confused mass below. And yet the Britons still outnumbered their enemies by the thousands. Now that the Romans were moving, they could surround them." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Lhiannon realized she had dug her fingernails into her palm." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She forced her hands to open and check the bandages she had laid ready. Brangenos and Rianor would be bringing them wounded soon.\n\nLady of Ravens! her heart cried, watch over Boudica!\n\noudica flinched as the Roman spears darkened the sky and a wave of shadow rippled down the slope. Linked to her warriors, the shock as the missiles struck rocked her back against Eoc's shield.\n\n\"Lady, are you hit?\"\n\nOnly inspirit, she thought, pulling herself upright. They had to attack now, before the Romans could use their momentary advantage.\n\n\"Charge them!\" she screamed. \"Kill!\" She drew her sword and ran toward the heaving mass of men. As she neared, the Celts surged forward, then recoiled. She saw men struggling to keep their feet or go down as they were pushed aside. Where were the Romans? She wanted blood on her blade.\n\nA high keening shriek burst from her throat and men recoiled. Through the momentary gap she glimpsed Roman helms above red shields and the flicker of stabbing swords. She and her companions began to work their way into the mass as the Roman line rolled forward. Longer Celtic swords were flashing, but crammed together, the Britons had no room to put power in their blows. She saw Morigenos's face contort as a Roman sword went into his chest.\n\n\"Give way and surround them,\" Boudica cried, but even the Morrig-an's shriek could not be heard above the din. More and more Britons flung themselves forward, tripping on the bodies of their fallen companions, and with an inevitable deliberation the Roman wedge pushed into them, a thousand gladii stabbing into a thousand unarmored Celtic bodies with each foot of gained ground." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Boudica saw an opening and stabbed, braced by Eoc and Bituitos, their swords batting away the Roman blades. She struck again, aiming below a shield; the Roman lurched and fora moment there was a gap in the line. Moving as one, the three attacked, long blades whirling. More Romans went down, then their companions moved to restore the line and Boudica fell back again, her shield groaning beneath a flurry of blows.\n\nShield arm aching, she stood a moment to catch her breath and glimpsed Rigana with Calgac behind her, near Drostac and Brocagnos and their men. She started to edge toward them. More Britons were coalescing into groups, hurling themselves against the legionary line, but still the Roman meat-grinder inched on.\n\nOnce more the Roman trumpets blared. A tumult behind her brought her around. The auxiliaries were forming a wedge and beginning their own advance. Good, thought Boudica, maybe these will come in range of my sword!\n\nBeyond them she glimpsed men on horseback. The Roman cavalry had emerged from hiding and were skirmishing along the edges of the mob, lances striking those who tried to flee. With a shrill cry, Tingeto-rix led his riders up the hill to engage them.\n\n\"Lady,\" shouted Bituitos, \"they'll catch us between them. We must get back.\"\n\nShe looked at him without understanding. The Romans were in front of her. With an exchange of glances, the two big men moved closer, easing her back down the hill.\n\nCorio and his Dobunni were attacking the auxiliaries furiously, but presently he, too, fell. Then Boudica was caught once more in the surge of warriors throwing themselves against the Roman line." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It went on like that, in an endless struggle that moved as slowly as the sun crossed the sky. Boudica saw the ex-slave Tabanus go down, and Carvilios, and others she knew, but there was no time for mourning. Her focus had narrowed to the line of swords that were chewing their way through her men as the battle flowed down the slope and onto the plain.\n\nThe fight slowed when they reached the stream. As the field broadened, new trumpet calls formed the three wedges with which the Romans had started into a dozen, widening the battle line, savaging the Celtic horde. Soon bodies choked the channel, and the Romans began to advance once more.\n\nThe enemy still maintained his formations, but the smaller wedges could sometimes be broken. With Eoc and Bituitos behind her, Boudica had the weight to drive forward, and her thirsty blade drank deep as she traded blows. She had received several slashes, but no serious wound. She moved now in a state beyond exhaustion, in which all she knew was the need to kill.\n\nife ebbed from the wounded man's face as his blood welled though the bandages with which Lhiannon had tried to stanch the wound in his side. She touched his neck, felt the pulse flutter and fade, and sat back with a sigh. At her nod, Caw carried the body to lie with the others they had not been able to save.\n\nThe only good thing about caring for the wounded was that it kept her too busy to worry about what was happening on the battlefield. Lhi-annon allowed herself to lookup, and realized with a little shock that the fighting was now mostly on this side of the stream. Bodies lay heaped upon the slope beyond it like grain when the reapers have passed. Already the ravens were gleaning among them. It was a mighty harvest of heroes, mostly Britons, though here and there Roman armor gleamed. How many of those bodies still had life in them? Until the battle was over, they could not search and see." }, { "from": "human", "value": "On the other side of the wagons those few who might recover lay in the shade of the trees." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Argantilla and some of the other young women moved among them, offering water or a little of the precious syrup of poppy to those in the greatest pain. For some, the sight of a girl's sweet face was sufficient medicine. For so many, there was nothing to be done-and the men they had tended were only the ones who had managed to crawl to the edge of the battlefield, where Brangenos and Rianor and some of the stronger women could reach them.\n\n\"The fighting is getting closer,\" said Caw. His tunic was smeared with other men's blood. He was, at most, sixteen, but just now a much older soul looked out of his dark eyes.\n\n\"Yes,\" replied Lhiannon. The battle had already covered more ground than she had expected, and had lasted longer. The fighting was almost close enough to make out individuals. She scanned the struggling mass, but could not find Boudica's raven-winged helmet or bright hair.\n\n\"We're still retreating.\"\n\n\"They've been pushing us back all day,\" she answered tartly. \"But our men are still resisting.\" Yet of the mass of men who had surged up that hill scarcely half remained.\n\n\"The queen said that if it looked like we were losing we should get Argantilla away...\"\n\nWhile the Britons who still faced the enemy refused to admit that they were beaten, it was hard to abandon them, though the Goddess knew she had seen enough lost battles to be able to recognize the signs by now. Lhiannon had told herself that if the fighting crossed the water she would start getting ready, or when it passed the end of the semicircle of wagons. It was clear to her now that if the fight reached the wagons at the end of the field anyone who remained on his feet would be trapped. It would be a slaughter." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was a slaughter now.\n\n\"Get your things together,\" she said through stiff lips. Boudica had insisted that they all makeup packs with journey supplies. \"Take Ar-gantilla up into the undergrowth beyond the trees, and take the dog.\"\n\n\"But that's the direction of the fort,\" he said.\n\nLhiannon nodded. \"If there's pursuit, they won't expect anyone to run that way.\"\n\n\"And what about you?\"\n\nShe looked back at the battlefield. \"I must wait a little longer. Until the Druids comeback-\" Until I know what has happened to Boudica...\n\noudica staggered as a legionary's gladius struck her shield and stuck fast. Fora moment the man stared, eyes widening as he realized who she must be. He was still holding on as she swung, her sword blurring into the gap between helmet and the shoulder plate of his lorica. The shock as it sliced muscle and shattered bone vibrated up her arm. Blood sprayed as she wrenched the sword free.\n\nAs the slain man fell his weight dragged the split shield from her arm. Eoc Mor stepped forward to cover her with his own. She heard a grunt, turned, and saw him folding as another legionary jerked back his blade. Her instinctive response took off the man's hand.\n\n\"Pickup his shield!\" came Bituitos's voice at her ear. She looked down and saw Eoc curled in agony as blood poured from a great wound in his armpit. But he was still holding up the shield. As she took it, his fingers released the grip and he fell back with a fierce smile.\n\nBoudica drew a shuddering breath, aware for the first time that she was growing tired. The Roman line rippled as men at the front stepped back to let others, less wearied, take their places there." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Across the nearest warriors she glimpsed Rigana at the end of the wedge, near the angle where the next began. Helm and shield were both gone, though Calgac was still by her side. But even as she recognized them, she saw the tall warrior begin to fall. She started toward her daughter, stumbled on a body, lurched over it, and trod on another.\n\nHad Rigana even noticed that her protector was gone? Screeching, she gripped her sword two-handed and brought it around in a whirling stroke that took a legionary down. Boudica was an arm's-length away when a Roman from the edge of the next wedge thrust past the edge of the girl's mail from behind. Rigana continued to turn, her bloody sword flying from nerveless fingers in a glittering arc into the mass of enemies beyond.\n\n\"You cannot help her!\" cried Bituitos as Rigana crumpled. \"We'll be surrounded! Come away!\"\n\nBut he stayed with her as Boudica shoved past another Briton and over a body to straddle the convulsing form of her child. Romans drew into either side of them as the two wedges ground forward. Black wings thundered in Boudica's ears, but her vision was all red, red as her daughter's blood soaking into the ground.\n\nHer lips curled back and the Morrigan screamed.\n\nhe scream held all the world's anguish, and fury, and loss. Men on both sides dropped their weapons, hearing that cry. Lhiannon felt her heart stop. For the space of along breath nothing moved on the battlefield.\n\nThen, slowly, the Roman wedges began to push forward once more. Only atone point was there a knot of resistance, where the flanks of two wedges joined. The massed men swayed and swirled; even from here she could hear their cries, but presently the struggle eased and she knew that whatever valiant warriors were fighting there had been overcome." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And with that, the Celtic resistance began to unravel like a knot of yarn when one pulls the central strand. As the Roman advance resumed, the remaining Britons scattered, throwing down their shields. And now at last the Romans broke ranks to pursue.\n\n\"It's over-\" Brangenos took her arm. \"We must go.\"\n\n\"But the wounded,\" she said distractedly. \"We cannot leave-\"\n\n\"They are safe,\" his harsh response silenced her. \"The Romans will not touch them now.\"\n\nAnd looking beyond him she saw the blood where each man had received the mercy stroke. She felt as if he had struck her to the heart as well.\n\n\"May the Goddess in Her mercy receive them,\" she murmured. \"If She has any mercy... If She cares...\"\n\nAs Brangenos dragged her up the slope Lhiannon heard screaming. Those Britons who had managed to get beyond the line of wagons were streaming across the fields, pursued by Roman cavalry. But the great mass of men were trapped, trampled by their fellows or falling to Roman swords. And not content with killing warriors, the legionaries were pulling women and children from the wagons and slaughtering them as well.\n\nLhiannon was glad of Brangenos's firm grasp, for by the time they reached the trees she was weeping too fiercely to see anything at all. As she sank down Argantilla came to her, and though Lhiannon knew that she ought to find some words of comfort, it was the girl who cradled the priestess in her arms. She could hear the Druids chanting as they wove a spell of concealment. Was that why the wood was growing so dark around them, or had the death of their hopes taken all light from the world?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "THIRTY\n\nhe ravens had departed at sunset. As night fell over Manduesse-dum it was the turn of the wolves. The four-legged kind skulked down from the forest as a waning moon rose above the plain. The Roman wolves prowled the battlefield with torches, dispatching any Britons who still lived and stripping the bodies of gear and gold.\n\nNo one had yet searched the woods above the battlefield, but if the fugitives were to reach safety by morning they must leave soon.\n\n\"Not until I know what happened to my mother and my sister!\" said Argantilla stubbornly.\n\n\"They are dead, Tilla.\" Caw's voice cracked with pain. \"You can see what it's like down there!\"\n\n\"Not all of them, or who are the Romans killing now? But even if you are right, do you want those monsters to defile their bodies? If no one else will search, I will.\"\n\nAt that, Lhiannon roused from her despair. \"I promised the queen that I would see you safe, and with Brangenos and Caw you will be. Rianor and I will go-we have been trained to pass unseen.\"\n\n\"Take the dog,\" said Argantilla. \"Bogle would track his mistress to the gates of An-Dubnion.\"\n\n\"He may have to,\" muttered Rianor, but he took the rope from her hand.\n\n\"Where'er I bide, my shape I hide.\" The Druid began to murmur the spell. Lhiannon's blue gown faded into the shadows, and Rianor had covered his white robe with a cloak of checkered browns and greens that blended with the terrain. As they whispered Lhiannon could feel herself becoming one with the night, until there were only two shadows following the pale shape of the great dog." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No need to fear... no one is here...\"\n\nOnly the dead, thought Lhiannon. Of those, there was an abundance, lying with staring eyes and tangled limbs to either side of the line along which the Romans had advanced. The chariot in which Boudica had ridden so triumphantly still stood at the edge of the field, though the ponies were long gone.\n\nShe knelt beside the dog. \"Find Boudica, Bogle-find her. Find Boudica now-\"\n\nThe dog gave an anxious whimper, looking around him as if he expected the queen to appear, then began to sniff along the ground. For the first time, Lhiannon felt a flicker of hope.\n\nWith the dog fora guide, they did not have to identify each body, though they could not help finding some they knew-Mandos, still holding his beloved sword, and Tingetorix, crushed beneath his horse; Brocagnos and Drostac, neighbors in death as they had been in life. Astonishingly, some still lived. Kitto, the farmer's son, had been felled by a blow to the head and was just regaining consciousness when they found him. Lhiannon kept him with her as they went on.\n\nShe found it hard to believe that Bogle could make out any scent above the pervasive reek of blood, but the dog continued to move among the bodies, and when Lhiannon recognized Eoc she knew that Bogle was leading them well.\n\n\"The gods reward you-I know you defended her,\" murmured the priestess, bending to close the staring eyes. Holding Bogle's leash in one hand and Kitto's arm with the other, she went on.\n\n\"Here,\" she said softly as the dog paused, whining. Before them the dead were piled high, Romans mixed with Britons. She tied the dog to a dead man's leg and she and Kitto began to drag the cold bodies to either side." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They found Bituitos first, his mail hacked and a great wound in his chest, and just beyond him, Boudica, crumpled over the body of her daughter in the center of a ring of slain. Rigana was quite dead, but as Lhiannon gently took Boudica in her arms, Bogle surged forward with a muffled bark and began to lick the blood from her face.\n\n\"Hush, Bogle, get back, get down!\" Lhiannon whispered with a frantic glance toward the Roman torches. The dog crouched, tail wagging. Fora moment Lhiannon stared, then pressed her finger to the pulse point in the queen's neck. She could not tell if what she felt was a heartbeat or her own trembling. But she had touched enough dead flesh tonight to realize that Boudica was not quite cold.\n\n\"Blessed Goddess, she's alive! Quickly, Rianor, help me lift her.\"\n\nKitto took up Rigana's body, and moving with infinite care they started toward the hill. Twice they had to drop flat when Roman searchers came too near, but the very magnitude of the disaster was in their favor. Even the greediest legionary needed time to search all the slain.\n\nAs they reached the shelter of the first trees Lhiannon looked back. Beyond the flicker of Roman torches, another figure moved among the dead. Tall and graceful, a glimmer of light followed where it passed. She touched Rianor's shoulder.\n\n\"Is that one of our women, walking down there?\"\n\nHe followed her gaze, swallowed, and then, very softly, whispered the final verse of Brangenos's song-\n\n\"The Great Queen walks the battlefield And weeps for all the slain, To Her embrace their souls they yield, She takes away their pain.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "The Morrigan weeps..." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "thought Lhiannon, and found a bitter comfort in knowing that they did not mourn alone.\n\nhe has lost a great deal of blood,\" said Brangenos as they laid the queen down on the hill.\n\n\"Yes-\" The fitful moonlight that shafted through the trees showed them the gashes on Boudica's long limbs. Those had mostly stopped bleeding, but there was a deep slash in her side that looked bad. All they could do was to bind the wounds and lay her, wrapped warmly, on a litter of branches. Lhiannon looked up as Caw came back through the trees.\n\n\"The Romans are searching the east and south, along the road. We cannot go that way.\"\n\n\"I have hunted all through these hills.\" Kitto spoke from the shadows where he and Argantilla had been scraping a shallow grave for Rigana. \"I can lead you past the Roman fort and around to the west of this ridge. From there we can make our way to my father's farm.\"\n\nIt would appear that the Goddess had not abandoned them entirely. For the first time Lhiannon dared to hope they might escape. To what, was a question for another day.\n\nor Boudica, consciousness returned on a wave of agony. She was lying on something that jerked and swayed; each movement sending agony jolting through every limb. She drew a shuddering breath, felt below her ribs a pain so profound that she could not even scream. The motion stopped and something sweet was forced between her lips. She recognized the taste of poppy seed in honey and presently knew no more.\n\nWhen again she found herself aware, she thought she was on the ship that had carried her to Avalon. But Prasutagos was beside her, his skin bronzed and his hair burnished to pale gold by the sun." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I saw you on your pyre. Am I dead, too?\" Her heart leaped as he smiled.\n\n\"Not yet, my love. You have away to go.\" His face began to dim as the motion beneath her increased. She clung to the vision, trying to ignore the persistent gnawing agony.\n\n\"Don't leave me again!\" her spirit cried.\n\nDarkness swirled between them, but she heard his voice, as through her pain she had heard it long ago-\"Boudica, I am here...\"\n\nThe next time she woke she was lying in shadow on something soft that did not move. Familiar voices murmured nearby. She must have made some sound, for Argantilla's face swam into view above her.\n\n\"Mother! You're awake! How do you feel?\"\n\nAs if I would rather be whipped again, and weak as a day-old pup, she thought, realizing in just how many places she was hurting now. \"The better for seeing you,\" she said aloud. \"Where are we?\" she added as Tilla managed a watery smile.\n\n\"At Kitto's farm. They have been kind.\" The girl stopped, swallowed. \"Rigana-\"\n\n\"-is dead. I saw her fall. It was what she wanted.\" It is what I wanted, too... Boudica did not let that knowledge alter her smile. It would have been better if she had died on the battlefield. She was a danger to them all. But Lhiannon would never grant her the mercy stroke now.\n\nShe found that she could remember the battle quite clearly, and wondered if the trauma to her flesh had somehow insulated her from its terror, or whether the magnitude of the disaster helped her to bear her body's pain." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Argantilla moved aside and she saw Lhiannon, her face gaunt and her eyes shadowed by fatigue. With gentle efficiency the priestess took her pulse and tested the temperature of her brow.\n\n\"You have a little fever, but we were able to clean and stitch your wounds while you were unconscious, and they seem to be doing well. Rest while you can. The Romans are searching. We cannot stay here long.\"\n\n\"Are there horses?\" Boudica asked.\n\n\"We can get them. We could make a horse litter, I suppose...\" Lhiannon said doubtfully.\n\n\"Tie me into the saddle. If I fall, tie me over it. If I die, bury meas you did Rigana,\" she said baldly. \"If you are in danger of being caught, slit my throat and run. I will not be dragged in chains through the streets of Rome.\"\n\nLhiannon's lips set, and she touched Boudica's brow once more. \"I will not allow you to die. We are making soup. You must drink as much as you are able to buildup your blood. We will stay here as long as we can.\"\n\nhe Roman road was closed to them now. Kitto guided them by winding tracks and cowpaths to the farm of his uncle, who in turn passed them onto a foster-brother and so, guided from one friend to the next, they made their way through the lands of the Cornovii and Dobu-nii toward Avalon.\n\nThe countryside was full of rumors. It was said that the commander of the legion in Isca, hearing of the great victory that his fear had kept his troops from sharing, fell on his sword. If so, thought Lhiannon bitterly, that was one Roman officer whom they had managed to kill. The rest of them were vigorously alive, slaughtering anyone they suspected of sympathy for the Killer Queen." }, { "from": "human", "value": "But the Romans had not yet begun to look westward." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Most of Boudica's army had come from the south and east, and it was they who were the targets of the legions\" wrath. Those Iceni who made it back to their homes might soon wish that they had died on the battlefield.\n\nThe fugitives rode slowly by hidden paths, and they encountered no patrols. As they moved on, Boudica seemed to grow stronger. Her wounds were beginning to close. But though she never complained, when they stopped each night she fell immediately into an exhausted sleep, and her color alternated between flushed and pale.\n\nWhen we get to Avalon she can rest, thought Lhiannon. I will make her\n\nwell.\n\nThe old moon had worn away and was swelling to the full once more by the time they descended the southern slopes of the Lead Hills and saw across the marshes the pointed tip of the Tor.\n\nnd so, after everything, I am back at Avalon, thought Boudica.\n\nThey had brought her to the apple orchard to bask in the dreaming peace of the afternoon. She wished that she could believe that everything that had happened since she and Lhiannon left this place had been a nightmare. But that would have been to lose Prasutagos. She did not tell Lhiannon, who was working so hard to make her live, that he came to her in her dreams.\n\nSunlight spangled the grass beneath the apple trees that grew below the Blood Spring. In Avalon the world seemed very fair. But in her homeland things might be otherwise. Was it cowardice to flee what the Romans would do to the Iceni now? At the thought, Boudica started to raise herself, and a wave of anguish felled her once more.\n\nThe wounds on her arms and legs were healing, but there was something very wrong within. Perhaps the decision to live would not be hers. And why was she surprised, she wondered when the darkness receded and she was able to focus once more on the leaves. Some fates could not be fought-losing her son, losing Prasutagos, losing the battle for Britannia..." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Goddess, why did You betray me? Her eyes stung with angry tears. You promised me victory... But since Manduessedum, the place in Boudica's mind where the Morrigan had been was empty. Perhaps what she thought was the Lady of Ravens had been no more than a delusion born of her own rage, and it was she herself who had betrayed them all...\n\nituitos, lookout!\"Boudica's cry jerked Lhiannon awake, heart pounding.\" So many, damn them-I can't get past their shields!\"\n\nSince Manduessedum the priestess had learned to sleep lightly, alert for the first muttering that meant Boudica's fever was rising once more. Brangenos helped to dress her wound, and Coventa or Argantilla could keep watch during the day, but through the nights Lhiannon fought for Boudica's life as fiercely as the queen had battled Rome.\n\nThe light of the oil lamp showed her Boudica flailing as if she held a sword. In the hut they shared, two steps took her to her patient's side. She soaked a cloth in cold water and laid it on the queen's burning brow. Bogle, who had risen when she did, rested his head on the pillow.\n\n\"Hush, be easy, my dear one. The battle's over. You're safe with me now...\" Lhiannon judged the time to be near midnight-she could safely let her patient have more willow-bark tea. \"Wake now-open your eyes and I will give you something to make it easier.\" She held the cup to Boudica's lips and the queen swallowed. Her eyelids fluttered and she drank again.\n\n\"Damn all Romans...\" she whispered as Lhiannon eased her back down. \"I fought them a whole day. I should not have to do it allover again.\" She laid her hand on the dog's head." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Never mind, darling." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Eventually the memories will fade. It takes time for the dead to leave us,\" said Lhiannon. \"At first we see them everywhere. But as time passes and the world is changed they withdraw, and we goon.\"\n\n\"Not always,\" Boudica replied. \"And it is not all nightmares. Pra-sutagos is with me all the time.\" She stopped. \"I'm sorry. I know you don't like to hear me speak of him.\"\n\n\"He was a good man,\" answered Lhiannon briskly. \"But he is dead, and you must think about getting well.\"\n\n\"Perhaps.\" Boudica sighed. \"When we were here before, you found the way to Faerie, and I could not follow you. But I think that where I am going now, one day you will follow me.\"\n\nBoudica had always been a strong woman with good muscle on her tall frame. With time and childbearing she had even grown matronly, until she lost that softness during the campaign. But now, stark in the lamplight, the good bones of her face stood clear. Lhiannon's belly clenched as she recognized how fever was wearing the flesh away.\n\n\"You could still go there,\" Lhiannon said desperately, trying to deny what she had just seen. \"The Faerie queen could heal you, or keep you living until-\"\n\n\"Until nothing.\" Boudica cut in. \"Life eternal and unchanging, never meeting the ones you loved, never growing wiser, never returning to this world to live anew?\"\n\nLhiannon winced, hearing from Boudica the argument she herself had offered the Faerie queen.\n\n\"Would you wish that for yourself, Lhiannon? Why would you want it for me?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Never seeing Prasutagos again, you mean?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lhiannon asked bitterly. \"But when he was dying, would you not have taken him anywhere he might live a little longer if you had the chance?\"\n\n\"Prasutagos was my-\" Boudica fell silent, eyes widening as she met Lhiannon's gaze.\n\nNow do you understand? thought the priestess. Now do you understand that I love you?\n\n\"He was your husband,\" she said aloud. \"Nor did I ever try to part you while he lived. But I will not let him drag you down to death if there is anyway you maybe saved. Curse it, Boudica,\" she added suddenly, \"do you want to die?\"\n\n\"Not just at the moment, no,\" the other woman said honestly. \" I didn't want to go into battle, either, but when the time came, I did it. I admit it is easier when a thousand warriors are baying for blood all around you. It is hard to go through that door alone. Prasutagos had to do it, and I had to help him. But you won't help me... It hurts,\n\nLhiannon,\"Boudica said then.\" Would you condemn me to live in agony?\"\n\n\"I daresay it does,\" the priestess said tartly. \"You have always had the constitution of one of your own ponies. Except when you lay in childbed have you ever known pain? You lived soft for seventeen years and then spent three months in one campaign. What do you know of the long struggle that exhausts the soul?\"\n\nBoudica recoiled as each barbed word struck home. Bogle unfolded his long limbs and stood looking from one woman to the other with anxious eyes. A lifetime of anguish the priestess had not known she held was flooding forth, and she could not stem the flow until she was done." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"You lost one battle-I have had to spend all my strength in fruitless magic and see our warriors slain again and again." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "To fail and die is hard, but it's harder still to fail and fight on, knowing you will probably lose!\"\n\nBoudica was weeping silently. Lhiannon felt suddenly sick and old. The hatred she felt for the Romans was a bright, clean thing, a justified rage. What she and Boudica were doing to each other now was the shadow side of love.\n\nBut weak as she was, the queen was not yet beaten. After a few moments she took a deep breath and fixed the priestess with the gaze that had commanded an army.\n\n\"And what about the things you have not dared?\" she asked. \"When I first came to Mona, your deepest desire was to sit as Oracle-at least,\" her lips quirked, \"when you were not dreaming of lying in Ardanos's arms. Helve is dead, and you are our High Priestess here. Why haven't you seized the chance to ride the spirit road?\"\n\nIt was not fair, thought Lhiannon, to use what they had shared against her, but they were both desperate now. What hurt so badly was the truth in Boudica's words. In Eriu she had learned how to seek illumination through depriving the senses in a darkened room, how to divine by touch, and how poetry might drive the mind past reason to the intuitive leap that brings truth. But since she rode with Caratac she had not used magic to ask any question about whose answer she cared.\n\nI have cut myself off from the ecstasy of the flesh and the spirit both, she realized.\n\n\"And if I do...\" she said slowly, \"if I go out and seek the answers I fear, will you fight to live?\"\n\nThis time, she noted sourly, Boudica's wince did not come from physical pain." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I will fight,\" the queen said with a sudden grim resolve, \"if, when you stand between the worlds, you will let me question you.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There was along silence. Bogle, sensing that the quarrel was done, gave a gusty sigh and stretched himself on the floor.\n\n\"I am sorry, Lhiannon, sorry for everything,\" Boudica said presently. \"I wish you had never returned from Eriu.\"\n\n\"I am not.\" In the emptiness her fury had left behind Lhiannon glimpsed something that might be peace. This, too, she thought numbly, was the gift of the Morrigan. \"I would regret forever not having shared this final battle with you.\"\n\n\"Then you had better give me some more of your magic potion...\" Suddenly Boudica was very pale.\n\nAs the queen's eyes closed, Lhiannon bent over her in sudden fright, but Boudica was still breathing. Why had they wasted this time in hurting each other, the priestess thought despairingly, when this might be all they had?\n\nhiannon observed Boudica warily as they settled her litter beside the fire, too anxious for her friend to fear for herself. The queen's fever had risen. She watched with eyes that were far too bright as Lhiannon took her place on the tripod stool Caw had fashioned for the ritual.\n\nYou have compelled me to sit here, Lhiannon said silently. What dreadful answer will you require of me? Fora long moment their eyes held, and Boudica lifted her hand as a warrior salutes one who rides out to face the foe.\n\nThe sacred drink burned in Lhiannon's belly, the garland bound her brows. Her finger ached where she had pricked it to add her blood to the water in the blessing bowl. Answers always came most easily when need impelled the questions, and the gods knew they needed wisdom here." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They had gathered for the rite at the foot of the Tor, between the\n\nBlood Spring and the Milk Spring. Even here she could feel the energy that spiraled up the hill, and knew it would carry her far and fast. As she drew down her veil, Lhiannon could feel her awareness beginning to shift, and suppressed a tremor of fear.\n\n\"Soft, how soft the evening air, Sunset leaves the world more fair, Peace a blessing everywhere...\"\n\nDusk had left the world in cool shadow beneath a scattering of stars. Despite her anxiety, that peace eased her as Brangenos sang the familiar words.\n\n\"Now, at the dying of the day, Our road, a final shining ray, Between the worlds we find the way...\"\n\nLhiannon felt herself falling, though her body remained poised upon the stool. As from a great distance, she heard Brangenos call.\n\n\"Children of Don, why have you come here?\"\n\n\"We seek the blessing of the Goddess,\" the others replied.\n\n\"Then call Her!\"\n\nThe many names by which the tribes had called their goddesses rang through the still air, myriad parts building toward a greater whole. Lhiannon felt her identity tremble as if she stood in a strong wind. And then Boudica's voice rose above the others-\n\n\"Cathubodva, I call You! Lady of Ravens, You have brought us to this pass. Give us Your counsel now!\"\n\nLhiannon tried to shake her head in denial. Of all the faces the Goddess might wear, this was surely not the one they needed now! But already black wings were beating at her consciousness and bearing it away.\n\nFrom a great distance she was aware that she was straightening, working her shoulders back and forth, stretching out her arms with a low laugh as the Morrigan came in." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"This horse is not so strong as the other was, but she will serve your need." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "What would you ask of Me?\"\n\nThere was an uncomfortable silence, as if the onlookers, having summoned the goddess, were now regretting it. The first to pull himself together was Caw.\n\n\"Lady, when will the Roman reprisals be over? When can I take Argantilla home?\"\n\nThere was another silence. Lhiannon trembled, feeling the Morrig-an's amusement ebb away. What replaced it was pain.\n\n\"I shall not see a world that will be dear tome,\" the goddess keened. \"A spring without sowing, an autumn without harvest, women slaughtered in their houses and men in their fields. Danatobrigos burns, and the walls of Teutodunon are cast down. Mars Ultor stalks the land, avenging those who burned in the Roman towns.\"\n\nBrangenos cleared his throat. \"Is there no hope for us, Great Queen? How shall we survive?\"\n\n\"Even the gods cannot combat necessity,\" the goddess replied. \"Blood feeds the earth, flesh feeds the ravens, and you feed the people, O raven-son, with your songs-\" The Druid flinched at the Morrigan's harsh laugh.\n\n\"Today you Britons fall, but one day it will be Rome's turn, and when the legions are gone, your stories and your blood will still be here. Again and again you will fall, but something always survives. You were not wrong to make war-you have forced your conquerors to respect you. Now you must bend to the blast, using your wits to scavenge what you can.\"\n\nIt was what Ardanos had said, and Lhiannon did not like it any better knowing that the Morrigan agreed.\n\n\"The blood of my thousands has already fed Manduessedum's field,\" Boudica cried. \"What can I offer to save those who remain?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Your own...\" The answer fell into the silence like a stone. In that hidden place in which her spirit sheltered, Lhiannon began to wail as the goddess used her lips to pronounce Boudica's doom. \"Your own oath binds you. The blood of the ruler is the final sacrifice.\"\n\nArgantilla voiced the protest that Lhiannon's heart was screaming, but the Morrigan's cry was louder.\n\n\"Do you not, even now, understand? I am the moan of the dying warrior and the shout of the one who slays him; I am the scream of the woman in childbed and her baby's first cry. Fear my fury, for without balance, it will destroy the world. Only from the Cauldron of Dagdevos can your people be reborn!\"\n\nhe Cauldron was the Blood Spring.\n\nLhiannon could not deny the words that had come from her own mouth, though she would rather have sewn her lips shut than speak them. This time it had been given to her to remember not only what the Morrigan had said, but the emotion behind it, the terrible outpouring of love and pain. But in giving the goddess a voice she had done all she could bear. And so it was Brangenos's disciplined calm that ruled them as they prepared for the ritual.\n\nIn frozen silence, Lhiannon followed Boudica's litter as Caw and Rianor bore it to the pool. There was too much light, she thought as they set it down. The sparkle of sunlight on water hurt her eyes. Boudi-ca's hair flamed upon the pillow, her face seemed lit from within.\n\nShe seems so peaceful, thought the priestess despairingly. The queen looked as she had before the battle, all her forces focused toward one goal. Perhaps, thought the priestess, it is I who bear her fear... But whether that was the Morrigan's punishment or her mercy, she did not know." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Coventa took her arm and helped her to sit down. Caw had moved to his usual place beside Argantilla, and the two Druids stood together nearby.\n\n\"Tilla,\" the queen said softly. \" Come here, darling, and listen tome. I wish so much that I could stay with you. I think that you and Caw will have beautiful children. You cannot go back to Danatobrigos just yet, but if the gods accept my offering it maybe safe one day.\n\n\"You must take the torque with you.\" She bent her head so that her daughter could twist the woven golden wires that formed the neck ring. They did not want to give, and in the end Brangenos had to ease his dagger under one of the terminals and cut it free.\n\n\"Perhaps it is as well,\" said the queen as Argantilla sat back with the two pieces in her hand. \"I think it will be a very longtime before a prince of our people wears such a torque again. But it should go home. Bury it in Iceni earth, and my spirit will go with it to watch over you.\"\n\n\"We will build a mound above it and our people will bring offerings to honor you!\" the girl said passionately.\n\n\"No!\" cried the queen. \"If you do, the Romans will find it, and you! The place and manner of my death must remain a mystery. Hide the torque in some secret spot that no one knows... But make my pyre atop the Tor, and the wind will carry my ashes throughout the land. I took oath to the Iceni, but I fought for all Britannia.\"\n\nSo had Caratac, thought Lhiannon, but he had refused the final sacrifice. If he had offered his blood in that last battle would Boudica have to do so now?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Fora long moment the queen cradled the girl's fair head against her breast. Then her hand fell. Argantilla straightened, weeping, and Caw took her in his arms.\n\n\"Lhiannon,\" Boudica whispered then, and the priestess forced her limbs to bear her to the queen's side. \"We had an agreement. You fulfilled your part. I ask you now to release me from mine.\"\n\n\"The goddess has absolved you,\" Lhiannon said stiffly. \"You need no permission from me.\"\n\nBoudica shook her head with a little smile. \"No-only forgiveness. My dear one, you have been better tome than I deserved. I leave you my love...\"\n\nBut still, you leave me... Lhiannon thought as their eyes met. \"We do what we must,\" she said aloud. I must let you go, but I will not assent to it, and it will belong before I forgive the gods.\n\nBoudica reached up, and for the last time Lhiannon took her in her arms, heart wrenched anew as she felt how thin the frame beneath the white gown had grown. As she released her, Boudica sighed deeply and her eyes closed.\n\n\"Lady, how is it with you?\" Brangenos asked after a few moments had passed.\n\n\"I feel very light,\" Boudica's voice held wonder, \"and there is no pain. I think that we had best act quickly or I will go with my work undone.\"\n\n\"The ritual requirements are clear,\" Brangenos said softly. \"The ruler's blood must be shed. It must be a willing offering. The water that comes from the spring will carry it into the land.\"\n\n\"Then let it be so...\" The queen held out first one arm, then the other, and with a swift stroke he drew the sharp knife lengthwise along the veins. Blood sprang crimson upon the white skin, spiraling downward to drip onto the stones." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Now, put me into the pool...\"\n\nehold the Cauldron of the Mighty Ones.\" The Druid's voice seemed to come from very faraway.\n\nBoudica winced as the litter was picked up and maneuvered down the steps into the pool. Her arms stung where the knife had cut, but by comparison with what she had borne for so long, she scarcely recognized the sensation as pain. She was bleeding freely, lightheaded already as the strength left her limbs. Her blood bloomed in a crimson cloud through the iron-tanged water, flowing onward through the channel where it left the pool, spreading like a mist of light.\n\nShe had hoped to hear the voice of the goddess within once more, but at least She had spoken through Lhiannon. If it is permitted, Boudica sent a last thought toward her friend, I will come to you as Prasutagos came tome...\n\n\"Let the waters receive you...\" Brangenos's voice shook. \"This is the Cauldron of Dagdevos, in which you shall be reborn.\"\n\nLady of Ravens, the queen added silently. I am Your sacrifice.\n\n\"Boudica,\" came the answer, \"you are My victory.\"\n\nThe cool waters closed over her and carried her away.\n\n... And she was Elsewhere, standing naked in a flowing stream, whole, strong, and not the self she knew.\n\nWith a shock of recognition Boudica understood that she was one with the Morrigan. In sheer relief, She threw back Her head and laughed, and like an echo, heard deeper laughter answering. He was standing on the shore, blond and burly, leaning on His club, His other weapon making a tent of the absurdly short tunic he wore." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Dagdevos,\" She challenged Him. And the part of Her that was Boudica recognized Prasutagos smiling through the god's eyes.\n\nShe scooped up water and splashed it between her thighs, the touch sending a tingle of sensation across Her skin. She looked at Him again. He had stripped off his tunic and laid his club aside. Erect and ready He strode into the water, planted His feet in the streambed, and drew Her into His arms.\n\n\"Now is the hour of our coming together.\" His deep voice rumbled against Her hair. \"Let Your rage be satisfied. Release the raven and become the dove, and let the destruction end. Accept the woman's offering.\"\n\nHe lifted Her and She swung up Her leg to hold Him, giving and taking, Her passion arousing His power, His peace transmuting Her anger to love, until they shuddered at last to equilibrium.\n\nAnd as the waters of the sacred spring bore the queen's blood to the earth of Britannia, the power that flowed from Avalon began its healing.\n\nEPILOGUE\n\nLhiannon Speaks\n\narkness has fallen, and the wind whines in bare branches like Boudica's hounds. At this season the Morrigan rides, but I do not welcome Her. Since our community was established at Vernemeton the Goddess has spoken through me many times, but never again have I opened my soul to the Lady of Ravens.\n\nAnd yet She spoke truly. After Boudica died, I sent to bring Cail-lean from Eriu. We lived fora time in a stone tower on the northern coast, but even in that lonely place I heard rumors of the terror that followed the battle at Manduessedum. Governor Paulinus sought to restore his lost honor with fire and sword, and by the next summer scarcely a farmstead was left standing in the Iceni lands. But the procurator who replaced Decianus Catus understood that Roman crimes had driven the people to desperation, and he stopped the governor before he destroyed Britannia. And gradually, peace began to return." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Even now, much of Boudica's kingdom lies desolate." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But Argantilla and Caw went back eventually and built a house near where Danatobri-gos once stood, where they scratch a living from the soil. The Romans have rebuilt their ravaged cities. Camulodunum and Londinium and Verulamium are bigger than ever, and as Caractac feared, the children of our chieftains are learning Latin and becoming citizens.\n\nThe following spring, the priestesses left pregnant by Roman rape bore their bastards. Some of the girl-children were drowned, but the boys were claimed by the Society of Ravens. Coventa gave birth to a son as she had dreamed, and died in the bearing. Bendeigid has raised him as his own.\n\nIn the years after the attack on Mona, Ardanos traveled Britannia ceaselessly, visiting those of our Order who survived, and in time revealing himself to a few of the more liberal Romans and becoming their ally. I wonder if they have ever realized what a rebel he was when he was young. The Goddess knows he is a model for what the priest of a conquered people should be today.\n\nI suppose his submission has been justified. Four years after the burning of Lys Deru, he got permission to establish a community at Vernemeton, where our priestesses might live secluded from the world. The Romans seem to have quite forgotten the dark-robed furies who terrified them on the shore of Mona, and think us kin to their Vestals.\n\nThe priests chose as Ardanos bade them, and made me High Priestess as Lady Mearan once foretold. Some days I myself find it hard to remember exactly how it came about. But I suppose the Goddess approves, for I have grown old in office. Caillean has become as fine a priestess as any we ever had on Mona, though I do not think the Council of Druids will accept her as my successor. She thinks for herself, and that is never popular with men." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I have never gone back to Avalon, and now I do not have the strength for the journey even if I should wish to go. Though Caillean loves me too well to admit it, I think that soon I will find the way to follow Boudica. I trust she has forgiven me for trying to hold her, as I have forgiven her for leaving me. I have done what I could to preserve the faith of our people, though there were times when I myself had none. Our ways will not be lost.\n\nThe procession that escorts the White Mare is coming, but louder than their voices is the song of the wind. That wind carried Boudica's ashes throughout Britannia. Our people do not speak her name where Romans can hear, but she is remembered.\n\nRome will not give our women even so much freedom as our men are allowed. But once, a woman stood against the might of Rome, and for one shining, terrible summer, had the victory." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Move the story forward in your role as narrative aide.\nTags: fantasy, progression fantasy, tournament\nAuthor: Will Wight\nTitle: Reaper\nChapter: 13" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Pardon, but surely your guess would be better than mine.\"\n\nEithan was quiet fora moment as they both dodged a spray of venomous darts. \"Making my own guess would be less than productive. Why don't you see if you can guess the thoughts of a genius Soulsmith? Might be good for you.\"\n\nThat didn't make much sense to Lindon, but if Eithan wasn't willing to speculate, Lindon wasn't going to make him.\n\nEspecially since they'd made it to the end of the hallway.\n\nThe room was less than Lindon had expected from a secret chamber hidden by a powerful expert at the heart of a deadly labyrinth. It was more like a cramped bedroom than a huge Soulsmith foundry, though there was no bed. There were instead wooden tables crammed against the walls, each carrying piles of...\n\nLindon didn't want to call the objects'random junk,\" because there had to be more to them than met the eye. But he saw a pearl necklace tossed carelessly on top of a pile of mismatched silk scarves. A quiver full of arrows leaned against a set of fifteen books with titles Lindon couldn't read.\n\nThere were eight tables in the room, each with a similar pile. And not one of the objects held any obvious spiritual power... at least, none that remained.\n\nBut there were a few spots of dream madra here and there, and the sources were obvious. Tiny crystals had been tied to each object, and Lindon ran his spiritual sense into one such dream tablet.\n\nA stately woman wears the necklace of pearls as she addresses her army. She raises a hand to direct them, and the scene shifts.\n\nShe comes onto the deck of a cloudship, and rays of golden light form around her hands. The scene shifts again." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "With an icy look on her face, she orders the execution of a sobbing woman who looks just like her. Grief hangs over the scene like a cloud.\n\nAbruptly, the memory cutoff.\n\nLindon was shaken. Compared to most of the other tablets he'd viewed, this one was more chaotic and less complete. And it wasn't entirely clear whose memory it was; it felt almost like a composite of memories from someone else with the noblewoman's emotions layered over them.\n\nBut it was clear that this woman, whose name he hadn't caught, had been the owner of the necklace. It had been important to her, Lindon had felt that. She was known for always wearing this necklace, and it had become one of her signatures.\n\nLindon quickly relayed what he'd seen to Eithan, who nodded. He looked unsurprised, but he also didn't seem to be examining the objects himself.\n\nThen again, he could be scrutinizing everything in the room at once without moving an inch.\n\nLindon checked another one, a signet ring bearing the image of a winged ship. This one belonged to a water artist who fought across the seas, attempting to create safe paths for humans through sacred beast territory. He lent this ring to his subordinates, and anyone who carried it could speak for him.\n\nFrom the ring, Lindon finally sensed something. It was subtle, but... heavy. Slightly more real than the objects around it.\n\nIt reminded him of a Sage's command. The word carrying authority felt heavier than the others.\n\nNow that he knew what to look for, he sharpened his senses and scanned the other objects on the table. Some of their dream tablets had faded with time, and from most of the objects themselves, he felt nothing." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But a handful gave him a positive feeling, so he separated them into a pile. A quiver of arrows, the ring, a blue silk scarf, and a bronze buckler carved with the image of a chariot in battle.\n\nOnly these four gave him any sense that they could be worth anything, but it was difficult to be certain.\n\n\"Did you find anything?\" he asked Eithan.\n\nEithan was holding a small dagger, smiling sadly at it as the dream tablet flickered. Its memory must be tragic.\n\n\"My sense for these things is not as developed as yours,\" he said.\n\n\"So you know what's special about these?\" Lindon had wondered as much, with Eithan being Eithan.\n\n\"Just ascertain people can exert greater force on reality than others, so too can certain objects,\" Eithan said quietly. \"They are significant because of what, or more commonly whom, they represent.\"\n\nHe tossed the dagger back down as though it were worthless. \"It seems that this room is where someone, presumably my Patriarch, kept objects that he suspected might become significant. Most of them failed the test.\"\n\nLindon looked eagerly at the four objects he'd separated. \"So these are powerful?\"\n\n\"They can be. This is the highest level of Soulsmithing, and it must be approached with care. The price of success can be higher than the price of failure.\"\n\nLittle Blue tugged at Lindon's hair, pointing toward the room's one exit, but Lindon couldn't let Eithan's remark pass.\n\n\"Where did you learn this, Eithan?\"\n\nEithan looked deeply into Lindon's eyes, searching for something. Then he pulled out a marble, inside which a hole in the world hung suspended." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"As I've told you, I became the advisor to the Monarch Tiberian Arelius very early in my advancement.\"\n\nEithan had shared several stories from that time in his life over the last few months, and Lindon had hung onto each one. They felt like glimpses into a mystery.\n\n\"I have always had a... knack for understanding the records of my predecessors. Not just dream tablets, but their writings. There were patterns that I picked upon that very few have ever put together.\"\n\nHe thought fora moment, seeming to choose his words carefully. \"I believed that I could advance my family, and perhaps the world, by revealing these truths. And one such truth I revealed was this.\"\n\nHe held up Ozriel's marble. \" His records were hidden among my family for hundreds of generations, and if you know how to read them, they contained insight applicable to more than Soulsmithing. They locked this away and worshiped it instead of following the path it outlined.\n\n\"Of course, there have been members of my family who have ascended. In the grand scheme of things, it isn't terribly unusual to ascend beyond this world. But none of them picked up the banner he tried to pass them.\n\n\"With Tiberian, I thought we had a chance. And then, against my advice, he approached... the other Monarch on the continent.\"\n\nLindon's stomach dropped. \"You're not saying his name.\"\n\nEithan looked into the darkness. \"No. No, I'm not.\"\n\n\"There are only a few people who could navigate the labyrinth besides us.\"\n\n\"And perhaps now we are trapped inhere with a Monarch. Or... perhaps he is trapped herewith us.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Yerin sent a wave of razor-sharp madra at the Tomb Hydra while it was still falling from the hole in the ceiling.\n\nZiel conjured a barrier of force around himself, lifting his hammer. Mercy had already released a barrage of arrows, and Orthos breathed out a bar of black dragon's breath that was now bigger than his entire head.\n\nThe concentrated wave of death madra wiped out most of their attacks in an instant.\n\nOnly Yerin's Rippling Sword was dense enough to cut through the Hydra's madra, and it half-severed the creature's rightmost head.\n\nBut she had to dash to the side and intercept the rest of the death madra, diverting enough of the deadly energy with her sword to protect the others. Or at least Orthos and Mercy. She suspected Ziel would be fine.\n\nThe remaining madra from the Striker technique washed over the semi-transparent barrier generated by Ziel's script, and then the Tomb Hydra landed with an impact that shook the entire room. Both heads, with their shining green eyes, lunged at Yerin.\n\nWhich was how she wanted it.\n\nShe extended her sword-arms and planted her feet, focusing her will. She would not be moved.\n\nThe teeth of the first head crashed around her, and her sword-arms caught them. She flexed, forcing the jaws apart.\n\nThe second head simply rammed into her from the other side, surrounded by a ring of death madra that would burn away her lifeline. She met that with her sword, which shone with her own madra.\n\nBy all rights, the impact alone should have torn her to shreds, or pulverized her insides. But instead of popping like a swatted mosquito, she stood her ground." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Hydra heads reacted like they'd run into a rock. The first head's teeth began to crack, and the second head slammed into her sword and then lurched back, dazed.\n\nYerin may not have advanced to Archlord yet, but she hadn't spent the last months sitting on her hands.\n\nHer will was steel.\n\nShe slashed down with her Goldsigns and up with Netherclaw. Blood sprayed both the floor and the ceiling.\n\nThe Tomb Hydra retreated, hissing furiously, but only one of its heads remained alive. It was dragging the other two along as dead weight. Even that remaining head was torn half-off, revealing bone and a few glowing veins of raw madra.\n\nYerin understood she wasn't getting back the madra she'd spent here, especially if she didn't meetup with Lindon soon. She had a few elixirs remaining, but she never carried most of them. Why would she? Lindon carried enough supplies to start a business as a refiner and a Soulsmith both.\n\nBut she was still feeling sunny about her odds. Whatever it cost the labyrinth to make or summon or breed these huge dreadbeasts, they couldn't be free either.\n\nHer mood cracked like an egg when she saw the walls blur again, and a huge tunnel opened upon their left. A second massive Tomb Hydra slithered out, hauling death.\n\nNow fear crept upon her. Not for herself, but for the others. If only one person made it out of here, it was likely to be her.\n\nThree mouths opened, shining with death madra, and Yerin stopped holding back.\n\nHer Moonlight Bridge wrapped her in white light, carrying her to her destination: on top of the Tomb Hydra." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Madra awakened Netherclaw, and it summoned the Forger technique for which it had been named. A massive beast claw formed over her head, constructed strand by strand from bloody madra. It carried her power alongside its own, and the Archlord technique cut down at the Tomb Hydra.\n\nIt twisted in place, clashing with its power against her sword, but Yerin wasn't waiting around. As soon as she'd used the binding in the sword, she spun and slammed her fist down on the Hydra's scales with all her strength.\n\nAll her strength.\n\nThe chamber rang louder than it had when the monster hit the ground. The force of her punch pulverized bones and twisted space. Air tore away from her like a hurricane, and tiny cracks crawled out across the ground in a web.\n\nThe snake spasmed, its midsection crushed, and the Netherclaw slashed without resistance.\n\nAll three heads were torn off in one swipe.\n\nYerin leaped off the body, sword in hand. The other snake was still alive, and she had to protect the others.\n\nFrom midair, she saw the others finish off the first Hydra. The head of Ziel's hammer, powered by a circle of green runes, slammed it into the floor.\n\nYerin let herself land gently. She burned the gore from her sword with blood madra, and nodded in respect to Ziel. \"Nice hit.\"\n\nHe looked as though he didn't believe her. At first, she thought that was just him being unfriendly, but Mercy was staring at her too.\n\n\"Yerin,\" Mercy said hesitantly, \"I think I might head back once we meetup with the others.\"\n\nYerin forced open her own void key, which seemed to want to stick, and rummaged around until she found one of her few elixirs. This one had been made just for her, as the bottle contained a medicine that specialized in restoring blood and sword madra, but she grimaced as she drank it. It was gritty and tasted like steel and charcoal." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Yerin wiped her mouth, mostly to buy time to think about her response. \"Not a bad idea. It'd be safer inside a dragon's mouth than down here. But you knew that when you came down.\"\n\nOrthos snorted smoke and nibbled at the dreadbeast's body. \"We thought there would be something we could do.\"\n\nMercy fiddled with black-gloved fingers. \"Dreadbeasts like this... to us, one would be a deadly fight. But for you, they're not worth mentioning. I'm not sure what we can do other than get in the way.\"\n\nYerin felt hunger spirits rising around the corpse, and she saw the chance to make a point. She hopped upon top of the dead Hydra and looked down on the others.\n\nThen she cycled a little madra to her eyes so they would glow red. For effect.\n\n\"We've been friends fora long stretch now,\" Yerin said. \"You think I'd rather be down here alone?\" White ghouls began crawling up from the ground, and she released her spiritual pressure.\n\nYerin glared at the nearest ghoul. \"Mine,\" she said. She was no Sage, but she suspected it would get the point.\n\nNow, there were two possibilities, and either would suit her purpose. Either these mindless techniques would ignore her warning and head for her, in which case she would crush them and showoff a bit.\n\nOr they would go for easier prey.\n\nThe hollow-eyed ghouls slid away from Yerin even as they bubbled up from below, lurching after the others with surprising speed. Yerin cycled her madra to her Steelborn Iron body and braced herself.\n\nThen she dashed allover the room in a blur of speed. It cost her very little madra; even here, with the hunger aura grinding away her spirit a little at a time, she could keep this up all day." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She sheathed her sword, and severed limbs of animated hunger madra dissolved to essence.\n\n\"You'll catch up,\" Yerin said confidently. \"And until you do... what's so bad about letting me carry you?\"\n\nOrthos burned so clearly with the resolve to improve himself that Yerin could practically see it. Mercy's eyes welled up, and even Ziel gripped his hammer a little harder.\n\nYerin felt a smile tug at the corner of her mouth. Not only did she have friends along, but she was in a position where she could protect them.\n\nRuby would be just as happy as Yerin was.\n\n---\n\nLindon paced outside the chamber, waiting as the storm of deadly blades raged. Eithan had clearly indicated this was the way through, but it seemed this room was designed solely to slow them down.\n\nWhen they approached, they had triggered a script that activated constructs all throughout the room. Swords of madra, clouds of corrosive aura, and needles of blood rampaged through the room in a deadly storm.\n\nEithan and Lindon could wade through the room untouched, and Lindon had wanted to do that, but Eithan had stopped him.\n\nThey'd already wasted quite a bit of madra, and the only way to get through was for them to spend more. Instead, Eithan suggested they simply wait. The room's constructs would run out of power before they ran out of time.\n\nLindon was impatient. Who knew when the route back would shift?\n\n\"We need to get back,\" he insisted. \"As far as we know, there might never be away back again.\"\n\n[That would be unlikely,] Dross said, and Eithan nodded in agreement." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"There's obviously some kind of intelligence running this place,\" Eithan said, \"but it can't keep us separated forever. There must be certain patterns, or it could lock all intruders in a room and remove the exits.\"\n\n\"Apologies, but that's weak logic to hang all of our lives on.\"\n\nEithan shrugged. \"If I'm wrong, then you burn through the walls. With the Void Icon and Blackflame, it should be possible.\"\n\nLindon nodded. He wanted to do it now, but that would exhaust him, and he'd be useless for the rest of the trip. Or at least fora while.\n\nLittle Blue whispered comfort to him, and Lindon decided to distract himself with another project.\n\n\"Dross, can you simulate a Soulsmithing project?\"\n\n[Somewhat. My capabilities are not what they were, but as long as we can rely on known information, I should be able to replicate a simple project successfully.]\n\nOnce again, Lindon missed the real Dross.\n\nAt his request, the binding from the Tomb Hydra appeared in front of him, floating in the air. It shone with the pale, spectral green of death madra, and looked roughly like a human heart the size of ahead.\n\nThere were several entrances, which resembled broken arteries. Lindon ran pure madra through one, and a weak beam of death emanated from the other end of the binding.\n\nCurious, he moved his pure madra through the other one. This time, a haze of death madra appeared around the heart. A lethal field that, if it were real, would have eaten away at his lifeline and begun corroding his flesh.\n\n\"Is this accurate?\" Lindon asked." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "[As much as it can be without testing. The intensity of the effect, its response to pure madra, and its activation time are all suppositions on my part.]\n\n\"But this is really several techniques?\"\n\n[Yes.]\n\nThat was intriguing. Potentially revolutionary.\n\nBindings were crystallized techniques, meaning they were each one technique. Sometimes Soulsmiths could blend one into the other, but it always created a hybrid technique. It never layered the two techniques on top of one another. If you wanted the techniques to be used together, or in sequence, you had to design your construct to allow it. Usually, that was done with scripts.\n\nBut this dreadbeast had only one binding for several techniques. As though its bindings had all organically fused into one.\n\nLindon fueled the third of the four openings, and a Forged set of jaws appeared, its teeth shining green. It snapped down on nothing, and now Lindon finally felt the hunger component of the binding coming to the forefront. This was how the Hydra fed.\n\nEithan cleared his throat. \"I hate to complain, but it's pretty boring sitting here watching you hold onto nothing.\"\n\nLindon remembered that he must look ridiculous, interacting with thin air. \"Dross, can you project to Eithan?\"\n\n[I can, but that will cost me valuable madra.]\n\nLindon hesitated. He was doubly reluctant to exhaust Dross after what had happened the last time the spirit strained himself.\n\n\"Very well then, leave me out,\" Eithan said. \"I will infer from your conversation what you have been doing: are you testing out the Hydra's binding?\"\n\n\"It's amazing. Like four bindings grown into one. I've seen dreadbeasts with bindings that had melted into one another, but they never worked well. They always felt like a failure, but this could be the perfected version.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "He activated the fourth binding, but nothing happened." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He sensed it had been reaching out to the surrounding aura, but there was no death aura nearby, so the Ruler technique hadn't activated.\n\nEithan tapped his fingers together. \"Disturbing implications, but that was always one of the strongest theories about the origins of the dreadbeasts. That they were the failures, and the successes were the Dreadgods.\"\n\nLindon examined the binding, turning it in his hands. \"So you're saying the Dreadgods have a binding like this one.\"\n\n\"You'd have to kill one to prove it. But I would say it's likely.\"\n\nLindon ran his perception through the room ahead. The constructs were starting to slowdown, but he still had time. He could take a closer look at the actual binding. It would help him later, and Dross couldn't model it accurately unless Lindon studied it.\n\nEithan slowly slid into his line of sight. He was massaging his temples with both hands. \"Let me see if I can divine your thoughts. You are tempted to examine the actual binding, but you are hesitant to do so, and... what's this? Please, I know you admire my keen insight, but don't let those thoughts distract you. Focus.\"\n\n\"This might be my only chance at this. I don't want to waste it.\" A mistake Soulsmithing could damage the binding beyond repair. If Dross learned enough to be able to replicate the binding, then that was fine, but he still didn't want to lose such a valuable material.\n\n\"There should be better facilities somewhere here,\" Lindon went on. \"I want to seethe effect of the location myself. And if the hammer's as important as you say it is, I want one of those too.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Eithan cupped a hand around his ear. \"I need to hear you say it. I need to hear you say the words.\"\n\nLindon was lost.\n\n\"Say, \"please, Eithan, solve this problem for me.\"\"\n\n\"It's not a problem, really. I could examine it now, but I think it's better to wait until later.\"\n\n\"Okay then, say \"If only I had a place to practice Soulsmithing right here!\"\"\n\n\"That would be convenient, but I'm not really looking to make a construct.\"\n\n\"Please say it.\"\n\n\"If only I had a place-\"\n\n\"Worry no more, my student! With my incredible foresight, I have solved your problem long ago!\"\n\nWith a flourish, Eithan produced a tiny object shaped like an anvil. Lindon could immediately sense that it was avoid key, or something similar. Eithan practically forced it into his hand, so Lindon ran his madra through it.\n\nHe had to join his will to it and push through a faint resistance. Either the labyrinth's suppression of spatial artifacts was increasing, or he was getting tired.\n\nA moment later, a door opened in midair. It led onto a space that was much stranger than most void keys Lindon had seen.\n\nA platform of stones hovered in the middle of an endless starry sky. Each of the stars were larger and clearer than usual, shining brightly from every direction. The stones themselves were large wedges that fit together into a circle about the size of a small room. Each wedge held a symbol that-\n\nLindon had to look away from the symbols because of a piercing pain in his head. They formed a script, he was sure, but they reminded him more of the runes in Suriel's eyes. There was meaning there that he couldn't pierce." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "At the center of the platform of interlocking stones, there was a slab of dull metal. It resembled an altar more than an anvil, or perhaps half of a column. Inside that altar, a blue flame burned, visible through a small window. So perhaps it was more like a stove.\n\nLindon drew Suriel's marble from his pocket and compared. As he'd suspected, the blue fire in his marble was eerily similar to the one blazing within the altar. Except the one here was many times bigger.\n\n\"Lindon, allow me to introduce you to the ultimate Soulsmithing tool: the Soulforge.\"\n\nLindon reverently held his breath as he walked inside. He felt the world around him change as he stepped inside, in ways more than the physical. Echoes of creation filled the air. This was a place where wonders were born.\n\nHe paced around the anvil at the center, examining the stones, the flame, even the stars in the distance. \"How does it work?\" he asked.\n\nEithan beamed. \"Why don't you tell me?\"\n\nLindon still couldn't examine the huge paving-stones beneath his feet too closely, because the single rune carved on each of them was too overwhelming, but it was clear that the script-circle was focused on the anvil at the center.\n\nAnd the anvil, if that's what it was, was clearly the focus of all the creative energies in this space. Ina mundane forge, you would heat up metal in the flame to make it malleable enough to shape, but that didn't have much relevance to Soulsmithing.\n\nHe approached the center and felt the energy gathered above the altar-like anvil. There was little to see, but the air felt invisibly focused there, charged, as though waiting for something." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I think anything you put there is..." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "altered. Enhanced, maybe.\" He knelt to look at the blue fire. \"This fuels the effect somehow. I assume you have to burn something here? Soulfire?\"\n\nEithan was about to answer, but Lindon cut him off as an idea occurred to him. \"No... wait.\" He pulled out the pearl necklace he had found earlier.\n\nFrom Eithan's proud smile, Lindon already knew he was right, but he tossed the necklace in anyway. The physical form of the necklace burned to ash in an instant, which dissolved to nothing with a hiss. But the flames strengthened.\n\nJust to test it out, he tossed in some junk with no authority whatsoever. It burned up, but the flame didn't change.\n\nLindon moved to his feet, full of confidence. \"It takes objects with embedded authority and burns them, focusing it on whatever you're making above the altar.\"\n\nEithan applauded. \"Very good! We say objects with invested authority or willpower are significant, but the terminology changes from place to place, so it's not important. You're so right it brings a tear to my eye.\"\n\n\"But what does it do to the Soulsmithing?\"\n\n\"In traditional Soulsmithing, Archlord artifacts are effectively the peak. There is no higher form of soulfire than that which Archlords produce, and spirits are usually raised past that stage artificially. Beings stronger than Archlords don't often die and leave Remnants, you see.\n\n\"Even if you were fortunate enough to get a Herald or Monarch's Remnant, or to raise a Remnant to be equivalent to a Herald, you would still be tempering it in Archlord soulfire. It would be only marginally better than an actual Archlord weapon.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Eithan swept his arms around the Soulforge. \" If you really want to perform Soulsmithing on a higher level, you need away to imbue the authority and willpower of a greater existence into the item. That requires tools and locations on a superior tier of existence, which are few and far between. If you wanted to forge a Monarch a sword, for instance, you would want to do it on a battlefield in which Monarchs died, of which there are surpassingly few.\n\n\"This was a fairly ingenious solution, I will admit. A portable location that can increase the level of existence of projects worked here, allowing the manipulation of more advanced forces. It's not quite as good as if you crafted a device in a significant location that suited the project, but it has the advantage of being universally compatible and mobile.\"\n\nLindon wanted to rub his cheek allover the anvil. He could see exactly how much of an advantage this would be.\n\nBut Eithan had used a word that caught his attention. \"Did you have a hand in the creation of this Soulforge, Eithan?\"\n\nThe Archlord sighed. \"Sadly not. This was Reigan Shen's design and creation, and he was only willing to part with it because he is capable of building another one. Though it will be expensive, even for him.\"\n\nSomething visibly occurred to Eithan, and he asked, \"Why did you ask if I made it?\"\n\n\"You called it ingenious.\"\n\nEithan staggered back, clapping a finger to his chest as though wounded. \"I do not like what you're implying, my beloved disciple.\"\n\n\"So this was part of Reigan Shen's bribe?\" Lindon looked around the space, jealousy worming his way through his heart. \"Why didn't you show me this before? Are you even a Soulsmith?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"It's rare to find a sacred artist who hasn't at least dabbled in Soulsmithing,\" Eithan protested." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And it so happens that I have been using this facility to prepare the materials for the Pure Storm Baptism that Ziel has enjoyed. I intended to pass this onto you when you were ready, and now that we have been interacting with objects of some significance...\"\n\nHe left the sentence hanging suggestively, and Lindon was so excited by the space that he was willing to let it pass that Eithan had kept another secret from them. \"Does this mean you can make anything-wait just a second, did you say you were passing it onto me?\"\n\n\"Very soon. Ziel could still use one more treatment, I'd say, but it's best that you start practicing before you inherit this from me.\"\n\n\"Can we use this to fix Dross?\"\n\nEithan cleared his throat. \"If it could, I would have revealed it to you earlier. I'm sorry. But you will find a solution for Dross, I'm certain!\"\n\nLindon was overwhelmed. He blinked back tears. \"It's too much,\" Lindon said, though he would already fight a Dreadgod with half a paintbrush over the Soulforge. \"You've given me so much already.\"\n\nEithan cocked his head as though he didn't understand. \"I consider the things I've given you to be the best investments I've ever made.\"\n\nLindon straightened up and pressed his fists together, bowing over them in a sincere salute. \"Gratitude, master.\"\n\n\"You know, you never call me that.\" Eithan ushered Lindon out of the Soulforge, though Lindon kept shooting longing glances backwards. \"It's probably for the best. I don't want status to go to my head.\"\n\n\"I'm not sure I can payback an investment like this.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Oh, you can start paying me back once we're out of Cradle. My investments are long-term.\"\n\n---\n\nInformation restricted: Personal Record 3349.\n\nAuthorization required to access.\n\nAuthorization confirmed: 008 Ozriel.\n\nBeginning record...\n\nWhen Ozriel reaped a world, perfectly eliminating it from existence, the Abidan could colonize nine others.\n\nHis work was vital to Abidan expansion, and there were even those who believed him to be the most valuable of the Judges. When an Iteration dies normally, it corrodes, breaking into corrupted fragments that tend to corrupt others and accelerate their own death.\n\nWith Ozriel, that no longer happened. He was the machete the Court of Seven used to beat back the wilderness of chaos, rapidly expanding their holdings.\n\nMore Iterations became habitable than ever before. It was an unprecedented golden age for the influence of the Way, and even Makiel admitted the utility of Ozriel's Scythe. It was only the man behind the mantle that Makiel didn't trust.\n\nOzriel's own objections started to grow louder.\n\nIf he weren't bound by the Eledari Pact, he could have gone in and saved that world. They had known for centuries that this Iteration was going to be corrupted, and he could have cut the cause off at the root.\n\nThat would itself be a deviation from Fate, Makiel argued. In the grand scheme of things, that would lead to an increase in chaos.\n\nBut manageable, Ozriel said. They could keep the deviations under control, which would rarely-if ever-rise to the point of having to destroy an entire world.\n\nUnfortunately, while both models had their advantages, neither could be proven conclusively. By the very nature of the problem, there was no looking into the future to see how it would play out. So the two beings most skilled in reading Fate continued to argue." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Meanwhile, Ozriel discovered the restricted records of the Court of Seven regarding the Executor program.\n\nThis should be his solution, he thought. Raise up people from the Iterations, not sworn to the Way, who could interfere without compromising their oaths.\n\nBut from the records, he could see that it had failed. Again and again. Those who fought corruption inevitably became corrupted themselves.\n\nSo Ozriel decided to do some investigation of his own.\n\nHe traveled to Haven, the prison-world of the Abidan, where he used his authority as a Judge to gain access to the Mad King, Daruman. Once the greatest of the Abidan Executors.\n\nHe asked the Mad King what he thought. Why was the Executor program flawed?\n\nIt wasn't the program, Daruman insisted. It was the Abidan.\n\nBeing sworn to order made the Abidan too inflexible, too bound to their own thoughts. Creativity and flexibility were beyond them, and the second that anyone started pushing at the boundaries of their rules, the offending party would be condemned.\n\nOzriel promised change. He wanted to revive the Executor program, but this time, they would bean official division of the Abidan beneath him. They would be unbound to the Eledari Pact, able to intervene in worlds, and personally selected and supervised by him. They would save worlds by eliminating apocalypses at the root.\n\nHe would call them Reapers.\n\nAnd if he could get enough support from the Court of Seven to create his own official Division, he would even recruit Daruman. Ozriel was uniquely able to handle Class One Fiends.\n\nDaruman and Oth'kimeth laughed together.\n\nMighty as Ozriel maybe, as keen as his eyes were, he would never succeed. The Court of Seven could not be convinced, and they would be against him for this." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "If Ozriel was really dedicated to his ideals, as he claimed to be, he should join the Vroshir. They, at least, saved human lives.\n\nOzriel brought his proposal before the Court, and as expected, there was heavy resistance. Only the new, young Suriel would have allowed it-a woman he had known for centuries by this point, as she worked her way up the ranks. And even she had misgivings.\n\nOzriel pled his case but was dismissed.\n\nHe accepted that. He had looked into the future and seen that this would not bean easy task. He would try again, and again.\n\nAs long as it took.\n\nRecord complete." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Yerin cycled her last elixir and focused on the layer of red aura around her. The Hydra blood that had caked her robes and splattered on her skin flowed off, leaving her spotless.\n\nThe same couldn't be said for Ziel and Mercy. Ziel didn't look particularly bothered by the dark spots that covered him and his gray cloak, but Mercy looked like a rat that had been partially drowned in mud.\n\nOrthos had simply burned the blood away, but he was clearly unhappy. He snorted as he looked up at the entrance overhead. \"How many is that now?\"\n\nYerin had been keeping track. \"Six. Bleed me like a pig if something's not spitting them out.\"\n\nEvery time they killed one, hunger spirits devoured it. They were repurposing the energy, she was sure.\n\nShe had tried to stop them as much as possible, but the hunger spirits were endless, and her power wasn't.\n\nThe others were all tired, and she was still carrying the bulk of each battle. But her perception was warning her about what was lurking up above. It felt like the Tomb Hydras, but much deeper. Bigger. It felt like a mother, giving birth to each of the dreadbeasts that fell down.\n\nShe hoped that wasn't it.\n\n\"I'm going up,\" she said reluctantly.\n\nMercy threw out a hand like she thought Yerin was going to dash away immediately. \"No, wait! We agreed we'd stay here!\"\n\n\"They're going to grind us like grain in a mill. We stay here, and Lindon will know exactly whereto find our bodies.\"\n\nIt was hard to sense anything here, since her perception couldn't penetrate the walls and everything was soaked in hunger madra, but she had still expected to sense Eithan or Lindon by now. Something had delayed them." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Ziel sighed. \"You think it's going to slowly kill us. So you want to dive in all at once. You want it to quickly kill us?\"\n\n\"Not us. I'm going myself.\" Yerin didn't want to say it out loud, but she felt like she could keep fighting even once her madra was gone. She would be ground down eventually too, but even if she was left with nothing more than her sword and the strength of her body, she could probably keep fighting for days.\n\nIf they kept fighting, Eithan and Lindon would find three bodies and Yerin. And that wasn't acceptable. If Orthos and Mercy died, it would be after Yerin.\n\nZiel... he was mostly a mystery to her. Maybe he could survive without her help.\n\n\"So if we get separated, you're leaving us here?\" Orthos asked. He took a casual bite out of the Hydra's meat.\n\n\"Guess so,\" she said, but her grip shifted on her sword. That was the only reason she hadn't dashed up the corridor in the ceiling already. If the labyrinth shifted again and sealed her off, she wasn't confident in blasting her way back down.\n\nAnd what if more of these Hydras started funneling into the chamber while she was locked away in some broom closet?\n\nMercy chewed on her lip and looked up, and next to her, Ziel let out another heavy breath.\n\n\"We don't have much choice,\" he allowed.\n\n\"Can you take a look and then comeback?\" Mercy asked.\n\nYerin eyed the opening in the ceiling. There hadn't been another Tomb Hydra yet, but she could feel power gathering above them.\n\nShe had been keeping an eye on how the labyrinth shifted, though. It seemed like the tunnels closed off at the entrances, not in the middle, or they would have been crushed to paste the first time an entrance shifted while they were still in the hallway." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Better to move quick than wait to die,\" Yerin muttered." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She sheathed her sword and spread her arms wide. \"Come here, everybody. Family hug.\"\n\nZiel walked over to her, still dull-eyed as ever. Even Orthos hopped from the ground to land on her shoulder. Mercy's eyes sparkled as she joined, wrapping everyone in an eager hug of her own.\n\n\"I never thought I'd hear you say those words!\"\n\nYerin was a little thrown off at how easily everyone had joined her. \"I'm about to carry you.\"\n\n\"I know,\" Mercy said, squeezing Ziel with one arm and Yerin with the other. \"It's still nice.\"\n\nYerin held onto everyone and leaped.\n\nShe had expected to have to walk the others through her plan, but since they seemed to be sharper than she'd expected, she didn't say anything.\n\nThe second they cleared the inner entrance to the tunnel in the ceiling, Mercy spread out a web of Strings of Shadow and Ziel Forged a hovering circle of green runes. They landed on this Forged platform, and Yerin released everyone.\n\nMercy gave Ziel and Yerin each one more squeeze before she released. Then she patted Orthos on the head.\n\nThe aura above them was growing stronger, and though the tunnel was long-long enough that Yerin wondered if it extended aboveground-she could seethe glow of death madra above her.\n\n\"Seal yourselves off when I'm gone,\" Yerin ordered.\n\nZiel had already started Forging runes over their heads.\n\nYerin wasn't sure how the platform of madra beneath her feet would holdup to a full-powered jump, so she hopped onto the wall and then bounced between the inside of the tunnels as she made her way up." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "All the time, she had her spiritual perception extended. She regretted it almost immediately.\n\nWhatever was in the chamber above her felt nauseating. Like the Bleeding Phoenix, it had a sense of hunger, corruption, and death. It felt like a ravenous pile of corpses, somehow brought to hideous life.\n\nHer stomach twisted, but she ran her madra through her sword. If she had to end up retreating from the labyrinth, ridding the world of a creature like this would have made her trip worthwhile.\n\nThe higher she got, the more the sensation churned her gut, but she braced herself.\n\nShe still wasn't prepared when she cleared the upper entrance.\n\nEyes-glowing with the pale green of death madra-glared at her from every direction. The entire chamber was amass of disgusting flesh, endless, as far as her spirit could sense. Motion stirred in the distance, and she spotted another Tomb Hydra emerging from a slick bulbous sac.\n\nIt wasn't the only thing inhere. Dreadbeasts had half-merged into the flesh, melted, as this thing fed.\n\nAnd its spiritual presence...\n\nIt wasn't a Dreadgod. It didn't have the endless sensation of the Phoenix or the Titan, though its corruption was equal.\n\nShe would call it a Herald, but it felt more like half a dozen Heralds stitched together and smeared across the chamber. Its spiritual pressure crashed over her, and she found it hard to take a breath as every eye in the room focused on her.\n\nTendrils of flesh snaked across the entrance to block off her retreat, but Yerin wasn't about to let it get its way.\n\nThis thing might have been a highly advanced dreadbeast, but it was full of blood." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Final Sword was difficult to use in the labyrinth normally, because it required aura, and the aura here was all being consumed by hunger. But there was enough blood aura inside this massive body that she wove it together quickly.\n\nShe couldn't launch the technique down, or she'd risk killing her friends. So she held onto her shining sword as she fell toward the tendrils of dead, animated flesh.\n\nThen she twisted sideways, unleashing the beam of concentrated silver-red energy horizontally. It scraped the monster away from the entrance and sliced through its huge body, releasing a huge roar that shook her bones as much as her ears.\n\nShe continued falling down as the air filled with death madra.\n\nYerin forced out madra and soulfire, but the hostile will was as strong as her own. It eroded everything she did, and she realized the wave of green madra was going to overtake the others.\n\nShe launched a Rippling Sword at the green-and-black barrier Ziel and Mercy had made below her.\n\nIt cracked on contact, which was enough for her. She landed sword-first, piercing her way through.\n\nIn the instant she crashed into their platform, Yerin saw Orthos, Ziel, and Mercy all staring at her in astonishment. If they hadn't sensed her coming, they would have met her with a barrage of techniques.\n\nBut none of them could move as fast as she did. With all the strength she could muster, she slammed afoot down on the Forged madra below.\n\nThe explosion of death above her was still coming, and gravity was too slow.\n\nShe seized Mercy and Ziel by the front of their robes, scooped Orthos up with her Goldsign, and pulled them down. Yerin twisted in the air, kicking off against the wall and shooting down." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She was sure she was going to make it. The malicious presence of the roomful of flesh was weaker now, and clearly it couldn't follow her. Once they endured this technique, they would be safe.\n\nThen she felt another will barge in. The intelligence that ran all throughout the walls.\n\nA ravenous, desperate will.\n\nBelow her, the entrance blurred as the labyrinth shifted again.\n\n---\n\nLindon and Eithan passed through the trap-filled chamber after the constructs had exhausted themselves. The air was still blistering with the aftermath of all the madra, but it was simple to protect themselves from that.\n\nLittle Blue gave along, whining note of complaint, but she wasn't in any danger.\n\n\"They're still ahead?\" Lindon asked. It had taken quite awhile for the constructs to exhaust themselves, after all.\n\n\"The labyrinth still hasn't shifted yet, which suggests it should very soon.\" Eithan frowned, running his fingers along the wall as he ran. \"I will admit, it is strange,\" he allowed. \"The labyrinth doesn't seem to be working against us. I would have expected-\"\n\nThey were in the hallway as the labyrinth shifted.\n\nFar ahead of them, the doorway that led onto a chamber filled with flashing machines closed. Lindon felt the overwhelming sensation of space being twisted, though the hallway didn't change.\n\nHe suddenly realized why void keys were so difficult to use here. Whatever had authority over the labyrinth was using spatial transmission to move all the chambers around. The usual relationship to space had shifted.\n\nThe entrance reappeared in a moment, and while they were still running down the hall, Lindon realized they were about to head upwards.\n\nSomeone was falling toward them." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was Yerin... and she was dragging Ziel and Mercy along with her. Lindon felt Orthos' presence, and the turtle was terrified.\n\nBehind them, a massive wave of death madra followed.\n\nLindon and Eithan dashed into the next room, and his brain twisted as he ran horizontally up, and what had a moment before been a vertical wall shifted to become the floor.\n\nYerin shot toward the ground-toward Lindon and Eithan-and in the split second it took her to reach the floor, the death madra following her would billow out and begin to fill the room.\n\nLindon thought Eithan would act before him, but to his surprise, Eithan had frozen up the moment they entered the room. He must have seen something through his bloodline power.\n\nSo Lindon was the first to act. His eyes cooled as they turned crystal blue, a reflection of Little Blue's, and he projected pure, cleansing madra in all directions.\n\nThe death madra poured into his Hollow Domain and wasn't wiped out immediately. It faded as it poured in, like salt poured into a bucket of water.\n\nYerin landed easily next to Lindon, the durability of a Herald meaning she had no need of a full-body Enforcer technique. He would be far more worried about Mercy and Ziel, who hadn't had an easy trip.\n\nThen again, Ziel had his body thrice-forged in soulfire. He bounced on Yerin's shoulder and then slid off, unfazed by the trip. Mercy staggered as she moved to her feet, grabbing Lindon for support.\n\nOrthos had stiffened up, and Lindon was certain that if his black, pebbly skin could go pale, it would have. The sensation he radiated through their bond was pure shocked terror." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"So much worse,\" he mumbled." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"So much worse to be small.\"\n\nLittle Blue gave a sympathetic chime.\n\nYerin blew the lock of red hair out of her face and looked up. \"Sliced that one a little thin, didn't we?\"\n\n\"Now that I think of it, staying in the hallway so we didn't get separated was stupid,\" Ziel commented. \"We should have just gotten lost.\"\n\n\"No telling what else we could have run into,\" Mercy said.\n\nLindon let his Hollow Domain drop. In fact, the entrance into the ceiling had closed almost immediately after the wave of death madra had reached them. He called his void key open, once again forcing it open with his will.\n\nHe had to push more focus and more madra into it this time. Whether it was the hunger aura or the authority of the labyrinth's owner suppressing spatial artifacts, it was getting worse.\n\nHe stepped inside, rummaged around fora moment, and pulled out a pill and a sealed case of scales. He handed the pill to Yerin. \"You used up a lot of madra there. Are you okay?\"\n\nShe nudged him with her shoulder before popping the pill in her mouth. \"Bright and shiny. Just need to fill my glass backup.\"\n\nLindon did not fail to notice that two of her party were covered in fresh bloodstains. He looked to Mercy for confirmation.\n\n\"No no, we're fine. We almost had to deal with a Herald-level Striker technique, but Yerin got us out of there.\" She released him and shifted from one foot to the other to check her balance.\n\n\"Herald?\" Lindon thought immediately about the possibility of Reigan Shen being in the labyrinth, and he looked up at the ceiling despite himself, though the door had already been blocked." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Yerin waved off his concern. \"Bigger version of the dead snakes. Just a pile of meat, so not like it's going to chase us. And we'd feel it coming from a mile off, it's-\"\n\nWith a blur, the stonewall on the far end of the chamber fuzzed out of existence. It left a hole into a dark tunnel, which sloped downwards. Lindon's spirit rang an alarm at the feeling of ancient, overwhelming death that radiated from the tunnel.\n\nYerin looked and sounded like she'd just bitten into a rotten fruit. \"It's like that. There it is.\"\n\n\"You and I can handle it, if you're ready,\" Lindon said. \"Eithan can come with us. Mercy, can you back us up?\"\n\nMercy frowned at her bow. \"I think Suu is getting tired, but I can use the binding once or twice more. That's a couple more Archlord hits. But it's not like one Herald, it's more like...\"\n\n\"A bunch of Heralds smeared over some toast,\" Yerin provided.\n\nThat reminded Lindon of the Eight-Man Empire, and he turned to ask Eithan if he knew what that might mean about their enemy.\n\nWhen he saw Eithan still standing there, an unreadable expression on his face, Lindon realized Eithan hadn't said a word since they'd entered the room.\n\nIt inspired Lindon himself to look around.\n\nThere wasn't much to sense in the room; certainly nothing to draw his spiritual perception. There were a few small dream tablets here and there, but by and large the chamber resembled a once-crowded workshop or storeroom that had been cleared out in a hurry." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Dust covered the floor, along with bits of grit and undefinable scraps of metal." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There were scuffs and indentations in the stone where something heavy had been moved, but with the power of these floors, Lindon would be shocked if any amount of weight would have made a dent on their own. Here and there bolts remained in the walls where something had been suspended, but whatever it was had been removed long before.\n\nHigh upon the far wall, he saw the thing that must have grabbed Eithan's attention immediately. A giant symbol: a scythe hanging like a crescent moon over the Arelius family crest.\n\nThis room had once belonged to the Arelius family Patriarch.\n\nOzriel.\n\nLindon was suddenly much more interested in the dream tablets.\n\nHere and there, glittering tablets like cut gemstones were embedded in the wall next to where something must have rested.\n\nLindon held his handover one nearby, which hung next to a pale square of wall that looked like it had once held a painting. He slipped his perception into it.\n\nThe intricately carved ivory box is ringed in script so dense he can barely make it outwith his eyes, and it carries a powerful will to bind. The bones used to make it are irreplaceable, and come from-\n\nLindon felt a sudden, blinding headache and was kicked out of the memory. He blinked and held onto his head.\n\nThis was what it had felt like when he tried to view a memory too advanced for him. But that was a shock. What concepts couldn't he handle? He thought he could comprehend most Monarch dream tablets now, but evidently not if it trespassed on certain subjects.\n\n\"Careful,\" Eithan said quietly. He still hadn't moved.\n\n[It is only that moment of the tablet that exceeds your authority,] Dross mentioned. [It should be safe to experience if you pickup a moment after you left off.]" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Generally speaking, it was hard to view dream tablets with so much precision, which was one reason why they were often attached to projection constructs or control scripts. But with Dross to help, Lindon adjusted his entry point and dove back into the tablet.\n\nIna windy forest, his hands open the ivory box. The scripts activate, and he's proud of their efficiency. They area work of art in the way they synergize with the significance of the bones and of the box itself.\n\nThe device is now designed for one purpose, and it fulfills that purpose before him now. A powerful suction fills the air, drawing spirits closer. Remnants stumble out of the trees. They have been drawn by the hunger aspects in the madra, though the hunger doesn't touch him at all.\n\nOne spirit-a water Remnant with minor sword aspects-is the first to fly into the air. It's only about Highgold in density, and it resembles a six-foot praying mantis. At first.\n\nIn seconds, it folds like paper as it is packed into the box. It sounds disgusting, like meat and bone being crushed and folded, but this device doesn't need to be pleasant to use.\n\nMost importantly, the dead matter and binding are perfectly preserved. And the box still has plenty of capacity left.\n\nLindon broke away from the memory. His head still hurt a little from even that momentary thought about the bone, but his thoughts spun as Dross helped him sort out the memories.\n\nAs with most dream tablets, there were plenty of thoughts behind the memory itself, lending the scene context. Lindon could tell how much better this device was at catching and compressing Remnants, and how it could wait for centuries with no loss. There had been an idea at the back of the creator's mind: this would be the perfect way to seal a Monarch-level Remnant. It could even have applications for those attempting to advance to Herald." }, { "from": "human", "value": "He expected this to become a much sought-after treasure, and Lindon completely agreed." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It wasn't as glamorous as a weapon, but he thought Reigan Shen would pay the worth of several cities fora Soulsmithing tool of this level.\n\nMaybe he was the one who had looted this room.\n\nHe moved to another dream tablet as Yerin was pulled away from it. She had a troubled look on her face. \"This is your ancestor, Eithan?\"\n\nEithan ran a handover his head as though wishing for longer hair. \"The first of my House, yes.\"\n\n\"I'd pick you over him six times out of five.\"\n\nEithan blinked. \"That may have been the kindest thing anyone has ever said tome.\"\n\n\"Don't let it swell your head,\" she muttered.\n\n\"This inspires me to compose a poem!\"\n\n\"Can I pay you to stop?\"\n\n\"There once was a man from Iceflower...\"\n\nLindon reached out for the dream tablet and let the memory overcome him before he had to listen to Eithan's poem.\n\nThe enemy is desperate. He's already bloody and beaten, low on madra, as he has been tormented and kept on the edge of defeat for days now. He raises his axe and swings with a roar, squeezing the last of his madra and soulfire into an echo Forger technique. Phantom axes swing along with them.\n\nOzmanthus looks down on him in disdain. There is barely any willpower remaining in this technique.\n\nHe reaches outwith his madra-pure destruction, as befits the Hollow King-and reaches into the Forger technique. With his soulfire art, he weaves destruction aura as well, drawn from all around him.\n\nIt takes him a moment of concentration to synchronize his control of madra and aura together, but he dismantles the technique. Before the Forged axe-blades reach him, they dissolve into essence." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He is displeased. With his skill in Soulsmithing, he should be able to separate madra much more quickly than this.\n\nThe prisoner tosses his axe to the ground and drops onto his heels.\n\n\"Kill me,\" the man says through a raspy throat.\n\nOzmanthus gives him a razor-edged smile. \"You tried to kill me. You put my children in danger. Why should I show you mercy?\"\n\n\"Your death would have been clean.\"\n\n\"What a comfort that is tome.\"\n\nOzmanthus began a Forger technique of his own, and shimmering black stars hung in the air over his prisoner's head. The Hollow King's Crown.\n\n\"Cycle,\" he ordered. \"Restore your madra. Give me practice, and then I will give you mercy.\"\n\nThe memory skipped ahead after that, and he demonstrated his dismantling technique twice more-once on the prisoner's Striker technique, and then again on the man's Remnant.\n\nLindon committed it to memory, and Dross assured him that with some alterations, they should be able to develop aversion of it themselves. Lindon suspected he might actually be better at it than Ozmanthus Arelius had been, at least at the point that dream tablet was recorded. He had three compatible madra types that could be used to take apart the techniques of others, and pure madra was better at taking apart spiritual energy than destruction madra was.\n\nBut despite the gains he had made through the memory, he was left with a sick feeling.\n\nThe man had an arrogance that permeated his every thought. He was the best, and he knew it. The prisoner really had tried to assassinate him, so Lindon didn't feel much pity for him. But neither was he comfortable with the Arelius Patriarch's callous disregard." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Eithan turned to him, having noticed that Lindon had finished. He didn't say anything, but Lindon got the impression he was waiting.\n\n\"I didn't realize the Path of the Hollow King was a destruction Path,\" Lindon said. That was the safest topic.\n\n\"It was less difficult than you might think to adapt it to pure madra. Many of the lesser aspects and fundamental principles were complementary.\"\n\n\"Apologies, but why bother?\"\n\nPure madra had its advantages-Lindon was proof enough of that-but Eithan would have had afar easier time training a destruction Path. At least destruction aura existed.\n\nEithan busied himself with his clothes, not meeting Lindon's eyes. \"No offense intended to the Path of Black Flame, but I found myself... less than comfortable with destruction madra. I have seen the Patriarch's memories myself. His experiences were enough to cause me to develop a distaste.\"\n\nLindon could understand that, and he didn't comment further.\n\nZiel peered down the sloping hallway. \"Don't bother hurrying, but the enemy is building up strength.\"\n\nThe tunnel had already been sealed off by three layers of his scripts-this time, the runes were etched onto plates that he'd stuck to the walls, floor, and ceiling of the hall rather than Forging them in midair. The script should be less brittle this way. The first row was powered by Eithan's pure madra, the second by Yerin, and the third by Ziel himself.\n\n\"Does anyone else find it alarming that we haven't been attacked by the hunger spirits in awhile?\" Mercy piped up.\n\nLindon was examining the display next to the tablet he'd just read. He couldn't tell what had once sat there; he suspected a table and chair. Perhaps a book of some kind." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He spoke as he investigated. \"If Subject One can't reach us here, we should use the time wisely. The value of these memories is... I don't have words for it.\"\n\nYerin pulled a hand back from a tablet nearby, next to a series of six triangular imprints in the stone. She looked startled.\n\n\"Lindon. You... I don't... bleed me, take a look at this.\"\n\nHe hurried over and immersed himself in another memory.\n\nOzmanthus' black hammer cracked against the gleaming chunk of wintersteel. He poured his madra into it, his soulfire, and his desperate wish for destruction.\n\nHis hammer amplified his wish, focusing his will, forming the metal into a perfect tool of elimination.\n\nHe could atone for the ruin he'd brought only by causing more, because that was all he could do. This arrowhead would be his apology for what he'd already done. His atonement.\n\nHis penance.\n\nLindon snapped out of the memory, dragging himself out of an ocean of despair. This memory felt much later than the others, and carried sadness like Ozmanthus had just watched his entire world collapse.\n\nFrom the context of the memory, he knew what had been enshrined here. Not Penance, the prize that the Abidan had gifted to Yerin.\n\nThe prototypes. The failures.\n\nOzmanthus had tried many times to complete his Penance, to leave behind a perfect weapon to repay those he'd failed. But while these weapons might have all graced a Monarch's armory, he had never succeeded. He'd kept them herein the hopes that another Soulsmith might complete his work.\n\nEventually, he would succeed. But clearly sometime after he'd left this room for the last time." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Long odds that we'd stumble on the place Penance was made,\" Yerin said. She was frowning at the spaces in the wall where the arrowheads had once been kept.\n\nEithan stood by her, looking on them as well. \"Not as coincidental as you might think. He spent many years on that project. Similar failures were once kept beneath House Arelius and in Blackflame City, though they were all used long ago. Anywhere you find his works, you are likely to find an attempt at Penance.\"\n\n\"He was a master of destruction madra,\" Orthos said from across the room. \"Some of these techniques could teach us more about Blackflame.\" Lindon realized Little Blue was missing from his shoulder, and she and Orthos had found a dream tablet that even they could view.\n\nZiel firmed his two-handed grip on his hammer. \"I like learning from my predecessors more than most, but I prefer to do it when we have more time.\"\n\nLindon glanced over to the commotion in the hallway that he'd been ignoring. A Forger technique from the Tomb Hydras was actively clashing against Eithan's layer of scripts. Forged glowing fangs snapped at a barrier of blue-white madra, which flashed into existence every time they attacked.\n\nThere were half a dozen sets of jaws attacking, and as Lindon watched, another joined them. The barrier was going to fall soon.\n\n\"Can we pry out the dream tablets?\" Lindon asked. It would be areal tragedy if they couldn't milk this room for everything it was worth.\n\n\"Not unless we can break the walls,\" Eithan responded. Once again, Lindon suspected he could do that, but it would cost him. And he certainly wasn't willing to flagrantly spend energy and attention with a powerful enemy in the next room." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He sighed. It seemed they really did have to take care of this enemy first.\n\n\"Oh, this one!\" Mercy said excitedly. \"Look at this one!\" She pointed to a shimmering purple gem embedded under a set of lines that had once been etched into the stone, but time had wiped away.\n\nLindon flicked through it, but it wasn't as cohesive a memory as the others. It was just a series of impressions, thoughts that Ozmanthus had meant to pass on.\n\nOnce, it had been a map of the labyrinth.\n\nDross!\n\n[I have compiled the information, but much of the memory is faded, as this environment lacks away to replenish dream aura.]\n\nAny information was better than none. And as the labyrinth shifted seemingly at will, a'map\" was more like an understanding of the patterns that governed its changes rather than a physical layout.\n\nBut there was one thing that stood out even more to Lindon. The wall showed an X scratched into the bottom of what had once been a diagram of the labyrinth. It marked the lowest room.\n\nOzmanthus' exact warnings and instructions had faded over the years, but his emotions remained. He urged those that would come behind him to make their way to that room.\n\nThat was where he had left a test. And a prize for any who proved themselves worthy.\n\n\"Eithan, I think-\"\n\nEithan heaved a heavy sigh at Lindon's excitement. \"What you're thinking is correct. I formed my reputation with Tiberian on my insight into the first Patriarch's memories, so I understand him better than anyone still alive. He left a Soulsmith inheritance here.\"\n\nLindon's heart raced." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Not his complete inheritance, you understand,\" Eithan hurried to assure him." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"He left this one behind long before he ascended. But it is still the legacy of a Soulsmith without peer. If you can win its approval, it would be invaluable.\"\n\nLindon clenched his fists. This was what he'd been waiting for.\n\nThe outer layer of scripts shattered, and Lindon finally turned toward it with impatience. This was an opponent that deserved his full attention, but it would be tragic if he couldn't find his way back to this room.\n\nStill, he was filled with renewed motivation to proceed. \"It's death madra. Can we get rid of it from here?\"\n\n\"Not with the aura as weak as it is,\" Ziel put in. \"Ruler techniques would be best for such a big target.\"\n\nLindon nodded. Mentally, he went over the constructs and dead matter he had prepared. How could they clear this with the least expense?\n\n\"This is going to cost us,\" he finally said. \"We'll try to spread it out-\"\n\nHe was cutoff by a roar that shook the entire labyrinth and a flare of spiritual energy. The Forger techniques pushing against their defensive scripts vanished.\n\nEveryone readied weapons.\n\n\"Here it comes!\" Yerin shouted.\n\nBut nothing did.\n\nAfter a moment of waiting, everyone turned to Eithan. He closed his eyes and extended his awareness.\n\n\"It's tricky to get much here,\" he murmured. \"But I don't think its attention is...\"\n\nEithan trailed off, and his jaw hung open fora moment. Then his eyes snapped open.\n\n\"Run,\" he ordered. \"Lindon, we need a hole in the wall. Right here.\" He pressed his hand against the wall in the opposite direction of the Tomb Hydras." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lindon didn't ask any questions. If Eithan was talking like this, that meant that the time for saving resources had passed.\n\nHe focused everything he had into black dragon's breath. Soulfire bathed the technique, and it fused easily with the authority of the Void Sage. A black bar of liquid flame, containing distant sparks of red flame, warped the world as it struck at the stone of the labyrinth.\n\nLindon felt another will opposing his, but his technique won out. He began carving through the protected stone. The edges glowed red-hot, but there was no molten stone; it had been erased by destruction.\n\nBehind him, even without focusing his perception, he could feel a presence clashing against the death madra. He couldn't make out its properties exactly; it was like a team of sacred artists of all different Paths had joined forces.\n\nEithan was still barking orders. \"Yerin, guard the tunnel! Ziel, we need veiling scripts now! Mercy, put up the Dream of Darkness past the scripts. Orthos, help Lindon with the wall.\"\n\nDrilling through the wall like this was far harder than cutting through ordinary stone, but Lindon had almost carved the outline of a human in the stone.\n\nThen webs of hunger madra shot from every direction.\n\nEveryone had to dodge. His Striker technique was disrupted, and everyone's techniques were interrupted.\n\nLindon and Eithan unleashed waves of pure madra-Lindon a little slower, as he'd been forced to switch from his Blackflame core.\n\nThese strands of hunger were more difficult to disrupt than any they'd faced so far. They pushed through the Hollow Domain, carrying a stronger will before Eithan eradicated them with concentrated Striker techniques." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Too late,\" Yerin said, and then Lindon felt what she had a moment later.\n\nAn overwhelming presence had been unveiled, and it felt like the twisting of space. The death madra swelled to meet it... and was battered back.\n\nThen torn apart.\n\nThey heard the tearing of meat echo down the hallway, followed by a deafening silence. And all of them knew who was coming.\n\nReigan Shen." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Proceed with the plot in your role as storytelling partner.\nTags: fantasy, progression fantasy, tournament\nAuthor: Will Wight\nTitle: Reaper\nChapter: 16" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Too late,\" Yerin said, and then Lindon felt what she had a moment later.\n\nAn overwhelming presence had been unveiled, and it felt like the twisting of space. The death madra swelled to meet it... and was battered back.\n\nThen torn apart.\n\nThey heard the tearing of meat echo down the hallway, followed by a deafening silence. And all of them knew who was coming.\n\nReigan Shen." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Iteration 001: Sanctum\n\nOn Suriel's screen, Gadrael hovered in the middle of space. A translucent blue wall of force intercepted a planet-obliterating strike without so much as trembling.\n\n\"Did Makiel agree with this course of action?\" Gadrael asked.\n\nThe Titan was a small but athletic man, made of muscle, with blue-gray skin and shorthorns like swept-back hair. He had perfected his body as he ascended, as virtually everyone did, and among his people his form was considered ideal beauty.\n\nSuriel wondered how they would see him with a broken nose.\n\nNot that she could break his nose. Not only was he an infinite distance away, but his cartilage was sturdier than most planets.\n\nShe could dream, though.\n\n\"Makiel is still in treatment,\" she told him. Again. \"His mind is occupied with potential outcomes, and he cannot be distracted from his management of Fate.\"\n\n\"Contact me again when you have his approval.\" Gadrael turned, presenting her with the back of his smooth white armor, and readied the buckler on his arm. Avast cloud of black smoke billowed against his barrier, and the wall of order slowly began to dissolve.\n\nGadrael swept a hand and his barrier vanished. The smoke boiled forward, suddenly unhindered, and Suriel could sense the appetite and corrosive influence it carried. Enough to swallow a hundred planets.\n\nThe mundane buckler expanded in an instant, and Gadrael was holding the Shield of the Titan. It was a bulwark of gleaming steel, wide enough to shelter his entire body, and it crawled with red-hot veins like molten metal. She heard a distant roar as its powers activated." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The black smoke crashed over Gadrael in a wave, and her connection to him faded to nothing.\n\nSuriel's hands curled into fists as she stared into her blank wall, and her Presence had to restrict her strength before she crushed everything in her building with the force of her irritation. With every passing day, worry ate away at her soul.\n\nNot worry for Gadrael. He was the closest thing to invincible, and anyone standing behind him was as safe as they could be.\n\nBut he would plant himself like a fortress wall in front of someone, declare them under his protection, and never consider whether there was someone else who might need him more. He relied entirely on Makiel to direct him effectively.\n\nMakiel, the Hound, who had refused to lend his support to Suriel's efforts.\n\nShe'd fail, he said. She had afar greater likelihood of success by waiting for the Vroshir to leave, as her Presence had told her.\n\nSuriel couldn't accept that.\n\nShe had contacted every single one of the other six Judges, and they had all-in their own ways-turned her down. They would be delighted to accept her help, but provide their help to a risky venture when they didn't need to? Why? Their worlds weren't under threat.\n\nSuriel was starting to see why Ozriel had left.\n\n[You always knew why Ozriel left,] her Presence said. [He was abundantly clear about his frustrations with the Court.]\n\nShe held her handover her eyes, wondering if she should make herself sleep. Sleep was nothing but a luxury for her now, but it sounded amazing.\n\nShe wouldn't, of course. There was too much to do.\n\n\"I thought that when things were dire enough, they would change.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "[That was never likely.]\n\n\"What haven't we tried?\"\n\n[Giving up.]\n\n\"Other than that.\" She downed another cup of tea. It really was good. It had been Ozriel's favorite.\n\nHer Presence tapped into the power of her residence and teleported another dose of steaming tea into her cup.\n\n[How high of a priority is this request?]\n\nThat was an unusual question. Suriel almost responded that it was the highest priority, but her Presence literally lived inside her mind. There was a reason why it had asked.\n\nSo she gave the question a moment of thought.\n\nShe could point out the number of lives at stake, but that was just as compelling an argument to wait. Every decision she made balanced the fate of innumerable lives. That was what it meant to be a Judge of the Abidan Court.\n\nThe Vroshir were coming for Sector 11, which included the strategically significant worlds of Cradle and Asylum. Strangely enough, Asylum was probably safe for the moment. Oth'kimeth, the Fiend inside the Mad King, did not appreciate rivals.\n\nBut after the rest of the Sector was destroyed, the corruption would no doubt break open that prison sooner rather than later. It would be a disaster for the Abidan. She could use that looming threat as a card.\n\nIn addition, Cradle was the birthplace of the Abidan. The first-generation Court of Seven had ascended from that world.\n\nShe had tried to use that as a lever for negotiation already. None of the current generation of Judges came from Cradle, and while they agreed it was a tragedy, the history of Cradle was already thoroughly represented in their archives. They would build it a lovely memorial." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Those were reasons why the Sector might be important to the Abidan, and strategic reasons why the Vroshir had gone to such lengths to surround it.\n\nHow important was it to her?\n\nShe thought of the worlds in the Sector. Asylum, Amalgam... Cradle.\n\nShe thought of Wei Shi Lindon, and of Ozriel. She had always known she would see Lindon die someday. Had expected it, in fact. And while Ozriel had left memories allover that Iteration, he hated the place. He might have even seen the outcome of the world's destruction and allowed it, though she couldn't imagine him allowing the rest of the devastation the Vroshir had brought.\n\n\"There is no reason to extend myself for this Sector,\" Suriel said aloud. It was lost. She'd made her peace with that.\n\nOr she should have.\n\n[No compelling one,] her Presence agreed.\n\n\"But I want to.\"\n\nIt was irresponsible, given the scope of her responsibilities. And far too small in scale. When the entire city burned around you, why try to save one house?\n\nThen again, why not try? The city was already burning.\n\nHer Presence gave her a sigh. [Then go to the Sector yourself.]\n\nThey had modeled that, and she couldn't stop the Vroshir advance. Not that she needed a model; the Mad King had torn through Suriel and Makiel together. She alone wouldn't even slow him down.\n\n[Sector 11 is not enough of a strategic asset to mobilize the Court of Seven,] her Presence said. [But Suriel is.]\n\nSuriel's armor flowed around her, and runes spun in her eyes. She looked into Fate; could Makiel see what she was about to do?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Under normal circumstances, he would have seen the possibility years ago." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Now, he was watching futures other than hers, and chaos muddied the entire weave of Fate.\n\nBut her decision had shifted threads of causality. Makiel was already starting to trace them back, looking for the cause.\n\nBefore he could find it, Suriel summoned her Razor and entered the Way.\n\nShe let the flows of pure order carry her between worlds, guided by her intentions. It took time to complete the journey, but she spent it gazing into the future and preparing.\n\nWhen she arrived, she didn't emerge right away. She sat inside the Way and looked into the Sector.\n\nAs always, the space between worlds looked like a tunnel of textured blue, like across between light and cloth, but also indescribable in physical terms. But with her understanding of the Way, she could see tunnels branching off, splitting indifferent directions.\n\nShe hovered outside Sector 11, catching glimpses of its Iterations.\n\nThere, down that tunnel, was Amalgam. A standard, almost barren world, with tinier balls of color and potential clinging to it like fuzzy moons caught in its orbit. What the locals called Territories.\n\nUp another sloping tunnel, she saw Asylum. This one was sealed off, and she could seethe discs of elaborate script-formations setup by a previous generation's Gadrael. The scripts were fragmented and flickering, on the verge of failure, but they had been that way for decades.\n\nBeneath the seals, the world itself was smoky gray, locked against intrusion from the outside. Through that barrier of gray, she could dimly see unspeakable shapes squirming, pushing against the restrictions of their prison. Fiends of Chaos, each powerful enough to contend with Judges. Trapped thereby the collective will of ordinary humans." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She looked to each of the other worlds in the Sector, some more notable than others.\n\nThen, finally, she looked to Cradle.\n\nIt should have been closer to her than any other Iteration, but the Way grew thin and gray as it approached Cradle. The Vroshir influence. If she tried to enter that Iteration, she would be shunted off to the side, most likely into another Sector.\n\nBut even obscured, Cradle shone like a star. She could seethe powers that made it up swirling, the powerful-but still mortal-fates that clashed inside.\n\n[WARNING: intrusion detected.]\n\nHer Presence drew her attention up, until she looked into the neighboring Sector Twenty-One.\n\nThe Mad King's burning eyes met her own. Around him, blue light crumbled and twisted, the rules and laws of the universe breaking around him.\n\nHe wouldn't enter the Way physically for her. No fisherman dove into the ocean to wrestle a shark.\n\nThe Vroshir reached outwith one bone-gauntleted hand, and that hand clawed for her in the Way, larger than her entire body. Its weight distorted the swirling world of order, bringing with it the crackling darkness of the Void.\n\nSuriel's Razor erupted into its true form, from a meter-long bar of blue steel to a branching tree that sparked with light. It was the ultimate tool for cutting away corruption, and she cut at the Mad King's attack, severing it from existence.\n\n[WARNING: multiple intrusions detected.]\n\nHer enemy wasn't alone.\n\nA chain of shining stars crashed into the Way to wraparound her, a constellation brought to life. From another direction came a thousand hands of blood. From yet another, a wisp of the same dark, corrosive smoke that Gadrael had faced." }, { "from": "human", "value": "She cleansed or severed each one, catching glimpses of the Vroshir on the other side as she did so." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A spear crashed down on her like a meteor striking a planet, and she met it with her Razor.\n\nOutside the Way, that would have been a deadly attack. Here, she could meet it, but it took all her focus.\n\nAnd more and more of the Vroshir were drawn to this spot.\n\nThey swarmed around her, and the Way dimmed. Thread by thread, it unraveled around her, revealing endless darkness specked with distant, swirling balls of color. The Void.\n\nEnemies surrounded her, all attacking. And as they struck, she slipped from one side of existence to the other.\n\nAt least it's working, she thought.\n\nThen the Mad King reached out again. This time, she had to bring the full force of her power to bear against the grasping hand, and the clash of forces stretched the Way even further.\n\nThe chain of stars wrapped around her midsection, and she couldn't spare the attention to stop it. Bloody hands landed on her leg, and a wisp of smoke twisted around her neck.\n\nHer armor began to crack.\n\n[Arrival incoming,] her Presence said.\n\nA flaming sword burst through the Mad King's hand.\n\nA woman carved through the Vroshir's attack with her sword, her Mantle boiling behind her like wings of white fire. Even her hair was crimson flame, and she severed the other attacks binding Suriel with one more sweep of her blade.\n\nRazael, the Wolf, turned to face Suriel with a furious expression. \"I should have let you die!\"\n\nThreads of blue light slipped back in as the Way recovered some of its hold. A shimmering orange diamond appeared over Razael's shoulder, sparkling with a different reflected face in each facet." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "[My host is relieved she arrived in time,] Razael's Presence said.\n\nA string of twisting symbols punched through the Way again, and Suriel glimpsed a group of Silverlords chanting in tandem. The silver crowns on their heads shone and serpentine runes twined around them as they called on the energy systems of plundered worlds to make their attack.\n\nThat working would be enough to rewrite the physics of any local Iteration, but Razael backhanded the ribbon of symbols with an armored fist. The working of the Silverlords shattered.\n\nRazael glared at her Presence. \"Plot our retreat!\"\n\n[We don't have a retreat,] the crystalline Presence said to Suriel. [She knows that.]\n\nVoid beasts clawed their way into being, indescribable horrors slashing their way through more strands of order, drawing them closer to the Void.\n\n\"Stop talking and help me!\"\n\n[She's happy to be here.]\n\nThe Mad King let the Scythe drift off to one side and drew his sword, a length of bone that screamed with the sorrow of a thousand butchered worlds. Suriel's instincts and Presence screamed danger, and she turned her attention to the attacks of the other Vroshir as the Wolf faced down the Mad King.\n\nAnother figure marched into the fading blue light, holding his molten shield ready. The Titan blocked the oncoming void-beasts, slapping them back out of reality.\n\n\"You will stand trial for this,\" Gadrael warned Suriel. \"But for now...\" He set his shield and faced the Mad King. \"... nothing will touch you.\"\n\nThe blue light shone brighter, but only fora moment.\n\nDaruman's red-sun eyes blazed as he spoke one word. \"Come,\" the Mad King commanded, and he was echoed by his Fiend." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Their word spread through the Void, echoing among the empty chambers of chaos, and those who dwelled in chaos obeyed.\n\nThe world darkened, and once again, the hold of the Way began to slip. Even with three Judges present, the forces of the Void were too strong. Their gravity tugged the Abidan away.\n\nJust when the Way had faded to one thin azure thread, a girl's head popped out.\n\nShe looked like she was about twenty, and she glanced around with uncertain eyes. \"Quick, let's go!\"\n\nSomeone else shoved her from behind. A distinguished gentleman whose glasses gleamed. As the girl tumbled out of her tunnel and emerged next to Suriel, he stepped out elegantly, and he even had his weapon in the form of a cane.\n\n\"I suppose you're going to insist on making me work, aren't you?\" said the Spider, gesturing with his cane.\n\nThe Fox, Zakariel, trembled and hid behind him.\n\n\"This is not my doing,\" Makiel said.\n\nThe Hound manifested in full battle armor, holding his broad two-handed sword in one hand. He looked completely unharmed, with his dark and weathered skin and his iron-gray hair, but Suriel could see that his existence was still weak.\n\nHe gave Suriel a hard look. \"But if we are to walk this path, we will walk it together. All of us.\"\n\nThe Ghost blew hair away from her face, and Suriel realized for the first time the woman was standing at her side. Durandiel was the only one of the Seven not wearing armor, instead wearing a dull gray dress that hazed into smoke and carrying a tall staff.\n\n\"We're all going to die,\" the Ghost said." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Makiel's Presence, a floating purple eye, answered her. [We have not seen our deaths.]\n\n\"I didn't mean here,\" Durandiel sighed. \"I just thought it was worth contemplating our own mortality.\"\n\nThe Fox tried to slip out through the strengthening Way, but Razael caught her. \"Where are you going, Zak?\"\n\nThe young-looking girl squirmed in the grip of the Wolf. \"Don't call me that! Call me Zerachiel!\"\n\nRazael glared. \"That's not your name.\"\n\n\"At least don't call me Zak!\"\n\nTelariel sighed and adjusted his glasses. \"This is beneath us all,\" the Spider said.\n\nThe attacks had stopped and the Way was back in full-force, now rippling with strength as the presence of the Abidan Judges reinforced order in the cosmos. The Silverlords and Vroshir backed away as they tore open portals into the Void.\n\nFrom twisting in Razael's grip, the Fox froze. Zakariel's head snapped in the direction of the opening portals. \"Now, where are you going?\"\n\nThe Void portals winked out instantly. Some Silverlords in the process of fleeing were spat back into their Iterations.\n\nZakariel disappeared from the Wolf's hands, and she flickered through existence. A white-armored hand clapped onto the shoulder of the Vroshir.\n\nAll the Vroshir, save the Mad King. All at once.\n\nEach Silverlord had a tiny Judge standing behind them, one hand on their shoulder, a wicked fox's grin on her face. Her teeth gleamed even in no light.\n\nGadrael braced his shield. \"I can't coverall her bodies and the King! Durandiel-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I know,\" the Ghost said." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She blew another strand of hair out of her eyes, and Suriel had half a mind to just cut it off.\n\nEach Silverlord's reaction was different, but each one had once been a champion of their respective worlds. They responded with lethal force, erupting with workings of every description.\n\nDurandiel tapped her staff lightly on empty space, and everything rippled.\n\nThe workings vanished, and the Fox struck.\n\nBlood sprayed across many realities.\n\nThe Mad King kept his gaze focused on Makiel, and now the Vroshir held his sword in one hand and the Scythe in the other. His voice was a spear penetrating the Way.\n\n\"You make quite a show with the heavens to shield you.\"\n\nThe Judges looked down on the Mad King, and their wills were as one. Together, they slipped into reality.\n\nIteration 119: Fathom\n\nA moment before, this world had trembled under the power of the Mad King.\n\nA soldier arrived with his purple-veined sword, and Fate returned to its proper course. Makiel, the Hound.\n\nA guardian appeared, steadied behind his shield, and the surviving mortal population shook with relief as they sensed they were protected. Gadrael, the Titan.\n\nA gentleman stepped out, cane tapping at every step, and the shroud of chaos retreated, restoring the definition of order. Telariel, the Spider.\n\nA woman drifted in, gray dress and black hair blowing like smoke, and perhaps she had always been there. Something shifted in the inner machinery of the world, but none in Iteration One-one-nine knew exactly what. Durandiel, the Ghost.\n\nA warrior strode forward, ready for combat with sword blazing as bright as her hair, and all existence shone more brightly. Razael, the Wolf." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A healer descended on light like blue wings, and allover this reality, wounds knitted back together and fortress walls reassembled themselves. Suriel, the Phoenix.\n\nA predator slunk behind the other six, and she tossed the still-bleeding head of a Silverlord behind her as Void portals closed and space stilled all throughout Fathom. Zakariel, the Fox.\n\nFor the first time in centuries, the Court of Seven manifested together, and the world was healed.\n\nOne by one, they met the burning red eyes of the Mad King. He hovered between them and the central planet of the Iteration, stained bone sword in one hand and dark Scythe in the other. His helmet of yellowed bone kept his face in a shadow impenetrable even to their light, and a mantle of hide ran from his shoulders to match their mantles of white flame.\n\nHe took not a step back, and his will was firm. He raised his sword to his face in a salute.\n\n\"Your courage does you credit,\" the fallen hero said to the entire Abidan Court.\n\nFrom the darkness between the stars of Fathom, Fiends slithered forward. Blue flashes appeared in the darkness allover as Silverlords pressed against the outside of the world. They couldn't enter, with the Fox and the Titan both inside, but still they remained on the border. Waiting.\n\nA host of their kind were inside already. Silverlords floated up behind the Mad King, outnumbering the seven Judges many times over.\n\nMakiel looked over them coldly. \"Surrender.\"\n\nSome Silverlords, those who had served a term in Haven before, shivered. Their wills shook. Even many of the Fiends cringed back like dogs remembering a whip." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But the Mad King did not tremble. \"I sought to strike you a blow. Never did I imagine that I could topple the pillars of Heaven,\" the Scythe ignited in raging darkness, \"with my own hands.\"\n\nIna world called Fathom, between the Way and the Void, war erupted." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Ziel spoke through gritted teeth. \"Why is there a Monarch down here?\"\n\n\"Same reason we are,\" Yerin said grimly.\n\n\"I know why. That question was for the heavens.\"\n\nLindon wrenched open the Dawn Sky Palace. \"Orthos. Blue.\"\n\nLittle Blue whistled nervously and clung to Orthos' back. The turtle glared up at Lindon. \"If we can fight against the Titan, we can...\"\n\nHe hesitated. Lindon checked the performance of his right arm while waiting for Orthos to come to the right conclusion.\n\n\"... be safe,\" Orthos grumbled. He carried Blue inside.\n\nBefore Lindon let the portal close, he looked to Mercy. She was limbering up her shoulders and wheeling her staff around.\n\nShe gave him a forced smile. \"Don't worry! He's weaker, I can feel it! My mother would squish him with one thumb if she were here.\"\n\nLindon turned to Ziel. \"How about you? Can you keep up?\"\n\n\"No,\" Ziel said. He hefted his hammer. \"But I won't get in the way.\"\n\nThat was good enough for Lindon. He let the Dawn Sky Palace close and opened his other key. Not only could he feel the strain this time, but he could feel the invisible mechanisms of authority inside the key stretching and warping.\n\nIf he did this too many more times, he was going to break it.\n\nYerin had reached into her own key and withdrawn her Heart's Gem. She rolled the ruby of congealed blood onto the floor, where it began exuding billowing clouds of blood aura.\n\nThe blood was steadily eaten away by the hunger, but it would fuel her techniques. Swords spread out from her as well, scattered around the floor. They were practically drowned out by the Heart's Gem and the hunger, but they helped." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She stood defiantly in the center of the room. Her sword, robes, and most of her hair were black. Her eyes, Goldsigns, and one lock of her hair shone red.\n\nYerin was ready. And she wasn't hiding.\n\nMercy had webbed herself to the far corner of the ceiling, bow ready. The dragon head at the center of the bow glared amethyst beams, and she bit her lip in concentration as she held an arrow half-forged.\n\nBeneath her, Ziel was Forging ring after ring around his hammer and each of his limbs. He must have been exerting himself, and the tips of his horns glowed as green as his madra, but his face was as blank as ever. The gray cloak on his back billowed with force.\n\nEithan stood next to Yerin in fine pink-and-blue silks. He looked... disturbed. His usual smile was missing, as it had been for most of the time they'd spent in this room, and he smoothed his short hair down though it didn't need it. He looked agitated, which might have made sense in the situation, but it didn't match what Lindon knew of Eithan. The man should have greeted even certain death with a grin and a joke.\n\nLindon controlled the aura generated by the natural treasures in his void key to send weapons floating out. Wavedancer wouldn't help much, since flying swords operated on ambient aura, but he had plenty of other constructs available.\n\nAs the balls of Forged madra flew, crawled, or rolled out seemingly of their own accord, Lindon steadied his own breathing and looked to Eithan.\n\n\"Are our odds that bad?\" he asked quietly.\n\n[Yes,] Dross said, but Lindon hadn't been talking to him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I maybe making it look worse than it is,\" Eithan said." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I was already in quite a mood.\"\n\n\"Good.\" Lindon strapped three launcher constructs to his left arm. \"Let's take it out on him.\"\n\nSpiritual pressure rippled out over the entire room, shaking the surface of Lindon's construct. He felt Reigan Shen's will, and Mercy was certainly right. This wasn't a Monarch at full power. He must have spent months in the suppression field, and the power of hunger would have taken bites out of him.\n\nIna way, that was more terrifying.\n\nBecause his will settled on them like the tide as Reigan Shen strode out of the shadows. He looked like he'd spent a year living in the desert. The white-gold mane of his hair and beard was matted and overgrown, and his clothes were ragged and patched. He had cases, bottles, and containers of every description belted allover him.\n\nA pair of swords hung at his hips, one huge and shining orange and one thin as a needle. A shield had been slung over his back, and a lens covered Shen's left eye.\n\nAnd in his eyes was all the confidence of a Monarch.\n\nHe didn't look like someone who had survived the wilderness. He looked like the wilderness had survived him.\n\n\"Eithan! It seems I owe Subject One some thanks. I could use an Arelius guide.\" He glanced up to the symbol on the wall. \"Especially here.\"\n\nAt some point, Eithan had recovered his smile. \"I'm flattered! I didn't think you'd trust me, given my track record at guiding Monarchs.\"\n\n\"I was talking about your Remnant.\"\n\n\"I have a suspicion he wouldn't be anymore pleasant to deal with.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I'll find out for myself.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Reigan Shen looked to Yerin and nodded. \"Uncrowned Queen. Your performance was magnificent, and Red Faith is quite taken with your methods. I'd be more than willing to work with you.\"\n\nYerin shrugged. \"No blood spilled between us. You want to get friendly, it depends on what you want to do with the Dreadgods.\"\n\nLindon, Ziel, Mercy, and Eithan were now spread out to flank the Monarch as Yerin stood boldly in front of him.\n\nReigan Shen didn't seem to mind their positioning at all. He openly examined Yerin with a sudden interest. \"I think we might be able to work together. I intend to finally bring the Dreadgods under control.\"\n\n\"You'd bet that you can?\"\n\n\"I'm betting everything.\"\n\nGleaming red-chrome madra slowly expanded from Yerin, and her sword lifted to point at him. \"Love to test the edge of somebody who can hold a Dreadgod's leash.\"\n\n\"Yes. It will be your honor.\" Reigan Shen surveyed the rest of them with disdain. \"Well? If you're going to attack, let's see it.\"\n\nLindon wasn't so rude as to turn down an invitation like that.\n\nThe three launcher constructs on his arm fired in a set sequence. First, the Web of Silence, a shimmering purple-and-orange web from a strange Path that attacked the mind and the spirit. Then a Starkeeper's Lance, from a Path that compressed sword and lightning madra to the utmost. Finally, the Swamp Fire, a swarm of knuckle-sized poisonous fireballs.\n\nIna blink, all three constructs had launched, timed to land at their target together. From his other hand, Lindon unleashed a bar of black dragon's breath." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The others had struck at the same time.\n\nMercy-who once again felt like an Overlady-had released a barrage of a thousand Forged amethyst arrows. The binding of Eclipse, Sacred Bow of the Soulseeker.\n\nInstead of swinging his hammer, as Lindon had expected, Ziel also used a simple launcher construct. It looked like a wasp's stinger, and it sent out a series of nails made from force madra.\n\nThree people didn't move: Reigan Shen, Yerin, and Eithan.\n\nA web spread out to devour Reigan Shen, glistening orange and purple. Behind it, a needle-sharp beam crackling with lightning and a spray of green fireballs. Lindon hadn't skimped on these weapons; all of them had been enhanced to the level of Archlord constructs. Meanwhile, a dark beam of Blackflame tore through the air to the side.\n\nGold-and-gray bolts flew from another angle, strong enough to drive holes through thick city walls. And from above, Mercy's amethyst bolts. Reigan Shen faced techniques from every angle.\n\nA transparent bubble expanded from the shield on the Monarch's back.\n\nAll the techniques shattered when they struck the bubble, but Lindon could feel the impact they carried. The construct couldn't holdout-and sure enough, the shield itself broke.\n\nThat was what Yerin and Eithan had been waiting for.\n\nYerin shone white and appeared behind Reigan Shen, her sword shining. Eithan stood where she had before, and he drove a Hollow Spear at the Monarch's midsection. It was so advanced that it actually took on the image of a spear, the triangular head plunging straight for Shen's core.\n\nHe twisted, slamming the back of his fist onto Yerin's sword as he swung a kick at Eithan's head." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The force from that simple, mortal movement was hard for even Lindon to comprehend. It was like the Monarch had a Dreadgod sealed inside his body. Just one punch and a kick sent a storm howling through the labyrinth.\n\nEithan ducked back, avoiding the kick, but Yerin's sword met his fist head-on. Madra from the collision exploded, tearing the air again, and Lindon felt the world itself ripple. The Hollow Spear scraped past Shen's middle, vanishing into the wall.\n\nZiel's hammer came in a moment later, driven by five layers of Forged script. He swung with his whole body, and while he still hadn't fully recovered, Lindon felt the strength of an Archlord from him at that moment.\n\nReigan Shen still hadn't regained his stance, but he still twisted in midair and stopped the hammer with a palm.\n\nWhich was when Lindon, blazing with the Burning Cloak, arrived at his other side. He threw a punch at the back of Shen's head, and the Monarch spoke.\n\n\"Stop,\" Reigan Shen commanded.\n\nBut Lindon had felt his authority gathering and met it with his own. Their words overlapped.\n\n\"No.\"\n\nPain spiked through his head as his will clashed directly with the Monarch's. It almost worked. Lindon's fist hesitated for an instant before continuing, but it was enough for Shen to twist out of the way again.\n\nThen Lindon found himself taking a step back again as Reigan Shen fought fist-to-fist with Eithan, Ziel, and Yerin.\n\nEvery clash between him and Yerin shook the room, but she couldn't make him take a step back. He didn't ignore Ziel's attacks, but he treated them dismissively anyway, and Eithan..." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Lindon found that strange." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The fight had only continued fora breath, but Shen had made sure to dodge all Eithan's attacks.\n\nSpiritual attacks, Lindon realized.\n\n[Agreed. I've sorted the appropriate constructs.]\n\nLindon switched to his pure core as Dross linked him to several constructs. A second later, and Lindon joined the fight again.\n\nA sword of Forged cyan madra appeared in his hand, and he swiped at Reigan Shen, who dodged at the last second. Lindon followed up with an Empty Palm, and Shen was forced to face him for the first time.\n\nThat gave Eithan and Yerin an opening, and Yerin began Forging her Netherclaw technique as Eithan dropped stars of pure madra that speared down from the sky.\n\nReigan Shen blurred as he leaped, cracking even the protected stone of the labyrinth. He created distance, but Mercy had already webbed the top half of the room in soulfire-enhanced Strings of Shadow. Ashe broke through, a sphere of shadow expanded around him. The Dream of Darkness.\n\nHis mind and spirit would be protected from such things, but it should slow him down fora moment.\n\nNo one needed a reminder.\n\nLindon raised both his hands and filled the space with black dragon's breath. Eithan launched a Hollow Spear, Yerin slashed with Netherclaw, and Ziel accelerated his hammer through several rings of script so that it cracked like thunder as it plunged into the shadows.\n\n[Danger!] Dross called to everyone, and Lindon switched back to his pure core. The Hollow Domain erupted from him just in time.\n\nA slash of orange light split the room in half like a sunrise, dissipating the Dream of Darkness. Reigan Shen hovered in midair despite the lack of aura in the room, a misshapen orange sword blazing in his hand. It gave off an overwhelming pressure no less than Shen's own." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A chill ran down Lindon's spine as he felt Dross\" alarm focus on spider-thin cracks that slowly vanished in front of Reigan Shen. He had, however temporarily, cut through the world itself.\n\n\"I've kept you company long enough,\" the Monarch said. \"I don't like to work so hard.\"\n\nA green feather emerged from a case at his side, and suddenly the room was filled with wind aura.\n\nNone of them waited for him to do as he wished. Striker techniques speared toward him, but slashes of orange light flickered out and struck them down, though his sword didn't seem to move.\n\nA moment later, nine tridents appeared, shining green with death madra that reminded Lindon of the Tomb Hydras. They hovered in the wind aura, and Lindon's heart sank. The Soul Cloak bloomed around him.\n\nEven by a Monarch's standards, these were no ordinary weapons. They had a powerful will to destroy that resonated with the aura all throughout the labyrinth.\n\nThese tridents were hungry.\n\nAnd one flashed at each of Shen's enemies. Dross slowed the world down, and Lindon extended his left hand to the trident spearing toward Mercy.\n\nHe could feel the will compelling the trident to seek life, and rather than oppose it, he redirected it.\n\n\"Tome,\" Lindon ordered.\n\nThe trident swerved and headed to Lindon, but it wasn't as fast as the one that was already about to reach him.\n\nThis one, Lindon reached up and caught with his right hand.\n\nOrdinarily, that would have been a fool's move. The Soul Cloak gave him the speed and precision to catch it, but he shouldn't be strong enough to hold back such a weapon." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The strength he'd gained from draining Crusher stayed with him, and now he was strong enough. Physically. But death madra seeped into him, eroding his life from the inside. It was trying to consume him.\n\nSo Lindon Consumed it right back.\n\nThe power of the trident soaked into Lindon, and he saw a few flickering images, pieces of the weapon's will. It didn't have memories, exactly; not like a living being did. But he pieced together something of an understanding.\n\nThese weren't nine weapons made to work together. This was one weapon, and it had one intention. Nine fangs flashing together.\n\nAnd it wasn't happy about having its energy stolen.\n\nThe second trident arrived as the first started struggling to pullback. But Lindon had a firm grip on it.\n\nHe swung the first trident into the second.\n\n[It will try to dodge, but it is not a true intelligence. Just a naturally formed will. But it is a very good thing that all nine are not focused on you.]\n\nSure enough, the trident tried to dodge, but it couldn't keep up with Lindon enhanced by the Soul Cloak. He knocked the second trident out of the air and vented the death madra into the air.\n\nAll the while, he watched and thought.\n\nMercy had used her freedom from the trident to focus attacks on Reigan Shen. Ziel had matched against his trident, Eithan had blasted it from the air and kept his attention focused on the enemy, and Yerin hadn't even been slowed down by hers.\n\nWhy hadn't Reigan Shen focused all the tridents?\n\nHe had kept four back to defend himself, which was certainly more than he needed. If he had sent them all atone person, he would have been able to keep them out of the fight." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "[It looks as though he's trying to preserve your lives,] Dross suggested.\n\nOr the tridents, Lindon responded.\n\nAnd that hunch felt right. Reigan Shen would not waste his prized collection.\n\nWith renewed vigor, Lindon adjusted his grip on the death trident and Consumed again. The madra channels running into his arm strained, and he could feel the binding warping under the flow of powerful energy, but he kept it up.\n\nThe trident he'd knocked away turned back to him, and Reigan Shen shot him a look of annoyance.\n\nOne of the tridents defending him from Yerin's attacks peeled away and shot toward Lindon, leaving Lindon fighting three.\n\nLindon's thrill at having his theory proved right was accompanied by an equal sense of crisis. If Reigan Shen was fighting them while trying to avoid damaging his weapons, that meant he wasn't taking them seriously.\n\nAnd the moment he did, they were going to die.\n\nLindon was overwhelmed fora moment, and only with Dross'help did he manage to keep the three tridents off him. Even Mercy shot one down as it was about to hit him, and he focused soulfire and Blackflame madra into the most condensed black dragon's breath he could make.\n\nWith that, he sliced a trident in half.\n\nYerin and Reigan Shen were clashing in the middle of a visible thunderclap that distorted space, but Lindon still caught the Monarch's grimace. All eight of the remaining tridents flew back to Reigan Shen, almost impaling Yerin until she dodged.\n\n\"Enough of this,\" Reigan Shen said. The tridents vanished. \"Engrave this memory into your Remnants. For you are privileged to witness the Path of the King's Key.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gold-edged portals swirled open behind him. Five of them; one for each opponent.\n\nTechniques emerged from the portals like serpents leaping from the ocean, and these were not the limited techniques that had been eroded by hunger aura. These were true Monarch techniques, and they blinded Lindon's senses.\n\n[Processing!] Dross cried.\n\nThe scene seemed to freeze, as it often had before. That gave Lindon plenty of time to see what effects Reigan Shen had summoned from the weapons hidden in his void space.\n\nOne was a Forged hand, seemingly made of jade streaked with gold. The madra was so dense that it seemed physical, but Lindon could feel that it was dense energy of life and earth. The hand was reaching out for Ziel, and it was going to flatten him.\n\nAn orange-white line blasted out of another portal; this was red dragon's breath, focused to such a degree that Lindon could scarcely believe it. It must have been a launcher construct made from a red dragon Herald, and it shot for Eithan.\n\nOcean blue tides gushed out of a third portal, with enough pressure that the water itself could crush stone. Inside the depths were glowing, flickering humanoid figures. This was a mysterious water technique headed for Yerin, and it brought an energy of suppression that struck at the soul as well as the body.\n\nA flurry of silver bat-like techniques rushed after Mercy, carrying sword energy complex enough that Lindon couldn't quite identify its makeup. They were possessed by a furious will, like a swarm of bloodthirsty bees. And their very presence shook his senses until he felt like he was going to bleed from the ears.\n\nThis was a technique meant to shred Heralds. Mercy wouldn't last a second." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A massive sword, so detailed that its blade gleamed in the light, speared toward Lindon, but he paid it no mind. It was made from dream madra Forged solid, and it reminded Lindon that Reigan Shen didn't know about Dross.\n\nBetween pure madra and Dross' support, Lindon should be able to crack that sword like it was made from cheap porcelain. But the others were in danger.\n\nDross, what can we do about the technique targeting Yerin?\n\n[Inconclusive.]\n\nDo we have enough time to block for Mercy with the Hollow Domain?\n\n[Inconclusive!] This time, Lindon caught a hint of desperation from Dross' voice. That was fair, as Lindon was feeling not a little desperation himself.\n\nWhat can you tell me?\n\n[If we do not intervene, at least three of our allies will likely suffer life-threatening injuries. And I cannot hold on for much longer.]\n\nHis hold on Lindon's perceptions was beginning to slip. The dream madra was thin here, and Dross was still weak. Lindon looked desperately from one of his friends to the other. He could throw himself in front of Mercy, but then he wouldn't be able to reach Yerin. And what about Ziel?\n\nWith the Pure Cloak, can I make it to Mercy first and then get to Yerin?\n\n[It depends on the exact strength of the techniques and how long Yerin can hold on. Most likely, yes. But that leaves Ziel.]\n\nEithan's closest to him. Tell him to cover Ziel. Lindon had to assume Eithan had another trick tucked up his sleeve.\n\n[That will be the last significant action I can take.]" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Do it!\n\nThe world slipped back into motion, and so did Lindon.\n\nHe dashed in front of Mercy, the Hollow Domain erupting around him. The world was filled with blue-white madra.\n\nThe techniques Mercy was using to defend herself were canceled, and her purple eyes widened in panic as the Strings of Shadow lashing her to the ceiling were wiped away.\n\nThe bladed silver bats were not. They were so dense and so much stronger than Lindon that they dove into the Hollow Domain and continued flitting for Mercy.\n\nWhile they weren't destroyed, they were weakened.\n\nLindon slammed an Empty Palm against them, focusing his will and his soulfire on the technique. A Forged palm bigger than his body smashed into the fluttering blades, and they crashed into it like a wall.\n\nBut each one pounded against his spirit, and he felt like a window pelted by hail. Each strike left him cracked.\n\nThat was when the dream sword arrived. It wasn't as dense as the spirits of sword madra, so it was weakened more by the Hollow Domain, but still not enough. It plunged into Lindon's mind, and his concentration was disrupted as it struck.\n\nThe Hollow Domain flickered. Dross pitted himself against the technique, but he was weaker than he had calculated. It took too long.\n\nIn the absence of the Domain, the remaining bladed bats flew around Lindon toward their intended target. Mercy called up her bloodline armor as she fell, and it formed before the Domain returned.\n\nEven so, they cut straight through her armor.\n\nMercy's blood sprayed the floor from a dozen wounds, and she screamed.\n\nDross finally broke the sword, and instead of rushing toward Yerin, Lindon had to fall toward Mercy. Concentrated pure madra broke the technique, but Mercy's bloodline armor had already shattered. She bled from too many wounds, including one to the neck." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lindon pressed down on it, pulling out the healing construct he'd withdrawn earlier. A pulsing sac of blood and life madra attached to her wound, feeding her healing energy, and her breathing steadied.\n\nWith dread in his heart, Lindon looked up to Yerin.\n\nShe was pinned to the wall by a rush of dense water madra, and he saw flickers of red as she battled with the glowing white silhouettes in the depths. He felt her holding her own, and he was encouraged.\n\nThen Reigan Shen lazily raised his sword in her direction.\n\nLindon's world focused to a single point.\n\n\"Stop!\"\n\nReigan Shen froze. He snorted and tugged his arm against Lindon's will as though pulling against stubborn cobwebs.\n\nPain stabbed through Lindon's head, and his working broke. But he blinked past tears in his eyes to see that it did have some effect.\n\nReigan Shen had turned his sword toward Lindon instead.\n\n[I cannot go further,] Dross said, but there was a little more emotion in his words now. He sounded ashamed. [I am... too weak.]\n\nMe too, Lindon thought.\n\nBut Lindon raised his arm and gathered his madra. He would try to Consume some of the power in the attack Reigan Shen was about to use. If it had worked to weaken the Titan's attack, maybe it would work here.\n\nAshe activated the technique in his arm, he felt a soul-piercing snap. The binding fell apart.\n\nAnd his arm fell to his side, inert.\n\nThe glowing sword cracked the void as Reigan Shen swung it down, sending spatial cracks to every side like a spiderweb. A slash of orange light rushed for Lindon, and when he felt it, he realized his Consume technique would have done nothing anyway." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lindon still didn't give up.\n\nHe stood over Mercy's body and radiated the Hollow Domain. If he weakened it enough, then maybe-\n\nEithan appeared in front of them.\n\nGhostly blue-white armor shimmered over every inch of his body, as though he wore a Remnant over his skin. Archlord soulfire rippled through him fora second, like quicksilver.\n\nThen he was striking forward with a Forged spear.\n\nHis will and technique crashed against Reigan Shen's. Deep, black cracks spiraled through the air as the world began to break.\n\nOrange madra dispersed into essence, Eithan's spear broke, and the cracks healed.\n\nA smile tugged atone side of Reigan Shen's mouth. \"You've worked so hard to stand before me. I'm almost proud.\"\n\n\"That's not what I was working for,\" Eithan said. \"But I admit... it is a perk.\"\n\nLindon felt something. Eithan had reached beyond himself for that attack. His will was dense, and far-reaching. He had tapped into something bigger than himself.\n\nAn image began to format the ceiling, something more real than a working of dream and light. Lindon began to see a shaft of polished wood, projected from beyond reality.\n\nThen Eithan gestured, and the image cutoff.\n\nReigan Shen's head jerked back, and he looked truly shocked. \"What are you thinking?\"\n\nEithan pointed another spear of pure madra. \"You are not my goal. You're just in my way.\"\n\n\"Very well.\" The Monarch lightly twirled the sword in his hand and another golden portal appeared behind him. \"Die, then.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And the battle between Eithan and Reigan Shen began." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Eithan's spear grew as it flashed across the room, and Lindon saw that he had projected the Hollow Spear technique from his scissors. It was a perfect blend of sacred instrument and Striker technique, carrying the power of both.\n\nBut it was only enough to match the orange energy that Shen projected from his own sword. The entire room shook, spiritually and physically, and Lindon was painfully aware of how little madra he had remaining.\n\nCompared to his normal state, at least. Compared to the others, he was in great shape.\n\nZiel moved weakly against the wall, half his body burned. His clothes had been singed away. Lindon hadn't seen what had happened to him, but obviously Eithan hadn't been able to save him completely.\n\nLindon carried the still-healing Mercy away. She mumbled at him that she would be fine-and she would, thanks to the healing construct on her neck-but he needed to move her away from the battle.\n\nEithan called a rain of stars down on Reigan Shen, and Shen responded by swallowing them all into a portal he opened over his own head.\n\nThis time, Lindon noticed that the portals were actually sticking just like the void keys had been. Shen had to spare the willpower to force open his own void space. That had to be a weakness they could exploit.\n\nBut another worry overcame him first: Yerin.\n\nShe was still inside the water technique.\n\nEvery clash between Eithan and Shen shook the surging mass of water that imprisoned Yerin, and every now and again her madra speared out, but her spirit was still flashing inside. She was battling against the spirits inside the technique, and she was weakening.\n\nLindon sprinted around the wall of the chamber. His pure core had less than a third remaining, and his soulfire was a dim candle, but he had to help." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dross, what do you have left?\n\n[Not what I should, and that disturbs me. Northstrider once used me to develop a combat report against Reigan Shen.]\n\nLindon's hopes soared.\n\n[But I am too fractured,] Dross continued. [I can piece together so little of it. Too little.]\n\nLindon's heart crashed back down. Let me know if you remember anything. In the meantime, tell Yerin I'm on my way.\n\nAs Reigan Shen hurled Eithan across the chamber and Eithan retaliated with a slash of suddenly-huge scissors, Lindon dove into the side of a raging river like a waterfall suspended in midair.\n\nSuddenly he could feel the pressure of the technique firsthand. He'd been able to sense it from across the chamber, but this was like the weight of the ocean crushing him from every direction. It was a churning maelstrom of water madra on at least the Herald-level, and every drop bore the will to destroy him.\n\nA ghost of soft white light drifted up to him, extending hands out to him as though in peace. The spirit's smile was a black crescent in its face.\n\nLindon met it with the Empty Palm.\n\nOn a human being, the Empty Palm washed their madra channels clean, temporarily robbing them of control over their own spirit. On a spirit, it blasted away the very material of their body.\n\nThe spirit dissolved, but its smile only widened.\n\nFrom the darkness of the chaotic water, two more spirits came for him. They darted in when he wasn't looking, then flitted away when he turned toward them. They were afraid of his pure madra, and Lindon couldn't tell if it was an instinctive aversion or if they'd learned from what happened to the first." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lindon extended his perception, searching for Yerin, but he found his senses choked off. He felt as though he were adrift in the center of an endless ocean with no surface, and it was only him and these eerie, malicious spirits.\n\nHe began cycling for the Hollow Domain, but Dross stopped him.\n\n[This environment is already filled with madra denser than your own. The most you could do is weaken it fora moment, and then your Domain would collapse.]\n\nThen I'll have to try something else.\n\nSurrounded by water, Lindon switched to his Blackflame core.\n\nIt wasn't ideal, of course, but the Path of Black Flame was destruction as much as it was heat. And he had more Blackflame madra left than pure.\n\nLindon controlled finger-thin beams of dragon's breath, fully aware that Yerin might be nearby. He sliced both spirits in half.\n\nThey re-formed instantly, still grinning. Four hands extended to embrace his head, and he felt an overwhelming sense of peace. Foreign will pressed in against him, urging him to relax and allow them in. Strangely enough, the technique reminded him about Bai Rou, although the Skysworn's techniques had always felt repulsive.\n\nBut such a vague temptation had no sway over Lindon. The spirits were close, now; closer than they would have gotten if he had kept cycling pure madra.\n\nSo they had fallen for his trap.\n\nBlackflame retreated, replaced by pure madra, and his eyes turned blue.\n\nThey turned to swim away, but it was too late. An Empty Palm caught one, then the Soul Cloak propelled him after the second. He dispersed that spirit too." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And in the instant he projected the Hollow Domain, it lifted the veil the water kept over his senses. He felt Yerin.\n\nHe swam in that direction and encountered her in seconds.\n\nShe was surrounded by spirits, slicing them apart as quickly as they regenerated, but they had no physical bodies. A huge spirit-obviously the leader of the white shadows-loomed over her. Lindon had seen many strange Remnants, but this one resembled something like a soft centipede with human hands instead of legs.\n\nHe hated it on sight. Especially as it curled around Yerin and tried to entrap her.\n\nHer eyes fluttered under the psychic attack, and her movements became more sluggish. Lindon didn't know how she'd held out so long.\n\nBut she didn't have to last much longer.\n\nThe centipede's head swirled around, and Lindon saw it too was disturbingly human. It grinned a black grin.\n\nThen Lindon put his remaining soulfire into an Empty Palm and blasted the head off its shoulders.\n\nWater poured everywhere as the entire technique popped like a bubble. Half of it dissolved to essence, but the ground was flooded with real water as well. Half of it had been actual liquid controlled by aura.\n\nLindon caught Yerin one-handed as they both fell, and he landed with her in his arm. She coughed and sputtered, taking a deep breath.\n\n\"Thought... Heralds... couldn't drown,\" she choked out.\n\nLindon wanted to respond, but his attention was drawn to the battle still raging in the center of the room.\n\nEithan and the Monarch had taken it to another level.\n\nHollow Spears flashed in a flurry as stars rained from the ceiling. A gold portal opened and released another beam of concentrated red dragon's breath like the one that had targeted Ziel, but it broke on the Hollow King's Armor. An orange slash missed Eithan and broke the stone of the labyrinth as a stab from enlarged scissors did the same to the floor." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was so fast that it was hard to follow, even for Lindon, though he was sure Yerin wouldn't have a problem. But there was a dimension to the battle that only he could appreciate.\n\nEvery move from each of them was a clash of will so profound as to bend reality. While Reigan Shen used no verbal commands, each of his techniques carried enough authority to kill Eithan outright.\n\nAnd with sheer willpower, Eithan matched and stopped them.\n\nAn image appeared over Eithan, a connection to powers beyond this world. An Icon.\n\nEithan canceled it half-formed.\n\nHe peeled aside chains that Reigan Shen summoned, and another Icon began to form. Eithan denied it again.\n\nLindon asked Dross, Apologies, but am I seeing wrong?\n\n[No, I agree with your assessment. It appears he is denying an advancement to Sage.]\n\nWhy?\n\nDid Eithan know what he was doing? Maybe he was feeling a foreign influence and cutting himself off for it out of instinct.\n\nBut no, this was Eithan. The king of theory that even rival Monarchs respected. He would know what he was doing.\n\nIn which case, this must be part of his plan. Advancing to Sage had to hurt him somehow, even if that advancement would bring him advantages.\n\nBut Lindon could tell how this fight would end, if it continued as it was. Eithan may have deep madra reserves, but he was facing a Monarch.\n\nLindon needed to balance the playing field.\n\nHis head was pounding, and he found it hard to concentrate. He had pushed himself to the brink already in this fight." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He had enough experience now to understand something about how weaponizing willpower worked. He didn't have a finite amount, like madra or soulfire. Rather, it was more like physical strength, in that by using it he exhausted himself.\n\nAnd he had already used as much of his will as he ever had.\n\nBut that didn't mean he was out.\n\nHe focused on Reigan Shen and waited for the right chance. If he wanted to have the most impact, he had to maximize his timing and the connection to his Icon. Meaning he needed to leverage his Void authority to maximum effect.\n\nLindon's gaze was naturally drawn to the golden portal forming behind Reigan Shen.\n\n\"Close,\" Lindon commanded.\n\nThe portal made from the Path of the King's Key led onto avoid space, so it was the perfect thing for Lindon to affect with his authority. But at the same time, it was Reigan Shen's personal property, and perhaps might even count as apart of his power. He had authority over it by default.\n\nBut Shen was focused on Eithan.\n\nWhile the Monarch was distracted, his portal closed.\n\nA Hollow Spear caught him through the gut.\n\nHe roared in pain as his spirit was scored, and Lindon felt the impact the spiritual damage had on his madra. Reigan Shen's eyes flashed gold, and he tore open another portal behind him.\n\nLindon knew immediately that he had no chance of stopping this one from opening, but he had expected as much.\n\nSo he did the opposite, and pushed it wider. \"Open.\"\n\nThe portal opened easily this time, without the resistance that Shen had pushed through every other time inside the labyrinth. \"Greetings from Tiberian,\" the Monarch said." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Multi-colored lightning thundered out of the portal.\n\nIt carried such destructive pressure that Lindon knew it wasn't the end, but Eithan used everything he had to defend. The stars from the Hollow King's Crown flew down to resist the lightning, Hollow Spears crashed against it, and he poured soulfire into everything.\n\nThe many-colored thunderbolt crashed through one star, then another. It broke a bundle of spears, pushed through a river of pure madra, and struck against the Hollow Armor.\n\nEithan gritted his teeth and pushed. His scissors split the storm madra as the attack peeled pieces of his Hollow Armor away one chunk at a time.\n\nFinally, Eithan wavered unsteadily on his feet. Blue-white essence faded upward as his broken armor faded, but he had survived the attack.\n\nThen a hand emerged from the portal, followed by another. The hands were made from Forged madra of the same aspect as the lightning before; storm madra of many lesser aspects woven together. This multicolored lightning was so dense as to be tangible, and it even reminded Lindon of the Ninecloud Court's royal madra.\n\nA man's face pushed through, and Lindon could make out clear features of his face. This spirit was at least as dense as Little Blue or Ruby, with a similar level of existence. He looked like Eithan's older brother, with short hair and a short beard, and a deeper light crackled in his eyes.\n\nWhen he emerged, spiritual pressure pushed down on all of them. Even Reigan Shen flinched briefly at the tension in the air.\n\nThis was a Monarch without months of hunger aura eroding his spirit. A true Monarch's Remnant.\n\nAs its gaze landed on Eithan, Lindon saw a golden collar encircling the Remnant's throat. Runes on the gold blazed with power." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Eithan,\" the Remnant said, with a voice like buzzing lightning. \"You survived. I am sorry.\"\n\nPure grief was not an expression Lindon had expected from Eithan. \"Shen... was our grudge really this deep, for you to do this?\"\n\nTiberian's lightning eyes turned to Reigan Shen, and he tried to duck back into the portal.\n\n\"Kill!\" Reigan Shen commanded.\n\nThere was a clash of authority so intense that Lindon could feel it, as a weakened Monarch pitted its will against the Remnant of another. The collar flared, and he knew it would turn the competition in Shen's favor.\n\nThis was Lindon's chance.\n\nWith the last of his will, he issued the same command one final time: \"Open.\"\n\nReigan Shen's concentration was entirely focused on Tiberian's Remnant, and this time the portal around Tiberian expanded more rapidly. It pushed against the labyrinth, clashing against the authority that prevented spatial transportation until Lindon could hear the two forces groaning against one another.\n\nBut the labyrinth's rule was endless. Reigan Shen's authority was not.\n\nWith a snap, the portal's structure collapsed.\n\nThe lightning Remnant smiled faintly as he let himself fade back into the void space. Shen tried to force the space back open, but the connection between himself and his weapons was now broken. It would take time to repair.\n\nHis golden eyes blazed with rage, and though Lindon felt like he would pass out at any second, he gave a smile.\n\n\"Apologies,\" Lindon said.\n\nThe Monarch was not amused. Lindon only wished there were something they could do with this opportunity. Reigan Shen couldn't recover his power either, and now he was cutoff from his supply of weapons. This was the most mortal they could get him, and he had to be as low on madra and soulfire as they were." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But Eithan was just laughing weakly as he swayed on his feet, his armor still dissolving and scissors held in a trembling hand. His spirit felt like it would be extinguished by a passing breeze.\n\nZiel had lost consciousness at some point, and the burns across the left half of his body were still smoking. Mercy was conscious, and contained inside a cocoon of Strings of Shadow, but nothing she could do would defend her from even a casual attack of Reigan Shen's.\n\nYerin had gathered enough strength, and she rolled away from Lindon to rise upon one knee. Her arm was strong as she swung her sword up, and he was certain she could trade an attack or two with Reigan Shen. But not for long.\n\nLindon himself was down an arm, he could barely see straight after over-using his authority, and his pure core was mostly empty. His Blackflame madra was actually indecent supply, but his soulfire was completely gone.\n\nHe was out of cards.\n\nBut Dross wasn't.\n\n[I have made contact,] Dross said at last. [Beware.]\n\nThe attention of the labyrinth must have been watching them already, but now Lindon felt it focus on them. On Dross.\n\nThen it swiveled to Reigan Shen.\n\nHe casually swiped an orange Striker technique at Yerin, who struggled against it. While she was pushing back his madra, he looked up and shouted.\n\n\"You see? I can grant your wish!\" Reigan Shen roared. \"Bring me to you!\"\n\nLindon felt a moment of consideration. And then a sudden, overwhelming hunger.\n\nThe walls blurred, and then there was an opening in the center of the floor. A pit that went deep." }, { "from": "human", "value": "He remembered the impressions he'd gotten from the broken map Ozriel had left behind." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Subject One waited in a deep chamber at the center of the labyrinth.\n\nLindon didn't know if this tunnel led all the way there, but it was certainly the right direction.\n\nReigan Shen laughed and strolled over to the lip of the hole, sheathing his sword as he walked. \"Don't worry, humans. Tiberian will rest in peace.\"\n\nHe paused and looked to Eithan. \"Because I will fulfill his dream.\"\n\nThen he dropped into the abyss.\n\nThe floor immediately shifted and closed up around him, the entrance vanishing. Ozriel's workshop was now left with the sounds of failure: groans, harsh breathing, the slosh of water, and the distant hiss of madra dissolving into essence.\n\nBut Lindon didn't feel ashamed. He was filled with relief.\n\nThey had made it out alive.\n\nHe was doubly grateful he had thought to hide Orthos and Little Blue. A glancing blow from that battle would have killed them; he would have been worried about their safety even if they were only exposed to the pressure from Tiberian's Remnant.\n\n[Vermin!] Dross cried. [He flees from us like a coward, little knowing that we may bide our time and seek revenge.]\n\nYerin shot him a strange look, suggesting she'd heard him.\n\n\"Dross?\" Lindon asked aloud.\n\n[It is I, the mighty Dross! I have shed my weak former self, emerging from that chrysalis as a spirit with no rival!]\n\nEithan groaned and sat down. \"Oh no.\"\n\n\"Dross, what happened? Why did you... change?\"\n\nDross spun out into the real world, and now he wore a tiny, spiked black crown on his head. [I needed to reach beyond myself, for greater power, but I was pathetic and small. So I became a spirit of true power!]" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Co-write with the author and continue the story.\nTags: fantasy, heist, pirates\nAuthor: Scott Lynch\nTitle: Red Seas Under Red Skies\nChapter: 3" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "CHAPTER ONE\n\nLITTLE GAMES\n\nTHE GAME WAS CAROUSEL HAZARD, the stakes were roughly half of all the wealth they commanded in the entire world, and the plain truth was that Locke Lamora and Jean Tannen were getting beaten like a pair of dusty carpets.\n\n\"Last offering for the fifth hand,\" said the velvet-coated attendant from his podium on the other side of the circular table. \"Do the gentlemen choose to receive new cards?\"\n\n\"No, no-the gentlemen choose to confer,\" said Locke, leaning to his left to place his mouth close to Jean's ear. He lowered his voice to a whisper. \"What's your hand look like?\"\n\n\"A parched desert,\" Jean murmured, casually moving his right hand up to cover his mouth. \"How's yours?\"\n\n\"A wasteland of bitter frustration.\"\n\n\"Shit.\"\n\n\"Have we been neglecting our prayers this week? Did one of us fart in a temple or something?\"\n\n\"I thought the expectation of losing was all part of the plan.\"\n\n\"It is. I just expected we'd be able to put up a better fight than this.\"\n\nThe attendant coughed demurely into his left hand, the card-table equivalent of slapping Locke and Jean across the backs of their heads. Locke leaned away from Jean, tapped his cards lightly against the lacquered surface of the table, and grinned the best knew-what-he-was-doing sort of grin he could conjure from his facial arsenal. He sighed inwardly, glancing at the sizable pile of wooden markers that was about to make the short journey from the center of the table to his opponents' stacks.\n\n\"We are of course prepared,\" he said, \"to meet our fate with heroic stoicism, worthy of mention by historians and poets.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The dealer nodded. \"Ladies and gentlemen both decline last offering. House calls for final hands.\"\n\nThere was a flurry of shuffling and discarding as the four players formed their final hands and set them, facedown, on the table before them.\n\n\"Very well,\" said the attendant. \"Turn and reveal.\"\n\nThe sixty or seventy of Tal Verrar's wealthiest idlers who had crowded the room behind them to watch every turn of Locke and Jean's unfolding humiliation now leaned forward as one, eager to see how embarrassed they would be this time.\n\nTAL VERRAR, the Rose of the Gods, at the westernmost edge of what the Therin people call the civilized world.\n\nIf you could stand in thin air a thousand yards above Tal Verrar's tallest towers, or float in lazy circles there like the nations of gulls that infest the city's crevices and rooftops, you could see how its vast dark islands have given this place its ancient nickname. They seem to whirl outward from the city's heart, a series of crescents steadily increasing in size, like the stylized petals of arose in an artist's mosaic.\n\nThey are not natural, in the sense that the mainland looming a few miles to the northeast is natural. The mainland cracks before wind and weather, showing its age. The islands of Tal Verrar are unweathered, possibly unweatherable-they are the black glass of the Eldren, unimaginable quantities of it, endlessly tiered and shot through with passages, glazed with layers of stone and dirt from which a city of men and women springs.\n\nThis Rose of the Gods is surrounded by an artificial reef, a broken circle three miles in diameter, shadows under shadowed waves. Against this hidden wall the restless Sea of Brass is gentled for the passage of vessels flying the banners of a hundred kingdoms and dominions. Their masts and yards rise in a forest, white with furled sails, far beneath your feet." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "If you could turn your eye to the city's western island, you would see that its interior surfaces are sheer black walls, plunging hundreds of feet to the softly lapping harbor waves, where a network of wooden docks clings to the base of the cliffs. The seaward side of the island, however, is tiered along its entire length. Six wide, flat ledges sit one atop the other with smooth fifty-foot escarpments backing all but the highest.\n\nThe southernmost district of this island is called the Golden Steps-its six levels are thick with alehouses, dicing dens, private clubs, brothels, and fighting pits. The Golden Steps are heralded as the gambling capital of the Therin city-states, a place where men and women may lose money on anything from the mildest vices to the wickedest felonies. The authorities of Tal Verrar, in a magnanimous gesture of hospitality, have decreed that no foreigner upon the Golden Steps maybe impressed into slavery. As a result, there are few places west of Camorr where it is safer for strangers to drink their brains out and fall asleep in the gutters and gardens.\n\nThere is rigid stratification on the Golden Steps; with each successively higher tier, the quality of the establishments rises, as do the size, number, and vehemence of the guards at the doors. Crowning the Golden Steps area dozen baroque mansions of old stone and witchwood, embedded in the wet green luxury of manicured gardens and miniature forests.\n\nThese are the'chance houses of quality\"-exclusive clubs where men and women of funds may gamble in the style to which their letters of credit entitle them. These houses have been informal centers of power for centuries, where nobles, bureaucrats, merchants, ships' captains, legates, and spies gather to wager fortunes, both personal and political." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Every possible amenity is contained within these houses. Notable visitors board carriage-boxes at exclusive docks at the base of the inner harbor cliffs, and are hauled up by gleaming brass water engines, thereby avoiding the narrow, twisting, crowd-choked ramps leading up the five lower Stepson their seaward face. There is even a public dueling green-abroad expanse of well-kept grass lying dead-center on the top tier, so that cooler heads need not be given any chance to prevail when someone has their blood up.\n\nThe houses of quality are sacrosanct. Custom older and firmer than law forbids soldiers or constables to set foot within them, save for response to the most heinous crimes. They are the envy of a continent: no foreign club, however luxurious or exclusive, can quite recapture the particular atmosphere of a genuine Verrari chance house. And they are, one and all, put to shame by the Sinspire.\n\nNearly one hundred and fifty feet tall, the Sinspire juts skyward at the southern end of the topmost tier of the Steps, which is itself more than two hundred and fifty feet above the harbor. The Sinspire is an Elderglass tower, glimmering with a pearly black sheen. A wide balcony decked with alchemical lanterns circles each of its nine levels. At night, the Sinspire is a constellation of lights in scarlet and twilight-sky blue, the heraldic colors of Tal Verrar.\n\nThe Sinspire is the most exclusive, most notorious, and most heavily guarded chance house in the world, open from sunset to sunrise for those powerful, wealthy, or beautiful enough to make it past the whims of the doorkeepers. Each ascending floor outdoes the one beneath it for luxury, exclusivity, and the risk ceiling of the games allowed. Access to each higher floor must be earned with good credit, amusing behavior, and impeccable play. Some aspirants spend years of their lives and thousands of solari trying to catch the attention of the Sinspire's master, whose ruthless hold on his unique position has made him the most powerful arbiter of social favor in the city's history." }, { "from": "human", "value": "The code of conduct at the Sinspire is unwritten, but as rigid as that of a religious cult." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Most simply, most incontrovertibly, it is death to be caught cheating here. Were the archon of Tal Verrar himself to be detected with a card up his sleeve, he would find no appeal this side of the gods themselves from the consequences. Every few months, the tower's attendants discover some would-be exception to the rule, and yet another person dies quietly of an alchemical overdose in their carriage, or tragically'slips\" from the balcony nine stories above the hard, flat stones of the Sinspire's courtyard.\n\nIt has taken Locke Lamora and Jean Tannen two years and a completely new set of false identities to carefully cheat their way up to the fifth floor.\n\nThey are, in fact, cheating at this very moment, trying hard to keep up with opponents who have no need to do likewise.\n\n\"LADIES SHOW a run of Spires and a run of Sabers, crowned with the Sigil of the Sun,\" said the attendant. \"Gentlemen show a run of Chalices and a mixed hand, crowned with the five of Chalices. Fifth hand is to the ladies.\"\n\nLocke bit the inside of his cheek as a wave of applause rippled through the warm air of the room. The ladies had taken four of the five hands so far, and the crowd had barely deigned to notice Locke and Jean's sole victory.\n\n\"Well, damn,\" said Jean, incredible mock surprise.\n\nLocke turned to the opponent on his right. Maracosa Durenna was a slender, dark-complexioned woman in her late thirties, with thick hair the color of oil smoke and several visible scars on her neck and forearms. In her right hand she held a thin black cigar wrapped with gold thread, and on her face she wore a tight smile of detached contentment. The game was clearly not demanding her utmost exertion." }, { "from": "human", "value": "The attendant flicked Locke and Jean's little pile of lost wooden counters toward the ladies\" side of the table with along-handled crop." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He then used the same crop to sweep all the cards back into his hands; it was strictly forbidden for players to touch the cards after the attendant had called for the reveal.\n\n\"Well, Madam Durenna,\" said Locke, \"my congratulations on the increasingly robust state of your finances. Your purse would seem to be the only thing growing faster than my impending hangover.\" Locke knuckle-walked one of his markers over the fingers of his right hand. The little wooden disk was worth five solari, roughly eight months' pay fora common laborer.\n\n\"My condolences on a particularly unfortunate run of cards, Master Kosta.\" Madam Durenna took along drag from her cigar, then slowly exhaled a stream of smoke so that it hung in the air between Locke and Jean, just far enough away to avoid direct insult. Locke had come to recognize that she used the cigar smoke as her strat péti, her'little game\"-an ostensibly civilized mannerism actually cultivated to distract or annoy opponents at a gaming table, and goad them into mistakes. Jean had planned to use his own cigars for the same purpose, but Durenna's aim was better.\n\n\"No run of cards could be considered truly unfortunate in the presence of such a lovely pair of opponents,\" said Locke.\n\n\"I could almost admire a man who can stay so charmingly dishonest while being bled of all his silver,\" said Durenna's partner, who was seated on Durenna's right, between her and the dealer.\n\nIzmila Corvaleur was nearly of a size with Jean, wide and florid, prodigiously rounded in everyplace a woman could be round. She was undeniably attractive, but the intelligence that shone out of her eyes was sharp and contemptuous. In her Locke recognized a contained pugnacity akin to that of a street brawler-a honed appetite for hard contests. Corvaleur nibbled constantly from a silver-gilded box of cherries coated in powdered chocolate, sucking her fingers loudly after each one. Her own strat péti, of course." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She was purpose-built for Carousel Hazard, thought Locke. A mind for the cards and a frame capable of withstanding the game's unique punishment for losing a hand.\n\n\"Default,\" said the attendant. Within his podium, he tripped the mechanism that set the carousel spinning. This device, in the center of the table, was a set of circular brass frames that held row upon row of tiny glass vials, each one capped in silver. It whirled under the soft lantern light of the gaming parlor, until it became continuous streaks of silver within brass, and then-a clinking sound of mechanisms beneath the table, the rattle of many tiny vessels of thick glass colliding with one another, and the carousel spat out two of its vials. They rolled toward Locke and Jean and clattered against the slightly upraised outer rim of the table.\n\nCarousel Hazard was a game for two teams of two; an expensive game, for the clockwork carousel mechanism came very dear. At the end of each hand, the losing team was randomly dispensed two vials from the carousel's great store of little bottles; these held liquor, mixed with sweet oils and fruit juice to disguise the potency of any given drink. The cards were only one aspect of the game. Players also had to maintain concentration under the increasing effects of the devilish little vials. The only way a game could end was fora player to become too drunk to keep playing.\n\nTheoretically, the game could not be cheated. The Sinspire maintained the mechanism and prepared the vials; the little silver caps were fastened tight over wax seals. Players were not permitted to touch the carousel, or another player's vials, on pain of immediate default. Even the chocolates and cigars being consumed by the players had to be provided by the house. Locke and Jean could even have refused to allow Madam Corvaleur the luxury of her sweets, but that would have been a bad idea for several reasons." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Well,\" said Jean as he cracked the seal on his tiny libation, \"here's to charming losers, I suppose.\"\n\n\"If only we knew whereto find some,\" said Locke, and in unison they tossed back their drinks. Locke's left a warm, plum-flavored trail down his throat-it was one of the potent ones. He sighed and set the empty vial down before him. Four vials to one, and the way his concentration seemed to be unraveling at the edges meant that he was beginning to feel it.\n\nAs the attendant sorted and shuffled the cards for the next hand, Madam Durenna took another long, satisfied draw on her cigar and flicked the ashes into a solid-gold pot set on a pedestal behind her right hand. She exhaled two lazy streams of smoke through her nose and stared at the carousel from behind a gray veil. Durenna was a natural ambush predator, Locke thought, always most comfortable behind some camouflage. His information said that she was only recently arrived in the life of a city-bound merchant speculator. Her previous profession had been the command of bounty-privateers, hunting and sinking the slaver ships of Jerem on the high seas. She hadn't acquired those scars drinking tea in anyone's parlor.\n\nIt would be very, very unfortunate if a womanlike her were to realize that Locke and Jean were counting on what Locke liked to call'discreetly unorthodox methods\" to win the game-hell, it would be preferable to simply lose the old-fashioned way, or to be caught cheating by the Sinspire attendants. They, at least, would probably be quick and efficient executioners. They had a very busy establishment to run.\n\n\"Hold the cards,\" said Madam Corvaleur to the attendant, interrupting Locke's musings. \"Mara, the gentlemen have indeed had several hands of unfortunate luck. Might we not allow them a recess?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Locke concealed his instant excitement; the pair of Carousel Hazard partners that held the lead could offer their opponents a short break from the game, but the courtesy was rarely extended, for the obvious reason that it allowed the losers precious time to shake the effects of their liquor. Was Corvaleur trying to cover for some distress of her own?\n\n\"The gentlemen have seen a great deal of strenuous effort on our behalf, counting all those markers and pushing them over to us again and again.\" Durenna drew smoke, expelled it. \"You would honor us, gentlemen, if you would consent to a short pause to refresh and recover yourselves.\"\n\nAh. Locke smiled and folded his hands on the table before him. So that was the game-play to the crowd and showoff how little regard the ladies truly had for their opponents, how inevitable they considered their own victory. This was etiquette fencing, and Durenna had performed the equivalent of a lunge for the throat. Outright refusal would be terrible form; Locke and Jean's parry would have to be delicate.\n\n\"How could anything be more refreshing,\" said Jean, \"than to continue our game against such an excellent partnership?\"\n\n\"You're too kind, Master de Ferra,\" said Madam Durenna. \"But would you have it said that we were heartless? You've refused us neither of our comforts.\" She used her cigar to gesture at Madam Corvaleur's sweets. \"Would you refuse us our desire to give a comfort in exchange?\"\n\n\"We would refuse you nothing, madam, and yet we would beg leave to answer your greater desire, for which you've troubled yourselves to come here tonight-the desire to play.\"\n\n\"There are many hands yet before us,\" added Locke, \"and it would wound Jerome and myself to inconvenience the ladies in anyway.\" He made eye contact with the dealer as he spoke." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You have thus far presented no inconvenience,\" said Madam Corvaleur sweetly.\n\nLocke was uncomfortably aware that the attention of the crowd was indeed hanging on this exchange. He and Jean had challenged the two women widely regarded as the best Carousel Hazard players in Tal Verrar, and a substantial audience had packed all the other tables on the fifth floor of the Sinspire. Those tables should have been hosting games of their own, but by some unspoken understanding between the house and its patrons, other action in the parlor had ceased for the duration of the slaughter.\n\n\"Very well,\" said Durenna. \"We've no objection to continuing, for our sakes. Perhaps your luck may even turn.\"\n\nLocke's relief that she had abandoned her conversational ploy was faint; she did, after all, have every expectation of continuing to thrash money out of him and Jean, like a cook might beat weevils from a bag of flour.\n\n\"Sixth hand,\" said the attendant. \"Initial wager will be ten solari.\" As each player pushed forward two wooden coins, the attendant tossed three cards down in front of them.\n\nMadam Corvaleur finished another chocolate-dusted cherry and sucked the sweet residue from her fingers. Before touching his cards, Jean slid the fingers of his left hand briefly under the lapel of his coat and moved them, as though scratching an itch. After a few seconds, Locke did the same. Locke caught Madam Durenna watching them, and saw her roll her eyes. Signals between players were perfectly acceptable, but a bit more subtlety was preferred.\n\nDurenna, Locke, and Jean peeked at their cards almost simultaneously; Corvaleur was a moment behind them, with her fingers still wet. She laughed quietly. Genuine good fortune or strat péti? Durenna looked eminently satisfied, but Locke had no doubt she maintained that precise expression even in her sleep. Jean's face revealed nothing, and Locke for his part tried on a thin smirk, although his three opening cards were pure trash." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Across the room, a curving set of brass-railed stairs, with a large attendant guarding their foot, led up toward the sixth floor, briefly expanding into a sort of gallery on the way. A flicker of movement from this gallery caught Locke's attention; half concealed in shadow was a slight, well-dressed figure. The warm golden light of the room's lanterns was reflected in a pair of optics, and Locke felt a shivery thrill of excitement along his spine.\n\nCould it be? Locke tried to keep one eye on the shadowy figure while pretending to fixate on his cards. The glare on those optics didn't waver or shift-the man was staring at their table, all right.\n\nAt last, he and Jean had attracted (or stumbled into, and by the gods they'd take that bit of luck) the attention of the man who kept his offices on the ninth floor-master of the Sinspire, clandestine ruler of all Tal Verrar's thieves, a man with an iron grip on the worlds of larceny and luxury both. In Camorr they would have called him capa, but here he affected no title save his own name.\n\nRequin.\n\nLocke cleared his throat, turned his eyes back to the table, and prepared to lose another hand with grace. Out on the dark water, the soft echo of ships' bells could be heard, ringing the tenth hour of the evening.\n\n\"EIGHTEENTH HAND,\" said the dealer. \"Initial wager will be ten solari.\" Locke had to push aside the eleven little vials before him, with a visibly shaking hand, to slide his buy-in forward. Madam Durenna, steady as a dry-docked ship, was working on her fourth cigar of the night. Madam Corvaleur seemed to be wavering in her seat; was she perhaps more red-cheeked than usual? Locke tried not to stare too intently as she placed her initial wager; perhaps the waver came solely from his own impending inebriation. It was nearing midnight, and the smoke-laced air of the stuffy room scratched at Locke's eyes and throat like wool." }, { "from": "human", "value": "The dealer, emotionless and alert as ever-he seemed to have more clockwork in him than the carousel did-flicked three cards to the tabletop before Locke." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Locke ran his fingers under his coat lapel, then peeked at his cards and said'Ahhhh-ha,\" with atone of interested pleasure. They were an astonishing constellation of crap; his worst hand yet. Locke blinked and squinted, wondering if the alcohol was somehow masking a set of decent cards, but alas-when he concentrated again, they were still worthless.\n\nThe ladies had been forced to drink last, but unless Jean concealed a major miracle on the tabletop to Locke's left, it was a good bet that another little vial would soon be rolling merrily across the table toward Locke's wobbling hand.\n\nEighteen hands, thought Locke, to lose nine hundred and eighty solari thus far. His mind, well wet by the Sinspire's liquor, wandered off on its own calculations. A year of fine new clothes fora man of high station. A small ship. Avery large house. The complete lifetime earnings of an honest artisan, like a stonemason. Had he ever pretended to be a stonemason?\n\n\"First options,\" said the dealer, snapping him back to the game.\n\n\"Card,\" said Jean. The attendant slid one to him; Jean peeked at it, nodded, and slid another wooden chit toward the center of the table. \"Bid up.\"\n\n\"Hold fast,\" said Madam Durenna. She moved two wooden chits forward from her substantial pile. \"Partner reveal.\" She showed two cards from her hand to Madam Corvaleur, who was unable to contain a smile.\n\n\"Card,\" said Locke. The attendant passed him one, and he turned up an edge just far enough to see what it was. The two of Chalices, worth precisely one wet shit from a sick dog in this situation. He forced himself to smile. \"Bid up,\" he said, sliding two markers forward. \"I'm feeling blessed.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "All eyes turned expectantly to Madam Corvaleur, who plucked a chocolate-dusted cherry from her dwindling supply, popped it into her mouth, and then rapidly sucked her fingers clean. \"Oh-ho,\" she said, staring down at her cards and drumming one set of sticky fingers gently on the table. \"Oh... ho... oh... Mara, this is... the oddest...\"\n\nAnd then she slumped forward, settling her head onto her large pile of wooden markers on the tabletop. Her cards fluttered down, faceup, and she slapped at them, without coordination, trying to cover them up.\n\n\"Izmila,\" said Madam Durenna, a note of urgency in her voice. \"Izmila!\" She reached over and shook her partner by her heavy shoulders.\n\n\"'Zmila,\" Madam Corvaleur agreed in a sleepy, blubbering voice. Her mouth lolled open and she drooled remnants of chocolate and cherry onto her five-solari chits. \"Mmmmmmilllaaaaaaaaa. Verrry... odd... oddest...\"\n\n\"Play sits with Madam Corvaleur.\" The dealer couldn't keep his surprise out of his voice. \"Madam Corvaleur must state a preference.\"\n\n\"Izmila! Concentrate!\" Madam Durenna spoke in an urgent whisper.\n\n\"There are... cards...,\" mumbled Corvaleur. \"Lookout, Mara.... Soooo... many... cards. On table.\"\n\nShe followed that up with, \"Blemble... na... fla... gah.\"\n\nAnd then she was out cold.\n\n\"Final default,\" said the dealer after a few seconds. With his crop, he swept all of Madam Durenna's markers away from her, counting rapidly. Locke and Jean would take everything on the table. The looming threat of a thousand-solari loss had just become again of equal magnitude, and Locke sighed with relief." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The dealer considered the spectacle of Madam Corvaleur using her wooden markers as a pillow, and he coughed into his hand.\n\n\"Gentlemen,\" he said, \"the house will, ah, provide new chits of the appropriate value in place of... those still in use.\"\n\n\"Of course,\" said Jean, gently patting the little mountain of Durenna's markers suddenly piled up before him. In the crowd behind them, Locke could hear noises of bewilderment, consternation, and surprise. Alight ripple of applause was eventually coaxed into existence by some of the more generous observers, but it died quickly. They were faintly embarrassed, rather than exhilarated, to see a notable like Madam Corvaleur inebriated by a mere six drinks.\n\n\"Hmmmph,\" said Madam Durenna, stubbing out her cigar in the gold pot and rising to her feet. She made a show of straightening her jacket-black brocaded velvet decorated with platinum buttons and cloth-of-silver, worth a good fraction of everything she'd bet that night. \"Master Kosta, Master de Ferra... it appears we must admit to being outmatched.\"\n\n\"But certainly not outplayed,\" said Locke, summoning up a snake-charming smile along with the pulverized remnants of his wits. \"You very nearly had us... um, sewn up.\"\n\n\"And the whole world is wobbling around me,\" said Jean, whose hands were as steady as a jeweler's, and had been throughout the entire game.\n\n\"Gentlemen, I have appreciated your stimulating company,\" said Madam Durenna in atone of voice that indicated she hadn't. \"Another game later this week, perhaps? Surely you must allow us a chance at revenge, for honor's sake.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Nothing would please us more,\" said Jean, to which Locke nodded enthusiastically, making the contents of his skull ache. At that, Madam Durenna coldly held out her hand and consented for the two of them to kiss the air above it. When they had done so, as though making obeisance to a particularly irritable snake, four of Requin's attendants appeared to help move the snoring Madam Corvaleur somewhere more decorous.\n\n\"Gods, it must be tedious, watching us try to drink one another under the table night after night,\" said Jean. He flipped the dealer a five-solari chit; it was customary to leave a small gratuity for the attendant.\n\n\"I don't believe so, sir. How would you like your change?\"\n\n\"What change?\" Jean smiled. \"Keep the whole thing.\"\n\nThe attendant betrayed human emotions for the second time that night; relatively well-off as he was, one little wooden chit was half his annual salary. He stifled a gasp when Locke threw him another dozen.\n\n\"Fortune is a lady who likes to be passed around,\" said Locke. \"Buy a house, maybe. I'm having a little trouble counting at the moment.\"\n\n\"Sweet gods-many thanks, gentlemen!\" The attendant took a quick glance around, and then spoke under his breath. \"Those two ladies don't lose very often, you know. In fact, this is the first time I can remember.\"\n\n\"Victory has its price,\" said Locke. \"I suspect my head will be paying it when I wake up tomorrow.\"\n\nMadam Corvaleur was hauled carefully down the stairs, with Madam Durenna following to keep a close eye on the men carrying her card partner. The crowd dispersed; those observers who remained at their tables called for attendants, food, new decks of cards for games of their own." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Locke and Jean gathered their markers (fresh ones, sans slobber, were swiftly provided by the attendants to replace Madam Corvaleur's) in the customary velvet-lined wooden boxes and made their way to the stairs.\n\n\"Congratulations, gentlemen,\" said the attendant guarding the way up to the sixth floor. The tinkle of glass on glass and the murmur of conversation could be heard filtering down from above.\n\n\"Thank you,\" said Locke. \"I'm afraid that something in Madam Corvaleur gave way just a hand or two before I might have done the same.\"\n\nHe and Jean slowly made their way down the stairs that curved all the way around the inside of the Sinspire's exterior wall. They were dressed as men of credit and consequence in the current height of Verrari summer fashion. Locke (whose hair had been alchemically shifted to a sunny shade of blond) wore a caramel-brown coat with a cinched waist and flaring knee-length tails; his huge triple-layered cuffs were paneled in orange and black and decorated with gold buttons. He wore no waistcoat; just a sweat-soaked tunic of the finest silk, under a loose black neck-cloth. Jean was dressed similarly, though his coat was the grayish blue of a sea under clouds, and his belly was cinched up with a wide black sash, the same color as the short, curly hairs of his beard.\n\nDown past floors of notables they went... past queens of Verrari commerce with their decorative young companions of both sexes on their arms like pets. Past men and women with purchased Lashani titles, staring across cards and wine decanters at lesser dons and doñas from Camorr; past Vadran shipmasters in tight black coats, with sea tans like masks over their sharp, pale features. Locke recognized at least two members of the Priori, the merchant council that theoretically ruled Tal Verrar. Deep pockets seemed to be the primary qualification for membership." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dice fell and glasses clinked; celebrants laughed and coughed and cursed and sighed. Currents of smoke moved languidly in the warm air, carrying scents of perfume and wine, sweat and roast meats, and here and there the resiny hint of alchemical drugs.\n\nLocke had seen genuine palaces and mansions before; the Sinspire, opulent as it was, was not so very much more handsome than the homes many of these people would be returning to when they finally ran out of night to play in. The real magic of the Sinspire was woven from its capricious exclusivity; deny something to enough people and sooner or later it will grow a mystique as thick as fog.\n\nNearly hidden at the rear of the first floor was a heavy wooden booth manned by several unusually large attendants. Luckily, there was no line. Locke set his box down on the countertop beneath the booth's only window, a bit too forcefully.\n\n\"All to my account.\"\n\n\"My pleasure, Master Kosta,\" said the chief attendant as he took the box. Leocanto Kosta, merchant speculator of Talisham, was well known in this kingdom of wine fumes and wagers. The attendant swiftly changed Locke's pile of wooden chits into a few marks on a ledger. In beating Durenna and Corvaleur, even minus his tip to the dealer, Locke's cut of the winnings came to nearly five hundred solari.\n\n\"I understand that congratulations are in order to the both of you, Master de Ferra,\" said the attendant as Locke stepped back to let Jean approach the counter with his own box. Jerome de Ferra, also of Talisham, was Leocanto's boon companion. They were a pair of fictional peas in a pod." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Suddenly, Locke felt a hand fall onto his left shoulder." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He turned warily and found himself facing a woman with curly dark hair, richly dressed in the same colors as the Sinspire attendants. One side of her face was sublimely beautiful-the other side was a leathery brown half-mask, wrinkled, as though it had been badly burned. When she smiled, the damaged side of her lips failed to move. It seemed to Locke as though a living woman was somehow struggling to emerge from within a rough clay sculpture.\n\nSelendri, Requin's majordomo.\n\nThe hand that she had placed on his shoulder (her left, on the burned side) wasn't real. It was a solid brass simulacrum, and it gleamed dully in the lantern light as she withdrew it.\n\n\"The house congratulates you,\" she said in her eerie, lisping voice, \"for good manners as well as considerable fortitude, and wishes you and Master de Ferra to know that you would both be welcome on the sixth floor, should you choose to exercise the privilege.\"\n\nLocke's smile was quite genuine. \"Many thanks, on behalf of myself and my partner,\" he said with tipsy glibness. \"The kind regard of the house is, of course, extremely flattering.\"\n\nShe nodded noncommittally, then slipped away into the crowd as quickly as she'd come. Eyebrows went up appreciatively here and there-few of Requin's guests, to Locke's knowledge, were apprised of their increasing social status by Selendri herself.\n\n\"We're a commodity in demand, my dear Jerome,\" he said as they made their way through the crowd toward the front doors.\n\n\"For the time being,\" said Jean.\n\n\"Master de Ferra,\" beamed the head doorman as they approached, \"and Master Kosta. May I call fora carriage?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No need, thanks,\" said Locke. \"I'll fall over sideways if I don't flush my head with some night air. We'll walk.\"\n\n\"Very good then, sir.\"\n\nWith military precision, four attendants held the doors open for Locke and Jean to pass. The two thieves stepped carefully down a wide set of stone steps covered with a red velvet carpet. That carpet was thrown out and replaced each night. As a result, in Tal Verrar alone could one find armies of beggars routinely sleeping on piles of red velvet scraps.\n\nThe view was breathtaking; to their right, the whole crescent sweep of the island was visible beyond the silhouettes of other chance houses. There was relative darkness in the north, in contrast to the auralike glow of the Golden Steps. Beyond the city-to the south, west, and north-the Sea of Brass gleamed phosphorescent silver, lit by three moons in a cloudless sky. Here and there the sails of distant ships reached up from the quicksilver tableau, ghostly pale.\n\nLocke could gaze downward to his left and see across the staggered rooftops of the island's five lower tiers, a vertigo-inducing view despite the solidity of the stones beneath his feet. All around him was the murmur of human pleasure and the clatter of horse-drawn carriages on cobbles; there were at least a dozen moving or waiting along the straight avenue atop the sixth tier. Above, the Sinspire reared up into the opalescent darkness with its alchemical lanterns bright, like a candle meant to draw the attentions of the gods.\n\n\"And now, my dear professional pessimist,\" said Locke as they stepped away from the Sinspire and acquired relative privacy, \"my worry-merchant, my tireless font of doubt and derision... what do you have to say to that?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Oh, very little, to be sure, Master Kosta. It's so hard to think, overawed as I am with the sublime genius of your plan.\"\n\n\"That bears some vague resemblance to sarcasm.\"\n\n\"Gods forfend,\" said Jean. \"You wound me! Your inexpressible criminal virtues have triumphed again, as inevitably as the tides come and go. I cast myself at your feet and beg for absolution. Yours is the genius that nourishes the heart of the world.\"\n\n\"And now you're-\"\n\n\"If only there was a leper handy,\" interrupted Jean, \"so you could lay your hands on and magically heal him.\"\n\n\"Oh, you're just farting out your mouth because you're jealous.\"\n\n\"It's possible,\" said Jean. \"Actually, we are substantially enriched, not caught, not dead, more famous, and welcome on the next floor up. I must admit that I was wrong to call it a silly scheme.\"\n\n\"Really? Huh.\" Locke reached under his coat lapels as he spoke. \"Because I have to admit, it was a silly scheme. Damned irresponsible. One drink more and I would have been finished. I'm actually pretty bloody surprised we pulled it off.\"\n\nHe fumbled beneath his coat fora second or two, then pulled out a little pad of wool about as wide and long as his thumb. A puff of dust was shaken from the wool when Locke slipped it into one of his outer pockets, and he wiped his hands vigorously on his sleeves as they walked along.\n\n\"Nearly lost is just another way to say finally won,\" said Jean.\n\n\"Nonetheless, the liquor almost did me in. Next time I'm that optimistic about my own capacity, correct me with a hatchet to the skull.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I'll be glad to correct you with two.\"\n\nIt was Madam Izmila Corvaleur who'd made the scheme possible. Madam Corvaleur, who'd first crossed paths with'Leocanto Kosta\" at a gaming table a few weeks earlier, who had the reliable habit of eating with her fingers to annoy her opponents while she played cards.\n\nCarousel Hazard really couldn't be cheated by any traditional means. None of Requin's attendants would stack a deck, not once in a hundred years, not even in exchange fora dukedom. Nor could any player alter the carousel, select one vial in favor of another, or serve a vial to anyone else. With all the usual means of introducing a foreign substance to another player guarded against, the only remaining possibility was fora player to do herself in by slowly, willingly taking in something subtle and unorthodox. Something delivered by a means beyond the ken of even a healthy paranoia.\n\nLike a narcotic powder, dusted on the playing cards in minute quantities by Locke and Jean, then gradually passed around the table to a woman continually licking her fingers as she played.\n\nBela paranella was a colorless, tasteless alchemical powder also known as'the night friend.\" It was popular with rich people of a nervous disposition, who took it to ease themselves into deep, restful slumber. When mixed with alcohol, bela paranella was rapidly effective in tiny quantities; the two substances were as complementary as fire and dry parchment. It would have been widely used for criminal purposes, if not for the fact that it sold for twenty times its own weight in white iron.\n\n\"Gods, that woman had the constitution of a war galley,\" said Locke. \"She must have started getting some of the powder by the third or fourth hand... probably could've killed a pair of wild boars in heat with less.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"At least we got what we wanted,\" said Jean, removing his own powder reservoir from his coat. He considered it fora moment, shrugged, and slipped it in a pocket.\n\n\"We did indeed... and I saw him!\" said Locke. \"Requin. He was on the stairs, watching us for most of the hands in the middle game. We must have excited a personal interest.\" The exciting ramifications of this helped clear some of the haze from Locke's thoughts. \"Why else send Selendri herself to pat our backs?\"\n\n\"Well, assume you're correct. So what now? Do you want to push on with it, like you mentioned, or do you want to take it slow? Maybe gamble around on the fifth and sixth floors fora few more weeks?\"\n\n\"A few more weeks? To hell with that. We've been kicking around this gods-damned city for two years now; if we've finally cracked Requin's shell, I say we bloody well go for it.\"\n\n\"You're going to suggest tomorrow night, aren't you?\"\n\n\"His curiosity's piqued. Let's strike while the blade is fresh from the forge.\"\n\n\"I suspect that drink has made you impulsive.\"\n\n\"Drink makes me see funny; the gods made me impulsive.\"\n\n\"You there,\" came a voice from the street in front of them. \"Hold it!\"\n\nLocke tensed. \"I beg your pardon?\"\n\nA young, harried-looking Verrari man with long black hair was holding his hands out, palms facing toward Locke and Jean. A small, well-dressed crowd seemed to have gathered beside him, at the edge of a trim lawn that Locke recognized as the dueling green.\n\n\"Hold it, sirs, I beg of you,\" said the young man. \"I'm afraid it's an affair, and there maybe a bolt flying past. Might I beg of you to wait but a moment?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Oh. Oh.\" Locke and Jean relaxed simultaneously. If someone was dueling with crossbows, it was common courtesy as well as good sense to wait beside the dueling ground until the shots were taken. That way, neither participant would be distracted by movement in the background, or accidentally bury a bolt in a passerby.\n\nThe dueling green was about forty yards long and half as wide, lit at each of its four corners by a soft white lantern hanging in a black iron frame. Two duelists stood in the center of the green with their seconds, each man casting four pale gray shadows in a crisscross pattern. Locke had little personal inclination to watch, but he reminded himself that he was supposed to be Leocanto Kosta, a man of worldly indifference to strangers punching holes in one another. He and Jean squeezed into the crowd of spectators as unobtrusively as possible; a similar crowd had formed on the other side of the green.\n\nOne of the duelists was a very young man, dressed in fine loose gentleman's clothing of a fashionable cut; he wore optics, and his hair hung to his shoulders in well-tended ringlets.\n\nHis red-jacketed opponent was a great deal older, a bit hunched over and weathered. He looked active and determined enough to pose a threat, however. Each man held a lightweight crossbow-what Camorri thieves would call an alley-piece.\n\n\"Gentlemen,\" said the younger duelist's second. \"Please. Can there be no accommodation?\"\n\n\"If the Lashani gentleman will withdraw his imprecation,\" added the younger duelist. His voice was high and nervous. \"I would be eminently satisfied, with the merest recognition-\"\n\n\"No, there cannot,\" said the man standing beside the older duelist. \"His Lordship is not in the habit of tendering apologies for mere statements of obvious fact.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"... with the merest recognition,\" continued the young duelist, desperately, \"that the incident was an unfortunate misunderstanding, and that it need not-\"\n\n\"Were he to condescend to speak to you again,\" said the older duelist's second, \"his Lordship would no doubt also note that you wail like a bitch, and would inquire as to whether you're equally capable of biting like one.\"\n\nThe younger duelist stood speechless fora few seconds, then gestured rudely toward the older men with his freehand.\n\n\"I am forced,\" said his second, \"I am, ah, forced... to allow that there maybe no accommodation. Let the gentlemen stand... back-to-back.\"\n\nThe two opponents walked toward each other-the older man marched with vigor while the younger still stepped hesitantly-and turned their backs to each other.\n\n\"You shall have ten paces,\" said the younger man's second, with bitter resignation. \"Wait then, and on my signal, you may turn and loose.\"\n\nSlowly he counted out the steps; slowly the two opponents walked away from each other. The younger man was shaking very badly indeed. Locke felt a ball of unaccustomed tension growing in his own stomach. Since when had he become such a damned softhearted fellow? Just because he preferred not to watch didn't mean he should be afraid to do so... yet the feeling in his stomach paid no heed to the thoughts in his head.\n\n\"... nine... ten. Stand fast,\" said the young duelist's second. \"Stand fast.... Turn and loose!\"\n\nThe younger man whirled first, his face a mask of terror; he threw out his right hand and let fly. A sharp twang sounded across the green. His opponent didn't even jerk back as the bolt hissed through the air beside his head, missing by at least the width of a hand." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The red-jacketed old man completed his own turn more slowly, his eyes bright and his mouth set into a scowl. His younger opponent stared at him for several seconds, as though trying to will his bolt to come flying back like a trained bird. He shuddered, lowered his crossbow, and then threw it down to the grass. With his hands on his hips, he stood waiting, breathing in deep and noisy gulps.\n\nHis opponent regarded him briefly, then snorted. \"Be fucked,\" he said, and he raised his crossbow in both hands. His shot was perfect; there was a wet crack and the younger duelist toppled with a feathered bolt dead in the center of his chest. He fell onto his back, clawing at his coat and tunic, spitting up dark blood. Half a dozen spectators rushed toward him, while one young woman in a silver evening gown fell to her knees and screamed.\n\n\"We'll get back just in time for dinner,\" said the older duelist to nobody in particular. He tossed his own crossbow carelessly to the ground behind him and stomped off toward one of the nearby chance houses, with his second at his side.\n\n\"Sweet fucking Perelandro,\" said Locke, forgetting Leocanto Kosta fora moment and thinking out loud. \"What away to manage things.\"\n\n\"You don't approve, sir?\" A lovely young woman in a black silk dress regarded Locke with disconcertingly penetrating eyes. She couldn't have been more than eighteen or nineteen. \"I understand that some differences of opinion need to be settled with steel,\" said Jean, butting in, appearing to recognize that Locke was still a bit too tipsy for his own good. \"But standing before a crossbow bolt seems foolish. Blades strike meas a more honest test of skill.\"\n\n\"Rapiers are tedious; all that back and forth, and rarely a killing strike right away,\" said the young woman. \"Bolts are fast, clean, and merciful. You can hack at someone all night with a rapier and fail to kill them.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I am quite compelled to agree with you,\" muttered Locke.\n\nThe woman raised an eyebrow but said nothing; a moment later she was gone, vanishing into the dispersing crowd.\n\nThe contented murmur of the night-the laughter and chatter of the small clusters of men and women making time beneath the stars-had died briefly while the duel took place, but now it rose up once again. The woman in the silver dress beat her fists against the grass, sobbing, while the crowd around the fallen duelist seemed to sag in unison. The bolt's work was clearly done.\n\n\"Fast, clean, and merciful,\" said Locke softly. \"Idiots.\"\n\nJean sighed. \"Neither of us has any right to offer that sort of observation, since \"gods-damned idiots\" is likely to be inscribed on our grave-markers.\"\n\n\"I've had reasons for doing what I've done, and so did you.\"\n\n\"I'm sure those duelists felt the same way.\"\n\n\"Let's get the hell out of here,\" said Locke. \"Let's walk off the fumes in my head and get back to the inn. Gods, I feel old and sour. I see things like this and I wonder if I was that bloody stupid when I was that boy's age.\"\n\n\"You were worse,\" said Jean. \"Until quite recently. Probably still are.\"\n\nLOCKE'S MELANCHOLY slowly evaporated, along with more of his alcoholic haze, as they made their way down and across the Golden Steps, north by northeast to the Great Gallery. The Eldren craftsmen (Craftswomen? Crafts-things?) responsible for Tal Verrar had covered the entire district with an open-sided Elderglass roof that sloped downward from its peak atop the sixth tier and plunged into the sea at the western island's base, leaving at least thirty feet of space beneath it at all points in between. Strange twisted glass columns rose up at irregular intervals, looking like leafless climbing vines carved from ice. The glass ceiling of the Gallery was easily a thousand yards from end to end the long way." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Beyond the Great Gallery, on the lower layers of the island, was the Portable Quarter-open-faced tiers on which the miserably destitute were allowed to setup squatters' huts and whatever shelters they could construct from castoff materials. The trouble was that any forceful wind from the north, especially in the rainy winter, would completely rearrange the place.\n\nPerversely, the district above and immediately southeast of the Portable Quarter, the Savrola, was a pricey expatriate's enclave, full of foreigners with money to waste. All the best inns were there, including the one Locke and Jean were currently using for their well-heeled alternate identities. The Savrola was sealed off from the Portable Quarter by high stonewalls, and heavily patrolled by Verrari constables and private mercenaries.\n\nBy day, the Great Gallery was the marketplace of Tal Verrar. A thousand merchants setup their stalls beneath it every morning, and there was room for five thousand more, should the city ever grow so vast. Visitors rooming in the Savrola who didn't travel by boat were forced, by cunning coincidence, to walk across the full breadth of the market to travel to or from the Golden Steps.\n\nAn east wind was up, blowing out from the mainland, across the glass islands and into the Gallery. Locke and Jean's footsteps echoed in the darkness of the vast hollow space; soft lamps on some of the glass pillars made irregular islands of light. Scraps of trash blew past their feet, and wisps of wood smoke from unseen fires. Some merchants kept family members sleeping in particularly desirable stall locations all night... and of course there were always vagrants from the Portable Quarter, seeking privacy in the shadows of the empty Gallery. Patrols stomped through the Gallery tiers several times each night, but there were none insight at the moment." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What a strange wasteland this place becomes after dark,\" said Jean. \"I can't decide if I mislike it or if it enchants me.\"\n\n\"You'd probably be less inclined to enchantment if you didn't have a pair of hatchets stuffed up the back of your coat.\"\n\n\"Mmm.\"\n\nThey walked on for another few minutes. Locke rubbed his stomach and muttered to himself.\n\n\"Jean-are you hungry, by chance?\"\n\n\"I usually am. Need some more ballast for that liquor?\"\n\n\"I think it might be a good idea. Damn that carousel. Another losing hand and I might have proposed marriage to that gods-damned smoking dragoness. Or just fallen out of my chair.\"\n\n\"Well, let's raid the Night Market.\"\n\nOn the topmost tier of the Great Gallery, toward the northeastern end of the covered district, Locke could seethe flickering light of barrel fires and lanterns, and the shadowy shapes of several people. Commerce never truly ground to a halt in Tal Verrar; with thousands of people coming and going from the Golden Steps, there was enough coin floating around fora few dozen nocturnal stall-keepers to stakeout a spot just after sunset every evening. The Night Market could be a great convenience, and it was invariably more eccentric than its daytime counterpart.\n\nAs Locke and Jean strolled toward the bazaar with the night breeze blowing against them, they had a fine view of the inner harbor with its dark forest of ships'masts. Beyond that, the rest of the city's islands lay sensibly sleeping, dotted here and therewith specks of light rather than the profligate glow of the Golden Steps. At the heart of the city, the three crescent islands of the Great Guilds (Alchemists, Artificers, and Merchants) curled around the base of the high, rocky Castellana like slumbering beasts. And atop the Castellana, like a looming stone hill planted in afield of mansions, was the dim outline of the Mon Magisteria, the fortress of the archon." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Tal Verrar was supposedly ruled by the Priori, but in reality a significant degree of power rested in the man who resided in that palace, the city's master of arms. The office of the archon had been created following Tal Verrar's early disgraces in the Thousand-Day War against Camorr, to take command of the army and navy out of the hands of the bickering merchant councils. But the trouble with creating military dictators, Locke reflected, was getting rid of them after the immediate crisis was past. The first archon had'declined\" retirement, and his successor was, if anything, even more interested in interfering with civic affairs. Outside guarded bastions of frivolity like the Golden Steps and expatriate havens like the Savrola, the disagreements between archon and Priori kept the city on edge.\n\n\"Gentlemen!\" came a voice from their left, breaking into Locke's chain of thought. \"Honored sirs. A walk across the Great Gallery cannot possibly be complete without refreshment.\" Locke and Jean had reached the fringes of the Night Market; there were no other customers insight, and the faces of at least a dozen merchants stared keenly out at them from within their little circles of fire or lamplight.\n\nThe first Verrari to throw his pitch against the gates of their good judgment was a one-armed man getting on in years, with long white hair braided down to his waist. He waved a wooden ladle at them, indicating four small casks set atop a portable counter not unlike a flat-topped wheelbarrow.\n\n\"What's your fare?\"\n\n\"Delicacies from the table of Iono himself, the sweetest taste the sea has to offer. Sharks' eyes in brine; all fresh plucked. Crisp the shells, soft the humors, sweet the juices.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Sharks' eyes?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gods, no.\" Locke grimaced. \"Have you more common flesh? Liver? Gills? A gill pie would be welcome.\"\n\n\"Gills? Sir, gills have none of the virtues of the eyes; it is the eyes that tone the muscles, prevent cholera, and firm up a man's mechanisms for certain, ah, marital duties.\"\n\n\"I have no need of any mechanism-firming in that respect,\" said Locke. \"And I'm afraid my stomach is too unsettled for the splendor of sharks\" eyes at just the moment.\"\n\n\"A pity, sir. For your sake, I wish I had some bit of gill to offer you, but it's the eyes that I get, and little else. Yet I do have several types-scythe sharks, wolf sharks, blue widower....\"\n\n\"We must pass, friend,\" said Jean as he and Locke walked on.\n\n\"Fruit, worthy masters?\" The next merchant along was a slender young woman comfortably ensconced in a cream-colored frock coat several sizes too large for her; she also wore a four-cornered hat with a small alchemical globe dangling on a chain, hanging down just above her left shoulder. She stood watch over a number of woven baskets. \"Alchemical fruit, fresh hybrids. Have you ever seen the Sofia Orange of Camorr? It makes its own liquor, very sweet and powerful.\"\n\n\"We are... acquainted,\" said Locke. \"And more liquor is not what I had in mind. Anything to recommend for an unsettled stomach?\"\n\n\"Pears, sir. The world would have no unsettled stomachs if only we were all wise enough to eat several everyday.\"\n\nShe took up one basket, about half-full, and held it up before him. Locke sifted through the pears, which seemed firm and fresh enough, and drew out three. \"Five centira,\" said the fruit seller." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"A full volani?\" Locke feigned outrage. \"Not if the archon's favorite whore held them between her legs and wiggled for me. One centira is too much for the lot.\"\n\n\"One centira wouldn't buy you the stems. At least I won't lose money for four.\"\n\n\"It would bean act of supreme pity,\" said Locke, \"for me to give you two. Fortunately for you I'm brimming with largesse; the bounty is yours.\"\n\n\"Two would bean insult to the men and women who grew those, in the hot glass gardens of the Blackhands Crescent. But surely we can meet at three?\"\n\n\"Three,\" said Locke with a smile. \"I have never been robbed in Tal Verrar before, but I'm just hungry enough to allow you the honor.\" He passed two of the pears to Jean without looking while fumbling in one of his coat pockets for copper. When he tossed three coins to the fruit seller, she nodded.\n\n\"A good evening to you, Master Lamora.\"\n\nLocke froze and fixed his eyes on her. \"I beg your pardon?\"\n\n\"A good evening to you, is all I said, worthy master.\"\n\n\"You didn't...\"\n\n\"Didn't what?\"\n\n\"Ah, nothing.\" Locke sighed nervously. \"I had a bit much to drink, is all. A fair evening to you, as well.\"\n\nHe and Jean strolled away, and Locke took a tentative bite of his pear. It was in a fine state, neither too firm and dry nor too ripe and sticky. \"Jean,\" he said between bites, \"did you hear what she said tome, just now?\"\n\n\"I'm afraid I heard nothing but the death cry of this unfortunate pear. Listen closely:\"Noooo, don't eat me, please, nooo....\"\" Jean had already reduced his first pear to its core; as Locke watched, he popped this into his mouth, crunched it loudly, and swallowed it all but for the stem, which he flicked away." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Thirteen gods,\" said Locke, \"must you do that?\"\n\n\"I like the cores,\" said Jean sulkily. \"All the little crunchy bits.\"\n\n\"Goats eat the gods-damned crunchy bits.\"\n\n\"You're not my mother.\"\n\n\"Well, true. Your mother would be ugly. Oh, don't give me that look. Goon, eat your other core; it's got a nice juicy pear wrapped around it.\"\n\n\"What did the woman say?\"\n\n\"She said... oh, gods, she said nothing. I'm tipsy, is all.\"\n\n\"Alchemical lanterns, sirs?\" A bearded man held his arm out toward them; at least half a dozen little lanterns in ornamental gilt frames hung from it. \"A pair of well-dressed gentlemen should not be without light; only scrubs scuttle about in darkness with noway to see! You'll find no better lanterns in all the Gallery, not by night or day.\"\n\nJean waved the man off while he and Locke finished their pears. Locke carelessly tossed his core over his shoulder, while Jean popped his into his mouth, taking pains to ensure that Locke was watching when he did.\n\n\"Mmmmmm,\" he muttered with a half-full mouth, \"ambrosial. But you'll never know, you and all your fellow culinary cowards.\"\n\n\"Gentlemen. Scorpions?\"\n\nThat brought Locke and Jean up short. The speaker was a cloaked, baldheaded man with the coffee-colored skin of an Okanti islander; the man was several thousand miles from home. His well-kept white teeth stood out as he smiled and bowed slightly over his wares. He stood over a dozen small wooden cages; dark shapes could be seen moving about in several of them." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Scorpions? Real scorpions? Live ones?\" Locke bent down to get a better look at the cages, but kept his distance. \"What on earth for?\"\n\n\"Why, you must be fresh visitors here.\" The man's Therin had a slight accent. \"Many on the Sea of Brass are only too familiar with the gray rock scorpion. Can you be Karthani? Camorri?\"\n\n\"Talishani,\" said Jean. \"These are gray rock scorpions, from here?\"\n\n\"From the mainland,\" said the merchant. \"And their use is primarily, ahh, recreational.\"\n\n\"Recreational? Are they pets?\"\n\n\"Oh no, not really. The sting, you see-the sting of the gray rock scorpion is a complex thing. First there is pain, sharp and hot, as you might expect. But after a few minutes, there is a pleasant numbness, a dreamy sort of fever. It is not unlike some of the powders smoked by Jeremites. After a few stings, a body grows more used to it. The pain lessens and the dreams deepen.\"\n\n\"Astonishing!\"\n\n\"Commonplace,\" said the merchant. \"Quite a few men and women in Tal Verrar keep one close at hand, even if they don't speak of it in public. The effect is as pleasing as liquor, yet ultimately far less costly.\"\n\n\"Hmmm.\" Locke scratched his chin. \"Never had to stab myself with a bottle of wine, though. And this isn't just some ruse, some amusement for visitors who wouldn't know any better?\"\n\nThe merchant's smile broadened. He extended his right arm and pulled back the sleeve of his cloak; the dark skin of his slender forearm was dotted with little circular scars. \"I would never offer a product for which I was not prepared to vouch myself.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Admirable,\" said Locke." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And fascinating, but... perhaps there are some customs of Tal Verrar best left unexplored.\"\n\n\"To your own tastes be true.\" Still smiling, the man pulled his cloak sleeve backup and folded his hands before him. \"After all, a scorpion hawk was never to your liking, Master Lamora.\"\n\nLocke felt a sudden cold pressure in his chest. He flicked a glance at Jean, and found the larger man instantly tense as well. Struggling to maintain his outward calm, Locke cleared his throat. \"I beg your pardon?\"\n\n\"I'm sorry.\" The merchant blinked at him guilelessly. \"I merely wished you a pleasant night, gentlemen.\"\n\n\"Right.\" Locke eyed him fora moment or two longer, then stepped back, turned on his heel, and began to walk across the Night Market once more. Jean was at his side immediately.\n\n\"You heard that,\" whispered Locke.\n\n\"Very clearly,\" said Jean. \"I wonder who our friendly scorpion merchant works for?\"\n\n\"It's not just him,\" muttered Locke. \"The fruit seller called me'Lamora'as well. You didn't hear that one, but I damn well did.\"\n\n\"Shit. Want to double back and grab one of them?\"\n\n\"Going somewhere, Master Lamora?\"\n\nLocke almost whirled on the middle-aged female merchant who stepped toward them from their right; he managed to keep the six-inch stiletto concealed up his coat sleeve from flying reflexively into his hand. Jean put one arm beneath the back of his coat.\n\n\"You seem to be mistaken, madam,\" said Locke. \"My name is Leocanto Kosta.\"\n\nThe woman made no further move toward them; she merely smiled and chuckled. \"Lamora... Locke Lamora.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Jean Tannen,\" said the scorpion merchant, who had stepped out from behind his little cage-covered table. Other merchants were moving slowly behind them, staring fixedly at Locke and Jean.\n\n\"There seems to be a, ah, misunderstanding afoot,\" said Jean. He slid his right hand back out from under his coat; Locke knew from long experience that the head of one of his hatchets would be cupped in his palm, with the handle concealed up his sleeve.\n\n\"No misunderstanding,\" said the scorpion merchant.\n\n\"Thorn of Camorr...,\" said a little girl who stepped out to block their progress toward the Savrola side of the Great Gallery.\n\n\"Thorn of Camorr...,\" said the middle-aged woman.\n\n\"Gentlemen Bastards,\" said the scorpion merchant. \"Far from home.\"\n\nLocke glanced around, his heart hammering in his chest. Deciding that the time for discretion was past, he let his stiletto fall into his itching fingers. All the merchants in the Night Market seemed to have taken an interest in them; they were surrounded, and the merchants were slowly tightening the circle. They cast long dark shadows upon the stones at Locke and Jean's feet. Was Locke imagining things, or were some of the lights dimming? Already the Night Gallery seemed darker-damn, some of the lanterns were indeed going outright before his eyes.\n\n\"That is far enough.\" Jean let his hatchet fall visibly into his right hand; he and Locke pressed their backs against one another.\n\n\"No closer,\" shouted Locke. \"Cut the weird shit, or there's going to be blood!\"\n\n\"There has already been blood...,\" said the little girl.\n\n\"Locke Lamora...,\" muttered a soft chorus of the people surrounding them." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"There has already been blood, Locke Lamora,\" said the middle-aged woman.\n\nThe last alchemical lanterns within the periphery of the Night Market dimmed; the last few fires banked down, and now Locke and Jean faced the circle of merchants solely by the wan light coming from the inner harbor, and from the eerie flicker of distant lamps beneath the vast, deserted Gallery, much too faraway for comfort.\n\nThe little girl took one last step toward them, her eyes gray and unblinking.\n\n\"Master Lamora, Master Tannen,\" she said in her clear, soft voice, \"the Falconer of Karthain sends his regards.\"\n\nLOCKE STARED at the little girl, jaw half-open. She glided forward like an apparition, until just two paces separated them. Locke felt a pang of foolishness at holding a stiletto on a girl not yet three feet high, but then she smiled coldly in the near darkness, and the malice behind that smile steadied his hand on the hilt of the blade. The little girl reached up to touch her chin.\n\n\"Though he cannot speak,\" she said.\n\n\"Though he cannot speak for himself...,\" chorused the circle of merchants, now motionless in the darkness.\n\n\"Though he is mad,\" said the girl, slowly spreading her hands toward Locke and Jean, palms out.\n\n\"Mad beyond measure...,\" whispered the circle.\n\n\"His friends remain,\" said the girl. \"His friends remember.\"\n\nJean moved beside Locke, and then both of his hatchets were out, blackened steel heads naked to the night. \"These people are puppets. There are Bondsmagi somewhere around us,\" he hissed.\n\n\"Show yourselves, you fucking cowards!\" said Locke, speaking to the girl." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"We show our power,\" she replied.\n\n\"What more do you need?\" whispered the chorus in their ragged circle, their eyes empty as reflecting pools.\n\n\"What more do you need to see, Master Lamora?\" The little girl gave a sinister parody of a curtsy.\n\n\"Whatever you want,\" said Locke, \"leave these people out of it. Just fucking talk to us. We don't want to hurt these people.\"\n\n\"Of course, Master Lamora....\"\n\n\"Of course...,\" whispered the circle.\n\n\"Of course, that's the point,\" said the girl. \"So you must hear what we have to say.\"\n\n\"State your gods-damned business, then.\"\n\n\"You must answer,\" said the girl.\n\n\"Answer for the Falconer,\" said the chorus.\n\n\"You must answer. Both of you.\"\n\n\"Of all the... fuck you!\" said Locke, his voice rising to a shout. \"We did answer for the Falconer. Our answer was ten lost fingers and a lost tongue, for three dead friends. You got him back alive and it was more than he deserved!\"\n\n\"Not for you to judge,\" hissed the girl.\n\n\"... judge the Magi of Karthain...,\" whispered the circle.\n\n\"Not for you to judge, nor for you to presume a grasp of our laws,\" said the girl.\n\n\"All the world knows it's death to slay a Bondsmage,\" said Jean. \"That, and little else. We let him live and took pains to return him to you. Our business is ended. If you wanted a more complicated treatment than that, you should have sent a fucking letter.\"\n\n\"This is not business,\" said the girl." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Continue the story as the author's writing assistant.\nTags: fantasy, heist, pirates\nAuthor: Scott Lynch\nTitle: Red Seas Under Red Skies\nChapter: 9" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Locke wrenched both of his blades as savagely as he could, and the man moaned. The chain slipped from his fingers and hit the stones with a clatter; a second later Locke worked his blades out of the man's body as though he were pulling skewers from meat and let the poor fellow slump to the ground. He raised his bloody stilettos, turned, and with a sudden burst of ill-advised self-confidence, charged Jean's assailant.\n\nShe kicked out from the hip, barely sparing him a glance. Her foot struck his sternum; it felt like walking into a brick wall. He stumbled back, and she took the opportunity to step away from Jean (who looked to have been rather pummeled) and advance on Locke.\n\nHer rags were discarded. Locke saw that she was a young woman, probably younger than he was, wearing loose dark clothing and a thin, well-fashioned ribbed leather vest. She was Therin, relatively dark-skinned, with tightly braided black hair that circled her head like a crown. She had a poise that said she'd killed before.\n\nNo problem, thought Locke as he moved backward. So have I. That's when he tripped over the body of the man he'd just stabbed.\n\nShe took instant advantage of his misstep. Just as he regained his balance, she snapped out in an arc with her right leg. Her foot landed like a hammer against Locke's left forearm, and he swore as his stiletto flew from suddenly nerveless fingers. Incensed, he lunged with his right-hand blade.\n\nMoving as deftly as Jean ever had, she grabbed his right wrist with her left hand, pulled him irresistibly forward, and slammed the heel of her right hand into his chin. His remaining stiletto whirled into the darkness like a man diving from a tall building, and suddenly the dark sky above him was replaced with looming gray stones. He made their acquaintance hard enough to rattle his teeth like dice in a cup." }, { "from": "human", "value": "She kicked him once to roll him over onto his back, then planted afoot on his chest to pin him down." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She'd caught one of his blades, and he watched in a daze as she bent forward to put it to use. His hands were numb, traitorously slow, and he felt an unbearable itching sensation on his unprotected neck as his own stiletto dipped toward it.\n\nLocke didn't hear Jean's hatchet sink into her back, but he saw its effect and guessed the cause. The woman jerked upright, arched backward, and let the stiletto slip. It clattered against the ground just beside Locke's face, and he flinched. His assailant sank down to her knees just beside him, breathing in swift shallow gasps, and then twisted away. He could see one of Jean's Wicked Sisters buried in a spreading dark stain on her lower back, just to the right of her spine.\n\nJean stepped over Locke, reached down, and yanked the hatchet from the woman's back. She gasped, fell forward, and was viciously yanked back upright by Jean, who stood behind her and placed the blade of his hatchet against her throat.\n\n\"Lo... Leo! Leocanto. Are you all right?\"\n\n\"With this much pain,\" Locke gasped, \"I know I can't be dead.\"\n\n\"Good enough.\" Jean applied more force to the hatchet, which he was holding just behind its head, like a barber wielding a beard-scraper. \"Start talking. I can help you die without further pain, or I can even help you live. You're no simple bandit. Who put you here?\"\n\n\"My back,\" sobbed the woman, her voice trembling and utterly without threat. \"Please, please, it hurts.\"\n\n\"It's supposed to. Who put you here? Who hired you?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Gold,\" said Locke, coughing. \"White iron. We can pay you. Double. Just give us a name.\"\n\n\"Oh, gods, it hurts...\"\n\nJean seized her by the hair with his freehand and pulled; she cried out and straightened up. Locke blinked as he saw what appeared to be a dark feathered shape burst out of her chest; the wet thud of the crossbow quarrel's impact didn't register until a split second later. Jean leapt back, dumbfounded, and dropped the woman to the ground. A moment later, he looked past Locke and gestured threateningly with his hatchet.\n\n\"You!\"\n\n\"At your service, Master de Ferra.\"\n\nLocke craned his head back far enough to catch an upside-down glimpse of the woman who'd stolen them off the street and delivered them to the archon a few nights before. Her dark hair fluttered freely behind her in the breeze. She wore a tight black jacket over a gray waistcoat and a gray skirt, and held a discharged crossbow in her left hand. She was walking toward them at a leisurely pace, from the direction they'd come. Locke groaned and rolled over until she was right side up.\n\nBeside him, the beggar-chassoneur gave one last wet cough and died.\n\n\"Gods damn it,\" cried Jean, \"I was about to get some answers from her!\"\n\n\"No, you weren't,\" said the archon's agent. \"Take a look at her right hand.\"\n\nLocke, climbing shakily to his feet, and Jean both did so; a slender knife with a curved blade glistened thereby the faint light of the moons and the few dockside lamps.\n\n\"I was assigned to watch over you two,\" the woman said as she stepped up beside Locke, beaming contentedly." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Fine fucking job,\" said Jean, rubbing his ribs with his left hand.\n\n\"You seemed to be doing well enough until the end.\" She looked down at the little knife and nodded. \"Look, this knife has an extra groove right alongside the cutting edge. That usually means something nasty on the blade. She was buying time to slip it out and stick you with it.\"\n\n\"I know what a groove along the blade means,\" mumbled Jean petulantly. \"Do you know who the hell these two work for?\"\n\n\"I have some theories, yes.\"\n\n\"And would you mind sharing them?\" asked Locke.\n\n\"If I were given orders to that effect,\" she said sweetly.\n\n\"Gods damn all Verrari, and give them more sores on their privates than hairs on their heads,\" muttered Locke.\n\n\"I was born in Vel Virazzo,\" said the woman.\n\n\"Do you have a name?\" asked Jean.\n\n\"Lots. All of them lovely and none of them true,\" she replied. \"You two can call me Merrain.\"\n\n\"Merrain. Ow.\" Locke winced and massaged his left forearm with his right hand. Jean set a hand on his shoulder.\n\n\"Anything broken, Leo?\n\n\"Not much. Perhaps my dignity and my previous presumptions of divine benevolence.\" Locke sighed. \"We've seen people following us for the past few nights, Merrain. I suppose we must have seen you.\"\n\n\"I doubt it. You gentlemen should collect your things and start walking. Same direction you were moving before. There'll be constables here soon enough, and the constables don't take orders from my employer.\"\n\nLocke retrieved his wet stilettos and wiped them on the trousers of the man he'd killed before returning them to his sleeves. Now that the anger of the fight had run cold, Locke felt his gorge rising at the sight of the corpse, and he scuttled away as fast as he could." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Jean gathered up his coat and slipped his hatchet into it." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Soon enough the three of them were walking along, Merrain in the middle with her elbows linked in theirs.\n\n\"My employer,\" she said after a few moments, \"wished me to watch over you tonight, and when convenient show you down to a boat.\"\n\n\"Wonderful,\" said Locke. \"Another private conversation.\"\n\n\"I can't say. But if I were to conjecture, I'd guess that he's found a job for the pair of you.\"\n\nJean spared a quick glance for the two bodies lying in the darkness far behind them, and he coughed into his clenched fist. \"Splendid,\" he growled. \"This place has been so dull and uncomplicated so far.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "REMINISCENCE\n\nThe Amusement War\n\nSix days north up the coast road from Tal Verrar, the demi-city of Salon Corbeau lies within an unusually verdant cleft in the black seaside rocks. More than a private estate, not quite a functional village, the demi-city clings to its peculiar life in the smoldering shadow of Mount Azar.\n\nIn the time of the Therin Throne Azar exploded to life, burying three living villages and ten thousand souls in a matter of minutes. These days it seems content merely to rumble and brood, sending twisting charcoal plumes out to sea, and flights of ravens wheel without concern beneath the tired old volcano's smoke. Here begin the hot, dusty plains called the Adra Morcala, inhabited by few and loved by none. They roll like a cracked dry sea all the way to the southern boundaries of Balinel, most westerly and desolate canton of the Kingdom of the Seven Marrows.\n\nLocke Lamora rode into Salon Corbeau on the ninth day of Aurim, in the Seventy-eighth Year of Nara. A mild westerly winter. A fruitful year (and more) had passed since he and Jean had first set foot in Tal Verrar, and in the armored strongbox at the rear of Locke's rented carriage rattled a thousand gold solari, stolen at billiards from a certain Lord Landreval of Espara who was unusually sensitive to lemons.\n\nThe little harbor that served the demi-city was thick with small craft-yachts and pleasure-barges and coasting galleys with square silk sails. Farther out, upon the open sea a galleon and a sloop rode at anchor, each flying the pennant of Lashain under family crests and colors Locke didn't recognize. The breeze was slight and the sun was pale, more silver than gold behind the hazy exhalations of the mountain." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Welcome to Salon Corbeau,\" said a footman in livery of black and olive green, with a tall hat of pressed black felt. \"How are you styled, and how must you be announced?\"\n\nA liveried woman placed a wooden block beneath the open door to Locke's carriage and he stepped out, bracing his hands in the small of his back and stretching with relief before hopping to the ground. He wore a drooping black moustache beneath black-rimmed optics and slick black hair; his heavy black coat was tight in the chest and shoulders but flared out from waist to knees, fluttering behind him like a cape. He had eschewed the more refined hose and shoes for gray pantaloons tucked into knee-high field boots, dull black beneath a faint layer of road dust.\n\n\"I am Mordavi Fehrwight, a merchant of Emberlain,\" he said. \"I doubt that I shall require announcement, as I have no title of any consequence.\"\n\n\"Very good, Master Fehrwight,\" said the footman smoothly. \"The Lady Saljesca appreciates your visit to Salon Corbeau and earnestly wishes you good fortune in your affairs.\"\n\nAppreciates your visit, noted Locke, rather than would be most pleased to receive your audience. Countess Vira Saljesca of Lashain was the absolute ruler of Salon Corbeau; the demi-city was built on one of her estates. Equally distant from Balinel, Tal Verrar, and Lashain, just out of convenient rulership by any of them, Salon Corbeau was more or less an autonomous resort state for the wealthy of the Brass Coast.\n\nIn addition to the constant arrival of carriages along the coast roads and pleasure-vessels from the sea, Salon Corbeau attracted one other noteworthy form of traffic, which Locke had meditated on in a melancholy fashion during his journey." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Ragged groups of peasants, urban poor and rural wretches alike, trudged wearily along the dusty roads to Lady Saljesca's domain. They came in intermittent but ceaseless streams, flowing to the strange private city beneath the dark heights of the mountain.\n\nLocke imagined that he already knew exactly what they were coming for, but his next few days in Salon Corbeau would prove that understanding to be woefully incomplete.\n\nLOCKE HAD originally expected that a sea voyage to Lashain or even Issara might be necessary to secure the final pieces of his Sinspire scheme, but conversation with several wealthier Verrari had convinced him that Salon Corbeau might have exactly what he needed.\n\nPicture a seaside valley carved from night-dark stone, perhaps three hundred yards in length and a hundred wide. Its little harbor lies on its western side, with a crescent beach of fine black sand. At its eastern end, an underground stream pours out of a fissure in the rocks, rushing down a stepped arrangement of stones. The headlands above this stream are commanded by Countess Saljesca's residence, a stone manor house above two layers of crenellated walls-a minor fortress.\n\nThe valley walls of Salon Corbeau are perhaps twenty yards in height, and for nearly their full length they are terraced with gardens. Thick ferns, twisting vines, blossoming orchids, and fruit and olive trees flourish there, a healthy curtain of brown and green in vivid relief against the black, with little water ducts meandering throughout to keep Saljesca's artificial paradise from growing thirsty.\n\nIn the very center of the valley is a circular stadium, and the gardens on both sides of this stone structure share the walls with several dozen sturdy buildings of polished stone and lacquered wood. A miniature city rests on stilts and platforms and terraces, charmingly enclosed by walkways and stairs at every level." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Locke strolled these walkways on the afternoon of his arrival, looking for his ultimate goal with a stately lack of haste-he expected to be here for many days, perhaps even weeks. Salon Corbeau, like the chance houses of Tal Verrar, drew the idle rich in large numbers. Locke walked among Verrari merchants and Lashani nobles, among scions of the western Marrows, past Nesse ladies-in-waiting (or perhaps more accurately, ladies-weighted-down, in more cloth-of-gold than Locke would have previously thought possible) and the landed families they served. Here and there he was sure he even spotted Camorri, olive-skinned and haughty, though thankfully none were important enough for him to recognize.\n\nSo many bodyguards, and so many bodies to guard! Rich bodies and faces; people who could afford proper alchemy and physik for their ailments. No weeping sores or sagging facial tumors, no crooked teeth lolling out of bleeding gums, no faces pinched by emaciation. The Sinspire crowd might be more exclusive, but these folk were even more refined, even more pampered. Hired musicians followed some of them, so that even little journeys of thirty or forty yards need not threaten a second of boredom. Rich men and women were hemorrhaging money all around Locke, to the strains of music. Even a manlike Mordavi Fehrwight might spend less to eat fora month than some of them would throwaway just to be noticed at breakfast each day.\n\nHe'd come to Salon Corbeau because of these folk; not to rob them, for once, but to make use of their privileged existence. Where the rich nested like bright-feathered birds, the providers of the luxuries and services they relied upon followed. Salon Corbeau had a permanent community of tailors, clothiers, instrument makers, glassbenders, alchemists, caterers, entertainers, and carpenters. A small community, to be sure, but one of the highest reputation, fit for aristocratic patronage and priced accordingly." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Almost in the middle of Salon Corbeau's south gallery, Locke found the shop he had come all this way to visit-a rather long, two-story stone building without windows along its walkway face. The wooden sign above the single door said:\n\nM. BAUMONDAIN AND DAUGHTERS HOUSEHOLD DEVICES AND FINE FURNITURE BY APPOINTMENT\n\nOn the door of the Baumondain shop was a scrollwork decoration, the crest of the Saljesca family (as Locke had glimpsed on banners fluttering here and there, and on the cross-belts of Salon Corbeau's guards), implying Lady Vira's personal approval of the work that went on there. Meaningless to Locke, since he knew too little of Saljesca's taste to judge it... but the Baumondain reputation stretched all the way to Tal Verrar.\n\nHe would send a messenger first thing in the morning, as was appropriate, and request an appointment to discuss the matter of some peculiar chairs he needed built.\n\nAT THE second hour of the next afternoon a warm soft rain was falling; a weak and wispy thing that hung in the air more like damp gauze than falling water. Vague columns of mist swirled among the plants and atop the valley, and the walkways were for once clear of most of their well-heeled traffic. Gray clouds necklaced the tall black mountain to the northwest. Locke stood outside the door to the Baumondain shop with water dripping down the back of his neck and rapped sharply three times.\n\nThe door swung inward immediately; a wiry man of about fifty peered out at Locke through round optics. He wore a simple cotton tunic cinched up above his elbows, revealing guild tattoos in faded green and black on his lean forearms, and along leather apron with at least six visible pockets on the front. Most of them held tools; one held a gray kitten, with only its little head visible." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Master Fehrwight? Mordavi Fehrwight?\"\n\n\"So pleased you could make the time for me,\" began Locke. He spoke with a faint Vadran accent, just enough to suggest an origin in the far north. He'd decided to be lazy, and let this Fehrwight be as fluent in Therin as possible. Locke stretched out his right hand to shake. In his left he carried a black leather satchel with an iron lock upon its flap. \"Master Baumondain, I presume?\"\n\n\"None other. Come indirectly, sir, out of the rain. Will you take coffee? Allow me to trade you a cup for your coat.\"\n\n\"With pleasure.\" The foyer of the Baumondain shop was a high, cozily paneled room lit with little golden lanterns in wall sconces. A counter with one swinging door ran across the rear of the room, and behind it Locke could see shelves piled high with samples of wood, cloth, wax, and oils in glass jars. The placed smelled of sanded wood, a sharp and pleasant tang. There was a little sitting area before the counter, where two superbly wrought chairs with black velvet cushions stood upon a floor tapestry.\n\nLocke set his satchel at his feet, turned to allow Baumondain to help him shrug out of his damp black coat, picked up his satchel once again, and settled himself in the chair nearest to the door. The carpenter hung Locke's coat on a brass hook on the wall. \"Just a moment, if you please,\" he said, and went behind the counter. From his new vantage point, Locke could see that a canvas-covered door led from behind the counter to what he presumed must be the workshop. Baumondain pushed the canvas flap aside and yelled, \"Lauris! The coffee!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Some muffled reply that he evidently found satisfactory came back to him from the workshop, and he hurried around the counter to take his place in the chair across from Locke, crinkling his seamy face into a welcoming smile. A few moments later, the canvas flew aside once again and out from the workshop came a freckled girl of fifteen or sixteen years, chestnut-haired, slim in the manner of her father but more firmly muscled about the arms and shoulders. She carried a wooden tray before her set with cups and silver pots, and when she stepped through the door in the counter Locke saw the tray had legs like a very short table.\n\nShe placed the coffee service between Locke and her father, just to the side, and gave Locke a respectful nod.\n\n\"My oldest daughter, Lauris,\" said Master Baumondain. \"Lauris, this is Master Fehrwight, of the House of bel Sarethon, from Emberlain.\"\n\n\"Charmed,\" said Locke. Lauris was close enough for him to see that her hair was full of curly little wood shavings.\n\n\"Your servant, Master Fehrwight.\" Lauris nodded again, prepared to withdraw, and then caught sight of the gray kitten sticking out of her father's apron pocket. \"Father, you've forgotten Lively. Surely you didn't mean to have him sit in on the coffee?\"\n\n\"Have I? Oh, dear, I see that I have.\" Baumondain reached down and eased the kitten out of his apron. Locke was astonished to see how limply it hung in his hands, with its legs and tail drooping and its little head lolling; what self-respecting cat would sleep while plucked up and carried through the air? Then Locke saw the answer, as Lauris took Lively in her own hands and turned to go. The kitten's little eyes were wide open, and stark white." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"That creature was Gentled,\" said Locke in a low voice when Lauris had returned to the workshop.\n\n\"I'm afraid so,\" said the carpenter.\n\n\"I've never seen such a thing. What purpose does it serve, in a cat?\"\n\n\"None, Master Fehrwight, none.\" Baumondain's smile was gone, replaced by a wary and uncomfortable expression. \"And it certainly wasn't my doing. My youngest daughter, Parnella, found him abandoned behind the Villa Verdante.\" Baumondain referred to the huge luxury inn where the intermediate class of Salon Corbeau's visitors stayed, the wealthy who were not private guests of the Lady Saljesca. Locke himself was rooming there.\n\n\"Damned strange.\"\n\n\"We call him Lively, as a sort of jest, though he does little. He must be coaxed to eat, and prodded to... to excrete, you see. Parnella thought it would be kinder to smash his skull, but Lauris would not hear of it and so I could not refuse. You must think me weak and doting.\"\n\n\"Not at all,\" said Locke, shaking his head. \"The world is cruel enough without our compounding it; I approve. I meant that it was damned strange that anyone should do such a thing at all.\"\n\n\"Master Fehrwight.\" The carpenter licked his lips nervously. \"You seem a humane man, and you must understand... our position here brings us a steady and lucrative business. My daughters will have quite an inheritance, when I turn this shop over to them. There are... there are things about Salon Corbeau, things that goon, that we artisans... do not pry into. Must not. If you take my meaning.\"\n\n\"I do,\" said Locke, eager to keep the man in a good humor. However, he made a mental note to perhaps poke around in pursuit of whatever was disturbing the carpenter. \"I do indeed. So let us speak no more of the matter, and instead look to business.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Most kind,\" said Baumondain, with obvious relief. \"How do you take your coffee? I have honey and cream.\"\n\n\"Honey, please.\"\n\nBaumondain poured steaming coffee from the silver pot into a thick glass cup, and spooned in honey until Locke nodded. Locke sipped at his cup while Baumondain bombarded his own with enough cream to turn it leather brown. It was quality brew, rich and very hot.\n\n\"My compliments,\" Locke mumbled over a slightly scalded tongue.\n\n\"It's from Issara. Lady Saljesca's household has an endless thirst for the stuff,\" said the carpenter. \"The rest of us buy pecks and pinches from her sellers when they come around. Now, your messenger said that you wished to discuss a commission that was, in her words, very particular.\"\n\n\"Yes, indeed,\" said Locke. \"Particular, to a design and an end that may strike you as eccentric. I assure you I am in grave earnest.\"\n\nLocke set down his coffee and lifted his satchel into his lap, then pulled a small key from his waistcoat pocket to open the lock. He reached inside and drew out a few pieces of folded parchment.\n\n\"You must be familiar,\" Locke continued, \"with the style of the last few years of the Therin Throne? The very last few, just before Talathri died in battle against the Bondsmagi?\" He passed over one of his sheets of parchment, which Baumondain removed his optics to examine.\n\n\"Oh, yes,\" the carpenter said slowly. \"The Talathri Baroque, also called the Last Flowering. Yes, I've done pieces in this fashion before.... Laurishas as well. You have an interest in this style?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I require a suite of chairs,\" said Locke. \"Four of them, leather-backed, lacquered shear-crescent with real gold insets.\"\n\n\"Shear-crescent is a somewhat delicate wood, fit only for occasional use. For more regular sitting I'm sure you'd want witchwood.\"\n\n\"My master,\" said Locke, \"has very exact tastes, however peculiar. He insisted upon shear-crescent, several times, to ensure that his wishes were clear.\"\n\n\"Well, if you wished them carved from marzipan, I suppose I should have to do it... with the clear understanding, of course, that I did warn you against hard use.\"\n\n\"Naturally. I assure you, Master Baumondain, you won't beheld liable for anything that happens to these chairs after they leave your workshop.\"\n\n\"Oh, I would never do less than vouch for our work, but I cannot make a softwood hard, Master Fehrwight. Well, then, I do have some books with excellent illustrations of this style. Your artist has done well to start with, but I'd like to give you more variety to choose from....\"\n\n\"By all means,\" said Locke, and he sipped his coffee contentedly as the carpenter rose and returned to the workshop door. \"Lauris,\" Baumondain cried, \"my three volumes of Velonetta.... Yes, those.\"\n\nHe returned a moment later cradling three heavy, leather-bound tomes that smelled of age and some spicy alchemical preservative. \"Velonetta,\" he said as he settled the books on his lap. \"You are familiar with her? No? She was the foremost scholar of the Last Flowering. There are only six sets of her work in all the world, as far as I know. Most of these pages are on sculpture, painting, music, alchemy... but there are fine passages on furniture, gems worth mining. If you please...\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "They spent half an hour poring over the sketches Locke had provided and the pages Baumondain wished to show him." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Together, they hammered out an agreeable compromise on the design of the chairs that'Master Fehrwight\" would receive. Baumondain fetched a stylus of his own and scrawled notes in an illegible chicken scratch. Locke had never before considered how many details might go into something as straightforward as a chair; by the time they had finished their discussion of legs, bracings, cushion filling, leathers, scrollwork, and joinery, Locke's brain was in full revolt.\n\n\"Excellent, Master Baumondain, excellent,\" is nonetheless what he said. \"The very thing, in shear-crescent, lacquered black, with gold leaf to gild the incised decorations and the rivets. They must look as though they had been plucked from Emperor Talathri's court just yesterday, new and un-burnt.\"\n\n\"Ah,\" said the carpenter, \"a delicate subject arises, then. Without meaning to give the slightest offense, I must make it clear that these will never pass for originals. They will be exact reconstructions of the style, perfect facsimiles, of a quality to match any furnishings in the world-but an expert could tell. They are few, and far between, but such a one would never confuse a brilliant reconstruction for even a modest original. They have had centuries to weather; these will be plainly new.\"\n\n\"I take your meaning, Master Baumondain. Never fear; I am ordering these for eccentric purposes, not for deceptive ones. These chairs will never be alleged to be originals, on my word. And the man who will receive them is such an expert, in fact.\"\n\n\"Very good, then, very good. Is there anything else?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Locke, who had withheld two sketch-covered sheets of parchment and passed them over. \"Now that we've settled on a design for the suite of chairs, this-or something very much like it, subject to your more expert adjustments-must be included in the plans.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As Baumondain absorbed the implications of the sketches, his eyebrows rose steadily, until it seemed that they were being drawn up to the fullest possible extent of his forehead's suppleness, and must be flung back down to the floor like crossbow bolts when they reached their zenith.\n\n\"This is a prodigious curiosity,\" he said at last. \"Avery strange thing to incorporate.... I'm not at all sure-\"\n\n\"It is essential,\" said Locke. \"That, or something very much like it, within the bounds of your own discretion. It is absolutely necessary. My master simply will not place an order for the chairs unless these features are built into them. Cost is no object.\"\n\n\"It's possible,\" said the carpenter after a few seconds of further contemplation. \"Possible, with some adjustments to these designs. I believe I see your intention, but I can improve upon this scheme... must, if the chairs are to function as chairs. May I ask why this is necessary?\"\n\n\"My master is a dear old fellow, but as you must have gathered, quite eccentric, and morbidly afraid of fire. He fears to be trapped in his study or his library tower by flames. Surely you can see how these mechanisms might help set his mind at ease?\"\n\n\"I suppose I can,\" muttered Baumondain, his puzzled reluctance turning to interest in a professional challenge as he spoke.\n\nAfter that, it was merely a matter of haggling, however politely, over finer and finer details, until Locke was finally able to coax a suggested price out of Baumondain.\n\n\"What coin would you wish to settle in, Master Fehrwight?\"\n\n\"I presumed solari would be convenient.\"\n\n\"Shall we say... six solari per chair?\" Baumondain spoke with feigned nonchalance; that was a cheeky initial offer, even for luxury craftsmanship. Locke would be expected to haggle it down. Instead, he smiled and nodded." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"If six per chair is what you require, then six you will have.\"\n\n\"Oh,\" said Baumondain, almost too surprised to be pleased. \"Oh. Well then! I should be only too happy to accept your note.\"\n\n\"While that would be fine in ordinary circumstances, let's do something more convenient for both of us.\" Locke reached inside the satchel and drew out a coin purse, from which he counted twenty-four gold solari onto the little coffee table while Baumondain watched with growing excitement. \"There you are, in advance. I prefer to carry hard coinage when I come to Salon Corbeau. This little city needs a moneylender.\"\n\n\"Well, thank you, Master Fehrwight, thank you! I didn't expect... well, let me get a work order and some papers for you to take with you, and we'll beset.\"\n\n\"Now, let me ask-do you have all the materials you need for my master's order?\"\n\n\"Oh yes! I know that off the top of my head.\"\n\n\"Warehoused here, at your shop?\"\n\n\"Yes indeed, Master Fehrwight.\"\n\n\"About how long might I expect the construction to take?\"\n\n\"Hmmm... given my other duties, and your requirements... six weeks, possibly seven. Will you be returning for them yourself, or will we need to arrange shipping?\"\n\n\"In that, too, I was hoping for something a little more convenient.\"\n\n\"Ah, well... you having been so very civil, I'm sure I could shift my schedule. Five weeks, perhaps?\"\n\n\"Master Baumondain, if you and your daughters were to work on my master's order more or less exclusively, starting this afternoon, at your best possible speed... how long then would you say it might take?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Oh, Master Fehrwight, Master Fehrwight, you must understand, I have other orders pending, for clients of some standing. Significant people, if you take my meaning.\"\n\nLocke set four more gold coins atop the coffee table.\n\n\"Master Fehrwight, be reasonable! These are just chairs! I will bend every effort to finishing your order as fast as possible, but I cannot simply displace my existing clients or their pieces-\"\n\nLocke set four more coins down, next to the previous pile.\n\n\"Master Fehrwight, please, we would give you our exclusive efforts for far less, if only we didn't already have clients to satisfy! How could I possibly explain this to them?\"\n\nLocke set six more coins directly in the middle of the two stacks of four, building a little tower. \"What is that now, Baumondain? Forty solari, when you were so pleased to get just twenty-four?\"\n\n\"Sir, please, my sole consideration is that clients who placed their orders before your master's must, in all courtesy, have precedence.\"\n\nLocke sighed, and dumped ten more solari onto the coffee table, upsetting his little tower and emptying the purse. \"You can have a shortage of materials. Some essential wood or oil or leather. You need to send away for it; six days to Tal Verrar and six days back. Surely it's happened before. Surely you can explain.\"\n\n\"Oh, but the aggravation; they'll be so annoyed....\"\n\nLocke drew a second coin purse from his satchel and held it poised like a dagger in the air before him. \"Refund some of their money. Here, have more of mine.\" He shook out even more coins, haphazardly. The clink-clink-clink of metal falling upon metal echoed in the foyer." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Master Fehrwight,\" said the carpenter, \"who are you?\"\n\n\"A man who's dead serious about chairs.\" Locke dropped the half-full purse atop the pile of gold next to the coffeepot. \"One hundred solari, even. Put off your other appointments, set aside your other jobs, make your excuses and your refunds. How long would it take?\"\n\n\"Perhaps a week,\" said Baumondain, in a defeated whisper.\n\n\"Then you agree? Until my four chairs are finished, this is the Fehrwight Furniture Shop? I have more gold in the Villa Verdante's strongbox. You will have to kill me to stop forcing it upon you if you say no. So do we have a deal?\"\n\n\"Gods help us both, yes!\"\n\n\"Then shake on it. You get carving, and I'll start wasting time back at my inn. Send messengers if you need me to inspect anything. I'll stay until you're finished.\"\n\n\"AS YOU can see, my hands are empty, and it is unthinkable that anything should be concealed within the sleeves of such a finely tailored tunic.\"\n\nLocke stood before the full-length mirror in his suite at the Villa Verdante, wearing nothing but his breeches and alight tunic of fine silk. The cuffs of the tunic were drawn away from his wrists, and he stared intently at his own reflection.\n\n\"It would, of course, be impossible for me to produce a deck of cards from thin air... but what's this?\"\n\nHe moved his right hand toward the mirror, with a flourish, and a deck of cards slipped clumsily out of it, coming apart in a fluttering mess as it fell to the floor." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Oh, fucking hell,\" Locke muttered.\n\nHe had a week of empty time on his hands, and his legerdemain was improving with torturous slowness. Locke soon turned his attention to the curious institution at the heart of Salon Corbeau, the reason so many idle rich made pilgrimage to the place, and the reason so many desperate and downtrodden ate their carriage dust as they trudged to the same destination.\n\nThey called it the Amusement War.\n\nLady Saljesca's stadium was a miniature of the legendary stadia ultra of Therim Pel, complete with twelve marble idols of the gods gracing the exterior in high stone niches. Ravens perched on their divine heads and shoulders, cawing halfheartedly down at the bustling crowd around the gates. Ashe made his way through the tumult Locke noted every species of attendant known to man. There were physikers clucking over the elderly, litter bearers hauling the infirm (or the unabashedly lazy), musicians and jugglers, guards, translators, and dozens of men and women waving fans or hoisting wide silk parasols, looking like nothing so much as fragile human-sized mushrooms as they chased their patrons under the growing morning sun.\n\nWhile it was said that the floor of the Imperial Arena had been too wide for even the strongest archer to send an arrow across, the floor of Saljesca's recreation was just fifty yards in diameter. There were no common seats; the smooth stonewalls rose twenty feet above the smooth stone floor, and were topped with luxury galleries whose cloth sunscreens flapped gently in the breeze.\n\nThree times per day, Lady Saljesca's liveried guards would open the public gates to the better class of Salon Corbeau's visitors. There was a single standing gallery (which even had a decent view) to which admission was free, but the vast majority of spectators at the stadium would take nothing less than the luxury seats and boxes, which needed to be reserved at some considerable expense. Unfashionable as it was, Locke elected to stand for his first visit to the Amusement War. A relative nonentity like Mordavi Fehrwight had no reputation to protect." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "On the floor of the arena was a gleaming grid of black and white marble squares, each one yard on aside. The squares were set twenty by twenty, like a gigantic Catch-the-Duke board. Where little carved pieces of wood or ivory were used in that game, Saljesca's playing field featured living pieces. The poor and destitute would man that field, forty to aside, wearing white or black tabards to distinguish themselves. This strange employment was the reason they risked the long, hard trudge to Salon Corbeau.\n\nLocke had already discovered that there were two large barracks behind Lady Saljesca's stadium, heavily guarded, where the poor were taken upon arrival in Salon Corbeau. There they were made to clean themselves up, and were given two simple meals a day for the duration of their stay, which could be indefinite. Each'aspirant,\" as they were known, was assigned a number. Three times per day, random drawings were held to select two teams of forty for the coming Amusement War. The only rule of the war was that the living pieces had to be able to stand, move, and obey orders; children of eight or nine were about the youngest taken. Those who refused to participate when their number was drawn, even once, were thrown out of Saljesca's demi-city immediately and barred from returning. Without supplies and preparation, being cast out onto the roads in this dry land could be a death sentence.\n\nThe aspirants were marched into the arena by two dozen of Saljesca's guards, who were armed with curved shields and lacquered wooden sticks. They were robust men and women who moved with the easy assurance of hard experience; even a general uprising of the aspirants would stand no chance against them. The guards lined the aspirants up in their starting positions on the board, forty white'pieces\" and forty black'pieces,\" with sixteen squares separating each double-ranked army." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "At opposite ends of the stadium were two special gallery boxes, one draped in black silk curtains and the other in white. These boxes were reserved far in advance by awaiting list, much as patrons of a chance house would lay claim to billiards tables or private rooms at certain hours. Whoever reserved a box gained the right to absolute command of that color for the duration of a war.\n\nThat morning's White warmistress was a young Lashani viscountess whose retinue looked as nervous with the affair as she was enthusiastic; they appeared to be scribbling notes and consulting charts. The Black warmaster was a middle-aged Iridani with the well-fed, calculating look of a prosperous merchant. He had a young son and daughter with him in his gallery.\n\nAlthough the living pieces could be hung (by the agreement of both players) with special tabards that gave them unusual privileges or movement allowances, the rules of this particular Amusement War seemed to be plain Catch-the-Duke with no variations. The controllers began calling orders and the game slowly developed, with white and black pieces trudging nervously toward one another, very gradually closing the distance between the opposing forces. Locke found himself puzzled by the reaction of the stadium crowd.\n\nThere were easily sixty or seventy spectators in the boxes, with twice as many servants, bodyguards, assistants, and messengers on hand, not to mention caterers in Saljesca's livery hurrying to and fro to serve their wants. Their buzz of eager anticipation seemed totally incongruous given the plodding nature of the contest shaping upon the squares.\n\n\"What,\" Locke muttered to himself in Vadran, \"is so damn fascinating?\"\n\nThen the first piece was taken, and the Demons came out to the arena floor.\n\nThe White warmistress deliberately placed one of her'pieces,\" a middle-aged man, in harm's way. More of her army lurked behind him in an obvious trap, but the Black warmaster apparently decided it was a worthwhile exchange. Under the shouted orders of the Black adjutant, a teenaged girl in black stepped from a diagonal square and touched the middle-aged man on the shoulder. He hung his head, and the appreciative clapping of the crowd was drowned out a moment later by a wild shrieking that arose from the far left side of Locke's view of the stadium." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Six men ran onto the arena floor from aside portal, dressed in elaborate leather costumes with black-and-orange fluting; their faces were covered with grotesque flame-orange masks trailing wild manes of black hair." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They threw their arms in the air, screaming and hollering meaninglessly, and the crowd cheered back as they ran across the arena toward the cringing man in white. The Demons seized him by the arms and by the hair; he was thrust, sobbing, to the side of the game board and exhibited to the crowd like a sacrificial animal. One of the Demons, a man with a booming voice, pointed to the Black warmaster and shouted, \"Cry the default!\"\n\n\"I want to cry it,\" said the little boy in the merchant's gallery.\n\n\"We agreed that your sister would go first. Theodora, name the default.\" The little girl peered down to the arena floor in concentration, then whispered up to her father. He cleared his throat and shouted, \"She wants the guards to beat him with their clubs. On his legs!\"\n\nAnd so it was; the Demons held the writhing, screaming man with his limbs spread while two guards obligingly laid into him. The fall of their sticks echoed across the arena; they thoroughly bruised his thighs, shins, and calves until the chief Demon waved his hands to clear them off. The audience applauded politely (though not with particular enthusiasm, noted Locke), and the Demons hauled the quivering, bleeding man off the stadium floor.\n\nThey came back soon enough; one of the Whites removed a Black on the next move. \"Cry the default!\" echoed once again across the arena.\n\n\"I'll sell the right for five solari,\" shouted the Lashani viscountess. \"First taker.\"\n\n\"I'll pay it,\" cried an old man in the stands, dressed in layers of velvet and cloth-of-gold. The chief Demon pointed up at him, and he beckoned to a frock-coated attendant standing just behind him. The attendant threw a purse down to one of Saljesca's guards, who carried it over to the White warmistress'side of the field and threw it into her gallery. The Demons then hauled the young woman in black over for the old man's examination. After a moment of exaggerated contemplation, he shouted, \"Get rid of her dress!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "The young woman's black tabard and dirty cotton dress were ripped apart by the grasping hands of the Demons; in seconds, she was naked." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She seemed determined to give less of a demonstration than the man who'd gone before; she glared stonily up at the old man, be he minor lord or merchant prince, and said nothing.\n\n\"Is that all?\" cried the chief Demon.\n\n\"Oh no,\" said the old man. \"Get rid of her hair, too!\"\n\nThe crowd burst into applause and cheers at that, and the woman betrayed real fear for the first time. She had a thick mane of glossy black hair down to the small of her back, something to be proud of even among the penniless-perhaps all she had to be proud of in the world. The chief Demon played to the crowd, hoisting a gleaming, crooked dagger over his head and howling with glee. The woman attempted to struggle against the five pairs of arms that held her, to no avail. Swiftly, painfully, the chief Demon slashed at her long black locks-they fluttered down until the ground was thick with them and the woman's scalp was covered with nothing but a chopped, irregular stubble. Trickles of blood ran down her face and neck as she was dragged, too numb for further struggle, out of the arena.\n\nSo it went, as Locke watched ingrowing unease, as the pitiless sun crept across the sky and the shadows shortened. The living pieces moved on the gleaming-hot squares, without water and without relief, until they were taken from the board and subjected to a default of the opposing warmaster's choosing. It soon became apparent to Locke that the default could be virtually anything, short of death. The Demons would follow orders with frenzied enthusiasm, playing up each new injury or humiliation for the appreciative crowd.\n\nGods, Locke realized, barely any of them are here for the game at all. They've only come to seethe defaults." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The rows of armored guards would dissuade all possibility of refusal or rebellion. Those'pieces\" who refused to hurry along to their appointed places, or dared to step off their squares without instructions, were simply beaten until they obeyed. Obey they did, and the cruelty of the defaults did not wane as the game went on.\n\n\"Rotten fruit,\" the little boy in the Black warmaster's box yelled, and so it was; an elderly woman with a white tabard was thrown against the stadium wall and pelted with apples, pears, and tomatoes by four of the Demons. They knocked her off her feet and continued the barrage until the woman was a shuddering heap, curled up beneath her frail arms for protection, and great spatters of sour pulp and juice were dripping from the wall behind her.\n\nThe white player's retaliation was swift. She took a stocky young man in black colors and for once reserved the choice of default to herself. \"We must keep our hostess\" stadium clean. Take him to the wall with the fruit stains,\" she shouted, \"and let him clean it with his tongue!\"\n\nThe crowd broke into wild applause at that; the man on the arena floor was pushed up to the wall by the chief Demon. \"Start licking, scum!\"\n\nHis first efforts were halfhearted. Another Demon produced a whip that ended in seven knotted cords and lashed the man across the shoulders, knocking him into the wall hard enough to bloody his nose. \"Earn your fucking pay, worm,\" screamed the Demon, whipping him once again. \"Haven't you ever had a lady tell you to get down and use your tongue before?\"\n\nThe man ran his tongue desperately up and down the wall, gagging every few seconds, which would bring another crack of the Demon's whip. The man was a bleeding, retching nervous wreck by the time he was finally hauled from the arena floor." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "So it went, all morning long.\n\n\"Gods, why do they bear it? Why do they take this?\" Locke stood in the free gallery, alone, staring out at the wealthy and powerful, at their guards and servants, and at the thinning ranks of the living pieces in the game beneath them. He brooded, sweating in his heavy black garments.\n\nHere were the richest and freest people in the Therin world, those with positions and money but no political duties to constrict them, gathered together to do what law and custom forbade beyond Saljesca's private fiefdom-to humiliate and brutalize their lessers however they saw fit, for their own gleeful amusement. The arena and the Amusement War itself were obviously just frames. Means to an end.\n\nThere was no order to it, no justice. Gladiators and prisoners fighting before a crowd were therefor a reason, risking their lives for glory or paying the price for having been caught. Men and women hung from a gibbets because the Crooked Warden had only so much help to give to the foolish, the slow, and the unlucky. But this was wanton.\n\nLocke felt his anger growing like a chancre in his guts.\n\nThey had no idea who he was or what he was really capable of. No idea what the Thorn of Camorr could do to them, unleashed on Salon Corbeau, with Jean to aid him! Given months to plan and observe, the Gentlemen Bastards could take the place apart, find ways to cheat the Amusement War, surely-rob the participants, rob the Lady Saljesca, embarrass and humiliate the bastards, blacken the demi-city's reputation so thoroughly that nobody would ever want to visit again.\n\nBut..." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Crooked Warden,\" Locke whispered, \"why now? Why show me this now?\"\n\nJean was waiting for him back in Tal Verrar, and they were already neck-deep in a game that had taken a year to put together. Jean didn't know anything about what really went on at Salon Corbeau. He would be expecting Locke to return in short order with a set of chairs, so the two of them could carry on with the plan they'd agreed to, a plan that was already desperately delicate.\n\n\"Gods damn it,\" said Locke. \"Gods damn it all to hell.\"\n\nCAMORR, YEARS before. The wet, seeping mists enclosed Locke and Father Chains in curtains of midnight gray as the old man led the boy back home from his first meeting with Capa Vencarlo Barsavi. Locke, drunk and sweat-soaked, clung to the back of his Gentled goat for dear life.\n\n\"... you don't belong to Barsavi,\" Chains said. \"He's good enough for what he is, a good ally to have on your side, and a man that you must appear to obey at all times. But he certainly doesn't own you. In the end, neither do I.\"\n\n\"So I don't have to-\"\n\n\"Obey the Secret Peace? Be a good little pezon? Only for pretend, Locke. Only to keep the wolves from the door. Unless your eyes and ears have been stitched shut with rawhide these past two days, by now you must have realized that I intend you and Calo and Galdo and Sabetha to be nothing less,\" Chains confided through a feral grin, \"than a fucking ballista bolt right through the heart of Vencarlo's precious Secret Peace.\"\n\n\"Uh...\" Locke collected his thoughts for several moments. \"Why?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Heh." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It's... complicated. It has to do with what I am, and what I hope you'll someday be. A priest in the sworn service of the Crooked Warden.\"\n\n\"Is the Capa doing something wrong?\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Chains, \" well, lad, now there's a question. Is he doing right by the Right People? Gods, yes-the Secret Peace tames the city watch, calms everyone down, gets less of us hung.\n\n\"Still, every priesthood has what we call mandates: laws handed down by the gods themselves to those who serve them. Inmost temples, these are complex, messy, annoying things. In the priesthood of the Benefactor, things are easy. We only have two. The first one is thieves prosper. Simple as that. We're ordered to aid one another, hide one another, make peace whenever possible, and see to it that our kind flourishes, by hook or by crook. Barsavi's got that mandate covered, never doubt that.\n\n\"But the second mandate,\" said Chains, lowering his voice and glancing around into the fog to make doubly sure that they were not overheard, \"is this-the rich remember.\"\n\n\"Remember what?\"\n\n\"That they're not invincible. That locks can be picked and treasures can be stolen. Nara, Mistress of Ubiquitous Maladies, may Her hand be stayed, sends disease among men so that men will never forget that they are not gods. We're sort of like that, for the rich and powerful. We're the stone in their shoe, the thorn in their side, a little bit of reciprocity this side of divine judgment. That's our second mandate, and it's as important as the first.\"\n\n\"And... the Secret Peace protects the nobles, and so you don't like it?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It's not that I don't like it.\" Chains mulled his next few words over before he let them out. \"Barsavi's not a priest of the Thirteenth. He's not sworn to the mandates like I am; he's got to be practical. And while I can accept that, I can't just let it go. It's my divine duty to see that the blue bloods with their pretty titles get a little bit of what life hands the rest of us as a matter of routine-a nice, sharp jab in the ass every now and again.\"\n\n\"And, Barsavi... doesn't need to know about this?\"\n\n\"Bleeding shits, no. As I see it, if Barsavi takes care of thieves prosper and I look after the rich remember, this'll be one holy, holy city in the eyes of the Crooked Warden.\"\n\n\"WHY DO they bear it? I know they get paid, but the defaults! Gods... er, Holy Marrows, why do they come here and put up with it? Humiliated, beaten, stoned, befouled... to what end?\"\n\nLocke paced agitatedly around the Baumondain family's workshop, clenching and unclenching his fists. It was the afternoon of his fourth day in Salon Corbeau.\n\n\"As you said, they get paid, Master Fehrwight.\" Lauris Baumondain rested one hand gently on the back of the half-finished chair Locke had come into see. With the other she stroked poor motionless Lively, tucked away inside a pocket of her apron. \"If you're selected fora game, you get a copper centira. If you're given a default, you get a silver volani. There's also a random drawing; one person per war, one in eighty, gets a gold solari.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"They must be desperate,\" said Locke.\n\n\"Farms fail. Businesses fail. Tenant lands get repossessed. Plagues knock all the money and health out of cities. When they've got nowhere else to come, they come here. There's a roof to sleep under, meals, hope of gold or silver. All you have to do is go out there often enough and... amuse them.\"\n\n\"It's perverse. It's infamous.\"\n\n\"You have a soft heart, for what you're spending on just four chairs, Master Fehrwight.\" Lauris looked down and wrung her hands together. \"Forgive me. I spoke well out of turn.\"\n\n\"Speak as you will. I'm not a rich man, Lauris. I'm just my master's servant. But even he... We're frugal people, damn it. Frugal and fair. We might be eccentric, but we're not cruel.\"\n\n\"I've seen nobles from the Marrows at the Amusement War many times, Master Fehrwight.\"\n\n\"We're not nobles. We're merchants... merchants of Emberlain. I can't speak for our nobles, and often don't want to. Look, I've seen many cities. I know how people live. I've seen gladiatorial fights, executions, misery and poverty and desperation. But I've never seen anything like that-the faces of those spectators. The way they watched and cheered. Like jackals, like crows, like something... something so very wrong.\"\n\n\"There are no laws here but Lady Saljesca's laws,\" said Lauris. \"Here they can behave however they choose. At the Amusement War they can do exactly what they want to do to the poor folk and the simple folk. Things forbidden elsewhere. All you're seeing is what they look like when they stop pretending they give a damn about anything. Where do you think Lively came from? I saw a noblewoman having kittens Gentled so her sons could torture them with knives. Because they were bored at tea. So welcome to Salon Corbeau, Master Fehrwight. I'm sorry it's not the paradise it looks like from a distance. Does our work on the chairs meet with your approval?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Yes,\" said Locke slowly. \"Yes, I suppose it does.\"\n\n\"If I were to presume to give you advice,\" said Lauris, \"I'd suggest that you stay away from the Amusement War for the rest of your stay. Do what the rest of us here do. Ignore it. Paint a great cloud of fog over it in your mind's eye and pretend that it's not there.\"\n\n\"As you say, Madam Baumondain.\" Locke sighed. \"I might just do so.\"\n\nBUT LOCKE could not stay away. Morning, afternoon, and evening, he found himself in the public gallery, standing alone, eating and drinking nothing. He saw crowd after crowd, war after war, humiliation after humiliation. The Demons made gruesome mistakes on several occasions; beatings and stranglings got out of control. Those aspirants who were accidentally roughed up beyond hope of recovery had their skulls crushed on the spot, to the polite applause of the crowd. It would not do to be unmerciful.\n\n\"Crooked Warden,\" Locke muttered to himself the first time it happened. \"They don't even have a priest... not a single one....\"\n\nHe realized, dimly, what he was doing to himself. He felt the stirring within, as though his conscience were a deep, still lake with a beast struggling to rise to its surface. Each brutal humiliation, each painful default excitedly decreed by some spoiled noble child while their parents laughed in appreciation, gave strength to that beast as it beat itself against his better judgment, his cold calculation, his willingness to stick to the plan.\n\nHe was trying to make himself angry enough to give in.\n\nThe Thorn of Camorr had been a mask he'd halfheartedly worn as a game. Now it was almost a separate entity, a hungry thing, an increasingly insistent ghost prying at his resolve to stand up for the mandate of his faith." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Let me out, it whispered." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Let me out. The rich must remember. By the gods, I can make damn sure they never forget.\n\n\"I hope you'll pardon my intrusion if I observe that you don't seem to be enjoying yourself!\"\n\nLocke was snapped out of his brooding by the appearance of another man in the free gallery. The stranger was tanned and fit-looking, perhaps five or six years older than Locke, with brown curls down to his collar and a precisely trimmed goatee. His long velvet coat was lined with cloth-of-silver, and he held a gold-topped cane behind his back with both hands.\n\n\"But forgive me. Fernand Genrusa, peer of the Third, of Lashain.\"\n\nPeer of the third order-a baron-a purchased Lashani patent of nobility, just as Locke and Jean had toyed with possibly acquiring. Locke bent slightly at the waist and inclined his head. \"Mordavi Fehrwight, m'lord. Of Emberlain.\"\n\n\"A merchant, then? You must be doing well for yourself, Master Fehrwight, to take your leisure here. So what's behind your long face?\"\n\n\"What makes you think I'm displeased?\"\n\n\"You stand here alone, taking no refreshment, and you watch each new war with such an expression on your face... as though someone were slipping hot coals into your breechclout. I've seen you several times from my own gallery. Are you losing money? I might be able to share some insights I've cultivated on how to best place wagers at the Amusement War.\"\n\n\"I have no wagers outstanding, m'lord. I am merely... unable to stop watching.\"\n\n\"Curious. Yet it does not please you.\"\n\n\"No.\" Locke turned slightly toward Baron Genrusa and swallowed nervously. Etiquette demanded that a lowborn like Mordavi Fehrwight, and a Vadran at that, should defer even to a banknote baron like Genrusa and offer no unpleasant conversation, but Genrusa seemed to be inviting explanation. Locke wondered how much he might getaway with. \"Have you ever seen a carriage accident, m'lord, or a man run over by a team of horses? Seen the blood and wreckage and been completely unable to take your eyes off the spectacle?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I can't say that I have.\"\n\n\"There I would beg to differ. You have a private gallery to see it three times a day if you wish. M'lord.\"\n\n\"Ahhhh. So you find the Amusement War, what, undecorous?\"\n\n\"Cruel, m'lord Genrusa. Most uncommonly cruel.\"\n\n\"Cruel? Compared to what? War? Times of plague? Have you ever seen Camorr, by chance? Now there's a basis for comparison that might have you thinking more soundly, Master Fehrwight.\"\n\n\"Even in Camorr,\" said Locke, \"I don't believe anyone is allowed to beat old women in broad daylight on a whim. Or tear their clothes off, stone them, rape them, slash their hair off, splash them with alchemical caustics.... It's like... like children tearing off an insect's wings. So they might watch and laugh.\"\n\n\"Who forced them to come here, Fehrwight? Who put a sword to their backs and made them march all the way to Salon Corbeau along those hot, empty roads? That pilgrimage takes days from anywhere worthy of note.\"\n\n\"What choice do they have, m'lord? They're only here because they're desperate. Because they could not sustain themselves where they were. Farms fail, businesses fail... it's desperation, is all. They cannot simply decide not to eat.\"\n\n\"Farms fail, businesses fail, ships sink, empires fall.\" Genrusa brought his cane out from behind his back and punctuated his statements by gesturing at Locke with the gold head. \"That's life, under the gods, by the will of the gods. Perhaps if they'd prayed harder, or saved more, or been less thoughtless with what they had, they wouldn't need to come crawling here for Saljesca's charity. Seems only fair that she should require most of them to earn it.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Charity?\"\n\n\"They have a roof over their heads, food to eat, and the chance of money. Those that earn the gold prizes seem to have no trouble taking their coin and leaving.\"\n\n\"One in eighty wins a solari, m'lord. No doubt more money than they've ever seen at once in their lives. And for the other seventy-nine that gold is just a promise, holding them here day after day, week after week, default after default. And those that die because the Demons get out of hand? What good is gold or the promise of gold to them? Anywhere else, it would be plain murder.\"\n\n\"It's Aza Guilla that takes them from the arena floor, not you or I or anyone mortal, Fehrwight.\" Genrusa's brows were furrowed and his cheeks were reddening. \"And yes, anywhere else, it might be plain murder. But this is Salon Corbeau, and they're hereof their own freewill. As are you and I. They could simply choose not to come-\"\n\n\"And starve and die elsewhere.\"\n\n\"Please. I have seen the world, Master Fehrwight. I might recommend it to you for perspective. Certainly, some of them must be down on their luck. But I wager you'd find that most of them are just hungry for gold, hoping for an easy break. Lookout at those on the arena floor now... quite a few young and healthy ones, aren't there?\"\n\n\"Who else might be expected to make the journey hereon foot without extraordinary luck, m'lord Genrusa?\"\n\n\"I can see there's no talking sense to sentiment, Master Fehrwight. I'd thought you coin-kissers from Emberlain were a harder lot than this.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Hard perhaps, but not vulgar.\"\n\n\"Now mind yourself, Master Fehrwight. I wanted a word because I was genuinely curious about your disposition; I think I can see now what it stems from. A bit of advice: Salon Corbeau might not be the healthiest place to harbor your sort of resentment.\"\n\n\"My business here will be... shortly concluded.\"\n\n\"All for the better, then. But perhaps your business at the Amusement War might be curtailed even sooner. I'm not the only one who's taken an interest in you. Lady Saljesca's guards are... sensitive about discontent. Above the arena floor as well as on it.\"\n\nI could leave you penniless and sobbing, whispered the voice in Locke's head. I could have you pawning your piss-buckets to keep your creditors from slitting your throat.\n\n\"Forgive me, my lord. I will take what you say most seriously,\" muttered Locke. \"I doubt... that I shall trouble anyone here again.\"\n\nON THE morning of Locke's ninth day in Salon Corbeau, the Baumondains were finished with his chairs.\n\n\"They look magnificent,\" said Locke, running his fingers lightly over the lacquered wood and padded leather. \"Very fine, as fine as I had reason to hope. And the... additional features?\"\n\n\"Built to your specifications, Master Fehrwight. Exactly to your specifications.\" Lauris stood beside her father in the Baumondain workshop while ten-year-old Parnella was struggling to brew tea over an alchemical hearthstone, at a corner table covered in unidentifiable tools and half-empty jars of woodworking oils. Locke made a mental note to smell any tea offered to him very carefully before drinking.\n\n\"You have outdone yourselves, all of you.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"We were, ah, financially inspired, Master Fehrwight,\" said the elder Baumondain.\n\n\"I like building weird things,\" Parnella added from the corner.\n\n\"Heh. Yes, I suppose these would qualify.\" Locke stared at his suite of four matching chairs and sighed in mingled relief and aggravation. \"Well, then. If you'd be so kind as to ready them for transport, I shall hire two carriages and take my leave this afternoon.\"\n\n\"In that much of a hurry to leave?\"\n\n\"I hope you'll forgive me if I say that every unnecessary moment I spend in this place weighs on me. Salon Corbeau and I do not agree.\" Locke removed a leather purse from his coat pocket and tossed it to Master Baumondain. \"An additional twenty solari. For your silence, and for these chairs to never have existed. Is this clear?\"\n\n\"I... well, I'm sure we can accommodate your request.... I must say, your generosity is-\"\n\n\"A subject that needs no further discussion. Humor me, now. I'll begone soon enough.\"\n\nSo that's all, said the voice in Locke's head. Stick to the plan. Leave this all behind, and do nothing, and return to Tal Verrar with my tail between my legs.\n\nWhile he and Jean enriched themselves at Requin's expense and cheated their way up the luxurious floors of the Sinspire, on the stone floor of Lady Saljesca's arena the defaults would goon, and the faces of the spectators would be the same, day after day. Children tearing the wings from insects to laugh at how they flailed and bled... and stepping on one every now and again.\n\n\"Thieves prosper,\" muttered Locke under his breath. He tightened his neck-cloths and prepared to go summon his carriages, feeling sick to his stomach." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Serve as the author's scribe, continue the tale.\nTags: fantasy, heist, pirates\nAuthor: Scott Lynch\nTitle: Red Seas Under Red Skies\nChapter: 11" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"We were, ah, financially inspired, Master Fehrwight,\" said the elder Baumondain.\n\n\"I like building weird things,\" Parnella added from the corner.\n\n\"Heh. Yes, I suppose these would qualify.\" Locke stared at his suite of four matching chairs and sighed in mingled relief and aggravation. \"Well, then. If you'd be so kind as to ready them for transport, I shall hire two carriages and take my leave this afternoon.\"\n\n\"In that much of a hurry to leave?\"\n\n\"I hope you'll forgive me if I say that every unnecessary moment I spend in this place weighs on me. Salon Corbeau and I do not agree.\" Locke removed a leather purse from his coat pocket and tossed it to Master Baumondain. \"An additional twenty solari. For your silence, and for these chairs to never have existed. Is this clear?\"\n\n\"I... well, I'm sure we can accommodate your request.... I must say, your generosity is-\"\n\n\"A subject that needs no further discussion. Humor me, now. I'll begone soon enough.\"\n\nSo that's all, said the voice in Locke's head. Stick to the plan. Leave this all behind, and do nothing, and return to Tal Verrar with my tail between my legs.\n\nWhile he and Jean enriched themselves at Requin's expense and cheated their way up the luxurious floors of the Sinspire, on the stone floor of Lady Saljesca's arena the defaults would goon, and the faces of the spectators would be the same, day after day. Children tearing the wings from insects to laugh at how they flailed and bled... and stepping on one every now and again.\n\n\"Thieves prosper,\" muttered Locke under his breath. He tightened his neck-cloths and prepared to go summon his carriages, feeling sick to his stomach." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "CHAPTER FIVE\n\nON A CLOCKWORK RIVER\n\nTHE GLASS-FRONTED TRANSPORT BOX erupted out of the Mon Magisteria's waterfall once again and slid home with a lurch just inside the palace. Water hissed through iron pipes, the high gates behind the box slammed shut, and the attendants pushed the front doors open for Locke, Jean, and Merrain.\n\nA dozen Eyes of the Archon were waiting for them in the entrance hall. They fell in wordlessly on either side of Locke and Jean as Merrain led them forward.\n\nThough not to the same office as before, it seemed. Locke glanced around from time to time as they passed through dimly lit halls and up twisting staircases. The Mon Magisteria was truly more fortress than palace; the walls outside the grand hall were devoid of decoration, and the air smelled mainly of humidity, sweat, leather, and weapon oils. Water rumbled through unseen channels behind the walls. Occasionally they would troop past servants, who would stand with their backs to the wall and their heads bowed toward their feet until the Eyes were past.\n\nMerrain led them to an iron-reinforced door in a nondescript corridor several floors up from the entrance. Faint silver moonlight could be seen rippling through an arched window at the far end of the hall.... Locke squinted and realized that a stream of water from the palace's circling aqueducts was falling down the glass.\n\nMerrain pounded on the door three times. When it opened with a click, allowing a crack of soft yellow light into the hall, she dismissed the Eyes with a wave of her hand. As they marched away down the corridor, she pushed the door open slightly and pointed toward it with her other hand.\n\n\"At last. I might have hoped to see you sooner. You must have been away from your usual haunts when Merrain found you.\" Stragos looked up from where he sat, on one of only two chairs in the small, bare room, and shuffled the papers he'd been examining. His bald attendant sat on the other with several files in hand, saying nothing." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"They were having a bit of trouble on the inner docks of the Great Gallery,\" said Merrain as she closed the door behind Locke and Jean." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"A pair of fairly motivated assassins.\"\n\n\"Really?\" Stragos seemed genuinely annoyed. \"What business might that be in relation to?\"\n\n\"I only wish we knew,\" said Locke. \"Our chance for an interrogation took a crossbow bolt in the chest when Merrain showed up.\"\n\n\"The woman was about to stick one of these two with a poisoned knife, Protector. I thought you'd prefer to have them both intact for the time being.\"\n\n\"Hmmm. A pair of assassins. Were you at the Sinspire tonight?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Jean.\n\n\"Well, it wouldn't be Requin, then. He'd simply have taken you while you were there. So it's some other business. Something you should have told me about before, Kosta?\"\n\n\"Oh, begging your pardon, Archon. I thought that between your little friends the Bondsmagi and all the spies you must have slinking about at our backsides, you'd know more than you do.\"\n\n\"This is serious, Kosta. I aim to make use of you; it doesn't suit my needs to have someone else's vendetta on my hands. You don't know who might have sent them?\"\n\n\"Truthfully, we have no bloody clue.\"\n\n\"You left the bodies of these assassins on the docks?\"\n\n\"The constables have them by now, surely,\" said Merrain.\n\n\"They'll throw the bodies in the Midden Deep, but first they'll inter them at the death-house fora day or two,\" said Stragos. \"I want someone down thereto have a look at them. Note their descriptions, plus any tattoos or other markings that might be meaningful.\"\n\n\"Of course,\" said Merrain." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Tell the officer of the watch to see to that now." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "You'll know whereto find me when you're finished.\"\n\n\"Your will... Archon.\" Merrain looked as though she might say something else, then turned, opened the door, and hurried out.\n\n\"You called me Kosta,\" said Locke when the door had slammed closed once again. \"She doesn't know our real names, does she? Curious. Don't you trust your people, Stragos? Seems like it'd be easy enough to get your hooks into them the same way you got them into us.\"\n\n\"I'll wager,\" said Jean, \"that you never take up your master's offer of a friendly drink when you're off duty, eh, baldy?\" Stragos\" attendant scowled but still said nothing.\n\n\"By all means,\" said Stragos lightly, \"taunt my personal alchemist, the very man responsible for me \"getting my hooks into you,\" not to mention the preparation of your antidotes.\"\n\nThe bald man smiled thinly. Locke and Jean cleared their throats and shuffled their feet in unison, a habit they'd synchronized as boys.\n\n\"You seem a reasonable fellow,\" said Locke. \"And I for one have always found a hairless brow to be a noble thing, sensible in every climate....\"\n\n\"Shut up, Lamora. Do we have the people we need, then?\" Stragos passed his papers over to his attendant.\n\n\"Yes, Archon. Forty-four of them, all told. I'll see that they're moved by tomorrow evening.\"\n\n\"Good. Leave us the vials and you may go.\"\n\nThe man nodded and gathered his papers. He handed two small glass vials over to the archon, then left without another word, sliding the door respectfully closed behind him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Well, you two.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Stragos sighed. \"You seem to attract attention, don't you? You're certain you've no idea who else might be trying to kill you? Some old score to settle from Camorr?\"\n\n\"There are so many old scores to settle,\" said Locke.\n\n\"There would be, wouldn't there? Well, my people will continue to protect you as best they can. You two, however, will have to be more... circumspect.\"\n\n\"That sentiment is not exactly unprecedented,\" said Locke.\n\n\"Confine your movements to the Golden Steps and the Savrola until further notice. I'll have extra people placed on the inner docks; use those when you must travel.\"\n\n\"Gods damn it, we cannot operate like that! Fora few days, perhaps, but not for the rest of our stay in Tal Verrar, however long it might be.\"\n\n\"In that, you're more right than you know, Locke. But if someone else is after you, I can't let it interfere with my needs. Curtail your movements or I'll have them curtailed for you.\"\n\n\"You said there'd be no further complication of our game with Requin!\"\n\n\"No, I said that the poison wouldn't further complicate your game with Requin.\"\n\n\"You seem pretty confident of our good behavior fora man who's all alone with us in a little stone room,\" said Jean, taking a step forward. \"Your alchemist's not coming back, is he? Nor Merrain?\"\n\n\"Should I be worried? You've absolutely nothing to gain by harming me.\"\n\n\"Except immense personal satisfaction,\" said Locke. \"You presume that we're in our right minds. You presume that we give a shit about your precious poison, and that we wouldn't tear you limb from limb on general principle and take the consequences afterward.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Must we do this?\" Stragos remained seated, one leg crossed over the other, a mildly bored expression on his face. \"It occurred tome that the two of you might be stubborn enough to nurse a bit of mutiny in your hearts. So listen carefully-if you leave this room without me, the Eyes in the hall outside will kill you on sight. And if you otherwise harm me in anyway, I repeat my earlier promise. I'll revisit the same harm on one of you, tenfold, while the other is forced to watch.\"\n\n\"You,\" said Locke, \"area goat-faced wad of slipskinner's shit.\"\n\n\"Anything's possible,\" said Stragos. \"But if you're thoroughly in my power, pray tell me, what does that make you?\"\n\n\"Downright embarrassed,\" muttered Locke.\n\n\"Very likely. Can you, both of you, set aside this childish need to avenge yourself-regard and accept the mission I have for you? Will you hear the plan and keep civil tongues?\"\n\n\"Yes.\" Locke closed his eyes and sighed. \"I suppose we truly have no choice. Jean?\"\n\n\"I wish I didn't have to agree.\"\n\n\"Just so long as you do.\" Stragos stood up, opened the door to the corridor, and beckoned for Locke and Jean to follow. \"My Eyes will see you along to my gardens. I have something I want to show the two of you... while we speak more privately about your mission.\"\n\n\"What exactly do you intend to do with us?\" asked Jean.\n\n\"Simply put, I have a navy riding at anchor in the Sword Marina, accomplishing little. Inasmuch as I still depend on the Priori to help pay and provision it, I can't send it out in force without a proper excuse.\" Stragos smiled. \"So I'm going to send you two out onto the sea to find that excuse for me.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Out to sea?\" said Locke. \"Are you out of your fu-\"\n\n\"Take them to my garden,\" said Stragos, spinning on his heel.\n\nIT WAS less a garden than a forest, stretching for what must have been hundreds of yards on the northern side of the Mon Magisteria. Hedges entwined with softly glowing Silver Creeper vines marked the paths between the swaying blackness of the trees; by some natural alchemy the vines shed enough artificial moonlight for the two thieves and their guards to step easily along the gravel paths. The moons themselves were out, but had now fallen behind the looming fifteen-story darkness of the palace itself and could not be seen from Locke and Jean's position.\n\nThe perfumed air was humid and heavy; there was rain lurking in the creeping arc of clouds enclosing the eastern sky. There was a buzzing flutter of unseen wings from the darkness of the trees, and here and there pale gold and scarlet lights seemed to drift around the trunks like some fairy mischief.\n\n\"Lantern beetles,\" said Jean, mesmerized despite himself.\n\n\"Think on how much dirt they must have had to haul up here, to cover the Elderglass deeply enough to let these trees grow...,\" whispered Locke.\n\n\"It's good to be a duke,\" said Jean. \"Oran archon.\"\n\nAt the center of the garden was a low structure like a boathouse, lit by hanging alchemical lanterns in the heraldic blue of Tal Verrar. Locke heard the faint lapping of water against stone, and soon enough saw that there was a dark channel perhaps twenty feet wide cut into the ground just beyond the little structure. It meandered into the darkness of the forest-garden like a miniature river. In fact, Locke realized, the lantern-lit structure was a boathouse." }, { "from": "human", "value": "More guards appeared out of the darkness, a team of four being half led and half dragged by two massive black dogs in armored harnesses." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "These creatures, waist-high at the shoulders and nearly as broad, bared their fangs and sniffed disdainfully at the two thieves, then snorted and pulled their handlers along into the archon's garden.\n\n\"Very good,\" said Stragos, appearing out of the darkness a few strides behind the dog team. \"Everything's prepared. You two, come with me. Sword-prefect, you and yours are dismissed.\"\n\nThe Eyes turned as one and marched off toward the palace, their boots crunching faintly on the gravel underfoot. Stragos beckoned to Locke and Jean, then led them down to the water's edge. There, a boat floated on the still water, lashed to a little post behind the boathouse. The craft seemed to be built for four, with a leather-padded bench upfront and another at the stern. Stragos gestured again, for Locke and Jean to climb down into the forward bench.\n\nLocke had to admit it was pleasant enough, settling against the cushions and resting his arm against the gunwale of the sturdy little craft. Stragos rocked the boat slightly as he stepped down behind them, untied the lashing, and settled on his own bench. He took up an oar and dipped it over the left gunwale. \"Tannen,\" he said, \"be so kind as to light our bow lantern.\"\n\nJean glanced over his shoulder and spotted a fist-sized alchemical lantern in a faceted glass hanging off his side of the boat. He fiddled with a brass dial atop the lantern until the vapors inside mingled and sputtered to life, like a sky-blue diamond casting ghosts of the lantern's facets on the water below.\n\n\"This was here when the dukes of the Therin Throne built their palace,\" said Stragos. \"A channel cut down into the glass, eight yards deep, like a private river. These gardens were built around it. We archons inherited this place along with the Mon Magisteria. While my predecessor was content with still waters, I have made modifications.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Ashe spoke, the sound of the water lapping against the sides of the channel became louder and more irregular. Locke realized that the rushing, gurgling noise slowly rising around them was the sound of a current flowing through the river. The bow lantern's reflected light bobbed and shifted as the water beneath it undulated like dark silk.\n\n\"Sorcery?\" asked Locke.\n\n\"Artifice, Lamora.\" The boat began to slide gently away from the side of the channel, and Stragos used the oar to align them in the center of the miniature river. \"There's a strong breeze blowing from the east tonight, and windmills at the far side of my garden. They can be used to drive waterwheels beneath the surface of the channel. Instill air, forty or fifty men can crank the mechanisms by hand. I can call the current up as I see fit.\"\n\n\"Any man can fart in a closed room and say that he commands the wind,\" said Locke. \"Though I will admit, this whole garden is... more elegant than I would have given you credit for.\"\n\n\"How pleasant, to have your good opinion of my aesthetic sense.\" Stragos steered them in silence fora few minutes after that, around a wide turn, past hanging banks of silver creeper and the rustle of leaves on low-hanging branches. The smell of the artificial river rose up around them as the current strengthened-not unpleasant, but more stale and less green, somehow, than the scent of natural ponds and rivers Locke recalled.\n\n\"I presume this river is a closed circuit,\" said Jean.\n\n\"A meandering one, but yes.\"\n\n\"Then, ah... forgive me, but where exactly are you taking us?\"\n\n\"All in good time,\" said Stragos." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Speaking of where you're taking us,\" said Locke, \"would you care to return to our earlier subject? One of your guards must have struck me on the head; I thought I heard you say that you wanted us to go to sea.\"\n\n\"So I do. And so you shall.\"\n\n\"To what possible end?\"\n\n\"Are you familiar,\" said Stragos, \"with the story of the Free Armada of the Ghostwind Isles?\"\n\n\"Vaguely,\" said Locke.\"\n\n\"The pirate uprising on the Sea of Brass,\" mused Jean. \"Six or seven years ago. It was put down.\"\n\n\"I put it down,\" said the archon. \"Seven years ago, those damn fools down in the Ghostwinds got it into their heads to make a bid for power. Claimed to have the right to levy taxes on shipping on the Sea of Brass, if by taxes you mean boarding and plundering anything with a hull. They had a dozen fit vessels, and a dozen more-or-less fit crews.\"\n\n\"Bonaire,\" said Jean. \"That was the captain they all followed, wasn't it? Laurella Bonaire?\"\n\n\"It was,\" said Stragos. \"Bonaire and her Basilisk; she was one of my officers, and that was one of my ships, before she turned her coat.\"\n\n\"And you such a pleasant, unassuming fellow to work for,\" said Locke.\n\n\"That squadron of brigands hit Nicora and Vel Virazzo and just about every little village on the nearby coast; they took ships insight of this palace and hauled sail for the horizon when my galleys went out to meet them. It was the greatest aggravation this city had faced since the war against Camorr, in my predecessor's time.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I don't recall it lasting long,\" said Jean.\n\n\"Half a year, perhaps. That declaration was their downfall; freebooters can run and skulk well enough, but when you make declarations you usually end up in battle to uphold them. Pirates are no match for real naval men and women when it's line against line on the open sea. We hammered them just off Nicora, sank half their fleet, and sent the rest pissing their breeches all the way back to the Ghostwinds. Bonaire wound up in a crow's cage dangling over the Midden Deep. After she watched all of her crew go in, I cut the rope that held her up myself.\"\n\nLocke and Jean said nothing. There was a faint watery creak as Stragos adjusted the course of their boat. Another bend in the artificial river was looming ahead.\n\n\"Now, that little demonstration,\" the archon continued, \"made piracy a fairly unpopular trade on the Sea of Brass. It's been a good time for honest merchants since then; of course there are still pirates in the Ghostwinds, but they don't come within three hundred miles of Tal Verrar, nor anywhere near Nicora or the coast. My navy hasn't had anything more serious than customs incidents and plague ships to deal with for nigh on three or four years. A quiet time... a prosperous time.\"\n\n\"Isn't it your job to provide just that?\" said Jean.\n\n\"You seem a well-read man, Tannen. Surely, your readings must have taught you that when men and women of arms have bled to secure a time of peace, the very people who most benefit from that peace are also the most likely to forget the bleeding.\"\n\n\"The Priori,\" said Locke. \"That victory made them nervous, didn't it? People like victories. That's what makes generals popular... and dictators.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Astute, Lamora. Just as it was in the interests of the merchant councils to send me out to deliver them from piracy,\" said Stragos, \"it was in their interest to wring my navy dry soon afterward. Dividends of peace... they paid off half the ships, put them up in ordinary, loosed a few hundred trained sailors from the muster rolls, and let the merchants snap them up. The taxes of Tal Verrar paid to train them, and the Priori and their partners were happy to steal them. So it was, and so it is, with the Sea of Brass at peace, the Marrows squabbling, Lashain without a navy and Karthain far beyond the need to even consider one. This corner of the world is calm.\"\n\n\"If you and the Priori are so very unhappy with one another, why don't they just run you out of funds completely?\" Locke settled back against his corner of the boat and let his left hand hang far over the gunwale, trailing in the warm water.\n\n\"I'm sure they would if they could,\" said Stragos. \"But the charter of the city guarantees me a certain minimal budget, from general revenues. Though every finnicker and comptroller in the city is one of theirs, and they contrive some damned elaborate lies to trim even that. My own ledger-folk have their hands full chasing after them. But it's discretionary funds they won't cut loose. Ina time of need they could swell my forces with gold and supplies at a moment's notice. Ina time of peace, they begrudge me every last centira. They have forgotten why the archonate was instituted in the first place.\"\n\n\"It does occur tome,\" said Locke, \"that your predecessor was supposed to sort of... dissolve the office when Camorr agreed to stop kicking your ass.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"A standing force is the only professional force, Lamora. There must be a continuity of experience and training in the ranks; a worthwhile army or navy cannot simply be conjured out of nothing. Tal Verrar might not have the luxury of three or four years to build a defense when the next crisis comes along. And the Priori, the ones who prattle the loudest about \"opposing dictatorship\" and \"civic guarantees,\" would be the first to slip away like rats, loaded down with their fortunes, to take ship for whatever corner of the world would give them refuge. They would never stand or die with the city. And so the enmity between us is more than personal, for my part.\"\n\n\"While I've known too many grand merchants to dispute your general idea of their character,\" said Locke, \"I've had a sudden sharp realization about where this conversation has been going.\"\n\n\"As have I,\" said Jean, clearing his throat. \"Seems tome that with your power on the wane, this would be a terribly convenient time for new trouble to surface somewhere out on the Sea of Brass, wouldn't it?\"\n\n\"Very good,\" said Stragos. \"Seven years ago, the pirates of the Ghostwinds rose up and gave the people of Tal Verrar reason to be glad of the navy I command. It would be convenient if they might be convinced to trouble us once again... and be crushed once again.\"\n\n\"Send us out to sea to find an excuse for you, that's what you said,\" said Locke. \"Send us out to sea. Has your brain swelled against the inside of your skull? How the screaming fucking hell do you expect the two of us to raise a bloody pirate armada in a place we've never been and convince it to come merrily die at the hands of the navy that bent it over the table and fucked it in the ass last time?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"You convinced the nobles of Camorr to throwaway a fortune on your schemes,\" said Stragos without a hint of anger." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"They love their money. Yet you shook it out of them like ripe fruit from a tree. You outwitted a Bondsmage. You outwitted Capa Barsavi to his very face. You evaded the trap that caught your Capa Barsavi and his entire court.\"\n\n\"Only some of us,\" whispered Locke. \"Only some of us got away, asshole.\"\n\n\"I need more than agents. I need provocateurs. You two fell into my hands at an ideal time. Your task, your mission, will be to raise hell on the Sea of Brass. I want ships sacked from hereto Nicora. I want the Priori pounding on my door, pleading with me to take more gold, more ships, more responsibility. I want commerce south of Tal Verrar to set full sail and run for port. I want underwriters soiling their breeches. I know I might not get all that, but by the gods, I'll take whatever you can give me. Raise me a pirate scare the likes of which we haven't had in years.\"\n\n\"You are cracked,\" said Jean.\n\n\"We can rob nobles. We can do second-story work. We can slide down chimneys and slip locks and rob coaches and break vaults and do a fine spread of card tricks,\" said Locke. \"I could cut your balls off, if you had any, and replace them with marbles, and you wouldn't notice fora week. But I hate to tell you that the one class of criminal we really haven't associated with, ever, is fucking pirates!\"\n\n\"We're at a bit of a loss when it comes to the particulars of making their acquaintance,\" added Jean.\n\n\"In this, as in so much, I'm well ahead of you,\" said Stragos. \"You should have no trouble making the acquaintance of the Ghostwind pirates, because you yourselves will become perfectly respectable pirates. Captain and first mate of a pirate sloop, as a matter of fact.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"YOU ARE beyond mad,\" said Locke after several moments of silent, furious thought. \"Full-on barking madness is a state of rational bliss to which you may not aspire. Men living in gutters and drinking their own piss would shun your company. You area prancing lunatic.\"\n\n\"That's not the sort of thing I'd expect to hear from a man who genuinely wants his antidote.\"\n\n\"Well, what a magnificent choice you've given us-death by slow poison or death by insane misadventure!\"\n\n\"Come now,\" said Stragos. \"That's also not the sort of thing I'd expect to hear from a man with your proven ability for slipping out of extremely complicated situations.\"\n\n\"I'm getting a bit annoyed,\" said Locke, \"with those who praise our previous escapades as an excuse for forcing us into even riskier ones. Look, if you want us to run a job, give us one within our field of experience. Isn't it broad enough for you? All we're saying is that we don't know the first bloody thing about wind, weather, ships, pirates, the Sea of Brass, the Ghostwind Isles, sails, ropes, er... weather, ships...\"\n\n\"Our sole experience with ships,\" said Jean, \"consists of getting on, getting seasick, and getting off.\"\n\n\"I'd thought of that,\" said Stragos. \"The captain of a criminal crew must have, above all other things, charisma. Leadership. A sense of decision. Rogues must be ruled. I believe you can do that, Lamora... by faking it, if necessary. That makes you the best possible choice in some respects. You can fake confidence when a sincere man might be inclined to panic. And your friend Jean can enforce your leadership; a good infighter is someone to be respected on a ship.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Sure, great,\" said Locke." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I'm charming; Jean's tough. That just leaves all the other things I named-\"\n\n\"As for the nautical arts, I will provide you with an experienced sailing master. A man who can train you in the essentials and make the proper decisions for you once you're at sea, all the while pretending the orders come from you. Don't you see? All I'm doing is asking you to play a role; he'll provide the knowledge to make that role convincing.\"\n\n\"Sweet Venaportha,\" said Locke. \"You really intend for us to go out there, and you genuinely wish us to succeed?\"\n\n\"Absolutely,\" said Stragos.\n\n\"And the poison,\" said Jean, \"you'll just put enough antidote in our hands to allow us to roam the Sea of Brass, as we will?\"\n\n\"Hardly. You'll need to call at Tal Verrar once every two months. My alchemist tells me that sixty-two to sixty-five days is really as far as you should push it.\"\n\n\"Now, wait just a damn minute,\" said Locke. \"It's not enough that we'll be clueless sailors masquerading as hardened pirates, trusting another man to make us look competent. Or that we're going to be out risking gods know what at sea, with our plans for Requin postponed. Now you expect us to be tied to Mother's apron strings every two months?\"\n\n\"It's two or three weeks to the Ghostwinds, and the same time back. You'll have ample time to do your business each trip, for however many months it takes. How closely you wish to shave your schedule is, of course, your own concern. Surely you see that it has to be this way.\"\n\n\"No,\" Locke laughed, \"frankly, I don't!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I'll want progress reports. I may have new orders and information for you. You may have new requests or suggestions. It makes a great deal of sense to stay in regular contact.\"\n\n\"And what if we chance across one of those patches of... damn, Jean, what are they called? No wind whatsoever?\"\n\n\"Doldrums,\" said Jean.\n\n\"Exactly,\" said Locke. \"Even we know that you can't presume a constant speed with wind and sails; you get what the gods send you. We could be stuck on a flat ocean fifty miles from Tal Verrar, on day sixty-three, dying for no reason at all.\"\n\n\"Remotely possible, but unlikely. I'm well aware that there's a great element of risk in the task I'm handing you; the possibility of avast return compels me to play the odds. Now... speak no more of this for the time being. Here's what I've brought you out to see.\"\n\nThere was a golden ripple on the black water ahead, and faint golden lines that seemed to sway in the air above it. As they drew closer, Locke saw that a wide, dark shape covered the artificial river completely, from one bank to the other. A building of some sort... and the golden lines appeared to be cracks in curtains that hung down to the water. The boat reached this barrier and pushed through with little trouble; Locke shoved heavy damp canvas away from his face, and as it fell aside the boat burst into broad daylight.\n\nThey were inside a walled and roofed garden, at least forty feet high, filled with willow, witchwood, olive, citrus, and amberthorn trees. Black, brown, and gray trunks stood in ranks beside one another, their vine-tangled branches reaching up in vast constellations of bright leaves that entwined above the river like a roof beneath the roof." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As for the roof itself, it was scintillant, sky blue and bright as noon, with wisps of white clouds drifting past half-visible between the branches. The sunburned painfully bright on Locke's right as he turned around to stare straight ahead, and it sent rays of golden light down through the silhouetted leaves... though surely it was still the middle of the night outside.\n\n\"This is alchemy, or sorcery, or both,\" said Jean.\n\n\"Some alchemy,\" said Stragos in a soft, enthusiastic voice. \"The ceiling is glass, the clouds are smoke, the sun is a burning vessel of alchemical oils and mirrors.\"\n\n\"Bright enough to keep this forest alive under a roof? Damn,\" said Locke.\n\n\"It may indeed be bright enough, Lamora,\" said the archon, \"but if you'll look closely, you'll see that nothing under this roof besides ourselves is alive.\"\n\nAs Locke and Jean glanced around in disbelief, Stragos steered the boat up against one of the garden's riverbanks. The waterway narrowed hereto a mere ten feet, to allow room for the trees and vines and bushes on either side. Stragos reached out to grasp a trunk and halt the boat, and he pointed into the air as he spoke.\n\n\"A clockwork garden for my clockwork river. There's not areal plant inhere. It's wood and clay and wire and silk; paint and dye and alchemy. All of it engineered to my design; it took the artificers and their assistants six years to construct it all. My little glen of mechanisms.\"\n\nIncredulously, Locke realized that the archon was telling the truth. Other than the movement of white smoke clouds far overhead, the place was unnaturally still, almost eerie. And the air in the enclosed garden was inert, smelling of stale water and canvas. It should have been bursting with forest scents, with the rich odors of dirt and flowering and decay." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Do I still strike you as a man farting in an enclosed room, Lamora?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Inhere, I do command the wind....\"\n\nStragos raised his right arm high above his head, and a rustling noise filled the artificial garden. A current of air plucked at Locke's scalp, and steadily rose until there was a firm breeze against his face. The leaves and branches around them swayed gently.\n\n\"And the rain,\" cried Stragos. His voice echoed off the water and was lost in the depths of the suddenly lively forest. A moment later a faint warm mist began to descend, a ticklish haze of water that swirled in ghostly curves throughout the imaginary greenery and enveloped their boat. Then drops began to fall with a soft pitter-patter, rippling the surface of the clockwork river. Locke and Jean huddled beneath their coats as Stragos laughed.\n\n\"I can do more,\" said Stragos. \"Perhaps I can even call up a storm!\" A stronger breath of air began to beat the rain and mist against them; the little river churned as a countercurrent surged from somewhere ahead of them. Little whitecaps burst beneath the boat as though the water were boiling; Stragos clung to his chosen tree trunk with both hands as the boat rocked nauseatingly. The raindrops grew heavier and harder; Locke had to shield his eyes to see. Clouds of thick dark mist boiled overhead, dimming the artificial sun. The forest had come to life, flailing at the misty air with branches and leaves as though the faux greenery was at war with unseen ghosts.\n\n\"But only after a fashion,\" said Stragos, and without any apparent further signals from him the rain faded away. Gradually, the flailing of the forest died down to a soft rustling, and then to stillness; the surging currents of the river beneath them subsided, and in minutes the mechanical garden was restored to relative peace. Fingers of fading mist swirled around the trees, the sun peeked out from behind the thinning'clouds,\" and the enclosure echoed with the not-unpleasant sound of water dripping from a thousand branches and fronds and trunks." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Locke shook himself and pushed his wet hair back out of his eyes. \"It's... it's gods-damned singular, Archon. I'll give it that. I've never even imagined anything like this.\"\n\n\"A bottled garden with bottled weather,\" mused Jean.\n\n\"Why?\" Locke asked the question for both of them.\n\n\"As a reminder.\" Stragos released his hold on the tree trunk and let the boat drift gently into the middle of the stream once again. \"Of what the hands and minds of human beings can achieve. Of what this city, alone in all the world, is capable of producing. I told you my Mon Magisteria was a repository of artificial things. Think of them as the fruits of order... order I must secure and safeguard.\"\n\n\"How the hell does interfering with Tal Verrar's ocean commerce secure and safeguard order?\"\n\n\"Short-term sacrifice for long-term gain. There is something latent in this city that will flower, Lamora. Something that will bloom. Can you imagine the wonders the Therin Throne might have produced, given centuries of peace, had it not been shattered into all our warring, scrabbling city-states? Something is preparing to emerge out of all our misfortune at last, and it will be here. The alchemists and artificers of Tal Verrar are peerless, and the scholars of the Therin Collegium are just a few days away.... It must be here!\"\n\n\"Maxilan, darling.\" Locke raised one eyebrow and smiled. \"I knew you were driven, but I had no idea you could smolder. Come, take me now! Jean won't mind; he'll avert his eyes like a gentleman.\"\n\n\"Mock meas you will, Lamora, but hear the words I speak. Comprehend, damn you. What you just witnessed,\" said Stragos, \" required sixty men and women to achieve. Spotters watching for my signals. Alchemists to tend the smoke-pots, and hidden crews to work the bellows and fans that produce the wind. There were several dozen merely pulling strings, as it were; the branches of my artificial trees are threaded with metal wire, like puppets, so that they may shake more convincingly. A small army of trained workers, straining to produce a five-minute spectacle for three men in a boat. And even that was not possible with the art and artifice of previous centuries." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"What more might we achieve, given time?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "What if thirty people could produce the same result? Or ten? Or one? What if better devices could give stronger winds, more driving rain, a harder current? What if our mechanisms of control grew so subtle and so powerful that they ceased to be a spectacle at all? What if we could harness them to change anything, control anything, even ourselves? Our bodies? Our souls? We cower in the ruins of the Eldren world, and cower in the shadow of the Magi of Karthain. But common men and women could equal their power. Given centuries, given the good grace of the gods, common men and women could eclipse their power.\"\n\n\"And all of these grandiose notions,\" said Jean, \"somehow require the two of us to go out and pretend to be pirates on your behalf?\"\n\n\"Tal Verrar will never be strong so long as its fate is vouchsafed by those who would squeeze gold from it like milk from a cow, then flee for the horizons at the first sign of danger. I need more power, and to speak plainly, I must seize or trick it out of my enemies, with the will of the people behind me. Your mission, if successful, would turn a key in the lock of a door that bars the way to greater things.\" Stragos chuckled and spread his hands. \"You are thieves. I am offering you a chance to help steal history itself.\"\n\n\"Which is of little comfort,\" said Locke, \"compared to money in a countinghouse and a roof over one's head.\"\n\n\"You hate the magi of Karthain,\" said Stragos flatly.\n\n\"I suppose I do,\" said Locke.\n\n\"The last emperor of the Therin Throne tried to fight them with magic; sorcery against sorcery. He died for his failure. Karthain can never be conquered by the arts it commands; they have ensured that no power in our world will ever have sorcerers numerous or powerful enough to match them. They must be fought with this.\" He set down his oar and spread his hands. \"Machines. Artifice. Alchemy and engineering-the fruits of the mind.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"All of this,\" said Locke, \"this whole ridiculous scheme... a more powerful Tal Verrar, conquering this corner of the world... all to hurt Karthain? I can't say I find the idea unpleasant, but why? What did they do to you, to make you imagine this?\"\n\n\"Do either of you know,\" said Stragos, \"of the ancient art of illusionism? Have you ever read about it in books of history?\"\n\n\"A little,\" said Locke. \"Not very much.\"\n\n\"Once upon a time the performance of illusions-imaginary magic, not real sorcery at all, just clever tricks-was widespread, popular, and lucrative. Commoners paid to see it on street corners; nobles of the Therin Throne paid to see it in their courts. But that culture is dead. The art no longer exists, except as trifles for cardsharps. The Bondsmagi haunt our city-states like wolves, ready to crush the slightest hint of competition. No sensible person would ever stand up in public and declare themselves to be capable of magic. Fear killed the entire tradition, hundreds of years ago.\n\n\"The Bondsmagi distort our world with their very presence. They rule us in many ways that have nothing to do with politics; the fact that we can hire them to do our bidding is immaterial. That little guild looms over everything we plan, everything we dream. Fear of the magi poisons our people to the very marrow of their ambitions. It prevents them from imagining a larger destiny... from the hope of reforging the empire we once had. I know that you consider what I've done to you unforgivable. But believe it or not, I admire you for standing up to the Bondsmagi. They turned you over tome as a means of punishment. Instead, I ask you to help me strike at them.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Grand abstracts,\" said Jean. \"You make it sound like this is some sort of incredible privilege for us, being pressed into service without our consent.\"\n\n\"I don't need an excuse to hate the Bondsmagi,\" said Locke. \"Not to hate them, nor to fight them. I've taunted them to their faces, more or less. Jean and I both. But you have to be some kind of madman, to think they'll ever let you build anything openly powerful enough to knock them down.\"\n\n\"I don't expect to live to see it,\" said Stragos. \"I only expect to plant the seed. Look at the world around you, Lamora. Examine the clues they've given us. Alchemy is revered in every corner of our world, is it not? It lights our rooms, salves our injuries, preserves our food... enhances our cider.\" He favored Locke and Jean with a self-satisfied smile. \"Alchemy is a low-grade form of magic, but the Bondsmagi have never once tried to curtail or control it.\"\n\n\"Because they just don't give a damn,\" said Locke.\n\n\"Wrong,\" said Stragos. \"Because it's so necessary to so many things. It would be like trying to deny us the right to water, or fire. It would push us too far. No matter the cost, no matter the carnage, it would force us to fightback against them for the sake of our very existence. And they know it. Their power has limits. Someday, we'll surpass those limits, if we're only given a chance.\"\n\n\"That's a fine bedtime story,\" said Locke. \"If you wrote a book on that subject, I'd pay for ten copies to be scribed. But here and now, you're interfering with our lives. You're tearing us away from something we've worked long and hard to achieve.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I am prepared to expand on my earlier terms,\" said Stragos, \"and offer a financial reward for the successful completion of your task.\"\n\n\"How much?\" said Locke and Jean simultaneously.\n\n\"No promises,\" said Stragos. \"Your reward will be proportional to your achievement. I shall make you as happy as you make me. Is that understood?\"\n\nLocke stared at Stragos for several seconds, scratching his neck. Stragos was using a confidence trick-an appeal to high ideals, followed by an appeal to greed. And this was a classic fuck-the-agent situation; Stragos had no compulsion whatsoever to follow through on his promise, and nothing to lose by making it, and no reason at all to let him and Jean live once their task was finished. He made eye contact with Jean and stroked his chin several times, a simple hand signal:\n\nLying. Jean sighed, and tapped his fingers a few times against the gunwale on his side of the boat. He seemed to share Locke's thought that elaborate signals would best be avoided with Stragos just a few feet away. His answer was equally simple:\n\nAgreed.\n\n\"That's good news,\" said Locke, conjuring a note of guarded optimism in his voice. The knowledge that he and Jean were of one mind always gave him renewed energy for false-facing. \"A pile of solari when this is allover would go along way toward mitigating our distaste for the circumstances of our employment.\"\n\n\"Good. My sole concern is that the mission may benefit from more enthusiasm on your part.\"\n\n\"This mission, to be frank, is going to need all the help it can get.\"\n\n\"Don't dwell on the matter, Lamora. And lookout behind-we're coming to the far side of my little glen.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The boat was sliding toward another curtain-barrier of hanging canvas; by Locke's casual estimate, the entire artificial garden enclosure must have been about eighty yards long.\n\n\"Say farewell to the sun,\" said the archon, and then they were slipping through the canvas, back out into the muggy black-and-silver night, with its flitting lantern-flies and genuine forest perfume. A guard dog barked nearby, growled, and went silent in response to a hushed command. Locke rubbed his eyes as they slowly adjusted once again to the darkness.\n\n\"You'll begin training this week,\" said Stragos.\n\n\"What do you mean, training? There's a pile of questions you haven't answered,\" said Locke. \"Where's our ship? Where's our crew? How do we make ourselves known aspirates? There's a thousand damn details to go over....\"\n\n\"All in good time,\" said Stragos. His voice had an air of unmistakable satisfaction now that Locke was speaking constructively of carrying out his plan. \"I'm told you two frequently take meals at the Gilded Cloister. Spend a few days returning to a schedule of rising with the sun. On Throne's Day, have breakfast at the Cloister. Wait for Merrain to find you. She'll see you to your destination with her usual discretion, and you'll begin your lessons. They'll take upmost of your days, so don't make any plans.\"\n\n\"Damn it,\" said Jean, \"why not let us finish our affair with Requin? It won't take more than a few weeks. Then we can do whatever you like, without distraction.\"\n\n\"I've thought about it,\" said Stragos, \"but no. Postpone it. I want you to have something to look forward to after you complete my mission. And I don't have a few weeks to wait. I need you at sea in a month. Six weeks at the very latest.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"A month to go from gratefully ignorant landlubbers to fucking professional pirates?\" said Jean. \"Gods.\"\n\n\"It will be a busy month,\" said Stragos.\n\nLocke groaned.\n\n\"Are you up for the task? Or shall I simply deny you your antidote and give you a prison cell from which to observe the results?\"\n\n\"Just see to it that that fucking antidote is ready and waiting each time we comeback,\" said Locke. \"And give a serious ponder to just how much money would best send us away happy when this affair is concluded. I'm guessing that you're likely to be the underestimating type in that regard, so I'd think big.\"\n\n\"Rewards proportional to results, Lamora. That and your lives. When the red flag is seen again in my city's waters, and the Priori are begging me to save them, you may turn your thoughts to the matter of reward. Then and no sooner. Understood?\"\n\nLying, Locke signaled to Jean, sure it was unnecessary but equally sure Jean would appreciate a bit of cheek. \"Your will then, I suppose. If the gods are kind we'll poke a stick into whatever hornets\" nest is left to bestirred up down in the Ghostwinds. After all, we have no choice, do we?\"\n\n\"As it should be,\" said Stragos.\n\n\"You know, Locke,\" said Jean in a lightly conversational tone of voice, \"I like to imagine that there are thieves out there who only ever get caught up in perfectly ordinary, uncomplicated escapades. We should consider finding some and asking them what their secret is, one of these days.\"\n\n\"It's probably as simple as staying the hell away from assholes like this,\" said Locke, gesturing at the archon." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A SQUAD of Eyes was waiting beside the boathouse when the little craft completed its circuit of the artificial river.\n\n\"Here,\" said Stragos after one of his soldiers took the oar from him. He removed two glass vials from his pockets and held one out to each Camorri thief. \"Your first stay of execution. The poison's had time to work its way into you. I don't want to have to worry about you for the next few weeks.\"\n\nLocke and Jean complied, each gagging as they drank. \"Tastes like chalk,\" said Locke, wiping his mouth.\n\n\"If only it were that inexpensive,\" said the archon. \"Now give the vials back. Caps, too.\"\n\nLocke sighed. \"I suppose it was too much to hope you'd forget that part.\"\n\nThe two thieves were being hauled back toward the Mon Magisteria as Stragos lashed the boat to the piling once again.\n\nStragos stood up, stretched, and felt the old familiar creaks, the twinges in his hips and knees and wrists. Damn rheumatism... by rights he was still outrunning his age, still ahead of most men nearing threescore years, but he knew deep in his heart that there would never be anyway of running fast enough. Sooner or later, the Lady of the Long Silence would calla dance for Maxilan Stragos, whether or not his work here was done.\n\nMerrain was waiting in the shadows of the unlit side of the boathouse, still and quiet as a hunting spider until she stepped out beside him. Long practice enabled him to avoid flinching.\n\n\"My thanks for saving those two, Merrain. You've been very useful tome, these past few weeks.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Just as I was instructed to be,\" she said. \"But are you sure they really suit the needs of this plan of yours?\"\n\n\"They're at every disadvantage in this city, my dear.\" Stragos squinted at the blurry forms of Locke, Jean, and their escorts as they disappeared into the garden. \"The Bondsmagi sewed them up for us, and we have them second-guessing their every step. I don't believe those two are used to being controlled. Out on their own, I know they'll perform as required.\"\n\n\"Your reports give you that much confidence?\"\n\n\"Not merely my reports,\" said Stragos. \"Requin certainly hasn't killed them yet, has he?\"\n\n\"I suppose not.\"\n\n\"They'll serve,\" said Stragos. \"I know their hearts. As the days go by, the resentment will fade and the novelty will gain on them. They'll be enjoying themselves soon enough. And when they start to enjoy themselves... I honestly think they can do it. If they live. It's for damn sure I've no other agents suitable to the task.\"\n\n\"Then I may report to my masters that the plan is underway?\"\n\n\"Yes, I suppose this commits us. You may do just that.\" Stragos eyed the shadowed shape of the slender woman beside him and sighed. \"Let them know that everything begins in a month or so. I hope for their sake they're ready for the consequences.\"\n\n\"Nobody's ready for the consequences,\" said Merrain. \"It's going to mean more blood than anyone's seen in two hundred years. All we can do is hope that by setting things off we can ensure that others reap most of the trouble. By your leave, Archon, I'd like to go compose my messages to them now.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Of course,\" said Stragos. \"Send my regards along with your report, and my prayers that we might continue to prosper... together.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "LAST REMINISCENCE\n\nBy Their Own Rope\n\n\"Oh, this is a wonderful spot to fling ourselves to our deaths from,\" said Locke.\n\nSix months had passed since his return from Salon Corbeau; the suite of four exquisitely crafted chairs was safely locked away in a private storage room at the Villa Candessa. Tal Verrar's version of late winter held the region in the grip of temperatures so brisk that folk had to engage in actual labor to break a sweat.\n\nAbout an hour's hard ride north of Tal Verrar, just past the village of Vo Sarmara and its surrounding fields, a scrubby forest of gnarled witchwood and amberthorn trees rose beside a wide, rocky vale. The walls of this vale were the grayish color of corpse-flesh, giving the place the look of a giant wound in the earth. The thin olive-colored grass abandoned the struggle for life about ten feet from the edge of the cliffs above this vale, where Locke and Jean stood contemplating the sheer hundred-foot drop to the gravel floor far below.\n\n\"I suppose we should've kept more in practice with this,\" said Jean, starting to shrug his way out of the half dozen coils of rope draped from his right shoulder to his left hip. \"But then, I don't recall many opportunities to put it to use in the past few years.\"\n\n\"Most places in Camorr, we could just hand-over-hand it, up and down,\" said Locke. \"I don't think you were even with us that night we used ropes, to getup Lady de Marre's tower at that horrible old estate of hers.... Calo and Galdo and I nearly got pecked to bloody shreds by pigeons working that one. Must've been five, six years ago.\"\n\n\"Oh, I was with you, remember? On the ground, keeping watch. I saw the bit with the pigeons. Hard to play sentry when you're pissing yourself laughing.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Wasn't funny at all from up top. Beaky little bastards were vicious!\"\n\n\"The Death of a Thousand Pecks,\" said Jean. \"You would have been legends, dying so gruesomely. I'd have written a book on the man-eating pigeons of Camorr and joined the Therin Collegium. Gone respectable. Bug and I would've built a memorial statue to the Sanzas, with a nice plaque.\"\n\n\"What about me?\"\n\n\"Footnote on the plaque. Space permitting.\"\n\n\"Handover some rope or I'll show you the edge of the cliff, space permitting.\"\n\nJean tossed a coil to Locke, who plucked it out of the air and walked back toward the edge of the forest, about thirty feet from the cliff. The rope was tightly woven demi-silk, much lighter than hemp and much more expensive. At the rim of the forest, Locke selected a tall old witchwood, about as broad around as Jean's shoulders. He pulled a goodly length of his line free, passed it around the tree trunk, and stared at the slightly frayed end fora few seconds, trying to rekindle his memories of knot-tying.\n\nAs his fingers slipped into hesitant motion, he took a quick glance around at the melancholy state of the world. A stiff wind was blowing from the northwest, and the sky was one vast cataract of wet-looking haze. Their hired carriage was parked at the far end of the woods, perhaps three hundred yards away. He and Jean had set the driver up with a clay jug of beer and a splendid basket lunch from the Villa Candessa, promising to begone fora few hours at most.\n\n\"Jean,\" muttered Locke as the bigger man stepped up beside him, \"this is a proper anchor-noose, right?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Certainly looks like it.\" Jean hefted the elaborate knot that secured the rope in a bight around the tree and nodded. He took the working end of the rope and added an additional half-hitch for safety. \"There. Just right.\"\n\nHe and Locke worked together fora few minutes, repeating the anchor-noose knot with three further lengths of rope, until the old witchwood tree seemed thoroughly decorated with taut demi-silk. Their spare coils of rope were set aside. The two men then slipped out of their long frock coats and their vests, revealing heavy leather belts studded with iron rings at their waists.\n\nThe belts weren't quite like the custom climbing harnesses treasured by the more responsible burglars of Camorr; these were actually nautical in origin, used by those happy sailors whose shipowners cared enough to spend a bit of money to preserve their health. The belts had been available on the cheap, and had spared Locke and Jean the need to suss out a contact in Tal Verrar's underworld who could make a pair to order... but remember the transaction. There were a few things Requin would be better off not knowing until the chance came to finally spring the game on him.\n\n\"Right, then. Here's your descender.\" Jean passed Locke a fairly heavy bit of iron, a figure eight with one side larger than the other, with a thick bar right down the middle. He also kept one for himself; he'd had them knocked up by a blacksmith in Tal Verrar's Istrian Crescent a few weeks earlier. \"Let's get you rigged up first. Mainline, then belay.\"\n\nLocke clipped his descender into one of his harness rings and threaded it through with one of the demi-silk lines leading back to the tree. The other end of this line was left free and tossed toward the cliff. A second line was lashed tight to a harness ring above Locke's opposite hip. Many Camorri thieves on working jobs'danced naked,\" without the added safety of a belay line in case their primary rope broke, but for today's practice session Locke and Jean were infirm agreement that they were going to play it safe and boring." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It took a few minutes to rig Jean up in a similar fashion; soon enough they were each attached to the tree by two lines, like a pair of human puppets. The two thieves wore little save their tunics, breeches, field boots, and leather gloves, though Jean did pause to slip his reading optics on.\n\n\"Now then,\" he said. \"Seems a fine day for abseiling. Care to do the honors before we kiss solid earth farewell?\"\n\n\"Crooked Warden,\" said Locke, \"men are stupid. Protect us from ourselves. If you can't, let it be quick and painless.\"\n\n\"Well said.\" Jean took a deep breath. \"Crazy part on three?\"\n\n\"On three.\"\n\nEach of them took up their coiled mainline and tossed the free end over the cliff; the two ropes went over and uncoiled with a soft hiss.\n\n\"One,\" said Locke.\n\n\"Two,\" said Jean.\n\n\"Three,\" they said together. Then they ran for the cliff and threw themselves off, whooping as they went.\n\nFor one brief moment Locke's stomach and the misty gray sky seemed to be turning a somersault in unison. Then his line was taut and the cliff face was rushing toward him just a little too eagerly for his taste. Like a human pendulum, he swung in, raised his legs, and hit the rock wall about eight feet beneath the rim, keeping his knees bent to absorb the shock of impact. That much, at least, he remembered very well. Jean hit with a heavier whoomp about two feet below him.\n\n\"Heh,\" said Locke, his heartbeat pounding in his ears, loud enough to match the whisper of the wind. \"There's got to bean easier way to test whether or not we have an honest rope-weaver, Jean.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Whew!\" Jean shifted his feet slightly, keeping a hold on his line with both hands. The use of the descenders made it easy for them to apply enough friction to the rope to slow or stop at will. The little devices were a marked improvement on what they'd been taught as boys. While they could still no doubt slide down a rope using their own bodies for friction, as they once had, it was easy to abrade a certain protruding portion of the male anatomy with that approach if one was careless or unlucky.\n\nFora few moments they simply hung there, feet against the cliffside, enjoying their new vantage point as the vaporous clouds rolled by overhead. The ropes waving in the air beneath them only hung down about half the distance to the ground, but they didn't intend to get there today anyway. There would be plenty of time to workup to longer drops, in future practice sessions.\n\n\"You know,\" said Locke, \"this is the only part of the plan, I must admit, that I wasn't terribly sure of. It's so much easier to contemplate abseiling from a height like this than it is to actually runoff a cliff with just two lengths of rope between you and Aza Guilla.\"\n\n\"Ropes and cliffs are no problem,\" said Jean. \"What we need to watch out for up here are your carnivorous pigeons.\"\n\n\"Oh, bend over and bite your own ass.\"\n\n\"I'm serious. I'm terrified. I'll keep a sharp lookout, lest the last thing we feel in this life should be that terrible swift pecking-\"\n\n\"Jean, your belay line must be weighing you down. Here, let me cut it for you....\"\n\nThey kicked and shoved good-naturedly against one another fora few minutes, Locke scrambling around and trying to use his agility to balance out Jean's far greater strength and mass. Strength and mass seemed to be winning the day, however, so in a fit of self-preservation he suggested they actually practice descending." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Sure,\" said Jean, \"let's go down five or six feet, nice and smooth, and stop on my mark, shall we?\"\n\nEach of them gripped his taut mainline and released a bit of tension on his descender. Slowly, smoothly, they slipped down a good two yards, and Jean cried, \"Hold!\"\n\n\"Not bad,\" said Locke. \"The knack seems to comeback quick, doesn't it?\"\n\n\"I suppose. I was never really keen on this after I got back from my little holiday at Revelation House. This was more your thing, and the Sanzas\", than mine. And, ah, Sabetha's, of course.\"\n\n\"Yeah,\" said Locke, wistfully. \"Yeah, she was so mad... so mad and so lovely. I used to love watching her climb. She didn't like ropes. She'd... take her boots off, and let her hair out, and wouldn't even wear gloves, sometimes. Just her breeches and her blouse... and I would just...\"\n\n\"Sit there hypnotized,\" said Jean. \"Struck dumb. Hey, my eyes worked back then too, Locke.\"\n\n\"Heh. I suppose it must have been obvious. Gods.\" Locke stared at Jean and laughed nervously. \"Gods, I'm actually bringing her up myself. I don't believe it.\" His expression turned shrewd. \"Are we all right with each other, Jean? Back to being comfortable, I mean?\"\n\n\"Hell, we're hanging together eighty feet above a messy death, aren't we? I don't do that with people I don't like.\"\n\n\"That's good to hear.\"\n\n\"And yeah, I'd say we're-\"\n\n\"Gentlemen! Hello down there!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The voice was Verrari, with a rough rustic edge. Locke and Jean glanced up in surprise and saw a man standing at the edge of the cliff, arms akimbo, silhouetted against the churning sky. He wore a threadbare cloak with the hood thrown up.\n\n\"Er, hello up there,\" said Locke.\n\n\"Fine day fora bit of sport, ain't it?\"\n\n\"That's exactly what we thought,\" cried Jean.\n\n\"A fine day indeed, beggin'your pardons, sirs. And a fine set o\" coats and vests you've gone and left up here. I like them very much, exceptin\" that there ain't no purses in the pockets.\"\n\n\"Of course not, we're not stu-Hey, come on now. Kindly don't mess with our things,\" said Jean. As if by some unspoken signal, he and Locke reached out to brace themselves against the cliff, finding hand-and footholds as quickly as they could.\n\n\"Why not? They're such fine things, sirs, I just can't help but feel sort of drawn to them, like.\"\n\n\"If you'll just wait right there,\" said Locke, preparing to begin climbing, \"one of us should be up in a few minutes, and I'm sure we can discuss this civilly.\"\n\n\"I'm also sort of drawn to the idea of keepin\" you two down there, if it's all the same to you, gents.\" The man moved slightly, and a hatchet appeared in his right hand. \"It's a mighty fine pair of choppers you've left up herewith your coats, too. Damned fine. Ain't never seen the like.\"\n\n\"That's very polite of you to say,\" yelled Locke." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Oh, sweet jumping fuck,\" muttered Jean.\n\n\"I might point out, however,\" continued Locke, \"that our man at the carriage is due to check onus soon, and he'll have his crossbow with him.\"\n\n\"Oh, you mean the unconscious fellow I like jacked over the head with a rock, sir? Sorry to report that he was drunk.\"\n\n\"I don't believe you. We didn't give him that much beer!\"\n\n\"Beggin'pardon, but he weren't all that much man, gents. Skinny fellow, if you savvy. As it is, he's sleepin\" now. And he didn't have no crossbow anyway. I checked.\"\n\n\"Well, I hope you don't blame us for trying,\" said Locke.\n\n\"I don't, not one little bit. Good try. Very creditable, like. But I'm sort of interested, if you don't mind, in the wheres-abouts of your purses.\"\n\n\"Safely down herewith us,\" said Locke. \"We might be convinced to surrender them, but you'll have to help haul us up if you want them.\"\n\n\"Now on that subject,\" said the stranger, \"you an'I have a sort of difference in outlook, like. Since I know you've got \"em, now, I think it's easier to just chop you down and collect 'em at my ease.\"\n\n\"Unless you're a much better rock climber than you look,\" said Jean, \"it's one hell of a climb down and back for the sake of our little purses!\"\n\n\"And they are little,\" said Locke. \"Our rock-climbing purses. Specially made not to weigh us down. Hardly hold anything!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I think we probably got different ideas of what anythin'is. And I wouldn't have to climb,\" said the stranger. \"There's easier ways down to that valley floor, if you know whereto go.\"\n\n\"Ah, don't be foolish,\" said Jean. \"These ropes are demi-silk. It'll take you sometime to cut through them. Longer than it will take for us to climb backup, surely.\"\n\n\"Probably,\" said the man in the cloak. \"But I'm still up here if you do, ain't I? I can just crack you over the edge and make your skulls into soup bowls, like. See if I don't!\"\n\n\"But if we stay down here, we'll die anyway, so we might as well come up and die fighting,\" said Locke.\n\n\"Well, have it your way, sir. Whole conversation's gettin\" sort of circular, if you don't mind me sayin\", so I'm just gonna start cuttin\" rope now. Me, I'd stay put and go quiet, was I you.\"\n\n\"Yeah, well, you're a miserable cur,\" shouted Locke. \"Any child of three could murder helpless men hanging over a cliff. Time was when a bandit would have the balls to fight us face-to-face and earn his pay!\"\n\n\"What do I rightly look like, sir, an honest tradesman? Guild tats on my arms?\" He knelt down and began to chop at something, steadily, with Jean's hatchet. \"Splattin\" you against those rocks below seems a fine way of earnin'my pay. Even finer, if you're gonna speak so unkind.\"\n\n\"You're a wretch,\" cried Locke. \"A cringing dog, a scrub, damned not just for avarice but for cowardice! The gods spit on those without honor, you know! It'll be a cold hell, and a dark one, for you!\"" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Carry on with the plot as the author's writing partner.\nTags: fantasy, heist, pirates\nAuthor: Scott Lynch\nTitle: Red Seas Under Red Skies\nChapter: 13" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Locke had no doubt the inn had been glad of their business; at five silvers a day fora year and a half, plus the price of additional services, he and Jean had left behind a pile of solari large enough to purchase a decent-sized house of their own and hire capable staff.\n\n\"Pressing matters compel our presence elsewhere,\" muttered Locke coldly. He rebuked himself in his thoughts a moment later-it wasn't the steward's fault they were being chased from comfort by Stragos, Bondsmagi, and bloody mysterious assassins. \"Here,\" he said, fishing three solari out of his coat and setting them down on the desk. \"See that this is split evenly and passed out to everyone on staff.\" He turned his palm up, and with a minor bit of legerdemain conjured another gold coin. \"And this for yourself, to express our compliments for your hospitality.\"\n\n\"Return anytime,\" said the steward, bowing deeply.\n\n\"We shall,\" said Locke. \"Before we go, I'd like to arrange to have some of our wardrobe stored indefinitely. You can be certain we'll be back to claim it.\"\n\nWhile the steward happily scrawled the necessary orders on a parchment, Locke borrowed a square of the Villa Candessa's pale blue formal stationery. On this he wrote, I depart immediately by the means previously discussed. Rely upon my return. I remain deeply grateful for the forbearance you have shown me.\n\nLocke watched the steward seal it in the house's black wax, and said, \"See that this is delivered without fail to the master of the Sinspire. If not personally, then only to his majordomo, Selendri. They will want it immediately.\"\n\nLocke suppressed a smile at the slight widening of the steward's eyes. The suggestion that Requin had a vested personal interest in the contents of the note would do much to speed it safely on its way. Nonetheless, Locke still planned to send another copy later through one of Stragos\" agents. No sense in taking chances." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"So much for those fine beds,\" said Jean as he carried their two trunks of remaining possessions out to the waiting carriages. They had kept only their implements of thieving-lockpicks, weapons, alchemical dyes, disguise items-plus a few hundred solari in cold metal, and a few sets of tunics and breeches to take to sea. \"So much for Jerome de Ferra's money.\"\n\n\"So much for Durenna and Corvaleur,\" said Locke with a tight smile. \"So much for looking over our shoulders everywhere we go. Because, in truth, we're stepping into a cage. But just fora few days.\"\n\n\"No,\" said Jean thoughtfully as he stepped up into a carriage door held open by a bodyguard. \"No, the cage goes on, much farther than that. It goes wherever we go.\"\n\nTHEIR TRAINING with Caldris, which resumed that afternoon, only grew more arduous. The sailing master walked them from end to end of the ship, drilling them in the operation of everything from the capstan to the cooking box. With the help of a pair of Eyes, they unlashed the ship's boat, hoisted it over the side, and retrieved it. They pulled the gratings from the main-deck cargo hatches and practiced sending barrels up and down with various arrangements of block and tackle. Everywhere they went, Caldris had them tying knots and naming obscure devices.\n\nLocke and Jean were given the stern cabin of the Red Messenger for their living quarters. At sea, Jean's compartment would be separated from Locke's by a thin wall of stiffened canvas-and Caldris' equally tiny'cabin\" would be just across the passage-but for now they made the space into tolerably comfortable bachelor accommodations. The necessity of their enclosure seemed to impress upon them both the utter seriousness of their situation, and they redoubled their efforts, learning confusing new things with speed they had not required since they had last been under the tutelage of Father Chains. Locke found himself falling asleep with his copy of the Lexicon fora pillow nearly every night." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Mornings they sailed their dinghy west of the city, within the glass reefs but with increasing confidence that only somewhat eclipsed actual skill. Afternoons, Caldris would call out items and locations on the deck of the ship and expect them to run to each place he named.\n\n\"Binnacle,\" the sailing master cried, and Locke and Jean raced together for the small wooden box just beside the ship's wheel that held a compass and several other navigational aids. No sooner had they touched it than Caldris cried, \"Taffrail,\" which was easy enough-the stern rail at the very end of the ship. Next, Caldris shouted, \"Craplines!\" Locke and Jean ran past the bemused kitten, who lounged on the sunlit quarterdeck licking her paws. They were grimacing as they ran, for the craplines were what they'd be bracing themselves against when they crawled out onto the bowsprit to relieve themselves into the sea. More commodious methods of shitting were for rich passengers on larger vessels.\n\n\"Mizzenmast,\" bellowed Caldris, and Locke and Jean both fetched up short, breathing heavily.\n\n\"Ship doesn't bloody have one,\" said Locke. \"Just foremast and mainmast!\"\n\n\"Oh, clever you! You've undone my subtle ruse, Master Kosta. Get your bloody uniform and we'll let you act the peacock fora few hours.\"\n\nThe three men worked together across the days to define a system of hand and verbal signals, with Locke and Jean making a few sensible adaptations from their existing private language.\n\n\"Privacy on a ship at sea is about as real as fucking fairy piss,\" Caldris grumbled one afternoon. \"I might not be able to give you clear spoken instructions with gods-know-who watching and listening. We'll work with lots of nudges and whispers. If you know something complicated is coming up, best thing to say is just-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Let's see if you know your business, Caldris!\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Locke found that the Verrari naval uniform was a great aid when it came to conjuring an authoritative voice.\n\n\"Right. That or something like it. And if one of the sailors cops technical and wants your opinion on something you don't know...\"\n\n\"Come now, Imaginary Seaman, surely I don't have to spell it out for you like a child?\"\n\n\"Right, good. Give me another one.\"\n\n\"Gods damn you, I know this ship's lines like the back of my hand!\" Locke looked down his nose at Caldris, which was only possible because his leather boots added an inch and a half to his height. \"And I know what she's capable of. Trust my judgment or feel free to start swimming.\"\n\n\"Yes. A fine job, Master Kosta!\" The sailing master squinted at Locke and scratched his beard. \"Where does Master Kosta go when you do that? What exactly is it you do fora living, Leocanto?\"\n\n\"I do this, I suppose. I'm a professional pretender. I... act.\"\n\n\"On the stage?\"\n\n\"Once upon a time. Jerome and I both. Now I suppose we make this ship our stage.\"\n\n\"Indeed you do.\" Caldris moved to the wheel (which was actually a pair of wheels, joined by a mechanism below the deck, to allow more than one sailor to exert their strength against it in hard weather), evading a brief attack on his bare feet from the kitten. \"Places!\"\n\nLocke and Jean hurried to the quarterdeck to stand near him, ostensibly aloof and concentrating on their own tasks, while remaining close enough to pickup on a whisper or a prompting gesture.\n\n\"Imagine us beating to windward with the breeze coming in across the larboard bow,\" said Caldris. It was necessary to imagine, for in the enclosed little bay not the slightest breeze stirred. \"The time has come for us to tack. Just sound off the steps. I need to know you've got them down.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Locke pictured the operation in his head. No square-rigged ship could sail straight into the wind. To move a desired direction against the breeze required sailing at something like a forty-five degree angle to it, and switching over at intervals to present different sides of the bow to the wind. It was in effect a series of zigzags, tack after tack, arduously clawing in a desired direction. Each changeover, from larboard tack to starboard tack or vice versa, was a delicate operation with many opportunities for disaster.\n\n\"Master Caldris,\" he bellowed, \"we shall put the ship about. The wheel is yours.\"\n\n\"Very good, sir.\"\n\n\"Master de Ferra!\"\n\nJean gave three short blasts on the whistle he wore, as Locke did, around his neck. \"All hands! All hands ready to put the ship about!\"\n\n\"Master Caldris,\" said Locke. \"Neatness counts. Seize your wheel. Put your helm down.\"\n\nLocke waited a few seconds for dramatic effect, then yelled, \"Helm a-lee!\"\n\nCaldris mimed hauling the wheel in the direction of the ship's lee side, in this case the starboard, which would tilt the rudder in the opposite direction. Locke conjured a vivid mental picture of the sudden press of water against it, forcing the ship into a turn to larboard. They would becoming into the eye of the wind, feeling its full force; an error at this point could'lock them in irons,\" stalling all progress, stealing power from rudder and sails alike. They would be helpless for minutes, or worse-an error like that in heavy weather could flip them, and ships were not acrobats.\n\n\"Imaginary Sailors! Tacks and sheets!\" Jean waved his arms and hollered his instructions to the invisible deckhands. \"Smartly now, you slothful dogs!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Master de Ferra,\" called Locke, \"that Imaginary Sailor is not minding his duty!\"\n\n\"I'll fuckin\" kill you later, you cabbage-brained pig-rapist! Seize your rope and wait for my word!\"\n\n\"Master Caldris!\" Locke whirled toward the sailing master, who was nonchalantly sipping from a leather skin of pinkwater. \"Hard over!\"\n\n\"Aye, sir.\" He belched and set the skin down on the deck at his feet. \"By your word, hard over.\"\n\n\"Up mainsail,\" cried Locke.\n\n\"Bowlines off! Braces off!\" Jean blew another blast on his whistle. \"Yards around for the starboard tack!\"\n\nIn Locke's mind, the ship's bow was now tilting past the heart of the wind; the larboard bow would become their lee, and the wind would blow in across the starboard side of the ship. The yards would be rapidly rebraced for the sails to take advantage of the wind's new aspect, and Caldris would be frantically reversing his wheel's turn. The Red Messenger would need to stabilize her new course; if she was pushed too far to larboard, they might find themselves moving in the opposite of their intended direction, with the sails braced improperly to boot. They would be lucky to be merely embarrassed by such a fiasco.\n\n\"Hard over,\" he yelled again.\n\n\"Aye sir,\" cried Caldris. \"Heard the captain fine the first time.\"\n\n\"Lines on! Braces on!\" Jean blew his whistle yet again. \"Haul off all, you fuckin' maggots!\"\n\n\"We're now on the starboard tack, Captain,\" said Caldris. \"Surprisingly, we didn't lose her in stays and we'll all live to see another hour.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Aye, no bloody thanks to this useless cur of an Imaginary Sailor!\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Locke mimed grabbing a man and forcing him to the deck. \"What's your gods-damned problem, you work-shirking little orlop worm?\"\n\n\"First mate de Ferra beats me cruelly,\" cried Jean in a squeaky voice. \"He is a monstrous bad fellow, who makes me wish I'd taken priest's orders and never set foot aboard!\"\n\n\"Of course he does! It's what I pay him for.\" Locke mimed hefting a blade. \"For your crimes, I swear you'll die on this very deck, unless you can answer two bloody questions! First-where the hell is my nonimaginary crew? And second, why in the name of all the gods am I supposed to practice wearing this damned uniform?\"\n\nHe was startled out of his act by the sound of applause from behind him. He whirled to see Merrain standing just beside the entry port at the ship's rail; she'd come up the ramp in absolute silence.\n\n\"Oh, wonderful!\" She smiled at the three men on deck, stooped down, and plucked up the kitten, who'd moved immediately to attack Merrain's fine leather boots. \"Very convincing. But your poor invisible sailor doesn't have the answers you seek.\"\n\n\"Are you hereto name someone who does?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "CHAPTER SEVEN\n\nCASTING LOOSE\n\nTHERE WAS ONE GUARD PACING the dock at the base of the lonely island. His soft yellow lamp cast rippling light across the black water as Locke threw him a rope from within the little launch. Rather than tying them up, the guard thrust his lantern down toward Locke, Jean, and Caldris, and said, \"This dock is strictly off... oh, gods. My apologies, sir.\"\n\nLocke grinned, feeling the authority of the full Verrari captain's uniform enfold him like nothing so much as a warm blanket. He grabbed a piling and heaved himself up onto the dock while the guard saluted him awkwardly with his lantern hand crossed over his chest.\n\n\"Gods defend the archon of Tal Verrar,\" said Locke. \"Carry on. It's your job to challenge strange boats at night, soldier.\"\n\nWhile the soldier tied the launch to a piling, Locke reached down and helped Jean up. Moving gracefully in the now-familiar costume, Locke then stepped around behind the dock guard, unfurled a leather crimper's hood from within his jacket, slammed it down over the soldier's head, and cinched the drawstring tight.\n\n\"Gods know there's none stranger than ours that you're ever likely to see.\"\n\nJean held the soldier by his arms while the drugs inside the hood did their job. He lacked the constitution of the last man Locke had tried to knockout with such a hood, and sagged after just a few seconds of muffled struggle. When Locke and Jean tied him firmly to the piling at the far corner of the dock and stuffed a rag in his mouth, he was sleeping peacefully.\n\nCaldris clambered out of the boat, picked up the guard's lantern, and began pacing with it in his place." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Locke stared up at the stone tower that was their objective; seven stories tall, its battlements were orange-lit by alchemical navigation beacons warning ships away." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Ordinarily there would be guards up there as well, watching the waters and the dock, but the hand of Stragos was already at work. Nothing moved atop the tower.\n\n\"Come on, then,\" Locke whispered to Jean. \"Let's get inside and do some recruiting.\"\n\n\"IT'S CALLED Windward Rock,\" Stragos said. He pointed at the stone tower that jutted from the little island, perhaps a single arrow-flight from the line of hissing white surf that marked Tal Verrar's outer barrier of glass reefs. They floated at anchor in seventy feet of water, a good mile west of the Silver Marina. The warm morning sun was just rising over the city behind them, making tiers of soft light from its layers of foggy haze.\n\nTrue to Merrain's word, Stragos had arrived at dawn in a thirty-foot launch of polished black wood, with comfortable leather seats at the stern and gold-gilded scrollwork on every surface. Locke and Jean were given the sails under Caldris\" minimal supervision, while Merrain satin the bow. Locke had wondered if she was ever comfortable anywhere else.\n\nThey had sailed north, then rounded the Silver Marina and turned west, chasing the last blue shadow of the night sky on the far horizon.\n\nThey rode on fora few minutes, until Merrain whistled for everyone's attention and pointed to her left, across the starboard bow. A tall, dark structure could be seen rising above the waves in the distance. Orange lights glowed at its peak.\n\nSoon enough they had dropped anchor to regard the lonely tower. If Stragos had no praise for Locke and Jean's handling of the vessel, neither did he offer any criticism.\n\n\"Windward Rock,\" said Jean. \"I've heard of it. Some sort of fortress.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"A prison, Master de Ferra.\"\n\n\"Will we be visiting it this morning?\"\n\n\"No,\" said Stragos. \"You'll be returning and landing soon enough. For now, I just wanted you to see it... and I wanted to tell you a little story. I have in my service a particularly unreliable captain, who has until now done a splendid job of concealing his shortcomings.\"\n\n\"Words cannot express how truly sorry I am to hear that,\" said Locke.\n\n\"He will betray me,\" said Stragos. \"His plans for months have been leading up to a grand and final betrayal. He will steal something of great value from me and turn it against me for all to see.\"\n\n\"You should have been watching him more closely,\" Locke muttered.\n\n\"I have been,\" said Stragos. \"And I am right now. The captain I speak of is you.\"\n\nWINDWARD ROCK had only one set of doors, iron-bound, eleven feet tall, locked and guarded from the inside. A small panel in the wall beside them slid open as Locke and Jean approached, and ahead silhouetted by lamplight appeared behind it. The guardswoman's voice was devoid of banter: \"Who passes?\"\n\n\"An officer of archon and Council,\" said Locke with ritual formality. \"This man is my boatswain. These are my orders and papers.\"\n\nHe passed a set of documents rolled into a tight tube to the woman behind the door. She slid the panel closed over her watch-hole, and Locke and Jean waited in silence for several minutes, listening to the rushing passage of surf over the nearby reefs. Two moons were just coming up, gilding the southern horizon with silver, and the stars dusted the cloudless sky like confectioners' sugar thrown against a black canvas." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Finally, there was a metallic clatter, and the heavy doors swung outward on creaking hinges." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The guardswoman stepped out to meet them, saluting, but not returning Locke's papers.\n\n\"My apologies for the delay, Captain Ravelle. Welcome to Windward Rock.\"\n\nLocke and Jean followed her into the tower's entrance hall, which was divided into two halves by a wall of black iron bars running from floor to ceiling across its breadth. On the far side of these bars, a man behind a wooden desk had control of whatever mechanism closed the gates-they clattered shut behind Locke and Jean after a few seconds.\n\nThe man, like the woman, wore the archon's blue under ribbed black leather armor: bracers, vest, and neck-guard. He was clean-shaven and handsome, and he waited behind the bars as the female guard approached to pass him Locke's papers.\n\n\"Captain Orrin Ravelle,\" she said. \"And boatswain. Herewith orders from the archon.\"\n\nThe man studied Locke's papers at length before nodding and passing them back through the bars. \"Of course. Good evening, Captain Ravelle. This man is your boatswain, Jerome Valora?\"\n\n\"Yes, Lieutenant.\"\n\n\"You're to view the prisoners in the second vault? Anyone in particular?\"\n\n\"Just a general viewing, Lieutenant.\"\n\n\"As you will.\" The man slid a key from around his neck, opened the only gate set into the wall of iron bars, and stepped out toward them smiling. \"We're pleased to render any aid the Protector requires, sir.\"\n\n\"I very much doubt that,\" said Locke, letting a stiletto slip into his left hand. He reached out and gave the female guard a slash behind her right ear, across the unprotected skin between her leatherneck-guard and her tightly coifed hair. She cried out, whirled, and had her blackened-steel saber out of its scabbard in an instant." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Jean was tackling the male guard before her blade was even out; the man uttered a surprised choking noise as Jean slammed him against the bars and gave him a sharp chop to the neck with the edge of his right hand." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The leather armor robbed the blow of its lethal possibilities without dulling the shock of impact. Gasping, the guard was easily pinned from behind by Jean, who immobilized his arms and held him in a grip like iron.\n\nLocke darted backward out of the female guard's reach as she slashed with her blade. Her first attack was swift and nearly accurate. Her second was a bit slower, and Locke had no trouble avoiding it. She readied a third swing and misstepped, tripping over her own feet. Her mouth hung open in confusion.\n\n\"You... fucker...,\" she muttered. \"Poi... poi... son.\"\n\nLocke winced as she toppled facefirst to the stone floor; he'd meant to catch her, but the stuff on the blade was faster than he'd expected.\n\n\"You bastard,\" coughed the lieutenant, straining uselessly in Jean's hold, \"you killed her!\"\n\n\"Of course I didn't kill her, you twit. Honestly, you people... pull a blade anywhere around here and everyone assumes straightaway that you've killed someone.\" Locke stepped up before the guard and showed him the stiletto. \"Stuff on the edge is called witfrost. You have a good hard sleep all night, wake up around noon. At which time you'll feel like hell. Apologies. So do you want it in the neck or in the palm of your hand?\"\n\n\"You... you gods-damned traitor!\"\n\n\"Neck it is.\" Locke gave the man his own shallow cut just behind his left ear and barely counted to eight before he was hanging in Jean's arms, limper than wet silk. Jean set the lieutenant down gently and plucked a small ring of iron keys from his belt.\n\n\"Right,\" said Locke. \"Let's pay a visit to the second vault.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"RAVELLE DIDN'T exist until a month ago,\" said Stragos. \" Not until I had you to build the lie around. A dozen of my most trusted men and women will swear after the fact that he was real; that they shared assignments and meals with him, that they spoke of duties and trifles in his company.\n\n\"My finnickers have prepared orders, duty rosters, pay vouchers, and other documents, and seeded them throughout my archives. Men using the name of Ravelle have rented rooms, purchased goods, ordered tailored uniforms delivered to the Sword Marina. By the time I'm dealing with the consequences of your betrayal, he'll seem real in fact and memory.\"\n\n\"Consequences?\" asked Locke.\n\n\"Ravelle is going to betray me just as Captain Bonaire betrayed me when she took my Basilisk out of the harbor seven years ago and raised a red banner. It's going to happen again... twice to the same archon. I will be ridiculed in some quarters, fora time. Temporary loss for long-term gain.\" He winced. \"Have you not considered the public reaction to what I'm arranging, Master Kosta? I certainly have.\"\n\n\"Gods, Maxilan,\" said Locke, toying absently with a knot on one of the lines bracing the vessel's relatively small mainsail. \"Trapped out at sea, feigning mastery in a trade for which I'm barely competent, fighting for my life with your fucking poison in my veins, I shall endeavor to keep you in my prayers for the sake of your hardship.\"\n\n\"Ravelle is an ass, too,\" said the archon. \"I've had that specifically written into his back history. Now, something you should know about Tal Verrar-the Priori's constables guard Highpoint Citadel Gaol in the Castellana. The majority of the city's prisoners go there. But while Windward Rock is a much smaller affair, it's mine. Manned and provisioned only by my people.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The archon smiled. \"That's where Ravelle's treachery will reach the point of no return. That, Master Kosta, is where you'll get your crew.\"\n\nTRUE TO Stragos'warning, there was an additional guard to be disarmed in the first cell level beneath the entrance hall, at the foot of a wide spiral staircase of black iron. The stone tower overhead was for guards and alchemical lights; Windward Rock's true purpose was served by three ancient stone vaults that went down far beneath the sea, into the roots of the island.\n\nThe man saw them coming and took immediate alarm; no doubt Locke and Jean descending alone was a breach of procedure. Jean relieved him of his sword as he charged up the steps, kicked him in the face, and pinned him, squirming, on his stomach. Jean's month of exercise at Caldris\" whim seemed to have left his strength more bullish than ever, and Locke almost pitied the poor fellow struggling beneath his friend. Locke reached over, gave the guard a touch of witfrost, and whistled jauntily.\n\nThat was it for the night shift-a skeleton force with no cooks or other attendants. One guard at the docks, two in the entrance hall, one on the first cell level. The two on the roof, by Stragos'direct order, would have sipped drugged tea and fallen asleep with the pot between them. They'd be found by their morning relief with a plausible excuse for their incapacity-and another lovely layer of confusion would be thrown over the whole affair.\n\nThere were no boats kept at Windward Rock itself, so even if prisoners could conceivably escape from iron-barred cells set into the weeping walls of the old vaults, and win free through the barred entrance hall and lone reinforced door, they'd face a swim across a mile of open water (at least), watched with interest by many things in the depths eager fora meal." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Locke and Jean ignored the iron door leading to the cells of the first level, continuing down the spiraling staircase. The air was dank, smelling of salt and unwashed bodies. Past the iron door on the second level, they found themselves in a vault divided into four vast cells, long and low-ceilinged, two on each side with a fifteen-foot corridor down the middle.\n\nOnly one of these cells was actually occupied; several dozen men lay sleeping in the pale green light of barred alchemical globes set high on the walls. The air inhere was positively rank, dense with the odors of unclean bedding, urine, and stale food. Faint tendrils of mist curled around the prisoners. A few wary pairs of eyes tracked Locke and Jean as they stepped up to the cell door.\n\nLocke nodded to Jean, and the bigger man began to pound his fist against the bars of the door. The clamor was sharp, echoing intolerably from the dripping walls of the vault. Disturbed prisoners rose from their dirty pallets, swearing and hollering.\n\n\"Are you men comfortable in there?\" Locke shouted to be heard above the din. Jean ceased his pounding.\n\n\"We'd be lots more comfortable with a nice sweet Verrari captain inhere for us to fuck sideways,\" said a prisoner near the door.\n\n\"I have no patience to speak of,\" said Locke, pointing at the door he and Jean had come through. \"If I walk back out that door, I won't becoming back.\"\n\n\"Piss off, then, and let us sleep,\" said a scarecrow of a man in afar corner of the cell.\n\n\"And if I won't becoming back,\" said Locke, \"then none of you poor bastards will ever find out why vaults one and three have prisoners in every cell... while this one is completely empty save for yourselves.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "That got their attention. Locke smiled.\n\n\"That's better. My name is Orrin Ravelle. Until a few minutes ago, I was a captain in the navy of Tal Verrar. And the reason you're here is because I selected you. Every last one of you. I selected you, and then I forged the orders that got you assigned to an empty cell vault.\"\n\n\"I CHOSE forty-four prisoners, originally,\" said Stragos. They stared at Windward Rock in the light of the morning sun. A boat of blue-coated soldiers was approaching it in the distance, presumably to relieve the current shift of guards. \"I had the second cell vault cleared, except for them. All the orders signed \"Ravelle\" are plausible, but upon scrutiny, the signs of forgery will become evident. I can use that later as a plausible excuse to arrest several clerks whose loyalties aren't... straightforward enough for my taste.\"\n\n\"Efficient,\" said Locke.\n\n\"Yes.\" Stragos continued, \"These prisoners are all prime seamen, taken from ships that were impounded for various reasons. Some have been in custody fora few years. Many are actually former crewmen of your Red Messenger, lucky not to be executed along with their officers. Some of them might even have past experience at piracy.\"\n\n\"Why keep prisoners at the Rock?\" asked Jean. \"In general, I mean?\"\n\n\"Oar fodder,\" answered Caldris. \"Handy thing to keep on hand. War breaks out, they'll be offered full pardons if they agree to work as galley rowers for the duration. The Rock tends to have a couple galleys\" worth, most of the time.\"\n\n\"Caldris is entirely correct,\" said Stragos. \"Now, as I said, some of those men have been in therefor several years, but none of them have ever had to endure conditions like those of the past month. I have had them deprived, of everything from clean bedding to regular meals. The guards have been cruel, disturbing their sleeping hours with loud noises and buckets of cold water. I daresay by now that there isn't a man among them that doesn't hate Windward Rock, hate Tal Verrar, and hate me. Personally.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Locke nodded slowly. \"And that's why you expect them to greet Ravelle as their savior.\"\n\n\"YOU'RE THE one responsible for shoving us into this hell, you fuckin\" Verrari ass-licker?\"\n\nOne of the prisoners stepped up to the bars and clutched them; the depredations of the cell vault had yet to whittle away a build frighteningly close to that of the heroic statuary of old. Locke guessed he was a recent arrival; his muscles looked carved from witchwood. His skin and hair were black enough to shrug off the pale green light, as though in disdain.\n\n\"I'm the one responsible for moving you to this vault,\" said Locke. \"I didn't lock you up in the first place. I didn't arrange for the treatment you've been receiving.\"\n\n\"Treatment's a fancy fuckin\" word for it.\"\n\n\"What's your name?\"\n\n\"Jabril.\"\n\n\"Are you in charge?\"\n\n\"Of what?\" Some of the man's anger seemed to ebb, transmuting to tired resignation. \"Nobody's in fuckin'charge behind iron bars, Captain Ravelle. We piss where we sleep. We don't keep bloody muster rolls or duty shifts.\"\n\n\"You men are all sailors,\" said Locke.\n\n\"Was sailors,\" said Jabril.\n\n\"I know what you are. You wouldn't be here otherwise. Think about this-thieves get let out. They go to West Citadel, they work at hard labor, they slave until they rupture or get pardoned. But even they get to seethe sky. Even their cells have windows. Debtors are free to go when their debts are paid. Prisoners of war go home when the war's over. But you poor bastards... you're penned up here against need. You're cattle. If there's a war, you'll be chained to oars, and if there's no war... well.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"There's always war,\" said Jabril.\n\n\"Seven years since the last one,\" said Locke. He stepped up to the bars just across from Jabril and looked him in the eyes. \"Maybe seven years again. Maybe never. You really want to grow old in this vault, Jabril?\"\n\n\"What's the bloody alternative... Captain?\"\n\n\"Some of you came from a ship,\" said Locke. \"Impounded recently. Your captain tried to smuggle in a nest of stiletto wasps.\"\n\n\"The Fortunate Venture, aye,\" said Jabril. \"We was promised high heaps of gold for that job.\"\n\n\"Fucking things killed eight men on the voyage,\" said another prisoner. \"We thought we'd inherit their shares.\"\n\n\"Turns out they was lucky,\" said Jabril. \"They didn't have to take no share of this gods-damned place.\"\n\n\"The Fortunate Venture is riding at anchor in the Sword Marina,\" said Locke. \"She's been rechristened the Red Messenger. Refurbished, resupplied, careened, and smoked. She's been prettied up. The archon means to take her into his service.\"\n\n\"Good for the bloody archon.\"\n\n\"I'm to command her,\" said Locke. \"She's at my disposal. I have the keys, as it were.\"\n\n\"What the fuck do you want, then?\"\n\n\"It's half past midnight,\" said Locke, lowering his voice to a stage whisper that echoed dramatically to the back of the cell. \"Morning relief won't arrive for more than six hours. And every guard on Windward Rock is... currently... unconscious.\"\n\nThe entire cell was full of wide eyes. Men heaved themselves up from their sleeping pallets and pressed closer to the bars, forming an unruly but attentive crowd." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I am leaving Tal Verrar tonight,\" said Locke." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"This is the last time I will ever wear this uniform. I am quits with the archon and everything he stands for. I mean to take the Red Messenger, and for that I need a crew.\"\n\nThe mass of prisoners exploded into a riot of shoving and jabbering. Hands thrust out at Locke through the bars, and he stepped back.\n\n\"I'm a topman,\" one of the prisoners yelled, \"fine topman! Take me!\"\n\n\"Nine years at sea,\" hollered another. \"Do anything!\"\n\nJean stepped up and pounded on the cell door again, bellowing, \"Quiiiieeeett!\"\n\nLocke held up the ring of keys Jean had taken from the lieutenant in the entrance hall.\n\n\"I sail south on the Sea of Brass,\" he said. \"I make for Port Prodigal. This is not subject to vote or negotiation. You sail with me, you sail under the red flag. You want off when we reach the Ghostwinds, you can have it. Until then, we're on the watch for money and plunder. No room for shirkers. The word is equal shares.\"\n\nThat would give them something to ponder, Locke thought. A freebooter captain more commonly took two to four shares from ten of any plunder got at sea. Just the thought of equal shares for all would quell a great many mutinous urges.\n\n\"Equal shares,\" he repeated above another sudden outburst of babble. \" But you make your decision here and now. Take oath tome as your captain and I will free you immediately. I have means to get you off this rock and over to the Red Messenger. We'll have hours of darkness to clear the harbor and be well away. If you don't want to come, fine. But no courtesies in that case. You'll stay here when we're gone. Maybe the morning relief will be impressed with your honesty... but I doubt it. Who among you will desist?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "None of the prisoners said anything.\n\n\"Who among you will go free, and join my crew?\"\n\nLocke winced at the eruption of shouts and cheers, then allowed himself a wide, genuine grin.\n\n\"All gods as your witness!\" he shouted. \"Upon your lips and upon your hearts.\"\n\n\"Our oath is made,\" said Jabril, while those around him nodded.\n\n\"Then stand upon it, or pray to die, and be damned and found wanting on the scales of the Lady of the Long Silence.\"\n\n\"So we stand,\" came a chorus of shouts.\n\nLocke passed the ring of keys over to Jean. The prisoners watched in an ecstasy of disbelief as he found the proper key, slid it into the lock, and gave it a hard turn to the right.\n\n\"THERE IS one problem,\" said Stragos.\n\n\"Just one?\" Locke rolled his eyes.\n\n\"There are only forty left of the forty-four I selected.\"\n\n\"How will that suit the needs of the ship?\"\n\n\"We've got food and water fora hundred days with sixty,\" said Caldris. \"And she can be handled well with half that number. Once we've got them sorted out, we'll do fine for hands at the lines.\"\n\n\"So you will,\" said Stragos. \"The missing four are women. I had them placed in a separate cell. One of them developed a gaol-fever, and soon they all had it. I had no choice but to move them to shore; they're too weak to lift their arms, let alone join this expedition.\"\n\n\"We're for sea with not a woman aboard,\" said Caldris. \"Will not Merrain becoming with us, then?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I'm afraid,\" she said sweetly, \"that my talents will be required elsewhere.\"\n\n\"This is mad,\" cried Caldris. \"We taunt the Father of Storms!\"\n\n\"You can find women for your crew in Port Prodigal, perhaps even good officers.\" Stragos spread his hands. \"Surely you'll be fine for the duration of a single voyage down.\"\n\n\"Would that it were mine to so declare,\" said Caldris, a haunted look in his eyes. \"Master Kosta, this is a poor way to start. We must have cats. A basket of cats, for the Red Messenger. We need what luck we can steal. All gods as your witness, you must not fail to have cats at that ship before we put to sea.\"\n\n\"Nor shall I,\" said Locke.\n\n\"Then it's settled,\" said Stragos. \"Heed this now, Kosta. Concerning the... depth of your deception. In case you have any misgivings. None of the men you'll betaking from Windward Rock have ever served in my navy, so they've little notion of what to expect from one of my officers. And soon enough you'll be Ravelle the pirate rather than Ravelle the naval captain, so you may tailor the impersonation as you see fit, and worry little over small details.\"\n\n\"That's good,\" said Locke. \"I've got enough of those crammed into my head just now.\"\n\n\"I have one last stipulation,\" Stragos continued. \"The men and women who serve at Windward Rock, even those who are not party to this scheme, are among my finest and most loyal. I will provide means for you to disable them without rendering permanent harm. In noway are they to be otherwise injured, not by you nor your crew, and gods help you if you leave any dead.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Curious sentiments fora man who claims to be no stranger to risks.\"\n\n\"I would send them into battle at anytime, Kosta, and lose them willingly. But none who wear my colors honestly are to die as part of this; that much my honor compels me to grant them. You are supposed to be professionals. Consider this a test of your professionalism.\"\n\n\"We're not bloody murderers,\" said Locke. \"We kill for good reason, when we kill at all.\"\n\n\"So much the better,\" said Stragos. \"That is all I have to say, then. This day is yours to do with as you see fit. Tomorrow evening, just before midnight, you'll land on Windward Rock and start this business.\"\n\n\"We need our antidote,\" said Locke. Jean and Caldris nodded.\n\n\"Of course. You three will get your last vials just before you leave. After that... I shall expect your first return within two months. And a report of your progress.\"\n\nLOCKE AND Jean managed a ragged muster of their new crew just inside the entrance hall. Jean had to demonstrate his physical strength to several men who attempted to vent their frustrations on the sleeping guards.\n\n\"I said you touch them at your peril,\" Locke snarled for the third time. \" Let them be! If we leave them dead behind us, we'll lose all sympathy with anyone. Let them live, and Verrari will be laughing about this for months to come.\n\n\"Now,\" he said, \"move out quietly to the dockside. Take your ease, stretch your legs, have a good long look at the sea and sky. I've a boat to fetch before we can be away. For the sake of us all, keep your mouths shut.\"\n\nThey mostly obeyed this admonition, breaking up into little whispering groups as they moved out of the tower. Locke noticed that some of the men hung back near the door, their hands on the stones, as though afraid to step out beneath the open sky. He couldn't say he blamed them after months or years in the vault." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"That's lovely,\" said Jabril, who fell into step beside Locke as they approached the dock where Caldris paced with his lantern." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Fuckin\" lovely. Almost as lovely as not having to smell us all at once.\"\n\n\"You'll be crammed together again soon enough,\" said Locke.\n\n\"Aye. Same but different.\"\n\n\"Jabril,\" said Locke, raising his voice, \"in time, as we come to know one another's strengths, we can hold proper votes for some of the officers we'll need. For now, I'm naming you acting mate.\"\n\n\"Mate of what?\"\n\n\"Mate of whatever.\" Locke grinned and slapped him on the back. \"I'm not in the navy anymore, remember? You'll answer to Jerome. Keep the men in order. Take the weapons from that soldier tied to the dock, just in case we need to pull a little steel this evening. I don't expect a fight, but we should be ready.\"\n\n\"Good evening, Captain Ravelle,\" said Caldris. \"I see you've fetched them out just as you planned.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" said Locke. \"Jabril, this is Caldris, my sailing master. Caldris, Jabril is acting mate under Jerome. Listen up!\" Locke raised his voice without shouting, lest it echo across the water to unseen ears. \"I came with a boat for six. I have a boat for forty nearby. I need two men to help me row. Won't behalf an hour, and then we'll be away.\"\n\nTwo younger prisoners stepped forward, looking eager for anything that would relieve the tedium of what they'd been through.\n\n\"Right,\" said Locke as he stepped down into their little boat, after Caldris and the two sailors. \"Jerome, Jabril, keep order and quiet. Try to sort out those who can work right away from those who will need a few days to recover their strength.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Anchored half a mile out from Windward Rock was along launch, invisible in the moonlight until Caldris'lantern found it from about fifty yards away. Locke and Caldris worked quickly to rig the boat's small sail; then, slowly but surely, they steered their way back toward the prison with the two ex-prisoners rowing the little boat beside them. Locke glanced around nervously, spotting a sailor two gleaming palely on the far horizons, but nothing closer.\n\n\"Listen well,\" he said when the launch was tied up below the dock and surrounded by his would-be crew. He was pleasantly surprised at how quickly they'd settled down to the business at hand. Of course, that made sense-they were the crews of impounded ships, not hard cases imprisoned for individual crimes. It didn't make saints of them, but it was nice to have something unforeseen working in his favor for once.\n\n\"Able hands take the oars. Don't be shy if you're less than able for the time being; I know some of you have been down there too damn long. Just sit down in the middle of the launch and take it easy. You can recover yourselves on the voyage out. We've plenty to eat.\"\n\nThat lent them some cheer. Once at sea, Locke knew, the state of their rations might easily approach that of the prison slop they were leaving behind, but fora fair few days they'd have a supply of fresh meat and vegetables to look forward to.\n\nIn good order the former prisoners clambered aboard the launch; soon the gunwales were lined with those claiming to be able-bodied, and oars were being slipped into their locks. Jabril took the bow, waving up at Locke and Caldris when all was in readiness.\n\n\"Right,\" said Locke. \"The Messenger is anchored south of the Sword Marina on the seaward side, wanting nothing save her crew. One guard stands watch for the night, and I'll deal with him. Just follow us and go aboard once I've done that; the nets are lowered over the side and the defenses are stowed.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Locke took the bow of the small boat and struck what he hoped was an appropriately regal posture. Jean and Caldris took the oars, and the last two prisoners sat at the stern, one of them holding Caldris' lantern.\n\n\"Say farewell to Windward Rock, boys,\" said Locke. \"And bid fuck-you to the archon of Tal Verrar. We're bound for sea.\"\n\nA SHADOW within shadows watched the two boats depart.\n\nMerrain moved out of her position beside the tower and gave a small wave as the low gray shapes diminished into the south. She loosed the black silk scarf that had covered her lower face and pushed back the hood of her black jacket; she had lain in the shadows beside the tower for nearly two hours, waiting patiently for Kosta and de Ferra to finish their business. Her own boat was stashed beneath a rocky overhang on the east side of the island, little more than a cockleshell of treated leather over a wood frame. Even in moonlight, it was all but invisible on the water.\n\nShe padded quietly into the entrance hall of the prison, finding the two guards much where she expected, carelessly strewn about in the grip of witfrost sleep. True to the archon's wishes, Kosta and de Ferra had prevented anyone from harming them.\n\n\"Alas for that,\" she whispered, kneeling over the lieutenant and running a gloved finger across his cheeks. \"You're a handsome one.\"\n\nShe sighed, slipped a knife from its sheath within her jacket, and cut the man's throat with one quick slash. Moving back to avoid the growing pool of blood, she wiped the blade on the guard's breeches and contemplated the woman lying across the entrance hall.\n\nThe two atop the tower could live; it wouldn't be plausible for anyone to have climbed the stairs and gone for them. But she could do the one on the dock, the two here, and the one who was supposed to be downstairs." }, { "from": "human", "value": "That would be enough, she reckoned-it wasn't that she desired Kosta and de Ferra to fail." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But if they did return successful in their mission, what was to stop Stragos from assigning them another task? His poison made tools of them indefinitely. And if they could return victorious, well... men like that were better off dead if they couldn't be put to use on behalf of the interests she served.\n\nResolved, she set about finishing the job. The thought that for once it would be entirely painless was a comfort in her work.\n\n\"CAPTAIN RAVELLE!\"\n\nThe soldier was one of those handpicked by the archon to be in on some part of the deception. He feigned surprise as Locke appeared on the Red Messenger's deck, followed by Jean, Caldris, and the two ex-prisoners. The launch full of men was just butting up against the ship's starboard side.\n\n\"I didn't expect you back this evening, sir.... Sir, what's going on?\"\n\n\"I have reached a decision,\" said Locke, approaching the soldier. \"This ship is too fine a thing for the archon to have. So I am relieving him of its care and taking it to sea.\"\n\n\"Now hold on... hold on, sir, that's not funny.\"\n\n\"Depends on where you're standing,\" said Locke. He stepped up and delivered a feigned punch to the soldier's stomach. \"Depends on if you're standing.\" By arrangement, the man did a very credible impression of having received a devastating blow, and fell backward to the deck, writhing. Locke grinned. Let his new crew whisper of that amongst themselves.\n\nThe crew in question had just started to come up the boarding nets on the starboard side. Locke relieved the soldier of his sword, buckler, and knives, then joined Jean and Caldris at the rail to help the men up." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What's to be done with the launch, Captain?\" Jabril said as he came over the side.\n\n\"It's too damn big to carry with us on this little bitch,\" said Locke. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the'subdued\" guard. \"We'll set him adrift in it. Jerome!\"\n\n\"Aye, sir,\" said Jean.\n\n\"Get everyone up and muster all hands at the waist. Master Caldris! You know the vessel best for now; give us light.\"\n\nCaldris fetched alchemical lamps from a locker near the wheel, and with Locke's help he hung them about the deck until they had more than enough soft golden light to work by. Jean produced his little whistle and blew three short blasts. In moments, he had the crew herded into the middle of the ship's waist, before the mainmast. Before them all, Locke stood, stripped off his Verrari officer's coat, and pitched it over the side. They applauded.\n\n\"Now, we must have haste without carelessness,\" he said. \"Those of you that do not believe yourselves fit for work, hands up! No shame, lads.\"\n\nLocke counted nine hands. Most of the men who raised them were visibly aged or far too slender for good health, and Locke nodded. \"We hold no grudge for your honesty. You'll take up your share of work once you're fit again. For now, find a spot on the main deck below, or beneath the forecastle. There's mats and canvas in the main hold. You may sleep or watch the fun as you see fit. Now, can anyone among you claim to be any sort of cook?\"\n\nOne of the men standing behind Jabril raised a hand." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Good. When the anchor's up, get below and have a look at the stores. We've a brick firebox at the forecastle, plus an alchemical stone and a cauldron. We'll want a hell of a meal once we're out past the glass reefs, so show some initiative. And tap a cask of ale.\"\n\nThe men began cheering at that, and Jean blew his whistle to quiet them down.\n\n\"Come, now!\" Locke pointed to the darkness of the Elderglass island looming behind them. \"The Sword Marina's just the other side of that island, and we're not away yet. Jerome! Capstan bars and standby to haul up anchor. Jabril! Fetch rope from Caldris and help me with this fellow.\"\n\nTogether, Locke and Jabril hoisted the'incapacitated\" soldier to his feet. Locke tied a loose but very convincing knot around his hands with a scrap of rope provided by Caldris; once they were gone, the man could work himself free in minutes.\n\n\"Don't kill me, Captain, please,\" the soldier muttered.\n\n\"I would never,\" said Locke. \"I need you to carry a message to the archon on my behalf. Tell him that he may kiss Orrin Ravelle's ass, that my commission is herewith resigned, and that the only flag his pretty ship will fly from now on is red.\"\n\nLocke and Jabril hoisted the man over the side of the entry port and dropped him the nine feet into the bottom of the launch. He yelped in (no doubt genuine) pain and rolled over, but seemed otherwise okay.\n\n\"Use those exact words,\" Locke cried, and Jabril laughed. \"Now! Master Caldris, we shall make for sea!\"\n\n\"Very good, Captain Ravelle.\" Caldris collared the four men nearest to him and began leading them below. Under his guidance, they would keep the anchor cable moving smoothly toward its tier on the orlop." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Jerome,\" said Locke, \"hands to the capstan to raise anchor!\"\n\nLocke and Jabril joined all the remaining able-bodied members of the crew at the capstan, where the last of the heavy wooden bars were being slid into their apertures. Jean blew on his whistle, and the men crammed together shoulder-to-shoulder on the bars. \"Raise anchor! Step-and-on! Step-and-on! Push it hard; she'll be up erelong!\" Jean chanted at the top of his lungs, giving them a cadence to stamp and shove by. The men strained at the capstan, many of them weaker than they would have liked or admitted, but the mechanism began to turn and the smell of wet cable filled the air.\n\n\"Heave-and-up! Heave-and-up! Drop the anchor and we'll all be fucked!\"\n\nSoon enough they managed to heave the anchor up out of the water, and Jean sent a party forward to the starboard bow to secure it. Most of the men stepped away from the capstan groaning and stretching, and Locke smiled. Even his old injuries still felt good after the exercise.\n\n\"Now,\" he shouted, \"who among you sailed this ship when she was the Fortunate Venture? Step aside.\"\n\nFourteen men, including Jabril, separated themselves from the others.\n\n\"And who among you were fair topmen?\"\n\nThat got him seven raised hands; good enough for the time being.\n\n\"Any of you not familiar with this ship nonetheless comfortable up above?\"\n\nFour more men stepped forward, and Locke nodded. \"Good lads. You know where you'll be, then.\" He grabbed one of the non-topmen by the shoulder and steered him toward the bow. \"For'ard watch. Let me know if anything untoward pops up in front of us.\" He grabbed another man and pointed to the mainmast. \" Get a glass from Caldris; you'll be masthead watch for now. Don't look at me like that; you won't be fucking with the rigging. Just sit still and stay awake." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Master Caldris,\" he bellowed, noting that the sailing master was back on deck, \"southeast by east through the reef passage called Underglass!\"\n\n\"Aye, sir, Underglass. I know the very one.\" Caldris, of course, had plotted their course through the glass reefs in advance and carefully instructed Locke in the orders to give until they were out of sight of Tal Verrar. \"Southeast by east.\"\n\nJean gestured at the eleven men who'd volunteered for duty upon the heights of the yardarms, where the furled sails waited, hanging in the moonlight like the thin cocoons of vast insects. \"Hands aloft to loose topsails and t'gallants! On the word, mind you!\"\n\n\"Master Caldris,\" shouted Locke, unable to disguise his mirth, \"now we shall see if you know your business!\"\n\nThe Red Messenger moved south under topsails and topgallants, making fair use of the stiff breeze blowing west off the mainland. Her bow sliced smoothly through the calm dark waters, and the deck beneath their feet heeled only the tiniest bit to starboard. It was a good start, thought Locke-a good start to a mad venture. When he had settled most of his crew in temporary positions, he stole a few minutes at the taffrail, watching the reflections of two moons in the gentle ripple of their wake.\n\n\"You're enjoying the hell out of yourself, Captain Ravelle.\" Jean stepped up to the taffrail beside him. The two thieves shook hands and grinned atone another.\n\n\"I suppose I am,\" Locke whispered. \"I suppose this is the most lunatic thing we've ever done, and so we're entitled to bloody well enjoy ourselves.\"\n\n\"Crew seems to have bought the act for now.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Well, they're still fresh from the vault. Tired, underfed, excited. We'll see how sharp they are when they've had a few days of food and exercise. Gods, at least I didn't call anything by the wrong name.\"\n\n\"Hard to believe we're actually doing this.\"\n\n\"I know. Barely seems real yet. Captain Ravelle. First Mate Valora. Hell, you've got it easy. I've got to get used to people calling me \"Orrin.\" You get to stay a \"Jerome.\"\"\n\n\"I saw little sense in making things harder for myself. I've got you to do that for me.\"\n\n\"Careful, now. I can order you whipped at the rail.\"\n\n\"Ha! A navy captain, maybe. A pirate first mate doesn't have to stand for that.\" Jean sighed. \"You think we'll ever see land again?\"\n\n\"I damn well mean to,\" said Locke. \"We've got pirates to piss off, a happy return to arrange, Stragos to humble, antidotes to find, and Requin to rob blind. Two months at sea and I may even begin to have the faintest notion how.\"\n\nThey stared fora while at Tal Verrar sliding away behind them, at the aura of the Golden Steps and the torch-glow of the Sinspire slowly vanishing behind the darker mass of the city's southwestern crescent. Then they were passing through the navigational channel in the glass reefs, away to the Sea of Brass, away to danger and piracy. Away to find war and bring it back for the archon's convenience.\n\n\"SAIL AHOY! Sail two points off the larboard bow!\"\n\nThe cry filtered down from above on the third morning of their voyage south. Locke satin his cabin, regarding his blurry reflection in the dented little mirror he'd packed in his chest. Before departure, he'd used a bit of alchemy from his disguise kit to restore his hair to its natural color, and now a fine shadow in much the same shade was appearing on his cheeks. He wasn't yet sure if he'd shave it, but with the shout from above, his concern for his beard vanished. Ina moment he was out of the cabin, up the awkward steps of the dim companionway, and into the bright light of morning on the quarterdeck." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A haze of high white clouds veiled the blue sky, like wisps of tobacco smoke that had drifted far from the pipes of their progenitors. They'd had the wind on their larboard beam since reaching open sea, and the Red Messenger was heeled over slightly to starboard. The constant swaying and creaking and deck-slanting were utterly alien to Locke, who'd been confined to a cabin by infirmity on his last-and only previous-sea voyage. He flattered himself that the trained agility of a thief went someway toward feigning sea legs, but he avoided scampering around too much, just in case. At least he appeared to be immune to seasickness this timeout, and for that he thanked the Crooked Warden fervently. Many aboard had not been so lucky.\n\n\"What passes, Master Caldris?\"\n\n\"Compliments of a fine morning, Captain, and the masthead watch says we got white canvas two points off the larboard bow.\"\n\nCaldris had the wheel to himself this morning, and he drew light puffs from a cheap sheaf of cut-rate tobacco that stank like sulfur. Locke wrinkled his nose.\n\nSighing inwardly and stepping with as much care as he could manage, Locke brought out his seeing glass and hurried forward, up the forecastle and to the rail on the larboard bow. Yes, there it was-hull down, a minute speck of white, barely visible above the dark blue of the distant horizon. When he returned to the quarterdeck, Jabril and several other sailors were lounging around, waiting for his verdict.\n\n\"Do we give her the eyeball, Captain?\" Jabril seemed merely expectant, but the men behind him looked downright eager.\n\n\"Looking for an early taste of those equal shares, eh?\" Locke feigned deep consideration, turning toward Caldris long enough to catch the sailing master's private signal for an emphatic no. As Locke had expected-and he could give legitimate reasons without prompting." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Can't do it, lads. You know better than that. We've not yet begun to set our own ship to rights; little sense in taking a fight to someone else's. A quarter of us are still unfit for work, let alone battle. We've got fresh food, a clean ship, and all the time in the world. Better chances will come. Hold course, Master Caldris.\"\n\n\"Hold course, aye.\"\n\nJabril accepted this; Locke was discovering that the man had a solid core of sense and a fair knowledge of nearly every aspect of shipboard life, which made him Locke's superior in that wise. He was a fine mate, another bit of good fortune to be grateful for. The men behind Jabril, now... Locke instinctively knew they needed some occupying task to help mitigate their disappointment.\n\n\"Streva,\" he said to the youngest, \"heave the log aft. Mal, you mind the minute-glass. Report to Master Caldris. Jabril, you know how to use a recurved bow?\"\n\n\"Aye, Captain. Shortbow, recurved, longbow. Decent aim with any.\"\n\n\"I've gotten of them in a locker down in the aft hold. Should be easy to find. Couple hundred arrows, too. Rig up some archery butts with canvas and straw. Mount them at the bow so nobody gets an unpleasant surprise in the ass. Start sharpening up the lads in groups, everyday when the weather allows. Time comes to finally pay a visit to another ship, I'll want good archers in the tops.\"\n\n\"Fine idea, Captain.\"\n\nThat, at least, seemed to restore excitement to the sailors who were still milling near the quarterdeck. Most of them followed Jabril down a hatchway to the main deck. Their interest in the matter gave Locke a further thought." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Master Valora!\"\n\nJean was with Mirlon, their cook, scrutinizing something at the little brick firebox abutting the forecastle. He waved in acknowledgment of Locke's shout.\n\n\"By sunset I want to know that every man aboard knows where all the weapons lockers are. Make sure of it yourself.\"\n\nJean nodded and returned to whatever he was doing. By Locke's reckoning, the idea that Captain Ravelle wanted every man to be comfortable with the ship's weapons-aside from the bows, there were hatchets, sabers, clubs, and a few polearms-would be far better for morale than the thought that he would prefer keeping them locked up or hidden.\n\n\"Well done,\" said Caldris quietly.\n\nMal watched the last few grains in the minute-glass bolted to the mainmast run out, then turned aft and shouted, \"Hold the line!\"\n\n\"Seven and a half knots,\" Streva hollered a moment later.\n\n\"Seven and a half,\" said Caldris. \"Very well. We've been making that more or less steady since we left Verrar. A good run.\"\n\nLocke snuck a glance at the pegs sunk into the holes on Caldris' navigational board, and the compass in the binnacle, which showed them on a heading just a hairsbreadth west of due south.\n\n\"A fine pace if it holds,\" muttered Caldris around his cigar. \"Puts us in the Ghostwinds maybe two weeks from today. Don't know about the captain, but getting a few days ahead of schedule makes me very bloody comfortable.\"\n\n\"And will it hold?\" Locke spoke as softly as he could without whispering into the sailing master's ear.\n\n\"Good question. Summer's end's an odd time on the Sea of Brass; we got storms out there somewhere. I can feel it in my bones. They're a ways off, but they're waiting.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Oh, splendid.\"\n\n\"We'll make do, Captain.\" Caldris briefly removed his cigar, spat something brown at the deck, and returned it to between his teeth. \"Fact is, we're doing just fine, thank the Lord of the Grasping Waters.\"\n\n\"KILL \"IM, Jabril! Get'im right in the fuckin\"\"eart!\"\n\nJabril stood amidships, facing a frock coat (donated from Locke's chest) nailed to a wide board and propped up against the mainmast, about thirty feet away. Both of his feet touched a crudely chalked line on the deck planks. In his right hand was a throwing knife, and in his left was a full wine bottle, by the rules of the game.\n\nThe sailor who'd been shouting encouragement burped loudly and started stomping the deck. The circle of men around Jabril picked up the rhythm and began clapping and chanting, slowly at first, then faster and faster. \"Don't spill a drop! Don't spill a drop! Don't spill a drop! Don't spill a drop! Don't spill a drop!\"\n\nJabril flexed for the crowd, wound up, and flung the knife. It struck dead center in the coat, and up went a cheer that quickly turned to howls. Jabril had sloshed some of the wine out of the bottle.\n\n\"Dammit!\" he cried.\n\n\"Wine-waster,\" shouted one of the men gathered around him, with the fervor of a priest decrying the worst sort of blasphemy. \"Pay the penalty and put it where it belongs!\"\n\n\"Hey, at least I hit the coat,\" said Jabril with a grin. \"You nearly killed someone on the quarterdeck with your throw.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Pay the price! Pay the price! Pay the price!\" chanted the crowd.\n\nJabril put the bottle to his lips, tipped it all the way up, and began to guzzle it in one go. The chanting rose in volume and tempo as the amount of wine in the bottle sank. Jabril's neck and jaw muscles strained mightily, and he raised his freehand high into the air as he sucked the last of the dark red stuff down.\n\nThe crowd applauded. Jabril pulled the bottle from his lips, lowered his head, and sprayed a mouthful of wine allover the man closest to him. \"Oh no,\" he cried, \"I spilled a drop! Ah ha ha ha ha!\"\n\n\"My turn,\" said the drenched sailor. \"I'm gonna lose on purpose and spill a drop right back, mate!\"\n\nLocke and Caldris watched from the starboard rail of the quarterdeck. Caldris was taking a rare break from the wheel; Jean currently had it. They were sailing along in a calm, muggy dusk just pleasant enough for Caldris to separate himself from the ship's precious helm by half a dozen paces.\n\n\"This was a good idea,\" said Locke.\n\n\"Poor bastards have been under the boot for so long, they deserve a good debauch.\" Caldris was smoking a pale blue ceramic pipe, the finest and most delicate thing Locke had ever seen in his hands, and his face was lit by the soft glow of embers.\n\nAt Caldris'suggestion, Locke had had large quantities of wine and beer (the Red Messenger was amply provisioned with both, and fora crew twice this size) hauled upon deck, and he'd offered a choice of indulgences to every man onboard. A double ration of fresh roasted pork-courtesy of the small but well-larded pig they'd brought with them-for those who would stay sober and on watch, and a drunken party for those who wouldn't. Caldris, Jean, and Locke were sober, of course, along with four hands who'd chosen the pork." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Assist in storytelling, proceed with the tale.\nTags: fantasy, heist, pirates\nAuthor: Scott Lynch\nTitle: Red Seas Under Red Skies\nChapter: 14" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Pay the price! Pay the price! Pay the price!\" chanted the crowd.\n\nJabril put the bottle to his lips, tipped it all the way up, and began to guzzle it in one go. The chanting rose in volume and tempo as the amount of wine in the bottle sank. Jabril's neck and jaw muscles strained mightily, and he raised his freehand high into the air as he sucked the last of the dark red stuff down.\n\nThe crowd applauded. Jabril pulled the bottle from his lips, lowered his head, and sprayed a mouthful of wine allover the man closest to him. \"Oh no,\" he cried, \"I spilled a drop! Ah ha ha ha ha!\"\n\n\"My turn,\" said the drenched sailor. \"I'm gonna lose on purpose and spill a drop right back, mate!\"\n\nLocke and Caldris watched from the starboard rail of the quarterdeck. Caldris was taking a rare break from the wheel; Jean currently had it. They were sailing along in a calm, muggy dusk just pleasant enough for Caldris to separate himself from the ship's precious helm by half a dozen paces.\n\n\"This was a good idea,\" said Locke.\n\n\"Poor bastards have been under the boot for so long, they deserve a good debauch.\" Caldris was smoking a pale blue ceramic pipe, the finest and most delicate thing Locke had ever seen in his hands, and his face was lit by the soft glow of embers.\n\nAt Caldris'suggestion, Locke had had large quantities of wine and beer (the Red Messenger was amply provisioned with both, and fora crew twice this size) hauled upon deck, and he'd offered a choice of indulgences to every man onboard. A double ration of fresh roasted pork-courtesy of the small but well-larded pig they'd brought with them-for those who would stay sober and on watch, and a drunken party for those who wouldn't. Caldris, Jean, and Locke were sober, of course, along with four hands who'd chosen the pork." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"It's things like this that makes a ship seem like home,\" said Caldris." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Help you forget what a load of tedious old shit life out here can be.\"\n\n\"It's not so bad,\" said Locke, a bit wistfully.\n\n\"Aye, says the captain of the fuckin'ship, on a night sent by the gods.\" He drew smoke and blew it out over the rail. \"Well, if we can arrange a few more nights like this, it'll be bloody grand. Quiet moments are worth more than whips and manacles for discipline, mark my words.\"\n\nLocke gazed out across the black waves and was startled to see a pale white-green shape, glowing like an alchemical lantern, leap up from the waves and splash back down a few seconds later. The arc of its passage left an iridescent afterimage when he blinked.\n\n\"Gods,\" he said, \"what the hell is that?\"\n\nThere was a fountain of the things, now, about a hundred yards from the ship. They flew silently after one another, appearing and disappearing above the surf, casting their ghostly light on black water that returned it like a mirror.\n\n\"You really are new to these waters,\" said Caldris. \"Those are flit-wraiths, Kosta. South of Tal Verrar, you see \"em all about. Sometimes in great schools, or arches leapin\" over the water. Over ships. They've been known to follow us about. But only after dark, mind you.\"\n\n\"Are they some kind offish?\"\n\n\"Nobody rightly knows,\" said Caldris. \"Flit-wraiths can't be caught. They can't be touched, as I hear it. They fly right through nets, like they was ghosts. Maybe they are.\"\n\n\"Eerie,\" said Locke.\n\n\"You get used to \"em after a few years,\" said Caldris. He drew smoke from his pipe, and the orange glow strengthened momentarily. \"The Sea of Brass is a damned strange place, Kosta. Some say it's haunted by the Eldren. Most say it's just plain haunted. I've seen things. Saint Corella's fire, burnin\" blue and red upon the yardarms, scaring the piss outta the top-watch. I sailed overseas like glass and seen... a city, once. Down below, not kidding. Walls and towers, white stone. Plain as day, right beneath our hull. In waters that our charts put at a thousand fathoms. Real as my nose it was, then gone.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Heh,\" said Locke, smiling. \"You're pretty good at this. You don't have to toy with me, Caldris.\"\n\n\"I'm not toying with you one bit, Kosta.\" Caldris frowned, and his face took on a sinister cast in the pipe-light. \"I'm telling you what to expect. Flit-wraiths is just the beginning. Hell, flit-wraiths is almost friendly. There's things out there even I have trouble believing. And there's places no sensible ship's master will ever go. Places that are... wrong, somehow. Places that wait for you.\"\n\n\"Ah,\" said Locke, recalling his desperate early years in the old and rotten places of Camorr, and a thousand looming, broken buildings that had seemed to wait in darkness to swallow small children. \"Now there I grasp your meaning.\"\n\n\"The Ghostwind Isles,\" said Caldris, \"well, they're the worst of all. In fact, there's only eight or nine islands human beings have actually set foot on, and comeback to tell about it. But gods know how many more are hiding down there, under the fogs, or what the fuck's on'em.\" He paused before continuing. \"You ever hear of the three settlements of the Ghostwinds?\"\n\n\"I don't think so,\" said Locke.\n\n\"Well.\" Caldris took another long puff on his pipe. \" Originally there was three. Settlers out of Tal Verrar touched thereabout a hundred years ago. Founded Port Prodigal, Montierre, and Hope-of-Silver.\n\n\"Port Prodigal's still there, of course. Only one left. Montierre was doing well until the war against the Free Armada. Prodigal's tucked well back in a fine defensive position; Montierre wasn't. After we did for their fleet, we paid a visit. Burnt their fishing boats, poisoned their wells, sank their docks. Torched everything standing, then torched the ashes. Might as well have just rubbed the name'Montierre'off the map. Place ain't worth resettling.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And Hope-of-Silver?\"\n\n\"Hope-of-Silver,\" said Caldris, lowering his voice to a whisper. \" Fifty years ago, Hope-of-Silver was larger than Port Prodigal. On a different island, farther west. Thriving. That silver wasn't just a hope. Three hundred families, give or take.\n\n\"Whatever happened, happened in one night. Those three hundred families, just... gone.\"\n\n\"Gone?\"\n\n\"Gone. Vanished. Not a body to be found. Not a bone for birds to pick at. Something came down from those hills, out of that fog above the jungle, and gods know what it was, but it took 'em all.\"\n\n\"Merciful hells.\"\n\n\"If only,\" said Caldris. \"A ship or two poked around after it happened. They found one ship from Hope-of-Silver itself, drifting offshore, like it'd putout in areal hurry. On it, they found the only bodies left from the whole mess. A few sailors. All the way up the masts, up at the very tops.\" Caldris sighed. \" They'd lashed themselves thereto escape whatever they'd seen... and they were all found dead by their own weapons. Even where they were, they killed themselves rather than face whatever was comin\" for 'em.\n\n\"So pay attention to this, Master Kosta.\" Caldris gestured at the circle of relaxed and rowdy sailors, drinking and throwing knives by the light of alchemical globes. \"You sail a sea where shit like that happens, you can seethe value of making your ship a happy home.\"\n\n\"NEED A word, Captain Ravelle.\"\n\nA day had passed. The air was still warm and the sun still beat down with palpable force when not behind the clouds, but the seas were higher and the wind stiffer. The Red Messenger lacked the mass to knife deep into the turbulent waves without shuddering, and so the deck beneath Locke's feet became even less of a friend." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Jabril-recovered from his close engagement with a wine bottle-and a pair of older sailors approached Locke as he stood by the starboard rail late in the afternoon, holding tight and trying to look casual. Locke recognized the older sailors as men who'd declared themselves unfit at the start of the voyage; days of rest and large portions had done them good. Locke, in light of the ship's understrength complement, had recently authorized extra rations at every meal. The notion was popular.\n\n\"What do you need, Jabril?\"\n\n\"Cats, Captain.\"\n\nThe bottom fell out of Locke's stomach. With heroic effort, he managed to look merely puzzled. \"What about them?\"\n\n\"We been down on the main deck,\" said one of the older sailors. \"Sleeping, mostly. Ain't seen no cats yet. Usually the little buggers are crawlin\" around, doin'tricks, lookin\" to curl up an' sleep onus.\"\n\n\"I asked around,\" said Jabril. \"Nobody's seen even one. Not on the main deck, not up here, not on the orlop. Not even in the bilges. You keepin\" em in your cabin?\"\n\n\"No,\" said Locke, picturing with perfect clarity the sight of eight cats (including Caldris' kitten) lounging contentedly in an empty armory shack above their private bay back at the Sword Marina. Eight cats sparring and yowling over bowls of cream and plates of cold chicken.\n\nEight cats who were undoubtedly still lounging in that shack, right where he'd forgotten them, the night of the fateful assault on Windward Rock. Five days and seven hundred miles behind them.\n\n\"Kittens,\" he said quickly. \"I got a pack of kittens for this trip, Jabril. I reckoned a ship with anew name could do with new cats. And I can tell you they're a hell of ashy bunch-I myself haven't seen one since I dumped them on the orlop. I expect they're just getting used to us. We'll see them soon enough.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Aye, sir.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Locke was surprised at the relief visible on the faces of the three sailors. \"That's good to hear. Bad enough we got no women aboard until we get to the Ghostwinds; no cats would be plain awful.\"\n\n\"Couldn't tolerate no such offense,\" whispered one of the older sailors.\n\n\"We'll putout some meat every night,\" said Jabril. \"We'll keep poking around the decks. I'll let you know soon as we find one.\"\n\n\"By all means,\" said Locke.\n\nSeasickness had nothing to do with his sudden urge to throw up over the side the moment they were gone.\n\nON THE evening of their fifth day out from Tal Verrar, Caldris sat down fora private conversation in Locke's cabin with the door locked.\n\n\"We're doing well,\" the sailing master said, though Locke could see dark circles like bruises under his eyes. The old man had slept barely four hours a day since they'd reached the sea, unable to trust the wheel to Locke or Jean's care without supervision. He'd finally cultivated a fairly responsible master's mate, a man called Bald Mazucca, but even he was lacking in lore and could only be trained a little each day, with Caldris\" attention so divided.\n\nThey continued to be blessed by the behavior of the rest of the crew. The men were still fresh with vigor for any sort of work following their escape from prison. A half-assed carpenter and a decent sailmaker had been found, and one of Jabril's friends had been optimistically voted quartermaster, in charge of counting and dividing plunder when it came. The infirm were gaining health with speed, and several had already joined watches. Lastly, the men no longer gathered to stare nervously across the ship's wake, looking for any hint of pursuit on the sea behind them. They seemed to think that they had evaded Stragos' retribution... and of course they could never be told that none would be forthcoming." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"This is your doing,\" said Locke, patting Caldris on the shoulder. He berated himself for not thinking beforehand of what a strain the voyage would put on the older man. Mazucca would have to be shaped more quickly, and he and Jean would need to pickup whatever slack they could in their inept fashion. \"Even with a glassy sea and a fine breeze, there's noway in hell we'd have pulled this off so far without you.\"\n\n\"Strong weather coming, though,\" said Caldris. \"Weather that will test us. Summer's end, like I said, shit blows up that's like to knock you halfway round the world. Might spend days riding it outwith bare poles, throwing up until there ain't a dry spot in the holds.\" The sailing master sighed, then gave Locke a curious look. \"Speaking of holds, I heard the damnedest things the past day or two.\"\n\n\"Oh?\" Locke tried to sound nonchalant.\n\n\"Ain't nobody seen a cat, not on any of the decks. Not a one has come up from wherever they are, not for anything, ale or milk or eggs or meat.\" Sudden suspicion clouded his brow. \"There are cats down there... right?\"\n\n\"Ah,\" said Locke. His sympathy for Caldris from a moment earlier remained like a weight on his heart. For once, he found himself completely unwilling to lie, and he massaged his eyes with his fingers as he spoke. \"Ah. No, the cats are all safe and sound in their shack in the Sword Marina, right where I left them. Sorry.\"\n\n\"You fucking jest,\" said Caldris in a flat, dead voice. \"Come now. Don't bloody lie tome about this.\"\n\n\"I'm not.\" Locke spread his palms before him and shrugged. \"I know you told me it was important. I just... I had a hundred things to do that night. I meant to fetch them, honest.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Important?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I told you it was important? I told you it was fucking critical, is what I told you!\" Caldris kept his voice at a whisper, but it was like the sound of water boiling against hot coals. Locke winced. \"You have imperiled our souls, Master Kosta, our very gods-damned souls. We have no women and no cats and no proper captain, I remind you, and hard weather sits upon our course.\"\n\n\"Sorry, honestly.\"\n\n\"Honestly, indeed. I was a fool to send a land-sucker to fetch cats. I should have sent cats to fetch me a land-sucker! They wouldn't have disappointed me.\"\n\n\"Now, surely, when we reach Port Prodigal-\"\n\n\"When is an audacious assumption, Leocanto. For long before then the crew will cop wise to the fact that our cats are not merely shy, but imaginary. If they decide the cats have died off, they will just assume that we are cursed and abandon the ship when we touch land. If, however, the absence of smelly little bodies leads them to deduce that their fuckin' captain in fact brought none, they will hang you from a yardarm.\"\n\n\"Ouch.\"\n\n\"You think I jest? They will mutiny. If we see another sail on that horizon, in any direction, we must give chase. We must bring a fight. You know why? So we can take some of their bloody cats. Before it's too late.\"\n\nCaldris sighed before continuing, and suddenly looked ten years older. \"If it's a summer's-end storm coming upon us,\" said Caldris, \"it'll be moving north and west, faster than we can sail. We'll have to pass through it, for we cannot outrun it by beating up to the east. It'll catch us still, and it'll only catch us tired. I'll do my damnedest, but you'd better pray in your cabin tonight for one thing.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What's that?\"\n\n\"Cats falling from the bloody sky.\"\n\nOF COURSE, no convenient rain of screeching felines was forthcoming that night, and when Locke made his first appearance on the quarterdeck the next morning, there was an ugly ghost-gray haze looming on the southern horizon like the shadow of an angry god. The bright medallion of the sun rising in the otherwise clear sky only made it seem more sinister. The starboard heel of the deck was yet more pronounced, and walking to anywhere on the larboard bow felt almost like going up a small hill. Waves slapped the hull and were pulverized to spray, filling the air with the smell and taste of salt.\n\nJean was drilling a small group of sailors with swords and polearms at the ship's waist, and Locke nodded knowingly, as though he caught every nuance of their practice and approved. He toured the deck of the Red Messenger, greeting sailors by name, and tried to ignore the feeling that Caldris\" gaze was burning holes in the back of his tunic.\n\n\"A fine morning to you, Captain,\" muttered the sailing master when Locke approached the wheel. Caldris looked ghoulish in the bright sunlight: his hair and beard washed whiter, his eyes sunken in deeper shadow, every line on his face newly re-etched by the hand of whatever god claimed him.\n\n\"Did you sleep last night, Master Caldris?\"\n\n\"I found myself strangely unable, Captain.\"\n\n\"You must rest sometime.\"\n\n\"Aye, and the ship must generally stay above the waves, or so I've heard it suggested.\"\n\nLocke sighed, faced the bow, and studied the darkening southern sky. \"A summer's-end storm, I daresay. Been through enough of them in my time.\" He spoke loudly and casually." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Soon enough you'll be in one more, Captain.\"\n\nLocke spent the afternoon counting stores in the main hold with Mal as his scribe, marking little lines on a wax tablet. They ducked and weaved through a forest of salted meat in treated cloth sacks, hung from the beams in the hold and swaying steadily with the increasing motion of the ship. The hold was danker already from constant occupation by the crew; those who had been inclined to sleep in the more open space beneath the forecastle had abandoned it as the promise of hard weather had loomed. Locke was certain he smelled piss; someone was either too lazy or too frightened to crawl out and use the craplines. That could get ugly.\n\nThe whole sky was a cataract of haze-gray by the fourth hour of the afternoon. Caldris, slumped against the mast fora brief respite while Bald Mazucca and another sailor held the wheel, ordered sails trimmed and lanterns passed around from the storm lockers. Jean and Jabril led parties belowdecks to ensure that their cargo and equipment was all properly stowed. A weapons locker flying open, or a barrel tumbling around in a rocking ship, would send hapless sailors to meet the gods.\n\nAfter dinner, at Caldris'whispered insistence, Locke ordered those sailors who'd dipped into the ship's store of tobacco to smoke their last until further notice. Open flames would no longer be tolerated anywhere; alchemical lanterns would provide all of their light, and they would use the hearthstone or-more likely-take cold meals. Locke promised an extra half of a wine ration each night if that became necessary.\n\nA premature darkness had infused the sky by the time Locke and Jean could sit down fora quiet drink in the stern cabin. Locke closed the shutters over his stern windows, and the compartment seemed smaller than ever. Locke regarded the dubious comforts of this symbol of Ravelle's authority: a padded hammock against the larboard bulkhead, a pair of stools, his sword and knives hung on the wall by storm clasps. Their'table\" was a flat wooden board atop Locke's chest. Sad as it was, it was princely compared to the glorified closets claimed by Jean and Caldris, or the way the men seemed to burrow in cargo and canvas matting on the main deck." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I'm so sorry about the cats,\" said Locke.\n\n\"I could have remembered as well,\" said Jean. Unspoken was the obvious statement that he'd trusted Locke enough not to feel that he needed to concern himself. Jean might be doing his best to stay polite, but guilt twisted in Locke's stomach more sharply for it.\n\n\"No sharing this blame,\" said Locke, sipping his warm ale. \"I'm the captain of the bloody ship.\"\n\n\"Don't be grandiose.\" Jean scratched his belly, which had been reduced by his recent activity to a much less dramatic curve than it had once possessed. \"We'll think of something. Hell, if we spend a few days plowing through a storm, the men won't have time to worry about anything except when and how hard to piss their breeches.\"\n\n\"Hmmm. Storm. Fine opportunity for one of us to misstep and look a fool in front of the men. More likely to be me than you.\"\n\n\"Quit brooding.\" Jean grinned. \"Caldris knows what he's doing. He'll haul us through somehow.\"\n\nThere was a sudden heavy impact on the cabin door. Locke and Jean jumped up from their stools in unison, and Locke darted for his weapons. Jean shouted, \"What passes?\"\n\n\"Kosta,\" came a faint voice, followed by a feeble rattling, as though someone was trying and failing to work the latch.\n\nJean pulled the door open just as Locke finished buckling on his sword-belt. Caldris stood at the bottom of the companionway, clutching the doorframe for support, swaying on his feet. The amber glow of Locke's cabin lamp revealed wretched details: Caldris\" eyes were bloodshot and rolling upward, his mouth hung open, and his waxy skin was glazed with sweat." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Help, Kosta,\" he whispered, wheezing with a sound that was painful just to hear.\n\nJean grabbed him and held him up. \"Damn,\" he muttered. \"He's not just tired, Leo... Captain. He needs a bloody physiker!\"\n\n\"Help... Kosta,\" moaned the sailing master. He clawed at his left upper arm with his right hand, and then at his left breast. He squeezed his eyes shut and winced.\n\n\"Help me?\" Locke put a hand beneath Caldris'chin; the man's pulse was wild and erratic. \"What do you mean, help me?\"\n\n\"No.\" Caldris grimaced with concentration, sucking in a harsh breath between each word. \"Help. Me. Kosta!\"\n\n\"Lay him on the table,\" said Jean, and together he and Locke pressed the old man down onto his back.\n\n\"Sweet gods,\" said Locke, \"is it the poison? I don't feel any different.\"\n\n\"Nor I,\" said Jean. \"I think... I think his heart is seizing up. I've seen it before. Shit. If we can calm him down, maybe get him to drink something-\"\n\nBut Caldris moaned again, dug feebly at the left side of his chest with both hands, and shuddered. His hands fell limp. One long, strangled exhalation escaped from his throat, and Locke, in rising horror, felt frantically around the base of his neck with the fingers of both hands.\n\n\"His pulse is gone,\" Locke whispered.\n\nA soft rattle on the cabin roof, gentle at first but quickly rising in tempo, told them that the first drops of rain were beginning to fall on the ship. Caldris' eyes, fixed on the ceiling, were lifeless as glass." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Oh, shit,\" said Jean." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "CHAPTER EIGHT\n\nSUMMER'S END\n\nDARK WATER ACROSS THE BOW, water at the sides, water in the air, falling with the weight of lead pellets against Locke's oilcloak. The rain seemed to come first from one side and then another, never content to fall straight down, as the Red Messenger rocked back and forth in the gray hands of the gale.\n\n\"Master Valora!\" Locke held fast to the safety lines knotted around the mainmast (as they were knotted all around the deck) and bellowed down the main-deck hatch. \"How much water in the well?\"\n\nJean's answer came up a few moments later. \"Two feet!\"\n\n\"Very good, Master Valora!\"\n\nLocke caught a glimpse of Bald Mazucca staring at him, and he suppressed a feeling of unease. He knew that Caldris' sudden death the day before had been taken by the crew as an omen of the worst sort; they were openly muttering about women and cats, and the focal point of all their unkind attention was one Orrin Ravelle, whose status as captain and savior was steadily fraying. Locke turned toward the helmsman and found him once again squinting ahead into the stinging rain, seemingly absorbed in his duty.\n\nTwo cloaked sailors stood at the second wheel behind Mazucca; in seas this strong control of the rudder could easily fly free from the grip of a single man. Their faces were dark shadows within their hoods; they had nothing friendly to say to Locke, either.\n\nThe wind screamed through the lines and yards overhead, where most of the sails were tightly furled. They continued to push vaguely southwest under the press of nothing but close-reefed topsails. They were heeled over so far to starboard that Mazucca and his assistants were not merely standing in wait at their wheels. The crashing sea demanded their constant, tedious concentration to keep the ship stable, and still the sea was rising." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A rush of gray-green water ran over Locke's bare toes and he sucked in breath; he'd abandoned his boots for the more certain footing of unprotected feet. Locke watched that water roll across the deck, unwelcome but constant guest, before it poured away down the scuppers and leaked past the edges of the storm-canvas laid beneath the hatch gratings. In truth the water was warm, but herein the sunless heart of the storm, with the wind like knives in the air, his imagination made it seem cold.\n\n\"Captain Ravelle!\"\n\nJabril was approaching along the larboard rail, storm lantern in one night-black hand. \"It might've been advisable to take down the fuckin\" topgallant masts a few hours ago,\" he shouted.\n\nSince Locke had risen that morning, Jabril had offered at least half a dozen rebukes and reminders without prompting. Locke stared upward at the very tips of the main and foremasts, nearly lost in the swirling haze overhead. \"I gave it some thought, Jabril, but it didn't seem necessary.\" According to some of what Locke had read, even without sails flying from their yards, the topgallant masts might give unwanted leverage to deadly storm winds, or even be lost over the side as the vessel bucked and heaved. He'd been too busy to think of striking them down.\n\n\"It'll seem pretty gods-damned necessary if they comedown and take more of the rigging with them!\"\n\n\"I might have them struck down in awhile, Jabril, if I think it proper.\"\n\n\"If you think it proper?\" Jabril gaped at him. \"Are you bereft of your bloody senses, Ravelle? The time to strike the bastards was hours ago; now the hands we have are in sore need elsewhere, and the fuckin'weather's up! We might try it only were the ship in peril... but damn me, she might soon be! Have you not been out this far on the Sea of Brass before, Captain?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Aye, of course I have.\" Locke sweated within his oilcloak. Had he known the real extent of Jabril's sea-wisdom, he might have tasked the man with minding such details, but now it was too late, and some of his incompetence was laid bare. \"Forgive me, Jabril. Caldris was a good friend. His loss has left me a bit off-kilter!\"\n\n\"Indeed! As the loss of the fuckin'ship might leave us all more than a touch off-kilter, sir.\" Jabril turned and began making his way forward along the larboard rail, then after a few seconds whirled back to Locke. \"You and I both know fora damn truth there's not a single bloody cat onboard, Ravelle!\"\n\nLocke hung his head and clung to the mizzen. It was too much to hope that Mazucca and the hands standing behind him hadn't heard that. But of course, at his glance, they said nothing and betrayed nothing, staring fixedly ahead into the storm, as though trying to imagine he were not thereat all.\n\nBELOWDECKS WAS a nightmare. At least on deck one had masts and crashing seas to offer some perspective on one's place. Down here, in the enveloping fug of sweat, urine, and vomit, the shuddering walls themselves seemed to tilt and lurch at malicious whim. Streams of water poured down from hatchways and gratings, despite the weather precautions the crew had taken. The main deck echoed with the muffled howling of the wind, and the clanking sound of the pumps rose from the orlop below.\n\nThose pumps were fine Verrari gearwork, capable of heaving water up and dashing it over the side at some speed, but they demanded eight-man shifts in seas like this, and the labor was backbreaking. Even a crew in good health would have found the job onerous; it was just plain bad luck for this bunch that so few of them had come out of prison at anything near their full strength." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The water gains, Captain,\" said a sailor Locke couldn't recognize in the near darkness. He'd popped his head up the hatchway from the orlop. \"Three feet in the well. Aspel says we busted a seam somewhere; says he needs men fora repair party.\"\n\nAspel was their approximation of a ship's carpenter. \"He'll have them,\" Locke said, though from where, he knew not. Ten doing important work on deck, eight at the pumps... damn near their time to be relieved, too. Six or seven still too bloody weak to be of any use save as ballast. A squad in the orlop hold with Jean, resecuring casks of food and water after three had come loose and broken open. Eight sleeping fitfully on the main deck just a few feet away, having been up all night. Two with broken bones, trying to dull the pain with an unauthorized ration of wine. Their rudimentary scheme of watches was unraveling in the face of the storm's demands, and Locke struggled to subsume a sharp pang of panic.\n\n\"Fetch Master Valora from the orlop,\" he said at last. \"Tell him he and his men can look to the stores again once they've given Aspel a hand.\"\n\n\"Aye, sir.\"\n\n\"Captain Ravelle!\"\n\nAnother shout rose from below as the first sailor disappeared, and Locke stood over the hatchway to answer. \"What passes?\"\n\n\"Our time at the bloody pumps, sir! We can't keep up this gods-damned pace forever. We need relief. And we need food!\"\n\n\"You shall have them both,\" said Locke, \"in but ten minutes.\" Though from where, again, he knew not; all his choices were sick, injured, exhausted, or otherwise engaged. He turned to make his way backup to the deck. He could swap the deck-watch and the men at the pumps; it would bring joy to neither group, but it might serve to nudge the ship ahead of total disaster fora few more precious hours." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"WHAT DO you mean, you haven't been turning the glasses?\"\n\n\"Captain Ravelle, sir, beggin'your double-fuckin\" pardon, but we ain't had no time to turn the glasses nor mind the log since... hell, I suppose I can't say. Awhile now.\"\n\nBald Mazucca and his mate looked more like they were clinging to his wheel for dear life than steering the ship with it. Two teams of two had the wheels; the air was a frenzy of howling wind and stinging rain. The sea, cresting twenty feet or more, slammed past the bow again and again, washing the deck white and sluicing past Locke's ankles. At long last they'd been forced to abandon a southerly course, and now they were dead west before the wind, pulled by one lonely storm forecourse. They scudded again and again through waves high as houses.\n\nA bolt of yellow flitting past in the periphery of Locke's vision was a storm-lantern flying free and vanishing over the side, soon to be a curiosity for the fish far below.\n\nLocke hauled himself over to the binnacle and flipped through the damp pages of the master's log; the last hasty entry read:\n\n3rd hr afternoon 7 Festal 78 Morgante s/sw 8 kts please may Iono spare these souls\n\nLocke couldn't remember when it had last felt like the third hour of the afternoon. The storm turned high noon dark as the insides of a shark's gullet, and the crackle of lightning gave uncanny illumination to what might have been deep evening. They were as unfixed in time as they were in place.\n\n\"At least we know we're somewhere on the Sea of Brass,\" he shouted above the din. \"We'll be through this mess soon enough, and then we'll take sightings to fix our latitude.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "If only that was as easily done as said. Fear and exhaustion had set Locke's senses reeling; the world was gray and whirling in every direction, and he'd thrown up his last cold meal at the taffrail... gods knew when. Hours before, probably. If Bondsmage of Karthain had appeared on deck at that moment and offered to use magic to steer the ship to safety, Locke might have kissed their boots.\n\nThere was a sudden terrible sound overhead; an explosive crack followed by the warbling hiss of a broken line lashing the air. Seconds later came a louder crash, and then a snap-snap-snap like the noise of a whip biting flesh.\n\n\"\"Ware above,\" cried Jabril from somewhere forward; Locke and the ship seemed to lurch at once from another hammering wave. It was this loss of footing that saved Locke's life. A shadow swooped past his left shoulder as he slipped to the wet deck, sputtering. There was a splintering crash, screams, and sudden blackness as something slick and yielding enshrouded him.\n\nSail canvas! Locke shoved at it, working his way out from beneath it. Strong hands grabbed his forearms and hauled him to his feet. They belonged to Jean, who was braced against the starboard quarterdeck rail. Locke had slid a few feet to his right with the fall. Muttering thanks, he turned to see exactly what he feared.\n\nThe main topgallant mast had torn away. Its stays must have been snapped by some trick of wind or the ship's tumult. It had plunged forward and down, unfurling and trailing sail from its yard as it went, before a mess of tangled rigging had snapped it backward like a pendulum just above the deck. It covered the wheels, and the four men previously manning them were nowhere to be seen. Locke and Jean moved in unison, fighting across wet canvas and torn rope while smaller pieces of debris continued to rain down around them. Already Locke could feel the ship moving in an unhealthy fashion beneath them. The wheels must be seized, the rudder put right instantly." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"All hands,\" Locke cried with every ounce of conviction he possessed." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"All hands on deck! All hands to save the ship!\"\n\nJean heaved against the fallen topgallant spar, bracing himself against the mainmast, letting loose a howl of sheer exertion. Wood and canvas shifted, then crashed to the deck. Some of the handles of the two wheels had been reduced to splinters, but the wheels themselves were substantially intact. Locke could now see Bald Mazucca crawling slowly to his feet behind them; another man lay on deck with the top of his head plainly smashed in.\n\n\"Seize the wheel,\" Locke cried, looking around for more help. \"Seize the bloody wheel!\" He found himself tangled with Jabril.\n\n\"Captain,\" Jabril hollered straight into his face, \"we are like to broach!\"\n\nOh good, thought Locke, at least I know what that means. He gave Jabril a shove toward the wheels, and grabbed onto one beside Jean. \"Helm a-larboard,\" Locke coughed, confident of that much. Groaning with strain, he and Jean fought to heave the wheel in the proper direction. The Red Messenger was slipping to lee at an angle, down into the troughs of the waves; in moments she'd be broadside to them and all but lost. A dark wave, impossibly heavy, surged over the starboard rail and doused them all, the merest foretaste of what awaited failure.\n\nBut the resistance of the wheel lessened as Jabril found his place behind them and heaved; in seconds he was joined by Mazucca, and inch by straining inch Locke felt the ship's stern come round again to larboard, until her bow was knifing into the waves once more. They'd bought time to contemplate the disaster the toppling mast had made of the rigging." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Men boiled out of the deck hatches, inhuman shapes in the dancing light of storm-lanterns. Lightning scorched the darkness above them. Orders were issued, from Locke and Jean and Jabril, with no heed paid to whose was the higher authority. The minutes became hours, and the hours felt like days. They fought on together in an eternity of gray chaos, cold and exhausted and terrified, against the screaming winds above and the hammering waters below.\n\n\"THREE FEET of water in the well and holding, Captain.\"\n\nAspel delivered his report with a makeshift bandage wrapped around his head, the sleeve of someone's jacket roughly slashed from its parent garment.\n\n\"Very good,\" said Locke, holding himself up at the mainmast much as Caldris had days before. Every joint and muscle in Locke's body announced their discomfort; he felt like a rag doll full of broken glass, and he was soaked in the bargain. But in that he was no different from any of the survivors aboard the Red Messenger. As Chains had once said, feeling like you wanted desperately to die was fine evidence that you had yet to do so.\n\nThe summer's-end storm was a receding line of darkness on the northwestern horizon; it had spit them out a few hours earlier. Here, the seas were running at five or six feet and the skies were still ashen gray, but this was a paradise following the tempest. Enough funereal light filtered down from above for Locke to guess that it was day, after some fashion.\n\nHe surveyed the shambles of the deck; lifelines and debris from the rigging were tangled everywhere. Scraps of canvas fluttered in the wind, and sailors were tripping over fallen block and tackle, cursing as they went. They were a crew of ghosts, haggard and clumsy with fatigue. Jean labored at the forecastle to conjure their first warm meal in living memory." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Damnation,\" Locke muttered. Their escape had not been without price: three swept clean overboard, four seriously injured, two dead including Caldris. Mirlon, the cook, had been the man at the wheel when the main topgallant mast had crashed down upon him like a divine spear and shattered his skull.\n\n\"No, Captain,\" said Jabril from behind him. \"Not if we can do right by them.\"\n\n\"What?\" Locke whirled, confused.... Suddenly he remembered. \"Oh, yes, of course.\"\n\n\"The fallen, Captain,\" said Jabril, enunciating as though to a child. \"The fallen haunt our decks and cannot rest until we send them off proper.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" said Locke. \"Let's do that.\"\n\nCaldris and Mirlon lay by the larboard entry port, wrapped in canvas. Pale packages bound with tarred rope, awaiting their final send-off. Locke and Jabril knelt beside them.\n\n\"Say the words, Ravelle,\" muttered Jabril. \"You can do that much for them. Send their souls on down to Father Stormbringer and give them rest.\"\n\nLocke stared at the two wrapped corpses and felt anew pain in his heart. Nearly overcome with fatigue and shame, he put his head in his hands and thought quickly.\n\nBy tradition, ships'captains could be proclaimed lay priests of Iono, with a minimum of study at any proper temple to the Father of Grasping Waters. At sea, they could then lead prayers, perform marriages, and even give death-blessings. While Locke knew some interior ritual of Iono's Temple, he wasn't consecrated in Iono's service. He was a priest of the Crooked Warden, and here at sea, a thousand miles out into Iono's domain, aboard a ship that was already damned for spurning His mandates... there was noway in heavens or hells Locke could presume to give these men Iono's rest. For the sake of their souls, he'd have to invoke the only power he had any pull with." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Crooked Warden, Unnamed Thirteenth, your servant calls. Place your eyes upon the passing of this man, Caldris bal Comar, Iono's servant, sworn to steal goods beneath the red flag, therefore sharing a corner of your kingdom-\"\n\n\"What are you doing?\" Jabril hissed, seizing Locke by the arm. Locke shoved him backward.\n\n\"The only thing I can do,\" said Locke. \"The only honest blessing I can give these men, understand? Don't fucking interfere again.\" He reached back down to touch Caldris\" wrapped body. \"We deliver this man, body and spirit, to the realm of your brother Iono, mighty lord of the sea.\" Locke figured a little flattery never went amiss in these matters. \"Lend him aid. Carry his soul to She who weighs us all. This we pray with hopeful hearts.\"\n\nLocke gestured for Jabril's help. The muscular man remained deadly silent as they lifted Caldris\" body together and heaved it out the entry port. Even before he heard the splash, Locke reached back down to the other canvas bundle.\n\n\"Crooked Warden, Thiefwatcher, your servant calls. Place your eyes upon the passing of this man, Mirlon, Iono's servant, sworn to steal goods beneath a red flag, therefore sharing a corner of your kingdom...\"\n\nTHE MUTINY came the next morning, while Locke slept senseless in his hammock, still wearing the wet clothes that had seen him through the storm.\n\nHe was awakened by the sound of someone slamming his door and shooting home the bolt. Bleary-eyed and gasping in confusion, he all but fell out of his hammock and had to use his sea chest to push himself unsteadily to his feet." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Arm yourself,\" said Jean, backing away from the door with both of his hatchets in hand. \"We've got a problem.\"\n\nThat brought Locke to full wakefulness sharply enough. He buckled on his sword-belt in haste, noting with satisfaction that the heavy shutters over his stern windows were still drawn. Light peeked in around the edges; was it day already? Gods, he'd slept the whole night away in one dreamless blink.\n\n\"There's, ah, some of them that aren't happy with me, aren't there?\"\n\n\"None of them are happy with us.\"\n\n\"I think they're surely angrier with me than they are with you. I think you could still make it as one of them; it's my blood they'll be after, and you can claim to be as much my dupe as they were. Take me out to them. You might still pull this scheme off and get the antidote from Stragos.\"\n\n\"Are you mad?\" Jean glared back at Locke, but didn't step away from the door.\n\n\"You're a strange fellow, brother.\" Locke contemplated his Verrari sea-officer's saber uneasily; in his hands it would be no less a showpiece than it was now, in its scabbard. \"First you want to punish yourself for something that's not your fault, and now you won't let me slip you out of a mistake that's entirely mine.\"\n\n\"Who the hell are you to lecture me, Locke? First you insist that I stay despite the real danger I pose to you, now you beg me to betray you for gain? Fuck you. You're ten pints of crazy in a one-pint glass.\"\n\n\"That describes us both, Jean.\" Locke smiled despite himself; there was something refreshing in being returned to danger of his own making after the indifferent malice of the storm. \"Though you're more of a carafe than a pint glass. I knew you wouldn't buy it.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Too gods-damned right.\"\n\n\"I will say, I would've liked to see Stragos\" face when we did whatever we were going to do to him,\" said Locke. \"And I would've liked to know what it was when the clever moment came.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Jean, \"as long as we're wishing, I would have liked a million solari and a parrot that speaks Throne Therin. But they're not coming, take my meaning?\"\n\n\"Maybe the fact that this scuppers Stragos' precious little plan is fuck-you enough.\"\n\n\"Now, Locke.\" Jean sighed, and his voice softened. \"Maybe they'll want to talk first. And if they want to talk to you, with your wits about you, we might still have a chance.\"\n\n\"Doubtless you're the only man aboard this ship who'd still express confidence in anything I do,\" Locke sighed.\n\n\"Ravelle!\" The shout came from the companionway.\n\n\"You didn't kill any of them yet, did you, Jean?\"\n\n\"Not yet, no.\"\n\n\"Ravelle! I know you're in there, and I know you can hear me!\"\n\nLocke stepped up to the cabin door and shouted back through it. \"Marvelously clever, Jabril! You've tracked me unerringly to the cabin in which I've been fast asleep and motionless all bloody night. Who tipped you off?\"\n\n\"We have all the bows, Ravelle!\"\n\n\"Well, damn,\" said Locke. \"You must have gotten into the weapon lockers, then. I suppose I was hoping we could have one of those pleasant dancing mutinies, or maybe a singing-and-card-games mutiny, you know?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"There's thirty-two of us as can still move, Ravelle! Two of you in there, no food, no water... the ship's ours. How long do you figure on staying in there?\"\n\n\"It's a fine place,\" shouted Locke. \"Got a hammock, a table, nice view out the stern... big door between us and the rest of you....\"\n\n\"Which we can smash at anytime, and you know it.\" Jabril lowered his voice; a creak of shifting weight in the companionway told Locke he'd stepped right up to the other side of the door. \"You're glib, Ravelle, but glib's no good against ten bows and twenty blades.\"\n\n\"I'm not the only man inhere, Jabril.\"\n\n\"Aye. And believe me, there's not one among us who'd like to face Master Valora; not with fuckin'four-to-one odds. But the odds is better than that. Like I said, we got all the bows. You want it to comedown hard, we'll do what it takes.\"\n\nLocke bit the inside of his cheek, thinking. \"You swore an oath tome, Jabril. An oath tome as your captain! After I gave you your lives back.\"\n\n\"We all did, and we meant it, but you're not what you said you was. You're no sea-officer. Caldris was the real thing, gods rest him, but I don't know what the fuck you are. You deceived us, so the oath don't stand.\"\n\n\"I see.\" Locke pondered, snapped his fingers, and continued. \"So you would have kept to the oath, had I... ah, been what I claimed to be?\"\n\n\"Aye, Ravelle. Fuckin'right we would've.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I believe you,\" said Locke. \"I believe you're no oath-breaker, Jabril. So I have a proposal. Jerome and I are willing to come peaceably out of the cabin. We'll come upon the deck, and we'll talk. We'll be pleased to hear your grievances, every last one. And we'll keep our hands empty, so long as you swear an oath to give us that much. Safe conduct to the deck, and an open talk. For everyone.\"\n\n\"Won't be no'hearing grievances, \"Ravelle. It'll just be us telling you how it's to be.\"\n\n\"As you wish,\" said Locke. \"Call it whatever you like. Give me your oath of safe passage, and it'll happen. We'll come outright now.\"\n\nLocke strained for several seconds to hear anything from the companionway. At last, Jabril spoke.\n\n\"Come up with empty hands,\" he said, \"and don't make no unkind moves, especially not Valora. Do that, and I swear before all the gods, you'll come up to the deck safe. Then we'll talk.\"\n\n\"Well,\" whispered Jean, \"at least you got us that much.\"\n\n\"Yeah. Maybe just a chance to die in the sunlight rather than the shade, though.\" He considered changing out of his wet clothes before going upon deck, then shook his head. \"Hell with it. Jabril!\"\n\n\"Aye?\"\n\n\"We're opening the door.\"\n\nTHE WORLD above the deck was one of rich blue skies and bright sunlight; a world Locke had almost forgotten over the previous days. He marveled at it, though Jabril led them to the waist under the eyes of thirty men withdrawn swords and nocked arrows. Lines of white foamed on the sea at the horizons, but around the Red Messenger the waves rolled softly, and the breeze was a welcome kiss of warmth against Locke's skin." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I'll be damned,\" he whispered. \"We sailed right back into summer again.\"\n\n\"Stands to reason that we got blown a ways south even in the storm,\" said Jean. \"We must have passed the Prime Divisor. Latitude naught.\"\n\nThe ship was still something of a shambles; Locke spotted makeshift and incomplete repairs everywhere. Mazucca stood calmly at the wheel, the only unarmed man on deck. The ship was making steerage way under nothing but its main topsail. The mainmast rigging would need one hell of a sorting out before it would carry any useful canvas; the fallen topgallant mast was nowhere to be seen.\n\nLocke and Jean stood before the mainmast, waiting. Upon the forecastle, men were looking down on them from behind their bows. Thankfully, none of them had drawn their strings back-they looked nervous, and Locke trusted neither their judgment nor their muscle tone. Jabril leaned back against the ship's boat and pointed at Locke.\n\n\"You fuckin' lied to us, Ravelle!\"\n\nThe crew shouted and jeered, shaking their weapons, hurling insults. Locke held up his hand to speak, but Jabril cut him off. \"You said it yourself, down below. I got you to bloody admit it, so say it again, for all to hear. You ain't no sea-officer.\"\n\n\"It's true,\" said Locke. \"I'm not a sea-officer. That should be obvious to everyone by now.\"\n\n\"What the hell are you, then?\" Jabril and the men seemed genuinely confused. \"You had a Verrari uniform. You got in and out of Windward Rock. The archon took this ship, and you got it back. What's the gods-damned game?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Locke realized that an unsatisfactory answer to this question would have hard consequences; those things really did add up to a mystery too considerable to brushoff. He scratched his chin, then put up his hands. \"Okay, look. Only some of what I told you was a lie. I, ah, I really was an officer in the archon's service, just not a naval officer. I was one of his captains of intelligence.\"\n\n\"Intelligence?\" cried Aspel, who held a bow atop the forecastle. \"What, you mean spies and things like that?\"\n\n\"Exactly,\" said Locke. \"Spies. And things like that. I hate the archon. I was sick of his service. I figured... I figured with a crew and a ship I had a sure way to get the hell out and give him grief at the same time. Caldris came along to do all the real work, while I was learning.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" said Jabril. \"But that's not what happened. You didn't just lie to us about what you was.\" He turned his back to Locke and Jean to address the crew. \"He brought us out to sea without a woman aboard the ship!\"\n\nScowls, catcalls, rude gestures, and no few hand-signs against evil. The crew were not well pleased to be reminded of that subject.\n\n\"Hold fast,\" shouted Locke, \"I meant to bring women with us; I had four women on my list. Didn't you see them at Windward Rock? Other prisoners? They all went down with a fever. They had to be put back ashore, don't you see?\"\n\n\"If that was you,\" shouted Jabril, \"maybe you thought of it once, but what did you do to fix it when they fell sick?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"The archon took the bloody prisoners, not me,\" said Locke." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I had to work with what that left me. It left me you!\"\n\n\"So it did,\" said Jabril, \"and then you fuckin' brought us out here without one single cat neither!\"\n\n\"Caldris told me to get some,\" said Locke. \"Forgive me, I just... I said I'm not a sailor, right? I got busy sneaking out of Tal Verrar and I left them behind. I didn't understand!\"\n\n\"Indeed,\" said Jabril. \"You had no business out here if you didn't know the bloody mandates! Because of you, this ship is cursed! We're lucky to be alive, those of us that is. Five men paid for what was rightly your sin! Your ignorance of what's due Iono Stormfather by those that sail his waters!\"\n\n\"Lord of the Grasping Waters shield us!\" said another sailor.\n\n\"Our misfortune's been made by you,\" Jabril continued. \"You admit your lies and ignorance. I say this ship ain't clean till we get you off her! What's the word of all?\"\n\nThere was aloud, immediate, and unanimous chorus of agreement; the sailors shook their weapons at Locke and Jean as they cheered.\n\n\"That's that,\" said Jabril. \"Drop your weapons on the deck.\"\n\n\"Wait,\" said Locke. \"You said we'd talk, and I'm not finished!\"\n\n\"I brought you on deck safe, and we did talk. Talk's finished, oath's paid off.\" Jabril folded his arms. \"Lose your weapons!\"\n\n\"Now-\"\n\n\"Archers!\" yelled Jabril. The men atop the forecastle took aim.\n\n\"What's the choice?\" Locke shouted angrily. \"Disarm so we can what?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Keep your arms and die bleeding on this deck,\" said Jabril." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Or disarm, and swim as far as you can. Let Iono be your judge.\"\n\n\"Quick and painful or slow and painful. Right.\" Locke unbound his sword-belt and let it drop to the deck. \"Master Valora had nothing to do with my cock-ups. I dragged him into this same as you!\"\n\n\"Now, wait a fucking minute...,\" said Jean, as he set the Wicked Sisters respectfully down at his feet.\n\n\"What say you, Valora?\" Jabril looked around for objections from the crew and saw none. \"Ravelle's the liar. Ravelle admits the crime is his; away with him and the curse is lifted fair. You'd be welcome to stay.\"\n\n\"He swims, I swim,\" Jean growled.\n\n\"He worth that much to you?\"\n\n\"I don't have to bloody well explain myself.\"\n\n\"So be it. That I respect,\" said Jabril. \"Time to go.\"\n\n\"No,\" shouted Locke as several sailors advanced, swords held at guard. \"No! I have one thing to say first.\"\n\n\"You had your say. Stormfather'll judge what else there is.\"\n\n\"When I found you,\" said Locke, \"you were in a vault. Under a fucking rock. You were locked away beneath iron and stone! You were fit to die or to push oars for the archon's pleasure. You were dead and rotting, every last miserable one of you!\"\n\n\"Heard this already,\" said Jabril.\n\n\"Maybe I'm not a sea-officer,\" said Locke. \"Maybe I deserve this; maybe you're doing right to punish the man that's brought you this misfortune. But I am also the man who freed you. I am the man who gave you any life you have. You spit on that gift before the gods to do this tome!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"You saying you want the arrows, then?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "said Aspel, and the men around him laughed.\n\n\"No,\" said Jabril, holding up his hands. \"No. There's a point. This ain't a happy ship in the eyes of the gods, that's for bloody sure. Our luck is tight-drawn as it is, even once we're rid of him. He needs to die for the crimes he's done; for his lies and his ignorance and the men who won't see land again. But he did free us.\" Jabril looked around and bit his lip before continuing. \"We do owe him for that. I say we give them the boat.\"\n\n\"We need that boat,\" hollered Mazucca.\n\n\"Lots of boats in Port Prodigal,\" said Streva. \"Maybe we can take one as plunder on the way down there.\"\n\n\"Aye, that and cats,\" shouted another sailor.\n\n\"Open boat,\" said Jabril. \"No food, no water, says I. They go in as they are now. Let Iono take them as and when he will. What's the word of all?\"\n\nThe word of all was another outburst of enthusiastic approval. Even Mazucca gave in and nodded.\n\n\"Just a longer swim, in the end,\" said Locke.\n\n\"Well,\" whispered Jean, \"at least you talked them into that much.\"\n\nTHE SHIP'S boat was unlashed, hoisted out, and plopped over the starboard side into the deep blue waters of the Sea of Brass.\n\n\"They get oars, Jabril?\" One of the sailors had been assigned the task of removing the water cask and rations from the boat, and he'd pulled out the oars as well.\n\n\"Think not,\" said Jabril. \"Iono moves them if he wants them moved. We leave them to float; that was the word.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Parties of armed sailors lined up fore and aft to prod Locke and Jean toward the starboard entry port. Jabril followed close behind. When they reached the edge, Locke saw that the boat was tied up with one knotted line that would allow them to climb down.\n\n\"Ravelle,\" said Jabril quietly. \"You really hold with the Thirteenth? You really one of his divines?\"\n\n\"Yeah,\" said Locke. \"It was the only honest blessing I could give for their sakes.\"\n\n\"I suppose that makes sense. Spies, things like that.\" Jabril slipped something cold beneath Locke's tunic, against the small of his back, sliding it precariously into the top of his breeches. Locke recognized the weight of one of the stilettos from his belt.\n\n\"Stormfather maybe takes you fast,\" whispered Jabril, \"or maybe he lets you float. Long fuckin' time. Until you decide you just plain had enough... you know?\"\n\n\"Jabril,\" said Locke, \"... thank you. I, ah, wish I could have been a better captain.\"\n\n\"I wish you'd been any kinda captain at all. Now get over the fuckin\" side and begone.\"\n\nSo it was that Locke and Jean watched from the gently bobbing boat as the Red Messenger limped on, southwest by west under tattered sail, leaving them in the middle of nowhere under a midafternoon sun that Locke would have given ten thousand solari for just a day or two earlier.\n\nOne hundred yards, two hundred, three... their former ship slowly made way across the rippling sea, at first with what must have been half the crew gazing astern, watching. But soon enough they lost interest in the dead men in their wake. Soon enough they returned to the task of keeping their precious little wooden world from succumbing to its wounds." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Locke wondered who would inherit the stern cabin, Jean's hatchets, their unusual tools, and the five hundred solari stashed at the bottom of his personal chest-a mixture of their last funds and Stragos\" financing.\n\nThieves prosper, he thought.\n\n\"Well, splendid,\" he said, stretching his legs as best he could. He and Jean faced each other from opposite rowing benches of a boat built for six. \"Once again we've engineered a brilliant escape from immediate peril, and stolen something of value to take with us. This boat must be worth two solari.\"\n\n\"I just hope that whoever ends up with the Wicked Sisters bloody well chokes,\" said Jean.\n\n\"What, on the hatchets?\"\n\n\"No, on anything. Whatever's convenient. I should've thrown them out the cabin window rather than let someone else have them. Gods.\"\n\n\"You know, Jabril slipped me a stiletto as I went off.\"\n\nJean seemed to ponder the implications of this fora moment, then shrugged. \"When a smaller boat comes along, at least we'll have a weapon to board and carry her.\"\n\n\"Are you, ah, comfortable back therein the stern cabin?\"\n\n\"I am,\" said Jean. He got off the bench, slid sideways, and crammed himself into the stern with his back against the starboard gunwale. \"Bit tight, but luxurious trimmings.\"\n\n\"That's good,\" said Locke, pointing to the middle of the boat. \"Hope it doesn't get more cramped when I install the hanging garden and the library right about there.\"\n\n\"Already took that into account.\" Jean leaned his head back and closed his eyes. \"Hanging garden can go in on top of my bathhouse.\"\n\n\"Which can double as a temple,\" said Locke." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You think that necessary?\"\n\n\"I do,\" said Locke. \"I daresay the two of us are going to be doing a hell of a lot of praying.\"\n\nThey floated in silence for many minutes. Locke also closed his eyes, breathed deep of the tangy air, and listened to the faint whisper of the waves. The sun was a warm and welcome pressure on the top of his head, and this above all conspired to lull him into a half-dozing state as he sat. He looked within for some hint of anguish and found only a hollow numbness; he seemed to have relaxed into relief at this final collapse of all his plans. Nobody else to fool, no more secrets to keep, no duties required of him or Jean as they drifted, merely drifted, waiting for the gods to make their next whim known.\n\nJean's voice recalled him to the present after some unguessable interval had passed, and he blinked as he reopened his eyes to the bright gleam of sun on water.\n\n\"Locke,\" said Jean, evidently repeating himself, \"sail ho, three points off the starboard bow!\"\n\n\"Ha-ha, Jean. That would be the Red Messenger, sailing away from us forever. Surely you remember her.\"\n\n\"No,\" said Jean, more insistent. \"Fresh sail ho, three points off the starboard bow!\"\n\nLocke glanced over his right shoulder, squinting. The Red Messenger was still plainly visible, now about three-quarters of a mile distant. And there, off to the left of his former ship, hard to see at first against the bright fusion of sea and sky-yes, a dusty white square just cresting the horizon.\n\n\"I'll be damned,\" said Locke. \"Looks like our lads are going to have their first chance at some plunder.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"If only it'd had the courtesy to show up yesterday!\"\n\n\"I'll wager I would have screwed things up regardless. But... can you imagine those poor bastards grappling their prey, leaping over the rails, swords in hand, screaming,\"Your cats! Give us all your gods-damned cats! '\"\n\nJean laughed. \"What a bloody mess we've unleashed. At least we'll have some entertainment. This'll be damn awkward with the Messenger in such a state. Maybe they'll comeback for us and beg us to lend a hand.\"\n\n\"They'd beg you, maybe,\" said Locke.\n\nAs Locke watched, the Messenger's forecourse shuddered into existence, an unfolding square of white. Straining, he could just see tiny figures dashing to and fro on the deck and in the rigging. His former ship put her bow a touch to larboard, bringing the wind onto her larboard quarter.\n\n\"She's limping like a horse with a broken ankle,\" said Jean. \"Look, they won't trust the mainmast with any canvas. Can't say I blame them.\" Jean scrutinized the scene fora few moments more. \"Their new friend's coming up north-northwest, I think. If our lads sneak west and look harmless enough, maybe... otherwise, that new ship's got plenty of room to run west or south. If she's in any decent shape at all, Messenger 'll never catch her.\"\n\n\"Jean...,\" said Locke, very slowly, a bit hesitant to trust his own naval judgment. \"I don't... I don't think escape is anywhere on their minds. Look, they're straight on for the Messenger.\"\n\nThe next few minutes confirmed this. Indeed, the newcomer's sails soon doubled in size, and Locke could seethe faintest line of the hull beneath them. Whatever she was, she was angled well north of west, fit to cut straight across the path of the Red Messenger." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And she's fast,\" said Jean, clearly fascinated. \"Look at her come on! I'd bet my own liver the Messenger's not even making four knots. She's doing twice that or more.\"\n\n\"Maybe they just don't give a whit for the Messenger,\" said Locke. \"Maybe they can see she's wounded and they're just going to fly right past.\"\n\n\"A \"kiss my ass and fare-thee-well,\"\" said Jean. \"Pity.\"\n\nThe newcomer grew steadily; blurry shapes became a sleek dark hull, billowing sails, the thin lines of masts.\n\n\"Two masts,\" said Jean. \"Brig, flying loads of canvas.\"\n\nLocke felt an unexpected urgency; he tried to restrain his excitement as the Messenger plodded feebly to the southwest while the newcomer steadily gained on her. Now the strange vessel showed her starboard side to them. As Jean had said, she had two masts, as well as a swift low profile and a hull so black she gleamed.\n\nA dark speck appeared in midair above her stern. It moved upward, expanded, and burst apart into a huge fluttering flag-a banner of solid crimson, bright as fresh-spilled blood.\n\n\"Oh, gods,\" cried Locke. \"You have to be fucking kidding!\"\n\nThe newcomer raced on, foam-capped water surging at her bow, closing the gap with the Red Messenger with every passing second. Low white shapes appeared from behind her-boats crammed with the dark specks of sailors. The new ship swung round to the Messenger's lee like a hungry beast cutting off her prey's escape; meanwhile, her boats knifed across the gleaming water to launch their attack from windward. Whatever Jabril and his crew did to try and foil their entrapment, it wasn't enough; chorus after chorus of belligerent cheers echoed faintly across the water, and little black specks were soon swarming up the Messenger's sides." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Advance the story as the writer's narrative assistant.\nTags: fantasy, heist, pirates\nAuthor: Scott Lynch\nTitle: Red Seas Under Red Skies\nChapter: 15" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And she's fast,\" said Jean, clearly fascinated. \"Look at her come on! I'd bet my own liver the Messenger's not even making four knots. She's doing twice that or more.\"\n\n\"Maybe they just don't give a whit for the Messenger,\" said Locke. \"Maybe they can see she's wounded and they're just going to fly right past.\"\n\n\"A \"kiss my ass and fare-thee-well,\"\" said Jean. \"Pity.\"\n\nThe newcomer grew steadily; blurry shapes became a sleek dark hull, billowing sails, the thin lines of masts.\n\n\"Two masts,\" said Jean. \"Brig, flying loads of canvas.\"\n\nLocke felt an unexpected urgency; he tried to restrain his excitement as the Messenger plodded feebly to the southwest while the newcomer steadily gained on her. Now the strange vessel showed her starboard side to them. As Jean had said, she had two masts, as well as a swift low profile and a hull so black she gleamed.\n\nA dark speck appeared in midair above her stern. It moved upward, expanded, and burst apart into a huge fluttering flag-a banner of solid crimson, bright as fresh-spilled blood.\n\n\"Oh, gods,\" cried Locke. \"You have to be fucking kidding!\"\n\nThe newcomer raced on, foam-capped water surging at her bow, closing the gap with the Red Messenger with every passing second. Low white shapes appeared from behind her-boats crammed with the dark specks of sailors. The new ship swung round to the Messenger's lee like a hungry beast cutting off her prey's escape; meanwhile, her boats knifed across the gleaming water to launch their attack from windward. Whatever Jabril and his crew did to try and foil their entrapment, it wasn't enough; chorus after chorus of belligerent cheers echoed faintly across the water, and little black specks were soon swarming up the Messenger's sides." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No!\" Locke was unaware that he'd leapt to his feet until Jean pulled him back down hastily. \"Oh, you bastards! You rotten, miserable, skulking bastards! You can't take my fucking ship-\"\n\n\"Which was already taken,\" said Jean.\n\n\"I come a thousand miles to shake your bloody hands,\" Locke screamed, \"and you show up two hours after they put us overboard!\"\n\n\"Not even half that,\" said Jean.\n\n\"Bloody fucking limp-cocked witless laggard pirates!\"\n\n\"Thieves prosper,\" said Jean, biting his knuckles as he snorted with laughter.\n\nThe battle, if it could be called that, didn't last five minutes. Someone on the quarterdeck brought the Messenger around, luffing straight into the wind, killing what little speed she'd had. All her sails were taken in, and she soon drifted gently with one of the marauder's boats tied up at her side. Another boat hurried back to the ship that had birthed it. That vessel, under afar lazier press of sail than it had set out to snatch up the Messenger, then came round on a starboard tack and began to bear down in the general direction of Locke and Jean-an ominous monster toying with its next tiny meal.\n\n\"I think this might be one of those \"good news, bad news,\" situations,\" said Jean, cracking his knuckles. \"We may need to ready ourselves to repel boarders.\"\n\n\"With what? One stiletto and hurtful insinuations about their mothers?\" Locke clenched his fists; his anger had become excitement. \"Jean, if we get aboard that ship and talk our way into her crew, we're back in the game, by the gods!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"They might just mean to kill us and take the boat.\"\n\n\"We'll see,\" said Locke. \"We'll see. First we'll exchange courtesies. Have ourselves some diplomatic interaction.\"\n\nThe pirate vessel came on slowly as the sun sank toward the west and the color of sky and water alike seemed to deepen by a shade. She was indeed black-hulled, witchwood, and larger than the Red Messenger even at a glance. Sailors crowded her yardarms and deck railings; Locke felt a pang of envy to see such a large and active crew. She sliced majestically through the water, then luffed up as orders were shouted from the quarterdeck. Sails were reefed with precise and rapid movements; she slowed to a crawl, blocked their view of the Red Messenger, and presented her larboard side at a distance of about twenty yards.\n\n\"Ahoy the boat,\" cried a woman at the rail. She was rather short, Locke could see-dark-haired, partially armored, backed up by at least a dozen armed and keenly interested sailors. Locke felt his skin crawl under their scrutiny, and he donned a cheerful mask.\n\n\"Ahoy the brig,\" he shouted. \"Fine weather, isn't it?\"\n\n\"What do you two have to say for yourselves?\"\n\nLocke rapidly considered the potential advantages of the pleading, cautious, and cocky approaches, and decided that cocky was the best chance they had of making a memorable impression. \"Avast,\" he cried, standing up and hoisting his stiletto over his head, \"you must perceive we hold the weather gauge, and you are luffed up with no hope of escape! Your ship is ours, and you are all our prisoners! We are prepared to be gracious, but don't test us.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "There was an outbreak of laughter on the deck of the ship, and Locke felt his hopes rise." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Laughter was good; laughter like that rarely preceded bloody slaughter, at least in his experience.\n\n\"You're Captain Ravelle,\" shouted the woman, \"aren't you?\"\n\n\"I, ah, see my reputation precedes me!\"\n\n\"Previous crew of your previous ship might have mentioned you.\"\n\n\"Shit,\" Locke muttered.\n\n\"Would you two care to be rescued?\"\n\n\"Yes, actually,\" said Locke. \"That would be a damn polite thing for you to do.\"\n\n\"Right, then. Have your friend stand up. Both of you get all your clothes off.\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\nAn arrow hissed through the air, several feet above their heads, and Locke flinched.\n\n\"Clothes off! You want charity, you entertain us first! Get your big friend up and get naked, both of you!\"\n\n\"I don't believe this,\" said Jean, rising to his feet.\n\n\"Look,\" shouted Locke as he began to slip out of his tunic, \"can we just drop them in the bottom of the boat? You don't want us to throw them overboard, right?\"\n\n\"No,\" said the woman. \"We'll keep'em plus the boat, even if we don't keep you. Breeches off, gentlemen! That's the way!\"\n\nMoments later Locke and Jean stood, precariously balanced in the wobbling boat, stark naked with the rising evening breeze plainly felt against their backsides.\n\n\"Gentlemen,\" yelled the woman. \"What's this? I expect to see some sabers, and instead you bring out your stilettos!\"\n\nThe crew behind her roared with laughter. Crooked Warden! Locke realized others had come up along the larboard rail. There were more sailors just standing there pointing and howling at him and Jean than there were in the entire crew of the Red Messenger." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What's the matter, boys? Thoughts of rescue not enticing enough? What's it take to get arise out of you down there?\"\n\nLocke responded with a two-handed gesture he'd learned as a boy, one guaranteed to start fights in any city-state in the Therin world. The crowd of pirates returned it, with many creative variations.\n\n\"Right, then,\" cried the woman. \"Stand on one leg. Both of you! Upon one!\"\n\n\"What?\" Locke put his hands on his hips. \"Which one?\"\n\n\"Just pick one of two, like your friend's doing,\" she replied.\n\nLocke lifted his left foot just above the rowing bench, putting his arms out for balance, which was becoming steadily harder to keep. Jean did the same thing beside him, and Locke was absolutely sure that from any distance they looked a perfect pair of idiots.\n\n\"Higher,\" said the woman, \"that's sad. You can do better than that!\"\n\nLocke hitched his knee up half afoot more, staring defiantly up at her. He could feel the vibrations of fatigue and the unstable boat alike in his right leg; he and Jean were seconds away from capping embarrassment with embarrassment.\n\n\"Fine work,\" the woman shouted. \"Make 'em dance!\"\n\nLocke saw the dark blurs of the arrows flash across his vision before he heard the flat snaps of their release. He dove to his right as they thudded into the middle of the boat, realizing half a second too late that they'd not been aimed at flesh and blood. The sea swallowed him in an instant; he hit unprepared and upside down, and when he kicked back to the surface he gasped and sputtered at the unpleasant sensation of saltwater up his nose." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Locke heard rather than saw Jean spit a gout of water as he came upon the other side of the boat. The pirates were roaring now, falling over themselves, holding their sides. The short woman kicked something, and a knotted rope fell through an entry port in the ship's rail.\n\n\"Swim over,\" she yelled, \"and pull the boat with you.\"\n\nBy clinging to the gunwales and paddling awkwardly, Locke and Jean managed to push the little boat over to the ship, where they fell into shadow beneath her side. The end of the knotted rope floated there, and Jean gave Locke a firm shove toward it, as though afraid they might yank it up at any second.\n\nLocke hauled himself up against the fine-grained black wood of the hull, wet and naked and fuming. Rough hands grasped him at the rail and heaved him aboard. He found himself looking at a pair of weathered leather boots, and he sat up.\n\n\"I hope that was amusing,\" he said, \"because I'm going to-\"\n\nOne of those boots struck him in the chest and shoved him back down to the deck. Wincing, he thought better of standing and instead studied the boot's owner. The woman was not merely short-she was petite, even from the perspective of someone literally beneath her heel. She wore a frayed sky-blue tunic over a loose black leather vest decorated with slashes that had more to do with near misses than high fashion. Her dark hair, which piled curl upon curl, was tightly bound behind her neck, and the belt at her waist carried a minor arsenal of fighting knives and sabers. There was obvious muscle on her shoulders and arms, an impression of strength that made Locke quickly stifle his anger.\n\n\"Going to what?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Lie hereon the deck,\" he said, \"and enjoy the fine afternoon sun.\"\n\nThe woman laughed; a second later Jean was pulled up over the side and thrown down beside Locke. His black hair was plastered to his skull, and water streamed from the bristles of his beard.\n\n\"Oh my,\" said the woman. \"Big one and a little one. Big one looks like he can handle himself a bit. You must be Master Valora.\"\n\n\"If you say so, madam, I suppose I must be.\"\n\n\"Madam? Madam's ashore word. Out hereto the likes of you, it's lieutenant.\"\n\n\"You're not the captain of this ship, then?\"\n\nThe woman eased her boot off Locke's chest and allowed him to sit. \"Not even hardly,\" she said.\n\n\"Ezri's my first,\" said a voice behind Locke. He turned, slowly and carefully, to regard the speaker.\n\nThis woman was taller than the one called Ezri, and broader across her shoulders. She was dark, with skin just a few shades lighter than the hull of her ship, and she was striking, but not young. There were lines about her eyes and mouth that proclaimed her somewhere near forty. Those eyes were cold and that mouth was hard-clearly, she didn't share Ezri's sense of mischief about the two unclothed prisoners dripping water on her deck.\n\nHer night-colored braids, threaded with red and silver ribbons, hung in a mane beneath a wide four-cornered cap, and despite the heat she wore a weather-stained brown frock coat, lined along the insides with brilliant gold silk. Most astonishingly, an Elderglass mosaic vest hung unbuckled beneath her coat. That sort of armor was rarely seen outside of royal hands-each little slat of Elderglass had to be joined by a latticework of metal, since humans knew no arts to meld the glass to itself. The vest glittered with reflected sunlight, more intricate than a stained-glass window-a thousand fingernail-sized chips of gleaming glory outlined in silver." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Orrin Ravelle,\" she said. \"I've never heard of you.\"\n\n\"Nor should you have,\" said Locke. \"May we have the pleasure of your acquaintance?\"\n\n\"Del,\" she said, turning away from Locke and Jean to look at Ezri, \"get that boat in. Give their clothes the eye, take anything interesting, and get them dressed again.\"\n\n\"Your will, Captain.\" Ezri turned and began giving instructions to the sailors around her.\n\n\"As for you two,\" the captain said, returning her gaze to the two drenched thieves, \"my name is Zamira Drakasha. My ship's the Poison Orchid. And once you're dressed, someone will be along to haul you below and throw you in the bilge hold.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "CHAPTER NINE\n\nTHE POISON ORCHID\n\nTHEIR PRISON was at the very bottom of the Poison Orchid, on what was ironically the tallest deck on the ship, a good ten feet from lower deck to ceiling. However, the pile of barrels and oilcloth sacks crammed into the compartment left nothing but a coffin-dark crawlspace above their uneven surface. Locke and Jean sat atop this uncomfortable mass of goods with their heads against the ceiling. The lightless room stank of muck-soaked orlop ropes, of moldering canvas, of stale food and ineffective alchemical preservatives.\n\nThis was technically the forward cargo stowage; the bilge proper was sealed behind a bulkhead roughly ten feet to their left. Not twenty feet in the opposite direction the curved black bow of the ship met wind and water. The soft waves they could hear were lapping against the ship's sides three or four feet above their heads.\n\n\"Nothing but the friendliest people and the finest accommodations on the Sea of Brass,\" said Locke.\n\n\"At least I don't feel too disadvantaged by the darkness,\" said Jean. \"Lost my bloody optics when I took that tumble into the water.\"\n\n\"Thusfar today, we've lost a ship, a small fortune, your hatchets, and now your optics.\"\n\n\"At least our setbacks are getting progressively smaller.\" Jean cracked his knuckles, and the sound echoed strangely in the darkness. \"How long do you suppose we've been down here?\"\n\n\"Hour, maybe.\" Locke sighed, pushed himself away from the starboard bulkhead, and began the laborious process of finding a vaguely comfortable niche to slide into, amidst barrel-tops and sacks of hard, lumpy objects. If he was going to be bored, he might as well be bored lying down. \"But I'd be surprised if they mean to keep us here for good. I think they're just... marinating us. For whatever comes next.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You making yourself comfortable?\"\n\n\"I'm fighting the good fight.\" Locke shoved a sack out of the way, and at last had enough space to rest in. \"That's better.\"\n\nA few seconds later, there came the creaking tread of many pairs of feet just overhead, followed by a scraping noise. The grating to the deck above (which had been wrapped in oilcloth to seal them in darkness) was being pulled. A wan light intruded into the blackness, and Locke squinted.\n\n\"Doesn't that just figure,\" he muttered.\n\n\"Cargo inspection,\" came a familiar voice from above. \"We're looking for anything out of place. You two qualify.\"\n\nJean crawled over to the pale square of light and looked up. \"Lieutenant Ezri?\"\n\n\"Delmastro,\" she said. \"Ezri Delmastro, hence Lieutenant Delmastro.\"\n\n\"My apologies. Lieutenant Delmastro.\"\n\n\"That's the spirit. How do you like your cabin?\"\n\n\"Could smell worse,\" said Locke, \"but I think I'd have to spend a few days pissing on everything to get there.\"\n\n\"Stay alive until our supplies start to run low,\" said Delmastro, \"and you'll drink somethings that'll make this stench a happy memory. Now, usually I'd drop a ladder, but it's only three feet. I think you can manage. Come up slow; Captain Drakasha's got a sudden eagerness to have a word with you.\"\n\n\"Does that offer include dinner?\"\n\n\"You're lucky it includes clothes, Ravelle. Getup here. Smallest first.\"\n\nLocke crawled past Jean and heaved himself up through the hatch, into the moderately less stifling air of the orlop deck. Lieutenant Delmastro waited with eight of her crewfolk, all armed and armored. Locke was seized from behind by a burly woman as he stood up in the passageway. A moment later Jean was helped up and held by three sailors." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Right.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Delmastro seized Jean's wrists and snapped a pair of blackened-steel manacles around them. It was Locke's turn next; she fit the cold restraints and fastened them without gentleness. Locke gave the manacles a quick professional appraisal. They were oiled and rust-free, and too tight to wiggle out of even if he had time to make some painful adjustments to his thumbs.\n\n\"Captain's finally had a chance to talk to some of your old crew at length,\" said Delmastro. \"Mighty curious, is what I'd call her.\"\n\n\"Ah, that's wonderful,\" said Locke. \"Another fine chance to explain myself to someone. How I do so love explaining myself.\"\n\nTheir wary escort herded them along, and soon they were on deck in the very last light of dusk. The sun was just passing beneath the western horizon, a bloodred eye closing lazily under lids of faintly red cloud. Locke gulped the fresh air gratefully, and was again struck by the impression of population that hung about the Poison Orchid. She was crammed with crew, men and women alike, bustling about below or working on deck by the light of an increasing number of alchemical lanterns.\n\nThey had come up amidships. Something clucked and fluttered in a dark box-a chicken coop, Locke realized-just forward of the mainmast. At least one bird was pecking the mesh of its cage in agitation.\n\n\"I sympathize,\" whispered Locke.\n\nThe Orchid crewfolk led him to the stern a few steps ahead of Jean. On the quarterdeck, just above the companionway leading down to the stern cabins, a group of sailors once again restrained Jean at some signal from Delmastro.\n\n\"This invitation's for Ravelle only,\" she said. \"Master Valora can wait up here until we see how this is to go.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Ah,\" said Locke. \"Will you be comfortable up here, Jerome?\"\n\n\"\"Cold walls do not a prison make,\"\" recited Jean with a smile, \"\"nor iron bands a bondsman.\"\"\n\nLieutenant Delmastro looked at him strangely, and after a few seconds replied, \"\"Bold words from the tongues of the newly chained will fly-like sparks from flint, with as much real heat, and as long a life.\"\"\n\n\"You know The Ten Honest Turncoats,\" said Jean.\n\n\"As do you. Very interesting. And... completely beside the point.\" She gave Locke a gentle push toward the companionway. \"Stay here, Valora. Lift a finger in an unfriendly fashion and you'll die where you stand.\"\n\n\"My fingers will be on their best behavior.\"\n\nDown the companionway Locke stumbled, into a dark space nearly the twin of that on the Red Messenger, though larger. If Locke's quick estimate was correct, the Poison Orchid was half again as long as his former ship. There were little canvas-door cabins, two to aside, and a sturdy witchwood door to the stern cabin, currently closed tight. Ezri pushed Locke firmly aside and knocked on this door three times.\n\n\"It's Ezri, with the question mark,\" she shouted.\n\nA moment later the door was unbolted from within, and Delmastro motioned for Locke to precede her.\n\nCaptain Drakasha's cabin, in contrast to'Ravelle's,\" showed every evidence of long, comfortable habitation. Richly lit by faceted alchemical jewel-lamps in gold frames, the space was piled with layers of tapestries and silk pillows. Several sea chests supported a lacquered tabletop covered with empty dishes, folded maps, and navigational instruments of obvious quality. Locke felt a pang when he saw his own chest, wide open on the floor beside Drakasha's chair." }, { "from": "human", "value": "The shutters had been drawn away from the stern windows." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Drakasha sat before them, her coat and armor discarded, holding a girl of three or four on her knees. Through the windows, Locke could seethe Red Messenger, shadowed in the growing darkness, crawling with the bobbing lights of what must be repair parties.\n\nLocke glanced to his left to see who'd opened the door, looked down, and found himself meeting the gaze of a curly-haired boy who looked barely older than the girl held by Zamira. Both children had her coal-black hair, and something of her features, but their skin was somewhat lighter, like desert sand in shadow. Ezri tousled the boy's hair affectionately as she nudged Locke farther into the cabin, and the boy stepped away shyly.\n\n\"There,\" said Zamira, ignoring the newcomers for the moment and pointing out the stern windows. \"Can you see that, Cosetta? Do you know what that is?\"\n\n\"Ship,\" said the little girl.\n\n\"That's right.\" Zamira smiled.... No, Locke corrected himself, she positively smirked. \"Mommy's new ship. From which Mommy has taken a lovely little pile of gold.\"\n\n\"Gold,\" said the little girl, clapping.\n\n\"Indeed. But look at the ship, love. Look at the ship. Can you tell mommy what those tall things are? Those tall things that reach for the sky?\"\n\n\"They... um... ha! No.\"\n\n\"No, you don't know, or no, you are being mutinous?\"\n\n\"Moot nust!\"\n\n\"Not on Mommy's ship, Cosetta. Look again. Mommy's told you what they are before, hasn't she? They reach for the sky, and they carry the sails, and they are the...\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Mast,\" said the girl.\n\n\"Masts. But close enough. And how many are there? How many masts does Mommy's new little ship have? Count them for Mommy.\"\n\n\"Two.\"\n\n\"How clever you are! Mommy's new ship has two masts, yes.\" Zamira leaned close to her daughter's face, so that they were touching noses, and Cosetta giggled. \"Now,\" said Zamira, \"find me something else that comes in two.\"\n\n\"Um...\"\n\n\"Herein the cabin, Cosetta. Find Mommy two of something.\"\n\n\"Um...\"\n\nThe girl looked around, sticking most of her left hand into her mouth as she did so, before seizing upon the pair of sabers that rested, in their scabbards, against the wall just beneath the stern window.\n\n\"Sword,\" said Cosetta.\n\n\"That's right!\" Zamira kissed heron the cheek. \"Mommy has two swords. At least where you can see them, love. Now, will you be a good girl and go above with Ezri? Mommy needs to speak to this man alone for just a bit. Paolo will go, too.\"\n\nEzri moved across the cabin to take Cosetta into her arms, and the little girl clung to her with obvious pleasure. Paolo followed Ezri like a shadow, keeping the lieutenant between himself and Locke, peeking out from behind her legs when he dared to look at all.\n\n\"You sure you want to be alone back here, Captain?\"\n\n\"I'll be fine, Del. Valora's the one I'd be worried about.\"\n\n\"He's manacled, with eight hands standing by.\"\n\n\"Good enough, I think. And the Red Messenger's men?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"All under the forecastle. Treganne's giving them the eyeball.\"\n\n\"Fine. I'll be along soon enough. Take Paolo and Cosetta off to Gwillem and let them sit on the quarterdeck. Nowhere near the rails, mind.\"\n\n\"Aye.\"\n\n\"And tell Gwillem that if he tries to give them unwatered beer again I'll cut his heart out and piss in the hole.\"\n\n\"I'll quote that in full, Captain.\"\n\n\"Off with the lot of you. If you give Ezri and Gwillem any trouble, loves, Mommy will not be pleased.\"\n\nLieutenant Delmastro withdrew from the cabin, taking the two children and closing the door behind her. Locke wondered how to approach this meeting. He knew next to nothing about Drakasha; no weak spots to exploit, no prejudices to twist. Coming clean about the various layers of deception he was working under was probably a mistake. Best to act fully as Ravelle, for the time being.\n\nCaptain Drakasha picked up her sheathed sabers and turned her full regard upon Locke for the first time. He decided to speak first, in a friendly fashion.\n\n\"Your children?\"\n\n\"How little escapes the penetrating insight of the veteran intelligence officer.\" She slid one of her sabers out of its scabbard with a soft metallic hiss and gestured toward Locke with it. \"Sit.\"\n\nLocke complied. The only other chair in the cabin was next to the table, so he settled into it and folded his manacled hands in his lap. Zamira eased herself into her own chair, facing him, and set the drawn saber across her knees.\n\n\"Where I come from,\" she said, \"we have a custom concerning questions asked over a naked blade.\" She had a distinct, harmonious accent, one that Locke couldn't place. \"Are you familiar with it?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No,\" said Locke, \"but I think the meaning is clear.\"\n\n\"Good. Something is wrong with your story.\"\n\n\"Nearly everything is wrong with my story, Captain Drakasha. I had a ship and a crew and a pile of money. Now I find myself hugging a sack of potatoes in a bilge hold that smells like the bottom of an unwashed ale cup.\"\n\n\"Don't hope fora lasting relationship with the potatoes. I just wanted you out of the way while I spoke to some of the Messenger's crewmen.\"\n\n\"Ah. And how is my crew?\"\n\n\"We both know they're not your crew, Ravelle.\"\n\n\"How is the crew?\"\n\n\"Tolerably well, little thanks to you. They lost the nerve fora fight as soon as they saw our numbers. Most of them seemed downright eager to surrender, so we took the Messenger with nothing more than a few bruises and some hurt feelings.\"\n\n\"Thank you for that.\"\n\n\"We weren't kind for your sake, Ravelle. In fact, you're damned fortunate we were even nearby. I like to cruise the wake of the summer's-end storms. They tend to spit out juicy morsels in no condition to refuse our hospitality.\"\n\nDrakasha reached down into Locke's sea chest, shuffled the contents, and withdrew a small packet of papers. \"Now,\" she said, \"I want to know who Leocanto Kosta and Jerome de Ferra are.\"\n\n\"Cover identities,\" said Locke. \"False faces we used for our work back in Tal Verrar.\"\n\n\"In the archon's service?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Nearly everything inhere is signed \"Kosta.\" Small letters of credit and reference... work order for some chairs... receipt for clothing in storage. The only document with the name Ravelle on it is this commission as a Verrari sea-officer. Should I be calling you Orrin or Leocanto? Which one's the false face?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You might as well just call me Ravelle,\" said Locke. \"I've been on the officer's list under that name for years. It's how I drew my pay.\"\n\n\"Are you Verrari-born?\"\n\n\"Mainland. A village called Vo Sarmara.\"\n\n\"What did you do before you served the archon?\"\n\n\"I was what you'd calla patient man.\"\n\n\"Is that a profession now?\"\n\n\"I mean a master of scales and balances, fora merchant syndicate. I was the patient man because I did the weighting, you see?\"\n\n\"Droll. A syndicate in Tal Verrar?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"So you surely worked for the Priori.\"\n\n\"That was part of the, ah, original incentive for Stragos' people to bring me into their fold. After my usefulness as an agent in the syndicate hit a wall, I was given new duties.\"\n\n\"Hmm. I spoke at length with Jabril. Long enough to have no trouble believing that your naval commission really is a fake. Do you have any experience underarms?\"\n\n\"No formal military training, if that's what you mean.\"\n\n\"Curious,\" said Drakasha, \"that you had the authority to lay claim to a ship of war, even a small one.\"\n\n\"When we move slowly enough to avoid upsetting anyone, captains of intelligence have excessive powers of requisition. Or at least we did. I suspect my remaining peers will be shackled with a bit of unwanted oversight because of what I've done.\"\n\n\"Tragic. Still... it's curious again that when you were at my feet you had to ask my name. I'd have thought that my identity would be obvious to anyone in Stragos' service. How long were you with him?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Five years.\"\n\n\"So you came after the Free Armada was lost. Nonetheless, as a Verrari-\"\n\n\"I had a vague description of you,\" said Locke. \"Little more than your name and the name of your ship. I can assure you, had the archon ever thought to have your portrait painted for our benefit, no man in his service would stay ignorant of your looks.\"\n\n\"Excellent form. But you would do well to consider me dead to flattery.\"\n\n\"That's a pity. I'm so good at it.\"\n\n\"A third curious thing occurs tome. You seemed genuinely surprised to see my children aboard.\"\n\n\"It's, ah, merely that I found it strange you'd have them with you. Out here at sea. Company to the hazards of... all this.\"\n\n\"Where else might I be expected to keep an eye on them?\" Zamira fingered the hilt of her drawn saber. \"Paolo's four. Cosetta's three. Is your intelligence really so out of date that you didn't know about them?\"\n\n\"Look, my job was in-city operations against the Priori and other dissenters. I didn't pay much attention to naval affairs beyond drawing my official salary.\"\n\n\"There's a bounty of five thousand solari on my head. Mine, and every other captain that survived the War for Recognition. I know that accurate descriptions of myself and my family were circulated in Tal Verrar last year; I got my hands on some of the leaflets. Do you expect me to believe that someone in your position could be this ignorant?\"\n\n\"I hate to sting your feelings, Captain Drakasha, but I told you. I was a landsman-\"\n\n\"Are.\"\n\n\"... am and was, and my eyes were on the city. I had little enough time to study the basics of survival when I started getting ready to steal the Messenger.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Why do that, though?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Why steal a ship and go to sea? Something completely outside your confessed experience? If you had your eyes on the land and the city, why didn't you do something involving the land or the city?\"\n\nLocke licked his lips, which had become uncomfortably dry. He'd pounded a dossier of background information on Orrin Ravelle into his head, but the character had never been designed for an interrogation from this perspective. \"It might sound odd,\" said Locke, \"but it was the best I could do. As it turned out, my fake commission as a sea-officer gave me the most leverage to hurt the archon. Stealing a ship was a grander gesture than stealing, say, a carriage.\"\n\n\"And what did Stragos do to earn this grand gesture?\"\n\n\"I've sworn an oath never to speak of the matter.\"\n\n\"Convenient.\"\n\n\"Just the opposite,\" said Locke. \"As I wish I could put you at ease.\"\n\n\"At ease? How could anything you've told me put meat ease? You lie, and add flourishes to old lies, and refuse to discuss your motives for embarking on an insane venture. If you won't give me answers, I have to presume that you're a danger to this vessel, and that I risk offending Maxilan Stragos by taking you in. I can't afford the consequences. I think it's time to put you back where I found you.\"\n\n\"The hold?\"\n\n\"The open sea.\"\n\n\"Ah.\" Locke frowned, then bit the inside of his right cheek to contain a laugh. \"Ah, Captain Drakasha, that was very well done. Amateurish, but creative. Someone without my history might have fallen for it.\"\n\n\"Damn.\" Drakasha smiled tightly. \"I should have drawn the curtains over the stern windows.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Yes." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I can see your people swarming over the Messenger as we speak. I presume your prize crew is unfucking the rigging so she can make more than a toddler's crawl, right? If you gave one speck of rat shit for offending the archon, you'd be sinking that ship, not refurbishing it for sale.\"\n\n\"True,\" said Drakasha.\n\n\"Which means-\"\n\n\"Which means that I'm still asking questions, Ravelle. Tell me about your accomplice, Master Valora. A particular friend?\"\n\n\"An old associate. He helped me in Tal Verrar with... objectionable work.\"\n\n\"Just an associate?\"\n\n\"I pay him well and trust him with my business, yes.\"\n\n\"Curiously educated.\" Zamira pointed up at the cabin ceiling; a narrow skylight had vents slightly cracked to let in air from the quarterdeck. \"I heard him and Ezri quoting Lucarno to one another a few minutes ago.\"\n\n\"The Tragedy of the Ten Honest Turncoats,\" said Locke. \"Jerome is... fond of it.\"\n\n\"He can read. According to Jabril, he's not a seaman, but he can do complex sums. He speaks Vadran. He uses trader's terms and knows his way around cargo. So I'd guess that he comes from prosperous merchant stock.\"\n\nLocke said nothing.\n\n\"He was with you before you worked for the archon, wasn't he?\"\n\n\"He was a servant of the Priori, yes.\" It seemed that fitting Jean into Drakasha's presumptions wouldn't be as hard as Locke had feared. \"I brought him with me when I joined the archon's cause.\"\n\n\"But not as a friend.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Just a very good agent.\"\n\n\"My appropriately amoral spy,\" said Drakasha. She stood up, moved beneath the skylight, and raised her voice. \"On deck, there!\"\n\n\"Aye, Captain?\" Ezri's voice.\n\n\"Del, bring Valora down here.\"\n\nA few moments later, the door to the cabin swung open and Jean entered, followed by Lieutenant Delmastro. Captain Drakasha suddenly unsheathed her second saber. The empty scabbards clattered to the deck, and she pointed one blade at Locke.\n\n\"The instant you rise from that chair,\" she said, \"you die.\"\n\n\"What's going-\"\n\n\"Quiet. Ezri, I want Valora dealt with.\"\n\n\"Your will, Captain.\"\n\nBefore Jean could do anything, Ezri gave him a sharp kick to the back of his right knee, so fast and well placed that Locke winced. She followed this up with a hard shove, and Jean fell to his hands and knees.\n\n\"I might still have a use for you, Ravelle. But I can't let you keep your agent.\" Drakasha took a step toward Jean, raising her right-hand saber.\n\nLocke was out of the chair before he could help himself, throwing himself at her, trying to tangle her arms in his manacle chain.\n\n\"No!\" he screamed. The cabin spun wildly around him, and then he was on the floor with a dull ache coursing through his jaw. His mind, working a second or two behind the pace of events, gradually concluded that Drakasha had bashed his chin with the hilt of one of her sabers. He was now on his back, with that saber hovering just above his neck. Drakasha seemed ten feet tall." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Please,\" Locke sputtered." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Not Jerome. It's not necessary.\"\n\n\"I know,\" said Drakasha. \"Ezri?\"\n\n\"Looks like I owe you ten solari, Captain.\"\n\n\"You should've known better,\" said Drakasha, grinning. \"You heard what Jabril had to say about these two.\"\n\n\"I did, I did.\" Ezri knelt over Jean, a look of genuine concern on her face. \"I just didn't think Ravelle had it in him.\"\n\n\"This sort of thing rarely goes just one way.\"\n\n\"Should've known that, too.\"\n\nLocke raised his hands and pushed Drakasha's blade aside. She yielded. He rolled over, stumbled to his knees, and grabbed Jean by one arm, ignoring his throbbing jaw. He knew it wasn't broken, at least.\n\n\"Are you okay, Jerome?\"\n\n\"Fine,\" said Jean. \"Scraped my hands a bit.\"\n\n\"I'm sorry,\" Ezri said.\n\n\"No worries,\" said Jean. \"That was a good hit. Not much else you could have done to knockdown someone my size.\" He stumbled to his feet with Locke and Ezri's help. \"A kidney punch, maybe.\"\n\nEzri showed off the set of iron knuckles around the fingers of her right hand. \"That was the contingency plan.\"\n\n\"Damn, am I glad you didn't do that. But you could've.... I might have fallen backwards if you hadn't shoved fast enough. Hooking one foot around my shin from behind-\"\n\n\"Thought about it. Ora good stiff jab to the sensitive spot in your armpit-\"\n\n\"And an arm twist, yeah. That would've-\"\n\n\"But I don't trust that against someone so big; the leverage is wrong unless-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Drakasha cleared her throat loudly, and Jean and Ezri fell silent, almost sheepishly.\n\n\"You lied tome about Jerome, Ravelle.\" She retrieved her sword-belt and slid her sabers into their scabbards with a pair of sharp clacks. \"He's no hired agent. He's a friend. The sort who'd refuse to let you get thrown off a ship by yourself. The sort you'd try to protect, even though I told you it would mean your death.\"\n\n\"Clever,\" said Locke, feeling a faint warmth rising on his cheeks. \"So that's what this was all about.\"\n\n\"More or less. I needed to know what sort of man you were before I decided what to do with you.\"\n\n\"And what have you decided?\"\n\n\"You're reckless, vain, and too clever by half,\" she said. \"You suffer from the delusion that your prevarications are charming. And you're just as willing as Jerome is to die stupidly on behalf of a friend.\"\n\n\"Yeah,\" he said. \"Well... perhaps I've grown fond of the ugly lump over the years. Does that mean we're going back to the hold, or to the open sea?\"\n\n\"Neither,\" said Drakasha. \"You're going to the forecastle, where you'll eat and sleep with all the other crewmen from the Red Messenger. I'll peel your other lies apart at leisure. For the time being, I'm satisfied that if you've got Jerome to look after, you'll be sensible.\"\n\n\"And so we're what? Slaves?\"\n\n\"No one aboard this ship takes slaves,\" said Drakasha with a dangerous edge in her voice. \"We do execute our fair share of smart-asses, however.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I thought I was a charming prevaricator.\"\n\n\"Grasp this,\" said Drakasha. \"Your whole world consists of the few inches of empty deck I allow you, and you're gods-damned lucky to have them. Ezri and I will explain the situation to all of you at the forecastle.\"\n\n\"And our things? The papers, I mean? The personal documents? Keep the gold, but-\"\n\n\"Keep it? You really mean that? What a sweetheart this man is, Ezri.\" Drakasha used her right boot to tip the cover of Locke's sea chest closed. \"Let's call your papers a hostage to your good behavior. I have a shortage of blank parchment, and two children who've recently discovered the joys of ink.\"\n\n\"Point thoroughly taken.\"\n\n\"Ezri, haul them upon deck and get their manacles off. Let's get back to acting as though we have somewhere important to be.\"\n\nON THE quarterdeck they were met by a harried-looking woman of middle years, short and broad, with a finger-length halo of white hair above the lines of a face that had obviously contributed many years of scowls to the world. Her wide, predatory eyes were inconstant motion, like an owl unable to decide whether it was bored or hungry.\n\n\"You might have caught a less wretched bunch, had you looked nearly anywhere,\" she said without preamble.\n\n\"And you might have noticed it hasn't exactly been a buyer's market for prizes recently.\" Zamira bore the woman's manner with the ease of what must have been a very old familiarity.\n\n\"Well, if you want to use frayed hemp to weave a line, don't blame the rope maker when it snaps.\"\n\n\"I know better than to blame you for anything, Scholar. It leads to weeks of misery for everyone. How many?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Twenty-eight at the forecastle,\" she said." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Eight had to be left aboard the prize. Broken bones in every case. Not safe to move them.\"\n\n\"Will they last to Port Prodigal?\"\n\n\"Assuming their ship does. Assuming they do as I told them, which is a bold-\"\n\n\"That's the best we can do for them, I'm sure. Condition of the twenty-eight?\"\n\n\"I'm sure you heard me say'wretched, ' which derives from a state of wretchedness, which is in turn caused by their being wretches. I could use a number of other highly technical terms, only some of them completely imaginary-\"\n\n\"Treganne, my patience is as long-vanished as your good looks.\"\n\n\"Most of them are still suffering from long enclosure. Poor sustenance, little exercise, and nervous malaise. They've been eating better since leaving Tal Verrar, but they're exhausted and battered. A handful are in what I'd call decent health. An equal number are not fit for any work at all until I say otherwise. I won't bend on that... Captain.\"\n\n\"I won't ask you to. Disease?\"\n\n\"Miraculously absent, if you mean fevers and contagions. Also little byway of sexual consequences. They've been locked away from women for months, and most of them are Eastern Therin. Very little inclination to lie with one another, you know.\"\n\n\"Their loss. If I have further need of you-\"\n\n\"I'll be in my cabin, obviously. And mind your children. They appear to be steering the ship.\"\n\nLocke stared at the woman as she stamped away. One of her feet had the hollow, heavy sound of wood, and she walked with the aid of a strange cane made of stacked white cylinders. Ivory? No-the spine of some unfortunate creature, fused together with shining seams of metal." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Drakasha and Delmastro turned toward the ship's wheel, a doubled affair like the one aboard the Messenger, currently tended by an unusually tall young man who was all sharp, gangling angles." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "At either side stood Paolo and Cosetta, not actually touching the wheel but mimicking his movements and giggling.\n\n\"Mumchance,\" said Drakasha as she stepped over and pulled Cosetta away from the wheel, \"where's Gwillem?\"\n\n\"Craplines.\"\n\n\"I told him he was on sprat duty,\" said Ezri.\n\n\"I'll have his fucking eyes,\" said Drakasha.\n\nMumchance seemed unruffled. \"Man's gotta piss, Captain.\"\n\n\"Gotta piss,\" mumbled Cosetta.\n\n\"Hush.\" Zamira reached around Mumchance and snatched Paolo back from the wheel as well. \"Mum, you know full well they're not to touch the wheel or the rails.\"\n\n\"They wasn't touching the wheel, Captain.\"\n\n\"Nor are they to dance at your side, cling to your legs, or in any other way assist you in navigating the vessel. Clear?\"\n\n\"Savvy.\"\n\n\"Paolo,\" said Drakasha, \"take your sister back to the cabin and wait for me there.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said the boy, his voice as faint as the sound of two pieces of paper sliding together. He took Cosetta's hand and began to lead her aft.\n\nDrakasha hurried forward once again, past small parties of crewfolk working or eating, all of whom acknowledged her passing with respectful nods and waves. Ezri pushed Locke and Jean along in her wake.\n\nNear the chicken coops, Drakasha crossed paths with a rotund but sprightly Vadran a few years older than herself. The man was wearing a dandified black jacket covered in tarnished brass buckles, and his blond-gray hair was pulled into a billowing ponytail that hung to the seat of his breeches. Drakasha grabbed him by the front of his tunic with her left hand." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Gwillem, what part of \"watch the children fora few minutes\" did Ezri fail to make clear?\"\n\n\"I left them with Mum, Captain-\"\n\n\"They were your problem, not his.\"\n\n\"Well, you trust him to steer the ship, why not trust him to-\"\n\n\"I do trust him with my loves, Gwillem. I just have a peculiar attachment to having orders followed.\"\n\n\"Captain,\" said Gwillem in a low voice, \"I had to drop some brown on the blue, eh? I could've brought them to the craplines, but I doubt you would have approved of the education they'd have received.\"\n\n\"Hold it in, for Iono's sake. I only took a few minutes. Now go pack your things.\"\n\n\"My things?\"\n\n\"Take the last boat over to the Messenger and join the prize crew.\"\n\n\"Prize crew? Captain, you know I'm not much good-\"\n\n\"I want that ship eyeballed and inventoried, bowsprit to taffrail. Account for everything. When I haggle with the Shipbreaker over it, I want to know exactly how far the bastard is trying to cheat me.\"\n\n\"But-\"\n\n\"I'll expect your written tally when we rendezvous in Port Prodigal. We both know there was hardly any loot to sling over and count today. Get over there and earn your share.\"\n\n\"Your will, Captain.\"\n\n\"My quartermaster,\" Zamira said when Gwillem had trudged away, swearing. \"Not bad, really. Just prefers to let work sort of elude him whenever possible.\"\n\nAt the bow of the ship was the forecastle deck, raised perhaps four and a half feet above the weather deck, with broad stairs on either side. In between those stairs a wide, uncovered opening led to a dark area that was half compartment and half crawlspace beneath the forecastle. It was seven or eight yards long by Locke's estimate." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The forecastle deck and stairs were crowded with most of the Red Messenger's men, under the casual guard of half a dozen of Zamira's armed crewfolk. Jabril, sitting next to Aspel at the front of the crowd, seemed deeply amused to see Locke and Jean again. The men behind him began to mutter.\n\n\"Shut up,\" said Ezri, taking a position between Zamira and the newcomers. Locke, not quite knowing what to do, stood off to one side with Jean and waited for instructions. Drakasha cleared her throat.\n\n\"Some of us haven't met. I'm Zamira Drakasha, captain of the Poison Orchid. Lend an ear. Jabril told me that you took ship in Tal Verrar thinking you were to be pirates. Anyone having second thoughts?\"\n\nMost of the Messenger's men shook their heads or quietly muttered denials.\n\n\"Good. I am what your friend Ravelle pretended to be,\" Drakasha said, reaching over and putting one of her arms around Locke's shoulders. She smiled theatrically, and several of the Messenger's less-battered men chuckled. \"I have no lords or masters. I fly the red flag when I'm hungry and a false flag when I'm not. I have one port of call: Port Prodigal in the Ghostwinds. Nowhere else will have me. Nowhere else is safe. You live on this deck, you share that peril. I know some of you don't understand. Think of the world. Think of everywhere in the world that isn't this ship, save one rotten little speck of misery in the blackest asshole of nowhere. That's what you're renouncing. Everything. Everyone. Everywhere.\"\n\nShe released Locke, and seemed to note the somber expressions of the Messenger's crew with approval. She pointed at Ezri." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"My first mate, Ezri Delmastro. We call her \"lieutenant\" and so do you. She says it, I back it. Never presume otherwise.\n\n\"You've met our ship's physiker. Scholar Treganne tells me you could be worse and you could be better. There'll be rest for those that need it. I can't use you if you're in no condition to work.\"\n\n\"Are we being invited to join your crew, Captain Draksaha?\" asked Jabril.\n\n\"You're being offered a chance,\" said Ezri. \"That's all. After this, you're not prisoners, but you're not freemen. You're what we call the scrub watch. You sleep here, in what we call the undercastle. Worst place on the ship, more or less. If there's a filthy shit job to be had, you'll do it. If we're short blankets or clothes, you'll go without. You're last for meals and drinks.\"\n\n\"Every member of my crew can give you an order,\" said Drakasha, picking up as Ezri finished. Locke had a notion that they'd honed this routine together overtime. \"And everyone of them will expect to be obeyed. We've no formal defaults; cop wise or slack off and someone will just beat the hell out of you. Raise enough fuss that I have to notice and I'll throw you over the side. Think I'm kidding? Ask someone who's been here awhile.\"\n\n\"How long do we have to be on the scrub watch?\" asked one of the younger men near the back of the crowd.\n\n\"Until you prove yourselves,\" said Drakasha. \" We raise anchor in a few minutes and sail for Port Prodigal. Anyone who wants to leave when we get there, begone. You won't be sold; this isn't a slaving ship. But you'll get no pay save drink and rations. You'll walkaway with empty pockets, and in Prodigal, slavery might be kinder. At least someone would give a shit that you lived or died." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"If we cross paths with another sail on the way down,\" she continued, \"I'll give thought to taking her." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And if we fly a red flag, that's your chance. You'll go in first; you'll board the prize before any of us. If there's fire or bows or razor nets or gods-know-what, you'll taste it first and bleed first. If you survive, grand. You're crew. If you refuse, we dump you in Port Prodigal. I only keep a scrub watch on hand as long as I have to.\"\n\nShe nodded to Ezri.\n\n\"As of now,\" said Delmastro, \" you can have the forecastle and the weather deck far back as the mainmast. Don't go below or touch a tool without instructions. Touch a weapon, or try to take one from one of the crew, and I guarantee you'll die on the instant. We're touchy about that.\n\n\"You want to get cozy with a member of the crew, or they offer to get cozy with you, do what you will as long as you're off duty and you stay off the bloody weather deck. Out here, what's given is given. You try to take something by force, you'd better pray you die in the attempt, because we're touchy about that, too.\"\n\nZamira took over again and pointed at Locke and Jean. \"Ravelle and Valora will be rejoining you.\" A few of the men grumbled, and Zamira rested her hands on her saber hilts. \"Mind your fucking manners. You put them over the side and vowed to let Iono be their judge. I showed up about an hour later. That settles that; anyone who thinks they know better than the Lord of the Grasping Waters can jump over the rail and take it up with Him in person.\"\n\n\"They're scrub watch like the rest of you,\" said Ezri." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Still, the men didn't seem particularly enthusiastic, and Zamira cleared her throat. \"This is an equal-shares ship.\"\n\nThat got their attention.\n\n\"Ship's quartermaster goes by the name of Gwillem. He counts the take. Thirty percent goes to the ship so we don't slink about with rotting canvas and cordage. Rest gets split evenly, one share per beating heart.\n\n\"You don't touch a centira from what we already took out of your old ship. No apologies there. But if you get your chance on the way to Port Prodigal, and you're crew when we sell the Messenger off to the Shipbreaker, you'll get a share of that, and that'll set you up nicely. If you're crew.\"\n\nLocke had to admire her for that; it was a sensible policy, and she'd brought it into the lecture at a moment calculated to deflect dissension and worry. Now the Red Messenger wouldn't just bean unhappy memory vanishing over the horizon in the hands of a prize crew; it might be awaiting pile of silver.\n\nZamira turned and headed aft, leaving Delmastro to finish the show. As murmurs of conversation began to rise, the petite lieutenant yelled, \" Shut up! That's the business, then. There'll be food in awhile and a half-ration of beer to settle you down some. Tomorrow I'll start sorting those of you with particular skills and introducing you to some work.\n\n\"There's one last thing the captain didn't mention.\" Ezri paused for several seconds and made sure that everyone was listening attentively. \"The younger Drakashas. Captain has a boy and a girl. Mostly they're in her cabin, but sometimes they've got the run of the ship. What they are to you is sacred. I mean this, more than I mean anything else I've said tonight. Say so much as an unkind word to them and I'll nail your cock to the foremast and leave you thereto die of thirst. The crew thinks of them as family. If you have to break your neck to keep them safe, then it's in your best interest to break your bloody neck.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Delmastro seemed to take everyone's silence as a sign that they were duly impressed, and she nodded. A moment later, Drakasha's voice sounded from the quarterdeck, magnified by a speaking trumpet: \"Up anchor!\"\n\nDelmastro lifted a whistle that hung around her neck on a leather cord and blew it three times. \"At the waist,\" she hollered in an impossibly loud voice, \"ship capstan bars! Standby to raise anchor! Scrub watch to the waist, as able!\"\n\nAt her urging, most of the Messenger's former crew rose and began shuffling toward the Orchid's waist. A large work party was already gathering there, between the foremast and the chicken coops, fitting long capstan bars in their places by lantern light. A woman was scattering sand on the deck from a bucket. Locke and Jean fell in with Jabril, who smiled wryly.\n\n\"Evening, Ravelle. You look a bit... demoted.\"\n\n\"I'm happy enough,\" said Locke. \"But honestly, Jabril, I leave the Messenger in your hands for what, an hour? And look what happens.\"\n\n\"It's a bloody improvement,\" said someone behind Locke.\n\n\"Oh, I agree,\" said Locke, deciding that the next few days might be infinitely more pleasant for everyone if Ravelle were to swallow anything resembling pride over his brief career as a captain. \"I agree with all my gods-damned heart.\"\n\nEzri shoved her way through the gathering crowd and vaulted atop the capstan barrel; it was wide enough that she could sit cross-legged upon it, which she did. She blew her whistle twice more and yelled, \"Rigged below?\"\n\n\"Rigged below,\" rose an answering cry from one of the hatches." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Take your places,\" said Ezri. Locke squeezed in next to Jean and leaned against one of the long wooden bars; this capstan was wider than the one aboard the Messenger, and an extra twenty or so sailors could easily crowd into work it. Everyplace was filled in seconds.\n\n\"Right,\" said Ezri, \"heave! Slow to start! Heave! Slow to start! Feet and shoulders! Faster, now-make the little bitch spin round and round! You know you want to!\"\n\nLocke heaved at his bar, feeling the grit shift and crunch beneath him, poking uncomfortably at the sensitive spots between his toes and the balls of his bare feet. But nobody else seemed to be complaining, so he bit his lip and bore it. Ezri was indeed spinning round and round; clank by clank, the anchor cable was coming in. A party formed at the larboard bow to secure it. After several minutes of shoving, Ezri brought the capstan party to a halt with one short blast on her whistle.\n\n\"'Vast heaving,\" she cried. \"Secure larboard anchor!\"\n\n\"Cast to the larboard tack,\" came Drakasha's amplified voice; \"fore and main topsails!\"\n\nMore running, more whistles, more commotion. Ezri hopped to her feet atop the capstan and bellowed a quick succession of orders: \"Hands aloft to loose fore and aft topsails! Brace mainyards round for the larboard tack! Foreyards braced abox!\" There was more, but Locke stopped listening as he tried to make sense of what was happening. The Poison Orchid had been drifting by a single anchor in a calm sea, with alight breeze out of the northeast, and she'd drifted down so that the wind was dead ahead. What little he understood of Ezri's orders told him that the ship would be slipping a bit aback, then turning east and bringing the wind over her larboard bow." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Fore and aft watches, at the rails! Top-eyes, wide awake, now!\" Ezri leapt down onto the deck. Dark shapes were surging up the ratlines hand-over-hand; blocks and tackles creaked in the growing darkness, and still more crew were coming up through the hatches to join the tumult. \"Scrub watch! Scrub watch, get to the undercastle and stay out of the bloody way! Not you two.\" Ezri grabbed Locke and Jean as they moved with the Messenger's men, and she pointed them aft. \"Tool locker, under the starboard stairs abaft the mainmast. Get brooms and sweep all this sand back into its bucket. After you unship the capstan bars.\"\n\nThey did just that, tedious work by wavering alchemical light, frequently interrupted by busy or discourteous crewfolk. Locke worked with a scowl until Ezri stepped up between him and Jean and whispered, \"Don't mind this. It'll make things a hell of a lot easier with your old crew.\"\n\nDamned if she wasn't right, Locke thought; a little extra humiliation heaped on Ravelle and Valora might be just the thing to stifle the old crew's resentment.\n\n\"My compliments,\" he whispered.\n\n\"I know my business,\" she said brusquely. \"See everything back to where you found it, then go to the undercastle and stay there.\"\n\nThen she was gone, into the work parties overseeing a dozen delicate operations. Locke returned the brooms to the tool locker, then threaded his way forward with Jean just behind. Overhead, canvas snapped and rolled, ropes creaked as strain was added or adjusted, and men and women called softly to one another as they worked with nothing but thin air for dozens of yards beneath them." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Poison Orchid slid slowly onto the larboard tack. She put the last faint halo of the lost sun behind her, as though sailing out of some ghostly golden portal, and gathered way beneath the first stars of evening, which waxed steadily brighter in the inky eastern sky.\n\nLocke was pleasantly surprised to discover that Jabril had held a spot for him and Jean; not one of the more desirable ones near the entrance to the undercastle, but enough spare deck to squeeze up against the larboard bulkead, in relative darkness. Others with more favorable positions seemed not to begrudge them a moment of space as they crawled and stumbled past. One or two men muttered greetings; at worst, a few, like Mazucca and Aspel, maintained an unfriendly silence.\n\n\"Looks like you two really have joined the rest of us galley slaves,\" said Jabril.\n\n\"Galley slaves is what we'd be, if Ravelle hadn't gotten us outta Windward Rock,\" said someone Locke didn't recognize. \"Maybe a dumb fuck, but we should show him fellowship for that.\"\n\nThanks for speaking up when we were being thrown off the ship, Locke thought.\n\n\"Aye, I agree about the dumb fuck part,\" said Mazucca.\n\n\"And we'll all mind the fellowship part,\" said Jean, using the slow, careful voice he reserved for people he was trying to avoid hitting. \"Orrin's not alone, is he?\"\n\n\"Dark inhere,\" said Mazucca. \"Lots of us, squeezed in together. You think you can move fast enough, Valora? You think you can stay awake long enough for it to matter? Twenty-eight on two-\"\n\n\"If it was clear deck between you and me,\" said Jean, \"you'd piss your breeches the moment I cracked my knuckles.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Jerome,\" said Locke, \"easy. We can all-\"\n\nThere was the sound of a scuffle in the darkness, and a heavy thud. Mazucca gave a strangled squawk.\n\n\"Baldy, you stupid bastard,\" hissed an unknown voice, \"you raise a hand against them and Drakasha will kill you, savvy?\"\n\n\"You'll make it worse for all of us,\" said Jabril. \"You never heard of Zamira Drakasha? Piss her off and we might lose our chance to be crew. You do that, Mazucca, you find out what twenty-eight on one feels like. Fuckin\" promise.\"\n\nThere were murmurs of agreement in the darkness, and a sharp gasp as whoever had been holding Mazucca let go.\n\n\"Peace,\" he gasped. \"I won't... I won't ruin things. Not me.\"\n\nThe night was warm, and the heat of thirty men in close confinement rapidly grew stifling despite the small ventilation grating in the middle of the forecastle deck. As Locke's eyes adjusted to the darkness, he became able to pick out the shadowed shapes of the men around him more clearly. They lay or sat flank to flank like livestock. The ship reverberated with activity around them. Feet pounded the forecastle deck; crewfolk moved about and laughed and shouted on the deck below. There was a slapping hiss of waves parting before the bow, and the constant sound of toil and shouted orders from aft.\n\nIn time, there was a cursory meal of lukewarm salted pork and half a leather jack of skunkish swill vaguely descended from ale. The food and drink were passed awkwardly through the crowd; knees and elbows met stomachs and foreheads on a continual basis until everyone was dealt with. Then came the equally punishing task of passing jacks and tin bowls back, and then of men crawling over one another to use the craplines. Locke finally settled for good into his sliver of deck space against Jean's back, and had a sudden thought." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Jabril, did anyone find out what day it is?\"\n\n\"Twelfth of Festal,\" said Jabril. \"I asked Lieutenant Delmastro when I was brought aboard.\"\n\n\"Twelve days,\" muttered Jean.\n\n\"Yeah,\" Locke sighed. Twelve days gone. Not two weeks since they'd set out, with every man here deferring to him and Jean as heroes. Twelve days for the antidote to wane in strength. Gods, the archon... how the hell was he going to explain what had happened to the ship? Some nautical technicality?\n\n\"Squiggle-fucked the rightwise cock-swabber with a starboard jib,\" he whispered to himself, \"when I should've used a larboard jib.\"\n\n\"What?\" muttered Jean and Jabril simultaneously.\n\n\"Nothing.\"\n\nSoon enough the old instincts of a Catchfire orphan asserted themselves. Locke made a pillow of the crook of his left arm and closed his eyes. In moments the noise and heat and bustle of the men around him, and the thousand noises of the unfamiliar ship, were nothing more than a vague background to his light but steady sleep." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "CHAPTER TEN\n\nALL SOULS IN PERIL\n\nBY THE SEVENTEENTH OF FESTAL, Jean had come to dread the sight and smell of the ship's vinegar as much as he'd come to appreciate his glimpses of her lieutenant.\n\nHis morning task, on most days, was to fill one bucket with the foul red stuff and another with seawater, and set to swabbing the deck and bulkheads along the full length of the main deck, at least where he could reach. Fore and aft were long compartments called crew berths, and one would be in use at any given time, crammed with four or five dozen people in and out of hammocks, their snores mingling like the growls of caged beasts. That berth Jean would carefully avoid, instead swabbing out ship's stores (what the crew called the'delicates room,\" for its rack of glass bottles under netting), the main-deck hold and armory, and the empty crew berth-though even when empty each berth contained a mess of barrels, crates, and nettings that had to be laboriously shifted.\n\nOnce the reek of watered vinegar was fully mingled with the usual belowdecks stench of old food, bad liquor, and all things unwashed, Jean would usually move throughout the lowest two decks, the orlop and the bilge, swinging a large yellow alchemical light before him to help dissipate the miasmas that caused disease. Drakasha was a great one for the health of her crew; most of the sailors pierced their ears with copper toward off cataracts and drank pinches of white sand in their ale to strengthen their bellies against rupture. The lower decks were lighted at least twice a day, much to the amusement of the ship's cats. Unfortunately, this meant climbing, crawling, scrambling, and shoving past all manner of obstacles, including busy crewfolk. Jean was always careful to be polite and make his obeisance by nodding as he passed." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Help to continue the narrative for the writer.\nTags: fantasy, heist, pirates\nAuthor: Scott Lynch\nTitle: Red Seas Under Red Skies\nChapter: 17" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "CHAPTER TEN\n\nALL SOULS IN PERIL\n\nBY THE SEVENTEENTH OF FESTAL, Jean had come to dread the sight and smell of the ship's vinegar as much as he'd come to appreciate his glimpses of her lieutenant.\n\nHis morning task, on most days, was to fill one bucket with the foul red stuff and another with seawater, and set to swabbing the deck and bulkheads along the full length of the main deck, at least where he could reach. Fore and aft were long compartments called crew berths, and one would be in use at any given time, crammed with four or five dozen people in and out of hammocks, their snores mingling like the growls of caged beasts. That berth Jean would carefully avoid, instead swabbing out ship's stores (what the crew called the'delicates room,\" for its rack of glass bottles under netting), the main-deck hold and armory, and the empty crew berth-though even when empty each berth contained a mess of barrels, crates, and nettings that had to be laboriously shifted.\n\nOnce the reek of watered vinegar was fully mingled with the usual belowdecks stench of old food, bad liquor, and all things unwashed, Jean would usually move throughout the lowest two decks, the orlop and the bilge, swinging a large yellow alchemical light before him to help dissipate the miasmas that caused disease. Drakasha was a great one for the health of her crew; most of the sailors pierced their ears with copper toward off cataracts and drank pinches of white sand in their ale to strengthen their bellies against rupture. The lower decks were lighted at least twice a day, much to the amusement of the ship's cats. Unfortunately, this meant climbing, crawling, scrambling, and shoving past all manner of obstacles, including busy crewfolk. Jean was always careful to be polite and make his obeisance by nodding as he passed." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "This crew was always in motion; this ship was always alive. The more Jean saw and learned on the Poison Orchid, the more convinced he became that the maintenance schedule he'd set as first mate of the Red Messenger had been hopelessly naïve. No doubt Caldris would have spoken up eventually, had he lived long enough to notice.\n\nThere seemed to be no such thing, in Captain Drakasha's opinion, as a state of adequate repair fora ship at sea. What was checked or inspected one watch was checked again the next, and the next, day after day. What was braced was then rebraced, what could be mended was remended. The pump and capstan mechanisms were greased daily with fat scraped from the cooking pots; the masts were'slushed\" top to bottom with the same brown gunk, for protection against the weather. Sailors wandered inconstant, attentive parties, inspecting plank seams or wrapping canvas around rigging where the ropes chafed against one another.\n\nThe Orchids were divided into two watches, Red and Blue. They would work in six-hour shifts, one watch minding the ship while the other rested. The Red watch, for example, had duty from noon till the sixth hour of the evening, and would comeback on duty from midnight till the sixth hour of the morning. Crew on the off watch could do as they pleased, unless the call of'all hands\" summoned them to the deck for some strenuous or dangerous undertaking.\n\nThe scrub watch didn't fit into this scheme; the former men of the Red Messenger were worked from dawn to dusk, and took their meals after they were dismissed, rather than around noon with the actual crew.\n\nFor all their grumbling, Jean didn't get the sense that the Orchids genuinely resented their new shipmates. In fact, he suspected that the ex-Messengers were taking upmost of the less interesting chores, leaving the Orchids that much more time to sleep, or mend personal effects, or gamble, or fuck without a hint of shame in their hammocks or under their blankets. The lack of privacy aboard ship was still a major astonishment to Jean; he was neither a prude nor a virgin, but his idea of the right place had always involved stonewalls and a firmly locked door." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A lock would mean little on a ship like this, where most any noise was a shared noise. There were a pair of men on the Blue watch who could be heard from the taffrail if they were doing it in the forward berth, and a woman on the Red watch who screamed the damnedest things in Vadran, usually just as Jean was drifting off to sleep on the deck above her. He and Locke had puzzled over her grammar and concluded that she didn't actually speak Vadran. Sometimes, her performances were followed by applause.\n\nThat aside, the crew seemed to take pride in their discipline. Jean witnessed no fights, few serious arguments, and no out-of-place drunkenness. Beer or wine was had in a respectable fashion at every meal, and by some complicated scheme that Jean had yet to workout, each member of the crew was allowed, about once a week, to goon what was called the Merry Watch, a sort of watch-within-a-watch. The Merry Watch would setup on the main deck, and be allowed a bit of freedom at the ship's waist (especially for throwing up). They could drink more or less as they saw fit, and were excused even from all-hands calls until they'd recovered.\n\n\"It's not... exactly what I expected,\" said Jean as Ezri stood at the larboard rail one morning, pretending not to watch him touch up the gray paint on the bottom of the ship's smallest boat. She did that, every now and again. Was he imagining things? Was it his quoting Lucarno? He'd avoided quoting anything else at her, even when the opportunity had presented itself. Better to be a mystery, in his book, than to make a cheap refrain of something that had caught her attention.\n\nThirteen gods, he thought with a start, am I angling myself fora pass at her? Is she-" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Pardon?\" she said.\n\nJean smiled. Somehow he'd guessed she wouldn't mind his speaking without invitation. \"Your ship. It's not exactly what I expected. From what I read.\"\n\n\"From what you read?\" She laughed, crossed her arms, and regarded him almost slyly. \"What'd you read?\"\n\n\"Let me think.\" He dipped his brush in the gray alchemical slop and tried to look busy. \"Seven Years between the Gale and the Lash.\"\n\n\"Benedictus Montcalm,\" she said. \"Read that one. Mostly bullshit. I think he traded drinks for stories off real sailors until he had his fill.\"\n\n\"How about True and Accurate History of the Wanton Red Flag?\"\n\n\"Suzette vela Ducasi! I know her!\"\n\n\"Know her?\"\n\n\"Know of her. Crazy old bitch wound up in Port Prodigal. Scribes for coppers, drinks every coin she gets. Barely speaks decent Therin anymore. Just haunts the gutter and curses her old publishers.\"\n\n\"Those are all the books I can remember,\" said Jean. \"Not much of a taste for histories, I'm afraid. So, how'd you manage to read everything you have?\"\n\n\"Ahhh,\" she said, tossing her hair backward with a flick of her neck. She wasn't scrawny, thought Jean-no angles on Ezri, just healthy curves and muscle. Had to be healthy, to knock him down as she had, even by surprise. \"Out here, the past is a currency, Jerome. Sometimes it's the only one we have.\"\n\n\"Mysterious.\"\n\n\"Sensible.\"\n\n\"You already know a bit about me.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And fair's fair, is it? Thing is, I'm a ship's officer and you're a dangerous unknown.\"\n\n\"That sounds promising.\"\n\n\"I thought so too.\" She smiled. \"More to the point, I'm a ship's officer and you're scrub watch. You're not even real yet.\" She framed him with her hands and squinted. \"You're just a sort of hazy something on the horizon.\"\n\n\"Well,\" he said, and, aware that he sounded like a nitwit even as he repeated himself, \"ah, well.\"\n\n\"But you were curious.\"\n\n\"I was?\"\n\n\"About the ship.\"\n\n\"Oh. Yeah, I was. I just wondered... now that I've seen a fair bit of it-\"\n\n\"Where's the singing, where's the dancing on the yardarms, where's the ale casks fore and aft, where's the drinking and puking sunrise to sunset?\"\n\n\"More or less. Not exactly a navy, you know.\"\n\n\"Drakasha is former navy. Syrune. She doesn't talk about it much, but she doesn't try to hide her accent anymore. She did, once.\"\n\nSyrune, thought Jean, an island empire even more easterly than Jerem and Jeresh; proud and insular dark-skinned folk who took their ships seriously. If Drakasha was one of them, she'd come from a tradition of sea-officers that some said was as old as the Therin Throne.\n\n\"Syrune,\" he said. \"That explains somethings. I thought the past was a currency?\"\n\n\"She'd\"ve let you have that bit for free,\" said Ezri. \"Trust me, if history's a coin, she's sitting on a gods-damned fortune.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"So she, uh, bends the ship to her old habits?\"\n\n\"More like we let ourselves be bent.\" Ezri gestured to him to keep painting, and he returned to work. \"Brass Sea captains are special. They have status, on the water and off. There's a council of them in Prodigal. But each ship... the brethren sort of go their own way. Some captains get elected. Some only rule when it's time to take arms. With Drakasha... she rules because we know she's our best chance. At anything. They don't fuck around in Syrune.\"\n\n\"So you keep naval watches, and drink like nervous husbands, and mind your manners?\"\n\n\"You don't approve?\"\n\n\"Gods'blood, I damn well approve. It's just tidier than I imagined, is all.\"\n\n\"You wouldn't call anything we do naval if you'd ever served on areal ship of war. Most of our crew have, and this is a slacker's paradise by comparison. We keep our habits because most of us have been aboard other pirate ships, too. Seen the leaks that gain a little bit everyday. Seen the mechanisms rusting. Seen the rigging fraying. What good's slacking all the time if the ship comes apart beneath you while you sleep?\"\n\n\"So you're a prudent bunch.\"\n\n\"Yeah. Look, the sea either makes you prudent, or it kills you. Drakasha's officers take an oath. We're sworn that this ship goes down in battle, or by the will of the gods. Not for want of work, or canvas, or cord. That's a holy vow.\" She stretched. \"And not for want of paint, either. Give the whole thing another coat, and look sharp about it.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Officers. Jean reviewed the Orchid's officers as he worked, to keep his mind off Ezri. There was Drakasha, obviously. She kept no watch but appeared when and as she saw fit. She seemed to be on deck at least half the day, and materialized like magic when anything interesting happened. Beneath her, Ezri... dammit, no thoughts concerning Ezri. Not now.\n\nMumchance, the sailing master, and his little crew of trusted wheel-hands. Drakasha might allow ordinary crewfolk to hold the helm in steady weather, but for any operation of skill, it was Mum and his bunch or nobody. Roughly equal with Mum were the quartermaster-currently assigned to the Red Messenger-and the physiker, Treganne, who would likely never admit to being equal with anyone who didn't have a temple with their name on it. Drakasha had the great cabin, naturally, and the four highest officers were allowed little closet rooms in the companionway, canvas-walled things like his old cabin.\n\nThen there was a carpenter, a sailmaker, a cook, and a boatswain. The only privilege of being a petty officer seemed to be the right to boss a few other crewfolk about from time to time. There was also a pair of... under-lieutenants, Jean supposed. Ezri called them her watch chiefs, and they were Ezri when Ezri wasn't around. Utgar had the Red watch and a woman called Nasreen led the Blue, but Jean had yet to meet her, since she'd been entrusted with the Messenger's prize crew.\n\nIt seemed that all the menial, back-and-forth mucking about was giving Jean-and the rest of the scrub watch-the chance to learn the ship's hierarchy, along with its layout. He supposed that was by design." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The weather had been consistent since their capture. Steady light breezes from the northeast, clouds that came and went like a tavern dancer's favor, endless low waves that made the sea gleam like a million-faceted sapphire. The sun was a pounding heat by day, and enclosure stifled them at night, but Jean was conditioned to this work by now. He was as brown as Paolo and Cosetta. Locke, too, seemed to be making the best of it-tanned and bearded and genuinely wiry, for once, rather than merely slender. His size and an unwise boast about his agility had gotten him assigned to mast-slushing duty, foremast and main, each and every morning.\n\nTheir food still came late after each long day, and though charmless it was more than ample. They had a full liquor ration now, too. As much as Jean hated to admit it, even to himself, he didn't mind this turn of events so very much. He could work and sleep in confidence that the people ruling the ship knew their business; he and Locke no longer had to run everything on improvisation and prayer. If not for the damned log, with its relentless record of day after day passing them by, day after day of the antidote waning, it would have been a good time. A good and timeless interval, with Lieutenant Delmastro to puzzle over.\n\nBut neither he nor Locke could stop counting the days.\n\nON THE eighteenth of Festal, Bald Mazucca snapped.\n\nHe'd given no warning; though he'd been sullen in the undercastle each night, he was one among many tired and short-tempered men, and he'd made no further threats toward anyone, crew or scrub watch.\n\nIt was dusk, two or three hours into the Blue watch's duty, and lanterns were going up across the ship. Jean was sitting next to Locke by the chicken coops, unraveling old rope into its component yarns. Locke was shredding these into a pile of rough brown fibers. Tarred, this stuff would become oakum, and be used for everything from caulking seams to stuffing pillows. It was a miserably tedious job, but the sun was almost gone and the end of duty for the day was nearly at hand." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There was a clatter from somewhere near the undercastle, followed by swearing and laughter. Bald Mazucca stomped into sight, carrying a mop and a bucket, with a crewman Jean didn't recognize at his heels. The crewman said something else that Jean didn't catch, and then it happened-Mazucca whirled and flung the heavy bucket at him, catching him right in the face. The crewman fell on his backside, stunned.\n\n\"Gods damn you,\" Mazucca cried, \"d'you think I'm a fuckin' child?\"\n\nThe crewman fumbled at his belt fora weapon-a short club, Jean saw. But Mazucca's blood was up, and the crewman was still recovering from the blow. Ina moment, Mazucca had kicked him in the chest and snatched the club for himself. He raised it above his head, but that was as far as he got. Three or four crewfolk hit him simultaneously, knocking him to the deck and wrestling the club from his hand.\n\nHeavy footsteps beat rapidly from the quarterdeck to the waist. Captain Drakasha had come without being summoned.\n\nAs she flew past, Jean-his rope work quite forgotten-felt his stomach flutter. She had it. She wore it like a cloak. The same aura that he'd once seen in Capa Barsavi, something that slept inside until it was drawn out by anger or need, so sudden and so terrible. Death itself was beating a tread upon the ship's planks.\n\nDrakasha's crewfolk had Mazucca up and pinned by the arms. The man who'd been hit by the bucket had retrieved his club and was rubbing his head nearby. Zamira came to a halt and pointed at him.\n\n\"Explain yourself, Tomas.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I was... I was... sorry, Cap'n. Just having some fun.\"\n\n\"He's been hounding me all fuckin\" afternoon,\" said Mazucca, subdued but nowhere near calm. \"Hasn't done a lick of work. Just follows me around, kicks my bucket, takes my tools, messes up my shit and sets me to fixing it again.\"\n\n\"True, Tomas?\"\n\n\"I just... it was just fun, Cap'n. Teasing the scrub watch. Didn't mean nothing. I'll stop.\"\n\nDrakasha moved so fast Tomas didn't even have time to flinch until he was already on his way back to the deck, his nose broken. Jean had noted the elegant upward sweep of her arm and the precise use of the palm-he'd been on the receiving end of that sort of blow at least twice in his life. Tomas, stupid ass that he was, had his sympathy.\n\n\"Agggh,\" said Tomas, spraying blood.\n\n\"The scrub watch are like tools,\" said Drakasha. \"I expect them to be kept in a useful trim. Maintained. You want to have fun, you make sure it's responsible fun. I'm halving your share of the Red Messenger loot, and your share of the sale.\" She gestured to the women standing behind him. \"You two. Haul him aft and find Scholar Treganne.\"\n\nAs Tomas was being dragged toward the quarterdeck fora surprise visit to the ship's physiker, Drakasha turned to Mazucca.\n\n\"You heard my rules, first night you were on my ship.\"\n\n\"I know. I'm sorry, Captain Drakasha, he just-\"\n\n\"You did hear. You did hear what I said, and you understood.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I did, I was angry, I-\"\n\n\"Death to touch a weapon. I made that clear as a cloudless sky, and you did it anyway.\"\n\n\"Look-\"\n\n\"I've got no use for you,\" she said, and her right arm darted out to close around Mazucca's throat. The crewfolk released him, and he locked his hands around Drakasha's forearm, to no avail. She began dragging him toward the starboard rail. \"Out here, you lose your head, you make one dumb gods-damned mistake, you can take the whole ship down. If you can't keep your wits when you've been told what's at stake, clear and simple, you're just ballast.\"\n\nKicking and gagging, Mazucca tried to fightback, but Drakasha hauled him inexorably toward the side of the weather deck. About two yards from the rail, she gritted her teeth, drew her right arm back, and flung Mazucca forward, putting the full power of hip and shoulder into the push. He hit hard, flailing for balance, and toppled backward. A second later there was the sound of a splash.\n\n\"This ship has ballast enough.\"\n\nCrewfolk and scrub watch alike ran to the starboard rail. After a quick glance at Locke, Jean got up to join them. Drakasha remained where she was, arms at her side, her sudden rage evaporated. In that, too, she seemed like Barsavi. Jean wondered if she would spend the rest of the night sullen and brooding, or even drinking.\n\nThe ship had been making a steady four or five knots, and Mazucca didn't appear to be a strong swimmer. He was already five or six yards to the side of the ship, and fifteen or twenty yards back, off the quarterdeck. His arms and head bobbed against the rippling darkness of the waves, and he hollered for help." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dusk. Jean shuddered. A hungry time on the open sea. The hard light of day drove many things deep beneath the waves, made the water nearly safe for hours on end. All that changed at twilight.\n\n\"Shall we fish him out, Captain?\" A crewman had stepped up beside her, and he spoke in a voice so low that only those nearby could hear.\n\n\"No,\" said Drakasha. She turned and began to walk slowly aft. \"Sail on. Something will be along for him soon enough.\"\n\nON THE nineteenth, at half past noon, Drakasha shouted for Locke to come to her cabin. Locke ran aft as fast as he could, visions of Tomas and Mazucca vivid in his mind.\n\n\"Ravelle, what the unhallowed hells is this?\"\n\nLocke paused to take in the scene. She'd rigged her table in the center of the cabin. Paolo and Cosetta were seated across from one another, staring at Locke, and a deck of playing cards was spread in an unfathomable pattern between them. A silver goblet was tipped over in the middle of the table... a goblet too large for little hands. Locke felt aflutter of anxiety in the pit of his stomach, but looked closer nonetheless.\n\nAs he'd suspected... a mouthful or so of pale brown liquor had spilled onto the tabletop from the goblet, and fallen across a card. That card had dissolved into a puddle of soft, completely unmarked gray material.\n\n\"You took the cards out of my chest,\" he said. \"The ones in the double-layered oilcloth parcel.\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"And you were drinking a fairly strong liquor with your meal. One of your children spilled it.\"\n\n\"Caramel brandy, and I spilled it myself.\" She produced a dagger and poked at the gray material. Although it had a liquid sheen, it was hard and solid, and the tip of the dagger slid off it as though it were granite. \"What the hell is this? It's like... alchemical cement.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It is alchemical cement. You didn't notice that the cards smelled funny?\"\n\n\"Why the hell would I smell playing cards?\" She frowned. \"Children, don't touch these anymore. In fact, go sit on your bed until Mommy can wash your hands.\"\n\n\"It's not dangerous,\" said Locke.\n\n\"I don't care,\" she said. \"Paolo, Cosetta, put your hands in your laps and wait for Mommy.\"\n\n\"They're not really cards,\" said Locke. \"They're alchemical resin wafers. Paper-thin and flexible. The card designs are actually painted on. You wouldn't believe how expensive they were.\"\n\n\"Nor would I care. What the hell are they for?\"\n\n\"Isn't it obvious? Dip one in strong liquor and it dissolves in a few seconds. Suddenly you've got a little pat of alchemical cement. Mashup as many cards as you need. The stuff dries in about a minute, hard as steel.\"\n\n\"Hard as steel?\" She eyed the gray splotch on her fine lacquered tabletop. \"How does it come off?\"\n\n\"Um... it doesn't. There's no solvent. At least not outside of an alchemist's lab.\"\n\n\"What? Gods damn it, Ravelle-\"\n\n\"Captain, you're being unfair. I didn't ask you to take those cards out and play with them. Nor did I spill liquor on them.\"\n\n\"You're right,\" said Drakasha with a sigh. She looked tired, Locke thought. The faint frown lines around her mouth looked as though they'd had along recent workout. \"Gather these up and throw them overboard.\"\n\n\"Captain, please. Please.\" Locke held his hands out toward her. \"Not only are they expensive, they'd be... damned impossible to duplicate. It'd take months. Let me just roll them backup in oilcloth and put them in the chest. Please think of them as part of my papers.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What do you use them for?\"\n\n\"They're just part of my little bag of tricks,\" he said. \"All I have left of it, really. One last, important little trick. I swear to you, they're absolutely no threat to you and your ship.... You have to spill booze on them, and even then they're just an annoyance. Look, if you save them for me, and find me some knives with scalpel edges, I'll devote all my time to getting that shit off your table. Prying from the sides. Even if it takes all week. Please.\"\n\nAs it turned out, it took him ten hours, scraping away with infinite care atop the forecastle, as though he were performing surgery. He worked without rest, first by sunlight and then by the glow of multiple lanterns, until the devilishly hard stuff had been scraped off with nothing but a ghost upon the lacquer to show for it.\n\nWhen he finally claimed his minuscule sleeping space, he knew his hands and forearms would ache well into the next day.\n\nIt was worth it, and had been worth every minute of work, to preserve the existence of that deck of cards.\n\nON THE twentieth, Drakasha gave upon the easterly course and put them west by north with the wind on the starboard beam. The weather held; they cooked by day and sweated by night, and the ship sailed beneath streams of flit-wraiths that hungover the water like arches of ghostly green light.\n\nOn the twenty-first, as the promise of dawn was just graying the eastern sky, they had their chance to prove themselves.\n\nLocke was knocked out of a too-short sleep by an elbow to the ribs. He awoke to confusion; the men of the scrub watch were shifting, stumbling, and muttering all around him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Sail ho,\" said Jean.\n\n\"Heard it from the masthead just a minute ago,\" said someone near the door. \"Two points off the starboard quarter. That's well east and a little north of us, hull down.\"\n\n\"That's good,\" said Jabril, yawning. \"The dawn glimpse.\"\n\n\"Dawn?\" It still seemed dark, and Locke rubbed his sleep-blurred eyes. \"Dawn already? Since I no longer have to pretend to know what the hell I'm doing, what's a dawn glimpse?\"\n\n\"Sun's coming up over the horizon, see?\" Jabril seemed to relish the chance to lecture Locke. \"Over in the east. We're still in shadow over here, to the west a' them. Hard to see us, but we got a good eye on them with that faint light behind their masts, savvy?\"\n\n\"Right,\" said Locke. \"Seems like a good thing.\"\n\n\"We're for her,\" said Aspel. \"We'll move in and take her. This ship is loaded with crew, and Drakasha's a bloody-handed bitch.\"\n\n\"It's a fight for us,\" said Streva. \"We'll go first.\"\n\n\"Aye, and prove ourselves,\" said Aspel. \"Prove ourselves and be quits with this scrub watch shit.\"\n\n\"Don't be tying silver ribbons on your cock just yet,\" said Jabril. \"We don't know her heading, or what speed she makes, or what her best point of sailing is. She might be a ship of war. Might even be part of a squadron.\"\n\n\"Be fucked, Jabbi,\" said someone without real malice. \"Don't you want to begone from scrub watch?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Hey, time comes to board her, I'll row the boat naked and attack the bastards with my good fuckin\" looks." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Just wait and see if she's prey, is all I'm sayin'.\"\n\nThere was noise and commotion on deck; orders were shouted. The men at the entrance strained to hear and see everything.\n\n\"Delmastro's sending people up the lines,\" said one of them. \"Looks like we're going to come north a few points. They're doing it quick-like.\"\n\n\"Nothing's more suspicious than a sudden change of sail, if they see us,\" said Jabril. \"She wants us to be nearer their course before we're spotted, so it looks natural.\"\n\nMinutes passed; Locke blinked and settled back down against his familiar bulkhead. If action wasn't imminent, there was always time fora few more minutes of sleep. From the groaning and shuffling around him, he wasn't alone in that opinion.\n\nHe awoke a few minutes later-the sky seen through the ventilation hatch was lighter gray-to Lieutenant Delmastro's voice coming from the undercastle entrance.\n\n\"... where you are for now. Keep quiet and out of sight. It's about five minutes to the switchover from Red to Blue, but we're suspending regular watches for action. We'll be sending Red down in bits and pieces, and half of Blue will come up to replace them. We want to look like a merchant brig, not a prowler with a heavy crew.\"\n\nLocke craned his neck to lookout over the shadowy shapes around him. Just past Delmastro, in the predawn murk, he could see crewfolk at the waist wrestling several large barrels toward the ship's larboard rail.\n\n\"Smoke barrels on deck,\" called a woman.\n\n\"No open flames on deck,\" shouted Ezri. \"No smoking. Alchemical lights only. Pass the word.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Minutes passed, and the light of dawn grew steadily. Locke nonetheless found his eyelids creeping back downward. He sighed relaxed, and-\n\n\"On deck there,\" came a shout from the foremast head. \"Send to the captain she's got three masts, and she's northwest by west. Topsails.\"\n\n\"Aye, three masts, northwest by west, topsails,\" shouted Ezri. \"How does she bear?\"\n\n\"Broad on the starboard beam, aft a point maybe.\"\n\n\"Keep sharp. Is she still hull down?\"\n\n\"Aye.\"\n\n\"The moment she lifts her skirts over that horizon, you peek and tell us what's under them.\" Ezri returned to the undercastle and pounded loudly on the bulkhead beside the entrance. \"Scrub watch, rouse up. Stretch your legs and use the craplines, then get back under here. Be quick. We'll be fighting or running soon enough. Best to have your innards in good order.\"\n\nIt was less like moving with a crowd than being squeezed from a tube. Locke found himself pushed onto deck, and he curled his back and stretched. Jean did likewise, then stepped up beside Delmastro. Locke raised an eyebrow; the little lieutenant seemed to tolerate Jean's conversation to the same extent that she disdained his. So long as one of them was getting information from her, he supposed.\n\n\"Do you really think we'll be running?\" asked Jean.\n\n\"I'd prefer not.\" Delmastro squinted over the rail, but even from Locke's perspective the new ship couldn't be seen on deck just yet.\n\n\"You know,\" said Jean, \"it's to be expected that you won't see anything from down there. You should let me put you on my shoulders.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"A short joke,\" said Delmastro. \"How remarkably original. I've never heard the like in all my days. I'll have you know I'm the tallest of all my sisters.\"\n\n\"Sisters,\" said Jean. \"Interesting. A bit of your past for free?\"\n\n\"Shit,\" she said, scowling. \"Leave me alone, Valora. It's going to be a busy morning.\"\n\nMen were returning from the craplines. Now that the press had lessened, Locke climbed the stairs and made his way forward to do his own business. He had sufficient unpleasant experience by now to elbow his way to the weather side-damned unfortunate things could happen to those on the lee craplines in any kind of wind-of the little wooden brace, which crossed the bowsprit just a yard or two out from the forepeak. It had ratlines hanging beneath it like a miniature yardarm, and against these Locke braced his feet while he undid his breeches. Waves pounded white against the bow, and spray rose to splash the backs of his legs.\n\n\"Gods,\" he said, \"to think that pissing could be such an adventure.\"\n\n\"On deck, there,\" came the cry from the foremast a moment later. \"She's a flute, she is. Round and fat. Holding course and sail as before.\"\n\n\"What colors?\"\n\n\"None to be seen, Lieutenant.\"\n\nA flute. Locke recognized the term-around-sterned merchantman with a homely curved bow. Handy for cargo, but a brig like the Orchid could dance around it at will. No pirate or military expedition would make use of such a vessel. As soon as they could draw her in, it seemed they'd have their fight." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Ha,\" he muttered, \"and here I am, caught with my breeches down.\"\n\nTHE SUN rose molten behind their target, framing the low black shape in a half-circle of crimson. Locke was on his knees at the starboard rail of the forecastle, trying to stay unobtrusive. He squinted and put a handover his eyes to cut the glare. The eastern sky was a bonfire aura of pink and red; the sea was like liquid ruby spreading in a stain from the climbing sun.\n\nA dirty black smear of smoke rose from the lee side of the Poison Orchid's waist, a few yards wide, an ominous intrusion into the clean dawn air. Lieutenant Delmastro was tending the smoke barrels herself. The Orchid was making way under topsails with her main and forecourses furled; conveniently, it was both a logical plan of sail for this breeze and the first precaution they would have taken if the ship were really on fire.\n\n\"Come on, you miserable twits,\" said Jean, who was seated beside him. \"Glance left, for Perelandro's sake.\"\n\n\"Maybe they do see us,\" said Locke. \"Maybe they just don't give a damn.\"\n\n\"They haven't changed a sail,\" said Jean, \"or we would've heard about it from the lookouts. They must be the most incurious, myopic, dim-witted buggers that ever set canvas to mast.\"\n\n\"On deck there!\" The foremast lookout sounded excited. \"Send to the captain she's turning to larboard!\"\n\n\"How far?\" Delmastro stepped away from her smoke barrels. \"Is she coming about to head right for us?\"\n\n\"No, she's come about three points around.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"They want to have a closer look,\" said Jean, \"but they're not hopping into the hammock with us just yet.\"\n\nThere was a shout from the quarterdeck, and a moment later Delmastro blew her whistle three times.\n\n\"Scrub watch! Scrub watch to the quarterdeck!\"\n\nThey hurried aft, past crewfolk removing well-oiled bows from canvas covers and stringing them. As Delmastro had promised, about half the usual watch was on deck; those involved in preparing weapons were crouched down or hiding behind the masts and the chicken coops. Drakasha was waiting for them at the quarterdeck rail, and she started speaking the moment they arrived.\n\n\"They still have time and room enough to put about. It's a flute, and I doubt they could run from us forever in any weather, but they could make us work for the catch. My guess is six or seven hours, but who wants to be bored for that long? We'll pose as a charter brig on fire and see if we can't entice them to do the sociable thing.\n\n\"I offered a chance to prove yourselves, so you're the teeth of the trap. You'll fight first. Good on you if you comeback. If you don't want to fight, get under the forecastle and stay scrub watch until we're quits with you.\n\n\"As for me, I woke up hungry this morning. I mean to have that fat little prize. Who among you would fight fora place on my ship?\"\n\nLocke and Jean thrust their arms into the air, along with everyone nearby. Locke glanced quickly around and saw that nobody seemed to be declining their chance.\n\n\"Good,\" said Drakasha. \"We've three boats, seating about thirty. You'll have them. Your task will be to look innocent at first; stay near the Orchid. At the signal, you'll dash out and attack from the south.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Captain,\" said Jabril, \"what if we can't take her ourselves?\"\n\n\"If numbers or circumstances are against you, hold fast to whatever scrap of deck you can. I'll bring the Orchid alongside and grapple to her. Nothing that ship carries can stand against a hundred fresh boarders.\"\n\nA fine comfort that'll be, to those of us already dead or dying, Locke thought. The reality of what they were about to do had only just come home to him, and he felt an anxious fluttering in his stomach.\n\n\"Captain!\" One of the lookouts was hailing from the maintop. \"She's sent up Talishani colors!\"\n\n\"She might belying,\" muttered Jabril. \"Decent bluff. If you're going to fly a false flag, Talisham's got a bit of a navy. And nobody's at war with'em right now.\"\n\n\"Not too clever, though,\" said Jean. \"If she had escorts insight, why not fly it at all times? Only someone with cause to be worried hides their colors.\"\n\n\"Aye. Them and pirates.\" Jabril grinned.\n\nCaptain Drakasha shouted across the crowd. \"Del! Have one of your smoke barrels sent over to the starboard rail. Just forward of the quarterdeck stairs.\"\n\n\"You want smoke from the weather rail, Captain?\"\n\n\"A good smudge right across the quarterdeck,\" said Drakasha. \"If they want to chat with signal flags, we need an excuse to keep mum.\"\n\nThe lanky sailing master, holding the wheel a few feet behind Drakasha, cleared his throat loudly. She smiled, then seemed to have an idea. Turning to a sailor on her left, she said, \"Get three signal pennants from the flag chest and let them fly from the stern. Yellow over yellow over yellow.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"All souls in peril,\" said Jean. \"That's a come-hither look, and no fooling.\"\n\n\"I thought it was just a distress signal,\" said Locke.\n\n\"Should've read the book more closely. Three yellow pennants says we're so hard up that we'll legally grant them salvage rights to anything we don't carry on our persons. They save it, they own it.\"\n\nDelmastro and her crew had moved a smoke barrel into position at the starboard rail, and lit it with a bit of twist-match. Gray tendrils of smoke began to snake up and over the quarterdeck, chasing the darker black cloud rising from the lee side. At the taffrail, a pair of sailors was sending up three fluttering yellow pennants.\n\n\"Extra lookouts aloft and at the rails to give Mumchance a hand,\" called Drakasha. \"Archers up one at a time. Keep your weapons down in the tops; stay out of sight if you can, and play meek until I give the signal.\"\n\n\"Captain!\" The mainmast lookouts were shouting down once more. \"She's turned to cut our path, and she's adding sail!\"\n\n\"Funny how tender-hearted they get as soon as they see that signal,\" said Drakasha. \"Utgar!\"\n\nA fairly young Vadran, the skin of his shaved head red-baked over a braided black beard, appeared just beside Lieutenant Delmastro.\n\n\"Hide Paolo and Cosetta on the orlop deck,\" said Zamira. \"We're about to cause an argument.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" he said, and hurried up the quarterdeck stairs.\n\n\"As for you,\" said Drakasha, returning her attention to the scrub watch, \"hatchets and sabers are set out at the foremast. Take your choice and wait to help send the boats down.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Captain Drakasha!\"\n\n\"What is it, Ravelle?\"\n\nLocke cleared his throat and offered a silent prayer to the Nameless Thirteenth that he knew what he was doing. The time fora gesture was now; if he didn't do something to restore a bit of prestige to Ravelle, he'd end up as just another member of the crew, shunned for his past failure. He needed to be respected if he expected to achieve any part of his mission. That meant a grand act of foolishness.\n\n\"It's my fault that these men nearly died aboard the Messenger. They were my crew, and I should have looked after them better. I'd like the chance to do that now. I want... the first seat on the lead boat.\"\n\n\"You expect me to let you command the attack?\"\n\n\"Not command,\" said Locke. \"Just go up the side first. Whatever's thereto bleed us, let it bleed me first. Maybe I can spare whoever comes up next.\"\n\n\"That means meas well,\" said Jean, placing a hand on Locke's shoulder, somewhat protectively. \"I go where he goes.\"\n\nGods bless you, Jean, thought Locke.\n\n\"If it's your ambition to stop a crossbow bolt,\" said Drakasha, \"I won't say no.\" She seemed a bit taken aback, however, and she gave the tiniest fraction of an approving nod to Locke as the crowd began to breakup and head forward for their weapons.\n\n\"Captain!\" Lieutenant Delmastro stepped forward, her hands and forearms covered in soot from the smoke barrels. She glanced at Locke and Jean as she spoke. \"Just who is leading the cutting-out boats anyway?\"\n\n\"Free-for-all, Del. I'm sending one Orchid per boat to hold them; what the scrub watch does after they climb the sides is their business.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I want the boats.\"\n\nDrakasha stared at her for several seconds, and said nothing. She was wreathed in gray smoke from the waist down.\n\n\"I had nothing to do when we took the Messenger, Captain,\" Delmastro said hastily. \"In fact, I haven't had any real fun with a prize for weeks.\"\n\nDrakasha flicked her gaze over Jean and frowned. \"You crave an indulgence.\"\n\n\"Aye. But a useful one.\"\n\nDrakasha sighed. \"You have the boats, Del. Mind you, Ravelle gets his wish.\"\n\nTranslation: If he takes an arrow for anyone, make sure it's you, thought Locke.\n\n\"You won't regret it, Captain. Scrub watch! Arm yourselves and meet meat the waist!\" Delmastro dashed up the quarterdeck stairs, past Utgar, who was leading the Drakasha children along with one clinging tightly to either hand.\n\n\"You're a bold and stupid fellow, Ravelle,\" said Jabril. \"I think I almost like you again.\"\n\n\"... at least he can fight, we know that much,\" Locke heard one of the other men saying. \"You should've seen him take care of the guard the night we got the Messenger. Pow! One little punch folded him right up. He'll show us a thing or two this morning. You wait.\"\n\nLocke was suddenly very glad he'd already pissed everything he had to piss.\n\nAt the waist, an older crew-woman stood watch on small barrels packed full of the promised hatchets and sabers. Jean drew out a pair of hatchets, hefted them, and frowned as Locke hesitated before the barrels.\n\n\"You have any idea what you're doing?\" he whispered." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"None whatsoever,\" said Locke.\n\n\"Take a saber and try to look comfortable.\"\n\nLocke drew a saber and gazed at it as though immensely satisfied.\n\n\"Anyone with a belt,\" shouted Jean, \"grab a second weapon and tuck it in. You never know when you or someone else might need it.\"\n\nAs half a dozen men took his advice, he sidled up to Locke and whispered again. \"Stay right beside me. Just... keep up with me and stand tall. Maybe they won't have bows.\"\n\nLieutenant Delmastro returned to their midst, wearing her black leather vest and bracers, as well as her knife-packed weapon belt. Locke noticed that the curved handguards of her sabers were studded with what looked like jagged chips of Elderglass.\n\n\"Here, Valora.\" She tossed a leather fighting collar to Jean and held her tightly tailed hair up to leave her neck fully exposed. \"Help a girl out.\"\n\nJean placed the collar around her neck and clasped it behind her head. She tugged it once, nodded, and put up her arms. \"Listen up! Until we make an unfriendly move, you're wealthy passengers and land-sucking snobs, sent out in the boats to save your precious skins.\"\n\nA pair of crewmen were making the rounds of the scrub watch, handing out fine hats, brocaded jackets, and other fripperies. Delmastro seized a silk parasol and shoved it into Locke's hands. \"There you go, Ravelle. That might deflect some harm.\"\n\nLocke shook the folded parasol over his head with exaggerated belligerence, and got some nervous laughter in exchange.\n\n\"Like the captain said, it'll be one Orchid per boat, to make sure they comeback even if you don't,\" said Delmastro. \"I'll take Ravelle and Valora with me, in the little boat you donated from the Messenger. Plus you and you.\" She pointed to Streva and Jabril. \"Whatever else happens, we're first to the side and first up.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Oscarl, the boatswain, appeared with a small party of assistants carrying lines and blocks to begin rigging hoisting gear.\n\n\"One thing more,\" said Delmastro. \"If they ask for quarter, give it. If they drop their weapons, respect it. If they carry on fighting, slaughter them where they fucking stand. And if you start to feel sorry for them, just remember what signal we had to fly to get them to lend aid to a ship on fire.\"\n\nFROM THE water, the illusion of that fire seemed complete to Locke's eyes. All the smoke barrels were going now; the ship trailed a black-and-gray cloud that all but enveloped its quarterdeck. The figure of Zamira appeared now and again, her spyglass briefly catching the sun before she vanished back into the darkness. A team of crewmen had rigged small pumps and canvas hoses amidships (at the rail, where they could best be seen), and they were directing streams of water at the cloud of smoke, though actually doing nothing but washing the deck.\n\nLocke sat at the bow of the little boat, feeling vaguely ridiculous with his parasol in hand and a cloth-of-silver jacket draped over his shoulders like a cape. Jean and Jabril shared the forward rowing bench, Streva and Lieutenant Delmastro were behind them, and a very small crewman named Vitorre-little more than a boy-crouched in the stern to takeover from them when they boarded the flute.\n\nThat ship, her curiously round and wallowing hull-curves now plainly visible, was angled somewhat away from them to the north. Locke estimated that it would cross paths with the Poison Orchid, or very nearly so, in about ten minutes.\n\n\"Let's start rowing for her,\" said Delmastro. \"They'll expect it by now.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Their boat and the two larger ones had been keeping station about a hundred yards southeast of the Orchid. As the four rowers in the lead boat began to pull north, Locke saw the others catch their cue and follow.\n\nThey bobbed and slipped across the foot-high waves. The sun was up and its heat was building; it had been half past the seventh hour of the morning when they'd left the ship. The oars creaked rhythmically in their locks; now they were abreast with the Orchid, and the newcomer was about half a mile to their northeast. If the flute caught wind of the trap and tried to flee to the north, the ship would loose canvas to fly after it. If it tried to flee south, however, it would be up to the boats to slip into its path.\n\n\"Ravelle,\" said Delmastro, \"at your feet, the breaching shears. You see them?\"\n\nLocke looked down. Tucked away beneath his seat was an ugly-looking hinged device with a pair of wooden handles. These handles worked a metal jaw.\n\n\"I think so.\"\n\n\"Bows aren't our biggest problem. The most trouble they can give us is if they rig razor nets against boarding; we'll slash ourselves to pieces trying to climb on deck. If those nets are rigged, you must use those shears to cut a slit for us to get in.\"\n\n\"Or die trying,\" he said. \"I think I get it.\"\n\n\"But the good news is, rigging razor nets is a pain in the ass. And they won't be up at all if they're expecting to send out boats and receive passengers. If we can just get close enough before we tip our hand, they won't have time to use them.\"\n\n\"What's the signal to tip our hand?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You won't miss it. Trust me.\"\n\nZAMIRA DRAKASHA stood at the starboard quarterdeck rail, taking a break from the smoke. She studied the approaching flute through her glass; there was elaborate ornamentation on the stubby forepeak, and a somewhat whimsical gold-and-black paint scheme along her tall sides. That was agreeable; if she was well maintained she was likely to be carrying a respectable cargo and a bit of coin.\n\nA pair of officers stood at the bow, studying her ship through their own glasses. She waved in what she hoped was an encouraging fashion, but received no response.\n\n\"Well, fine,\" she muttered. \"You'll be rendering your courtesies soon enough.\"\n\nThe small dark shapes of crew rushed about on the flute, now just a quarter mile distant. Her sails were shuddering, her hull elongating in Zamira's view-were they running? No, just killing momentum, turning a point or two to starboard, aiming to get close but not too close. She could see a pump-and-hose team at work amidships, shooting a stream of water upward to wet the flute's lower sails. Very sensible, when coming anywhere near afire at sea.\n\n\"Signal party,\" she said, \"stand ready.\"\n\n\"Aye, Captain,\" came a chorus of voices from within the smoke-shrouded portion of the quarterdeck.\n\nHer own boats were cutting the waves between the two ships. There was Ravelle in the lead with his parasol, looking a bit like a thin silver mushroom with a soft whitecap. And there was Valora, and there was Ezri... damn it. Ezri's request had given her little choice but to acquiesce or look foolish in front of the scrub watch. There'd be words for that little woman... if the gods blessed Zamira enough to send her lieutenant back alive." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She studied the flute's officers, who'd moved from the bow to the larboard rail. Wide fellows, it seemed, a bit overdressed for the heat. Her eyes were not what they'd been twenty-five years ago.... Were they prodding one another, looking more intently through their glasses?\n\n\"Captain?\" asked a member of the signal party.\n\n\"Hold,\" she said. \"Hold...\" Every second closed the gap between the Orchid and her victim. They'd slowed and turned, but leeway would bring them closer still... closer still. One of them pointed, then grabbed the other by the shoulder and pointed again. Their glasses flew up in unison.\n\n\"Ha!\" Zamira cried. Not a chance they could slip away now. She felt new zeal lending strength to her every step and motion; she felt half her years seem to fall from her shoulders. Gods, the moment they realized just how fucked they were was always sweet. She slammed her spyglass shut, snatched her speaking trumpet from the deck, and hollered across the length of the ship.\n\n\"Archers ready at the tops! All hands on deck! All hands on deck and man the starboard rail! Stifle smoke barrels!\"\n\nThe Poison Orchid shuddered; seven dozen hands were pounding up the ladders, surging out of the hatchways, armed and armored, screaming as they came. Archers stepped out from behind the masts, knelt on their fighting platforms, and nocked arrows to their gleaming bows.\n\nZamira didn't need her glass to seethe shapes of officers and crew running about frantically on the flute's deck.\n\n\"Let's give'em something that'll really make'em piss their breeches,\" she shouted, not bothering with the speaking trumpet. \"Hoist our crimson!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The three yellow pennants streaming above the quarterdeck shuddered, then plummeted straight down into the gray haze. From out of the last of the black and boiling smoke rose abroad red banner, bright as the morning sun looming above a storm.\n\n\"WITH A will,\" shouted Lieutenant Delmastro, \"with a will!\" As the bloodred flag rose to its full prominence above the stern of the Orchid and the first of the horde of maniacally cheering crewfolk began to crowd her starboard rail, the three boats surged across the waves.\n\nLocke shed his parasol and jacket, tossing them overboard before remembering that they were worth quite a bit of money. He breathed in excited gasps, glancing over his shoulder at the fast-approaching side of the flute, a sheer wooden surface that loomed like a floating castle. Dear gods, he was going into battle. What the fuck was the matter with him?\n\nHe bit the insides of his cheeks for concentration and held onto the gunwales with white knuckles. Damn it, this was no grand gesture. He couldn't afford this. He breathed deep to steady himself.\n\nLocke Lamora was small, but the Thorn of Camorr was larger than any of this. The Thorn couldn't be touched by blade or spell or scorn. Locke thought of the Falconer, bleeding at his feet. He thought of the Gray King, dead beneath his knife. He thought of the fortunes that had run through his fingers, and he smiled.\n\nSteadily, carefully, he drew his saber and began to wave it in the air. The three boats were nearly abreast now, slashing white triangles of wake on the sea, a minute from their target. Locke meant to hit it wearing the biggest lie of his lifelike a costume. He might be dead in a few moments, but until then, by the gods, he was the Thorn of Camorr. He was Captain Orrin fucking Ravelle." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Orchids!" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Orchids!\" He made a statue of himself at the bow of the boat, thrusting with his saber as though he meant to ram the flute and punch a hole in her side all by himself. \"Pull for the prize! Pull for yourselves! Follow me, Orchids! Richer and cleverer than everyone else!\"\n\nThe Poison Orchid slipped ahead of the last of her smoke, streaming gray lines from her quarterdeck, as though evading the grasp of some godlike ghostly hand. The teeming crewfolk at her rail cheered again, and then fell silent together. The ship's sails began to flutter. Drakasha was tacking, with haste, to bring the ship sharply around to starboard. If she pulled it off she would snug up, on the larboard tack, right alongside the flute at knife-fighting distance.\n\nThe sudden silence of the Orchids allowed Locke to hear noises from the flute for the first time-orders, panic, arguments, consternation. And then, over everything else, a tinny and desperate voice shouting through a speaking trumpet:\n\n\"Save us! For the love of the gods, please... please get over here and save us!\"\n\n\"Shit. That's a little different than what we usually get,\" said Delmastro.\n\nLocke had no time to think; they were up to the flute's hull, bumping hard against the wall of wet planks on her lee side. The ship was slightly heeled over, creating the illusion that she was about to topple and crush them. Miraculously, there were shrouds and a boarding net within easy reach. Locke leapt for the net, sword arm raised.\n\n\"Orchids,\" he cried as he climbed the rough, wet hemp in an exaltation of fear. \"Orchids! Follow me!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The moment of truth; his left hand found the deck at the top of the boarding net. Gritting his teeth, he swept upward with his saber, clumsily and viciously, in case anyone was waiting at the edge of the deck. Then he heaved himself up, rolled under the rail-he'd missed the entry port by a few yards-and stumbled to his feet, screaming like a madman.\n\nThe deck was all chaos, and none of it meant for him. There were no razor nets, no archers, no walls of polearms or swords waiting to receive the boarders. Crewmen and-women ran about in a panic. An abandoned fire hose lay on the deck at Locke's feet like a dead brown snake, gurgling seawater into a spreading puddle.\n\nA crewman skidded through that puddle and slammed into him, flailing. Locke raised his saber, and the crewman cringed, throwing up his hands to show that they were empty.\n\n\"We tried to surrender,\" the crewman gasped. \"We tried! They wouldn't let us! Gods, help us!\"\n\n\"Who? Who wouldn't let you surrender?\"\n\nThe crewman pointed to the ship's raised quarterdeck, and Locke whirled to see what was there.\n\n\"Aw, hell,\" he whispered.\n\nThere had to beat least twenty of them, all men, cast from the same mold. Tanned, stocky, muscular. Their beards were neatly trimmed, their shoulder-length hair bound in rattling strings of beads. Their heads were wrapped with bright green cloths, and Locke knew from past experience that what looked like thin, dark sleeves covering their arms was actually holy verse, tattooed so thickly in black and green ink that every trace of the skin beneath was lost." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Jeremite Redeemers." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Religious maniacs who believed that they were the only possible salvation for the sins of their wicked island. They made themselves living sacrifices to the Jeremite gods, wandering the world in exile groups, living polite as monks until someone, anyone, threatened them.\n\nTheir sacred vow was to kill or be killed when offered violence; to die honorably for Jerem, or to ruthlessly exterminate anyone who raised a hand against them. All of them were looking very, very intently at Locke.\n\n\"The heathen offers a red cleansing!\" A Redeemer at the head of the group pointed at Locke and hoisted his brass-studded witchwood club. \"Wash our souls in heathen blood! Slay for holy Jerem!\"\n\nWeapons high, they rushed the quarterdeck stairs and surged down them, fixed on Locke, all the while demonstrating just how madmen really screamed. A crewman tried to stumble out of their way and was swatted down, his skull cracking like a melon beneath the club of the leader. The others trampled his body as they charged.\n\nLocke couldn't help himself. The spectacle of that onrushing, battle-hardened, completely insane death was so far beyond anything in his experience, he coughed out a burst of startled laughter. He was scared to the marrow, and in that there was sudden, absolute freedom. He raised his one useless saber and flung himself into a countercharge, feeling light as dust on a breeze, hollering as he ran. \"Come, then! Face Ravelle! The gods have sent your doom, motherfuckers!\"\n\nHe should have died a few seconds later. It was Jean, as usual, who had other plans.\n\nThe Jeremite leader bore down on Locke, twice his weight worth of murderous fanatic, blood and sunlight gleaming on the studs of his raised club. Then there was a hatchet where his face had been, the handle protruding from the shattered hollow of an eye. Impact, not with the club but with the suddenly senseless corpse, slammed Locke to the deck and knocked the air from his lungs. Hot blood sprayed across his face and neck, and he struggled furiously to free himself from beneath the twitching body. The deck around him was suddenly full of shapes kicking, stomping, screaming, and falling." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The world dissolved into disconnected images and sensations. Locke barely had time to catalog them as they flashed by.\n\nAxes and spears meant for him sinking into the body of the Jeremite leader. A desperate lunge with his saber, and the shock of impact as it sank into the unprotected hollow of a Redeemer's thigh. Jean hauling him to his feet. Jabril and Streva pulling other Orchids onto the deck. Lieutenant Delmastro, fighting beside Jean, turning a Redeemer's face to raw red paste with the glass-studded guard of one of her sabers. Shadows, movements, discordant shouts.\n\nIt was impossible to stay next to Jean; the press of Redeemers was too thick, the number of incoming blows too great. Locke was knocked down again by a falling body, and he rolled to his left, slashing blindly, frantically as he went. The deck and the sky spun around him until suddenly he was rolling into thin air.\n\nThe grating was off the main cargo hatch.\n\nDesperately he checked himself, scrambling back to his right before he toppled in. A glimpse into the main-deck hold had revealed a trio of Redeemers there, too. He stumbled to his feet and was immediately attacked by another Jeremite; parrying slash after slash, he sidestepped left and tried to slip away from the edge of the cargo hatch. No good; a second antagonist appeared, blood-drenched spear at the ready.\n\nLocke knew he'd never be able to fight or dodge the pair of them with an open grate behind his feet. He thought quickly. The flute's crew had been in the process of shifting a heavy barrel from the main-deck hold when the attack had come. That cask, four or five feet in diameter, hung in a netting above the mouth of the cargo hatch." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Locke lashed out wildly at his two opponents, aiming only to force them back. Then he spun on his heels and leapt for all he was worth. He struck the hanging cask with ahead-jarring thud and clung to the netting, his legs kicking like those of a man treading water. The cask swung like a pendulum as he scrambled atop it.\n\nFrom here, he briefly enjoyed a decent view of the action. More Orchids were pouring into the fray from the ship's larboard side, and Delmastro and Jean were pushing the main body of Redeemers backup the quarterdeck stairs. Locke's side of the deck was a tangled swirl of opponents; green cloths and bare heads above weapons of every sort.\n\nSuddenly, the Jeremite with the spear was jabbing at him, and the blackened-steel head of the weapon bit wood inches from his leg. Locke flailed back with his saber, realizing that his suspended haven wasn't as safe as he'd hoped. There were shouts from below; the Redeemers in the hold had noticed him, and meant to do something about him.\n\nIt was up to him to do something crazy first.\n\nHe leapt up, holding fast to one of the lines by which the cask was suspended from a winding-tackle, and dodged another spear thrust. No good trying to cut all the lines leading down from the tackle. That could take minutes. He tried to remember the patterns of ropes and blocks Caldris had drilled into him. His eyes darted along the single taut line that fell from the winding-tackle to a snatch-block atone corner of the cargo hatch. Yes-that line led across the deck, disappearing beneath the throng of combatants. It would run to the capstan, and if it was cut..." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gritting his teeth, he gave the taut line a good slash with the forte of his blade, feeling the saber bite hemp. A thrown hatchet whizzed past his shoulder, missing by the width of his little finger. He slashed the line again, and again, driving the blade with all the force he could muster. At the fourth stroke, it unraveled with a snap, and the weight of the cask broke it clean in two. Locke rode the barrel down into the hold, his eyes squeezed firmly shut. Someone screamed, saving him the trouble of doing so himself.\n\nThe cask struck with a resounding crash. Locke's momentum smacked him down hard against its upper surface. His chin struck wood and he was tossed sideways, landing in an undignified heap on the deck. Warm, smelly liquid washed over him-beer. The cask was gushing it.\n\nLocke climbed back to his feet, groaning. One Redeemer hadn't moved fast enough, and was splayed out beneath the cask, clearly dead. The other two had been knocked sideways by the impact, and were feeling around groggily for their weapons.\n\nHe stumbled over and slit their throats before they knew he was even back on his feet. It wasn't fighting, just thief's work, and he did it mechanically. Then he blinked and looked around for something to clean the blade on; an old and natural thief's habit that nearly got him killed.\n\nA heavy dark shape splashed into the beer beside him. One of the Jeremites who'd been troubling him above, the one with the spear, had leapt the six or seven feet down into the hold. But the gushing beer was treacherous; the Redeemer's feet went out from under him as he landed, and he toppled onto his back. Coldly resigned, Locke drove his saber into the man's chest, then pried the spear from his dying hands." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Undone by drink,\" he whispered.\n\nThe fight continued above. For the moment, he was alone in the hold with his shoddy little victory.\n\nFour dead, and he'd cheated everyone, using luck and surprise and plain skullduggery to do what would have been impossible in a stand-up fight. Knowing that they would never have given or accepted quarter should have made it easier, but the wild abandon of a few minutes before had drained clean away. Orrin Ravelle was a fraud after all; he was plain Locke Lamora once again.\n\nHe threw up behind a pile of canvas and netting, using the spear to hold himself up until the heaving stopped.\n\n\"Gods above!\"\n\nLocke wiped his mouth as Jabril and a pair of Orchids slipped down through the cargo hatch, holding to the rim of the deck rather than leaping. They didn't seem to have caught him puking.\n\n\"Four of 'em,\" continued Jabril. His tunic had been partly torn away above a shallow cut on his chest. \"Fuck me, Ravelle. I thought Valora scared the piss out of me.\"\n\nLocke took a deep breath to steady himself. \"Jerome. Is he all right?\"\n\n\"Was a minute ago. Saw him and Lieutenant Delmastro fighting on the quarterdeck.\"\n\nLocke nodded, then gestured aft with his spear. \"Stern cabin,\" he said. \"Follow me. Let's finish this.\"\n\nHe led them down the length of the flute's main deck at a run, shoving unarmed, cowering crewfolk out of the way as he passed. The armored door to the stern cabin was shut, and behind it Locke could hear the sound of frantic activity. He pounded on the door." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"We know you're in there,\" he yelled, and then turned to Jabril with a tired grin. \"This seems awfully familiar, doesn't it?\"\n\n\"You won't get through that door,\" came a muffled shout from within.\n\n\"Give it some shoulder,\" said Jabril.\n\n\"Let me try being terribly clever first,\" said Locke. Then, raising his voice: \"First point, this door maybe armored, but your stern windows are glass. Second point, open this fucking door by the count often or I'll have every surviving crewman and woman put to death on the quarterdeck. You can listen while you're doing whatever it is you're doing in there.\"\n\nA pause; Locke opened his mouth to begin counting. Suddenly, with the ratcheting clack of heavy clockwork, the door creaked open and a short, middle-aged man in along black jacket appeared.\n\n\"Please don't,\" he said. \"I surrender. I would have done it sooner, but the Redeemers wouldn't have it. I locked myself in after they chased me down here. Kill me if you like, but spare my crew.\"\n\n\"Don't be stupid,\" said Locke. \"We don't kill anyone who doesn't fightback. Though I suppose it's nice to know you're not a complete asshole. Ship's master, I presume?\"\n\n\"Antoro Nera, at your service.\"\n\nLocke grabbed him by his lapels and began dragging him toward the companionway. \"Let's goon deck, Master Nera. I think we've dealt with your Redeemers. What the hell were they doing aboard, anyway? Passengers?\"\n\n\"Security,\" muttered Nera. Locke stopped in his tracks.\n\n\"Are you that fucking dim-witted, that you didn't know they'd go berserk the first time someone dangled a fight in front of their noses?\"" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Assist in storytelling, proceed with the tale.\nTags: fantasy, heist, pirates\nAuthor: Scott Lynch\nTitle: Red Seas Under Red Skies\nChapter: 20" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What's this?\"\n\n\"A consideration,\" said Locke. \"There are an awful lot of sailors in Port Prodigal with more coins than card sense.\"\n\nRequin opened the satchel and raised an eyebrow. \"Handsome,\" he said. \"You really are trying very hard not to piss me off, aren't you?\"\n\n\"I want my job,\" said Locke. \"Now more than ever.\"\n\n\"Let's discuss your task, then. Does this Calo Callas still exist?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Locke. \"He's down there.\"\n\n\"Then why the hell didn't you bring him back with you?\"\n\n\"He's out of his fucking mind,\" said Locke.\n\n\"Then he's useless-\"\n\n\"No. Not useless. He feels persecuted, Requin. He's delusional. He imagines that the Priori and the Artificers have agents on every corner in Port Prodigal, every ship, every tavern. He barely leaves his house.\" Locke took pleasure at the speed with which he was conjuring an imaginary life for an imaginary man. \"But what he does inside that house. What he has! Locks, hundreds of them. Clockwork devices. A private forge and bellows. He's as insatiable about his trade as he ever was. It's all he has left in the world.\"\n\n\"How is a madman's detritus significant?\" asked Selendri. She stood between two of Requin's exquisite oil paintings, leaning against the wall with her arms folded.\n\n\"I experimented with all kinds of things back when I thought I might have a chance to crack this tower's vault. Acids, oils, abrasives, different types of picks and tools. I'd call myself a fair judge of mechanisms as well as lockbreaking. And the things this bastard can do, the things he builds and invents, even with a magpie mind-\" Locke spread his hands and shrugged theatrically. \"Gods!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What will it take to bring him here?\"\n\n\"He wants protection,\" said Locke. \"He's not averse to leaving Port Prodigal. Hell, he's eager to. But he imagines death at every step. He needs to feel that someone with power is reaching out to put him under their cloak.\"\n\n\"Or you could just hit him over the head and haul him back in chains,\" said Selendri.\n\n\"And risk losing his actual cooperation forever? Worse-deal with him on a three-week voyage after he wakes up? His mind is delicate as glass, Selendri. I wouldn't recommend knocking it around.\"\n\nLocke cracked his knuckles. Time to sweeten the pitch.\n\n\"Look, you want this man back in Tal Verrar. He'll drive you mad. You may even have to appoint some sort of nurse or minder for him, and you'll definitely have to hide him from the Artificers. But the things he can do could make it worthwhile a hundred times over. He's the best lockbreaker I've ever seen. He just needs to believe that I truly represent you.\"\n\n\"What do you suggest?\"\n\n\"You have a wax sigil, on your ledgers and letters of credit. I've seen it, making my deposits. Put your seal on a sheet of parchment-\"\n\n\"And incriminate myself,\" said Requin. \"No.\"\n\n\"Already thought about that,\" said Locke. \"Don't write a name on it. Don't date it, don't sign it to anyone, don't even add your usual \"R.\" Just write something pleasant and totally nonspecific. \"Look forward to comfort and hospitality.\" Or, \"Expect every due consideration.\"\"\n\n\"Trite bullshit. I see,\" said Requin. He removed a sheet of parchment from a desk drawer, touched a quill to ink, and scrawled a few sentences. After sprinkling the letter with alchemical desiccant, he looked back at Locke. \"And this childish device will be sufficient?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"As far as his fears are concerned,\" said Locke, \"Callas is a child. He'll grab at this like a baby grabbing fora tit.\"\n\n\"Ora grown man,\" muttered Selendri.\n\nRequin smiled. Gloved as always, he removed the glass cylinder from a small lamp atop his desk, revealing a candle at its heart. With this, he heated a stick of black wax, which he allowed to drip into a pool on the sheet of parchment. At last, he withdrew a heavy signet ring from a jacket pocket and pressed it into the wax.\n\n\"Your bait, Master Kosta.\" He passed the sheet over. \"The fact that you're skulking at the service entrance and trying to hide beneath that cloak both suggest you're not planning on staying in the city for long.\"\n\n\"Back south in a day or two, as soon as my shipmates finish offloading the, ah, completely legitimate and responsibly acquired cargo we picked up in Port Prodigal.\" That was a safe lie; with dozens of ships offloading in the city everyday, at least a few of them had to be carrying goods from criminal sources.\n\n\"And you'll bring Callas back with you.\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"If the sigil isn't sufficient, promise him anything else reasonable. Coin, drugs, drink, women. Men. Both. And if that's not enough, take Selendri's suggestion and let me worry about his state of mind. Don't comeback empty-handed.\"\n\n\"As you wish.\"\n\n\"What then, for you and the archon? With Callas in hand, you'll likely be back to this scheme for my vault....\"\n\n\"I don't know,\" said Locke. \"I'll beat least six or seven weeks away before I can comeback with him; why don't you ponder how I can best serve you in that time? Whatever plan you deem suitable. If you want me to turn him over to the archon as a double agent, fine. If you want me to tell the archon that he died or something... I just don't know. My skull aches. You're the man with the big picture. I'll look forward to new orders.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"If you can stay this polite,\" said Requin, hefting the purse, \"bring me Callas, and continue to be so satisfied with your place in the scheme of things... you may well have a future in my service.\"\n\n\"I appreciate that.\"\n\n\"Go. Selendri will show you out. I still have a busy night lying in wait for me.\"\n\nLocke let a bit of his actual relief show in his expression. This web of lies was growing so convoluted, so branching, and so delicate that a moth's fart might knock it to pieces-but the two meetings of the night had bought what he and Jean needed.\n\nAnother two months of life from Stragos, and another two months of tolerance from Requin. All they needed to do now was steal back to their boat without complication, and row themselves to safety.\n\n\"WE'RE BEING followed,\" said Jean as they crossed the Sinspire service courtyard. They were headed back toward the maze of alleys and hedgerows from which they'd come, the little-used block of gardens and service paths behind the lesser chance houses. Their boat was tied up at a pier along the inner docks of the Great Gallery; they'd snuck up to the top of the Golden Stepson rickety stairs, ignoring the lift-boxes and streets on which a thousand complications might lurk.\n\n\"Where are they?\"\n\n\"Across the street. Watching this courtyard. They moved when we moved, just now.\"\n\n\"Shit,\" muttered Locke. \"If only this city's entire population of lurking assholes shared one set of balls, so I could kick it repeatedly.\"\n\n\"At the edge of the courtyard, let's make a really obvious, sudden dash for it,\" said Jean. \"Hide yourself. Whoever comes running after us-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Gets to explain somethings the hard way.\"\n\nAt the rear of the courtyard was a hedge twice Locke's height. An archway surrounded by empty crates and casks led to the dark and little-used backside of the Golden Steps. About ten yards from this archway, acting in unison by some unspoken signal, Locke and Jean broke into a sprint.\n\nThrough the arch, into the shadowed alley beyond; Locke knew they had just moments to hide themselves. They needed to be far enough from the courtyard to prevent any of the Sinspire attendants from glimpsing a scuffle. Past the backs of gardens and walled lawns they ran, scant yards from buildings where hundreds of the richest people in the Therin world were losing money for fun. At last they found two stacks of empty casks on either side of the alley-the most obvious ambush spot possible, but if their opponents thought they were hell-bent on escape, they might just ignore the possibility.\n\nJean had already vanished into his place. Locke pulled his boot dagger, feeling the hammer of his own heartbeat, and crouched behind the casks on his side of the alley. He threw his cloaked arm across his face, leaving only his eyes and forehead exposed.\n\nThe rapid slap of leather on stones, and then-two dark shapes flew past the piles of casks. Locke deliberately delayed his own movement half a heartbeat, allowing Jean to strike first. When the pursuer closest to Locke turned, startled by the sound of Jean's attack on his companion, Locke slipped forward, dagger out, filled with grim elation at the thought of finally getting some answers to this business.\n\nHis grab for the attacker was good; he slipped his left arm around the man's neck at the exact instant he shoved his blade up against the soft junction of neck and chin on the other side. \"Drop your weapon or I'll-\" was all he had time to say, however, before the man did the absolute worst thing possible. He jerked forward in an attempt to break Locke's hold, perhaps reflexively, not realizing the angle at which Locke's blade was poised. Whether it was supreme optimism or miserable foolishness, Locke would never know, as the man sliced half the contents of his neck open and died that instant, spewing blood. A weapon clattered to the stones from his limp fingers." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Locke put his hands up in disbelief and let the corpse drop, only to find himself facing Jean, who was breathing heavily over the unmoving form of his own opponent.\n\n\"Wait a minute,\" said Locke, \"you mean-\"\n\n\"Accident,\" said Jean. \"I caught his knife, we fought a bit, and he got it beneath his own rib cage.\"\n\n\"Gods damn it,\" Locke muttered, flicking blood from his right hand. \"You try to keep a bastard alive, and look what happens-\"\n\n\"Crossbows,\" said Jean. He pointed to the ground, where Locke's adjusting eyes could seethe dim shapes of two small hand crossbows. Alley-pieces, the sort of thing you used within ten yards or not at all. \"Grab them. There maybe more of them after us.\"\n\n\"Hell.\" Locke grabbed one of the bows and gingerly handed the other to Jean. The little quarrels might be poisoned; the thought of handling someone else's envenomed weapon in the dark made his skin crawl. But Jean was right; they'd need the advantage if they had other pursuers.\n\n\"I say discretion is a pastime for other people,\" said Locke. \"Let's run our asses off.\"\n\nThey sprinted at a wild tear through the forgotten places of the Golden Steps, north to the edge of the vast Elderglass plateau, where they scrambled down flight after flight of nauseatingly wobbly wooden steps, glancing frantically above and below for pursuit or ambush. The world was a dizzy whirl around Locke by the middle of the staircase, painted in the surreal colors of fire and alien glass. Out on the harbor the fourth and final ship of the festival was bursting into incandescence, a sacrifice of wood and pitch and canvas before hundreds of small boats packed with priests and revelers." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Down to the feet of the stairs and across the wooden platforms of the inner docks they stumbled, past the occasional drunkard or beggar, waving their daggers and crossbows wildly. Before them was their pier, long and empty, home only to along stack of crates. No beggars, no drunks. Their boat bobbed welcomingly on the waves, just a hundred feet away now, brightly lit by the glare of the inferno.\n\nStack of crates, Locke thought, and by then it was too late.\n\nTwo men stepped from the shadows as Locke and Jean passed, from the most obvious ambush spot possible.\n\nLocke and Jean whirled together; only the fact that they were carrying their stolen crossbows in their hands gave them any chance to bring them up in time. Four arms flew out; four men standing close enough to hold hands drew on their targets. Four fingers quivered, each separated from their triggers by no more than the width of a single droplet of sweat.\n\nLocke Lamora stood on the pier in Tal Verrar with the hot wind of a burning ship at his back and the cold bite of a loaded crossbow's bolt at his neck.\n\nHE GRINNED, gasping for breath, and concentrated on holding his own crossbow level with the left eye of his opponent; they were close enough that they would catch most of one another's blood, should they both twitch their fingers at the same time.\n\n\"Be reasonable,\" said the man facing him. Beads of sweat left visible trails as they slid down his grime-covered cheeks and forehead. \"Consider the disadvantages of your situation.\"\n\nLocke snorted. \"Unless your eyeballs are made of iron, the disadvantage is mutual. Wouldn't you say so, Jean?\"\n\nJean and his foe were toe-to-toe with their crossbows similarly poised. Not one of them could miss at this range, not if all the gods above or below the heavens willed it otherwise." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"All four of us would seem..." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "to be up to our balls in quicksand,\" said Jean between breaths.\n\nOn the water behind them, the old galleon groaned and creaked as the roaring flames consumed it from the inside out. Night was made day for hundreds of yards around; the hull was crisscrossed with the white-orange lines of seams coming apart. Smoke boiled out of those hellish cracks in little black eruptions, the last shuddering breaths of avast wooden beast dying in agony. The four men stood on their pier, strangely alone in the midst of light and noise that was drawing the attention of the entire city. Nobody in the boats was paying any attention to them.\n\n\"Lower your piece, for the love of the gods,\" said Locke's opponent. \"We've been instructed not to kill you, if we don't have to.\"\n\n\"And I'm sure you'd be honest if it were otherwise, of course,\" said Locke. His smile grew. \"I make it a point never to trust men with weapons at my windpipe. Sorry.\"\n\n\"Your hand will start to shake long before mine does.\"\n\n\"I'll rest the tip of my quarrel against your nose when I get tired. Who sent you after us? What are they paying you? We're not without funds; a happy arrangement could be reached.\"\n\n\"Actually,\" said Jean, \"I know who sent them.\"\n\n\"What? Really?\" Locke flicked a glance at Jean before locking eyes with his adversary once again.\n\n\"And an arrangement has been reached, but I wouldn't call it happy.\"\n\n\"Ah... Jean, I'm afraid you've lost me.\"\n\n\"No.\" Jean raised one hand, palm out, to the man opposite him. He then slowly, carefully shifted his aim to his left-until his crossbow was pointing at Locke's head. The man he'd previously been threatening blinked in surprise. \"You've lost me, Locke.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Jean,\" said Locke, the grin vanishing from his face, \"this isn't funny.\"\n\n\"I agree. Hand your piece over tome.\"\n\n\"Jean-\"\n\n\"Hand it over now. Smartly. You there, are you some kind of moron? Get that thing out of my face and point it at him.\"\n\nJean's former opponent licked his lips nervously, but didn't move. Jean ground his teeth together. \"Look, you sponge-witted dock ape, I'm doing your job for you. Point your crossbow at my gods-damned partner so we can get off this pier!\"\n\n\"Jean, I would describe this turn of events as less than helpful,\" said Locke, and he looked as though he might say more, except that Jean's opponent chose that moment to take Jean's advice.\n\nIt seemed to Locke that sweat was now cascading down his face, as though his own treacherous moisture were abandoning the premises before anything worse happened.\n\n\"There. Three on one.\" Jean spat on the pier. \"You gave me no choice but to cut a deal with the employer of these gentlemen before we set out-gods damn it, you forced me. I'm sorry. I thought they'd make contact before they drew down onus. Now give your weapon over.\"\n\n\"Jean, what the hell do you think you're-\"\n\n\"Don't. Don't say another fucking thing. Don't try to finesse me; I know you too well to let you have your say. Silence, Locke. Finger off the trigger and hand it over.\"\n\nLocke stared at the steel-tipped point of Jean's quarrel, his mouth open in disbelief. The world around him seemed to fade to that tiny, gleaming point, alive with the orange reflection of the inferno blazing in the anchorage behind him. Jean would have given him a hand signal if he were lying.... Where the hell was the hand signal?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I don't believe this,\" he whispered. \"This is impossible.\"\n\n\"This is the last time I'm going to say this, Locke.\" Jean ground his teeth together and held his aim steady, directly between Locke's eyes. \"Take your finger off the trigger and handover your gods-damned weapon. Right now.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "CHAPTER FOURTEEN\n\nSCOURGING THE SEA OF BRASS\n\nJAFFRIM RODANOV WADED in the shallows by the hull of an overturned fishing boat, listening to the waves break against its shattered planks as they washed over his ankles. The sand and water of Prodigal Bay were pristine this far from the city. No layers of night soil slimed the water, no rusting metal scraps or pottery shards littered the bottom. No corpses floated as grim rafts for squawking birds.\n\nTwilight, on the seventh day of Aurim. Drakasha gone fora week now. A thousand miles away, Jaffrim thought, a mistake was being made.\n\nYdrena whistled. She was leaning against the hull of the abandoned fishing boat, neither too close nor too far from him, merely emphasizing by her presence that Rodanov was not alone, and that his attendance at this meeting was known to his crew.\n\nJacquelaine Colvard had arrived.\n\nShe left her first mate beside Ydrena, shrugged out of her own boots, and waded into the water without hiking up her breeches. Old and unbent Colvard, who'd been sacking ships in these waters when he'd been a boy with his nose buried in musty scrolls. Before he'd even seen a ship that wasn't inked onto a sheet of parchment.\n\n\"Jaffrim,\" she said. \"Thank you for humoring me.\"\n\n\"There's only one thing you could want to talk about at the moment,\" said Rodanov.\n\n\"Yes. And it's on your mind too, isn't it?\"\n\n\"It was a mistake to give Drakasha our oaths.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Was it?\"\n\nRodanov hooked his thumbs into his sword-belt and looked down at the darkening water, the ripples where his pale ankles vanished into it. \"I was generous when I should have been cynical.\"\n\n\"So you fancy yourself the only one who had the power to forbid this?\"\n\n\"I could have withheld my oath.\"\n\n\"But then it would have been four against one, with you as the one,\" said Colvard, \"and Drakasha would have gone north looking over her shoulder all the way.\"\n\nRodanov felt a cold excitement in his gut.\n\n\"I've noticed curious things, these past few days,\" she continued. \"Your crew has been spending less time in the city. You've been taking on water. And I've seen you on your quarterdeck, testing your instruments. Checking your backstaffs.\"\n\nHis excitement rose. Out here alone, had she come to confront him or abet him? Could she be mad enough to put herself in his reach, if it was the former?\n\n\"You know, then,\" he said at last.\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Do you intend to talk me out of it?\"\n\n\"I intend to see that it's done right.\"\n\n\"Ah.\"\n\n\"You have someone aboard the Poison Orchid, don't you?\"\n\nThough taken aback, Rodanov found himself in no mood to dissemble.\n\n\"If you'll tell me how you know,\" he said, \"I won't insult you by denying it.\"\n\n\"It was an educated guess. After all, you tried to place someone aboard my ship once.\"\n\n\"Ah,\" he said, sucking air through his teeth. \"So Riela didn't die in a boat accident after all.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Yes and no,\" said Colvard. \"It happened in a boat, at least.\"\n\n\"Do you-\"\n\n\"Blame you? No. You're a cautious man, Jaffrim, as I am a fundamentally cautious woman. It's our shared caution that brings us here this evening.\"\n\n\"Do you want to come with?\"\n\n\"No,\" said Colvard. \"And my reasons are practical. First, that the Sovereign is ready for sea while the Draconic is not. Second, that two of us putting out together would cause... an inconvenient degree of speculation when Drakasha fails to return.\"\n\n\"There'll be speculation regardless. And there'll be confirmation. My crew won't bite their tongues forever.\"\n\n\"But anything could have happened, to bring one and one together on the high seas,\" said Colvard. \"If we putout in a squadron, collusion will be the only reasonable possibility.\"\n\n\"And I suppose it's just coincidence,\" said Jaffrim, \"that even several days since you first spotted my preparations, the Draconic still isn't ready for sea?\"\n\n\"Well-\"\n\n\"Spare me, Jacquelaine. I was ready to do this before we came here tonight. Just don't imagine that you've somehow finessed me into going in your place.\"\n\n\"Jaffrim. Peace. So long as this arrow hits the target, it doesn't matter who pulls back the string.\" She unbound her gray hair and let it fly free about her shoulders in the muggy breeze. \"What are your intentions?\"\n\n\"Obvious, I should think. Find her. Before she does enough damage to give Stragos what he wants.\"\n\n\"And should you run her down, what then? Polite messages, broadside to broadside?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"A warning." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A last chance.\"\n\n\"An ultimatum for Drakasha?\" Her frown turned every line on her face near-vertical. \"Jaffrim, you know too well how she'll react to any threat. Like a netted shark. If you try to get close to a creature in that state, you'll lose a hand.\"\n\n\"A fight, then. I suppose we both know it'll come to that.\"\n\n\"And the outcome of that fight?\"\n\n\"My ship is the stronger and I have eighty more souls to spare. It won't be pretty, but I intend to make it mathematical.\"\n\n\"Zamira slain, then.\"\n\n\"That's what tends to happen-\"\n\n\"Assuming you allow her the courtesy of death in battle.\"\n\n\"Allow?\"\n\n\"Consider,\" said Colvard, \"that while Zamira's course of action is too dangerous to tolerate, her logic was impeccable in one respect.\"\n\n\"And that is?\"\n\n\"Merely killing her, plus this Ravelle and Valora, would only serve to bandage a wound that already festers. The rot will deepen. We need to sate Maxilan Stragos' ambition, not just foil it temporarily.\"\n\n\"Agreed. But I'm losing my taste for subtlety as fast as I'm depleting my supply, Colvard. I'm going to be blunt with Drakasha. Grant me the same courtesy.\"\n\n\"Stragos needs a victory not for the sake of his own vanity, but to rouse the people of his city. If that victory is lurking in the waters near Tal Verrar, and if that victory is colorful enough, what need would he have to trouble us down here?\"\n\n\"We put a sacrifice on the altar,\" Rodanov whispered. \"We put Zamira on the altar.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"After Zamira does some damage. After she raises just enough hell to panic the city. If the notorious pirate, the infamous rogue Zamira Drakasha, with a five-thousand solari bounty on her head, were to be paraded through Tal Verrar in chains... brought to justice so quickly after foolishly challenging the city once again...\"\n\n\"Stragos victorious. Tal Verrar united in admiration.\" Rodanov sighed. \"Zamira hungover the Midden Deep in a cage.\"\n\n\"Satisfaction in every quarter,\" said Colvard.\n\n\"I may not be able to take her alive, though.\"\n\n\"Whatever you handover to the archon would be of equal value. Corpse or quick, alive or dead, he'll have his trophy, and the Verrari would swarm the streets to see it. It would be best, I suspect, to let him have what's left of the Poison Orchid as well.\"\n\n\"I do the dirty work. Then hand him the victor's laurels.\"\n\n\"And the Ghostwinds will be spared.\"\n\nRodanov stared out across the waters of the bay for sometime before speaking again. \"So we presume. But we have no better notions.\"\n\n\"When will you leave?\"\n\n\"The morning tide.\"\n\n\"I don't envy you the task of navigating the Sovereign through the Trader's Gate-\"\n\n\"I don't envy myself. I'll take the Parlor Passage.\"\n\n\"Even by day, Jaffrim?\"\n\n\"Hours count. I refuse to see anymore wasted.\" He turned for shore, to retrieve his boots and be on his way. \"Can't buy in for the last hand if you don't get therein time to take a chair.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "FEELING THE hot sting of sudden tears in his eyes, Locke slipped his finger away from the trigger of the alley-piece and slowly put it up in the air.\n\n\"Will you at least tell me why?\" he said.\n\n\"Later.\" Jean didn't lower his own weapon. \"Give me the crossbow. Slowly. Slowly!\"\n\nLocke's arm was shaking; the nervous reaction had lent an unwanted jerkiness to his movements. Concentrating, trying to keep his emotions under control, Locke passed the bow over to Jean.\n\n\"Good,\" said Jean. \"Keep your hands up. You two brought rope, right?\"\n\n\"Yeah.\"\n\n\"I've got him under my bolt. Tie him up. Get his hands and his feet, and make the knots tight.\"\n\nOne of their ambushers pointed his own crossbow into the air and fumbled for rope in a jacket pocket. The other lowered his bow and produced a knife. His eyes had just moved from Locke to his associate when Jean made his next move.\n\nWith his own bow in one hand and Locke's in the other, he calmly pivoted and put a bolt into the head of each of their attackers.\n\nLocke heard the sharp twak-twak of the double release, but it took several seconds for full comprehension of its meaning to travel from his eyes to the back of his skull. He stood there shaking, jaw hanging open, while the two strangers spurted blood, twitched, and died. One of them reflexively curled a finger around the trigger of his weapon. With a final twak that made Locke jump, a bolt whizzed into the darkness.\n\n\"Jean, you-\"\n\n\"How difficult was it to give me the damn weapon?\"\n\n\"But you... you said-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I said...\" Jean grabbed him by his lapels and shook him. \"What do you mean \"I said,\" Locke? Why were you paying attention to what I was saying?\"\n\n\"You didn't-\"\n\n\"Gods, you're shaking. You believed me? How could you believe me?\" Jean released him and stared at him, aghast. \"I thought you were just playing along too intently!\"\n\n\"You didn't give me a hand signal, Jean! What the hell was I supposed to think?\"\n\n\"Didn't give you a hand signal? I flashed you the'lying' sign, plain as that bloody burning ship!\"\n\n\"You did not-\"\n\n\"I did! As if I could forget! I can't believe this! How could you ever think... Where did you think I'd found the time to broker a deal with anyone else? We've been on the same damn ship for two months!\"\n\n\"Jean, without the signal-\"\n\n\"I did give it to you, you twit! I gave it when I did the whole cold, reluctant betrayer bit! \"Actually, I know who sent them.\" Remember?\"\n\n\"Yeah-\"\n\n\"And then the hand signal! The \"Oh, look, Jean Tannen is lying about betraying his best friend in the whole fucking world to a couple of Verrari cutthroats\" signal! Shall we practice that one more often? Do we really need to?\"\n\n\"I didn't see a signal, Jean. Honest to all the gods.\"\n\n\"You missed it.\"\n\n\"Missed it? I-yeah, look, fine. I missed it. It was dark, crossbows everywhere, I should've known. I should've known we didn't even need it. I'm sorry.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He sighed, and looked over at the two bodies, feathered shafts sticking grotesquely out of their motionless heads.\n\n\"We really, really needed to interrogate one of those bastards, didn't we?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Jean.\n\n\"It was... bloody good shooting, regardless.\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Jean?\"\n\n\"Mm?\"\n\n\"We should really be running like hell right now.\"\n\n\"Oh. Yes. Let's.\"\n\n\"AHOY THE ship,\" cried Locke as the boat nudged up against the Poison Orchid's side. He released his grip on the oars with relief; Caldris would have been proud of the pace they'd set in scudding out of Tal Verrar, through a flotilla of priestly delegations and drunkards, past the flaming galleon and the blackened hulks of the previous sacrifices, through air still choked with gray haze.\n\n\"Gods,\" said Delmastro as she helped them up the entry port, \"what happened? Are you hurt?\"\n\n\"Got my feelings dented,\" said Jean, \"but all this blood has been borrowed for the occasion.\"\n\nLocke glanced down at his own finery, smeared with the life of at least two of their attackers. He and Jean looked like drunken amateur butchers.\n\n\"Did you get what you needed?\" asked Delmastro.\n\n\"What we needed? Yes. What we might have wanted? No. And from the goddamn mystery attackers that won't give us a moment's peace in the city? Far too much.\"\n\n\"Who's this, then?\"\n\n\"We have no idea,\" said Locke. \"How do the bastards know where we are, or who we are? It's been nearly two months! Where were we indiscreet?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The Sinspire,\" said Jean, a bit sheepishly.\n\n\"How were they waiting for us at the docks, then? Pretty bloody efficient!\"\n\n\"Were you followed back to the ship?\" asked Delmastro.\n\n\"Not that we could tell,\" said Jean, \"but I think we'd be fools to linger.\"\n\nDelmastro nodded, produced her whistle, and blew the familiar three sharp notes. \"At the waist! Ship capstan bars! Standby to weigh anchor! Boatswain's party, ready to hoist the boat!\"\n\n\"You two look upset,\" she said to Locke and Jean as the ship became a whirlwind of activity around them.\n\n\"Why shouldn't we be?\" Locke rubbed his stomach, still feeling a dull ache where the Sinspire bouncer had struck him. \"We got away, sure, but someone pinned a hell of a lot of trouble onus in return.\"\n\n\"You know what I like to do when I'm in afoul mood?\" said Ezri sweetly. \"I like to sack ships.\" She raised her finger and pointed slowly across the deck, past the hustling crewfolk, out to sea, where another vessel could just be seen, lit by its stern lanterns against the southern darkness. \"Oh, look-there's one right now!\"\n\nThey were knocking on Drakasha's cabin door just moments later.\n\n\"You wouldn't be standing on two legs if that blood was yours,\" she said as she invited them in. \"Is it too much to hope that it belongs to Stragos?\"\n\n\"It is.\"\n\n\"Pity. Well, at least you came back. That's reassuring.\"\n\nPaolo and Cosetta were tangled together on their little bed, snoring peacefully. Drakasha seemed to see no need to whisper in their presence. Locke grinned, remembering that he'd learned to sleep through some pretty awful distractions at their age, too." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Did you make any real progress?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "asked Drakasha.\n\n\"We bought time,\" said Locke. \"And we got out of the city. The issue was in doubt.\"\n\n\"Captain,\" said Delmastro, \"we were sort of wondering if we could get started on the next part of this whole scheme a bit early. Like right now.\"\n\n\"You want to do some boarding and socializing?\"\n\n\"There's a likely suitor waiting to dance about two miles south by west. Away from the city, outside the reefs-\"\n\n\"And the city's a bit absorbed in the festa at the moment,\" added Locke.\n\n\"It'd just be a quick visit, like we've been discussing,\" said Ezri. \"Rouse them up, make 'em piss their breeches, loot the purse and the portable goods, throw things overboard, cut some chains and cripple the rigging-\"\n\n\"I suppose we have to start somewhere,\" said Drakasha. \"Del, send Utgar down to borrow some of my silks and cushions. I want a makeshift bed rigged for the children in the rope locker. If I'm going to wake them up to hide them, it's only fair.\"\n\n\"Right,\" said Delmastro.\n\n\"What's the wind?\"\n\n\"Out of the northeast.\"\n\n\"Put us around due south, bring it onto the larboard quarter. Reefed topsails, slow and steady. Tell Oscarl to hoist out the boats, behind our hull so our friend can't see them in the water.\"\n\n\"Aye, Captain.\" Delmastro shrugged out of her overcoat, left it on Drakasha's table, and ran from the cabin. A few seconds later Locke could hear commotion on deck, Oscarl shouting about how they'd only just been told to raise the boat, and Delmastro yelling something about soft-handed, slack-witted idlers." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You two look ghastly,\" said Zamira. \"I'll have to get anew sea chest to separate the blood-drenched finery from the clean. Confine yourselves to wearing reds and browns next time.\"\n\n\"You know, Captain,\" said Locke, staring down at the blood-soaked sleeves of his jacket, \"that sort of gives mean idea. A really, really amusing idea...\"\n\nJUST PAST the second hour of the morning, with Tal Verrar finally shuddering into a drunken slumber and the festa fires extinguished, the Poison Orchid in her costume as the Chimera crept past the Happy Pilchard. She passed the battered, sleepy little ketch at a distance of about two hundred yards, flying a minimal number of navigational lanterns and offering no hail. That wasn't entirely unusual, in waters where not one act of piracy had been reported for more than seven years.\n\nIn darkness, it was impossible to see that the Orchid's deck carried no boats.\n\nThose boats slowly emerged from the ship's larboard shadow, and at a silent signal their rowers exploded into action. With the haste of their passage they turned the dark sea white. Three faint, frothy lines reached out from Orchid to Pilchard, and by the time the lone watchman on at the ketch's stern noticed anything, it was far too late.\n\n\"Ravelle,\" cried Jean, who was the first up the ketch's side. \"Ravelle!\" Still dressed in his blood-spattered finery, he'd wrapped a scrap of red linen around his head and borrowed an iron-shod quarterstaff from one of the Orchid's arms lockers. Orchids scrambled up behind him-Jabril and Malakasti, Streva and Rask. They carried clubs and saps, leaving their blades sheathed at their belts." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Three boats'worth of pirates boarded from three separate directions; the ketch's meager crew was swept into the waist by shouting, club-waving lunatics, all hollering a name that was meaningless to them, until at last they were subdued and the chief of their tormentors came aboard to exalt in his victory.\n\n\"The name's Ravelle!\"\n\nLocke paced the deck before the thirteen cringing crewfolk and their strange blue-robed passenger. Locke, like Jean, had kept his bloody clothing and topped it off with a red sash at his waist, a red bandanna over his hair, and a scattering of Zamira's jewelry for effect. \"Orrin Ravelle! And I've comeback to pay my respects to Tal Verrar!\"\n\n\"Don't kill us, sir,\" pleaded the captain of the little vessel, a skinny man of about thirty with the tan of a lifelong mariner. \"We ain't even from Tal Verrar, just calling so our charter can-\"\n\n\"You are interrupting critical hydrographic experiments,\" shouted the blue-robed man, attempting to rise to his feet. He was shoved back down by a squad of leering Orchids. \"This information is vital to the interest of all mariners! You cut your own throat if you-\"\n\n\"What the hell's a critical hydrographic experiment, old man?\"\n\n\"By examining seafloor composition-\"\n\n\"Seafloor composition? Can I eat that? Can I spend it? Can I take it back to my cabin and fuck it sideways?\"\n\n\"No and no and most certainly no!\"\n\n\"Right,\" said Locke. \"Toss this fucker over the side.\"\n\n\"You ignorant bastards! You hypocritical apes. Let go-let goof me!\" Locke was pleased to see Jean stepping into perform the duty of heaving the robed scholar off the deck; not only would the man be scared witless, but Jean would control the situation precisely to keep him from actually getting hurt." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Oh, please, sir, don't do that,\" said the Pilchard's captain. \"Master Donatti's harmless sir, please-\"\n\n\"Look,\" said Locke, \"is everyone on this tub an idiot besides me? Why would I sully the soles of my boots with a visit to this embarrassment unless you had something I wanted?\"\n\n\"The, um, hydrographic experiments?\" asked the captain.\n\n\"Money!\" Locke seized him by the front of his tunic and heaved him to his feet. \"I want every valuable, every drinkable, every consumable this overgrown dinghy has to offer, or you can watch the old bastard drown! How's that fora hydrographic experiment?\"\n\nTHEY DIDN'T clear such a bad haul for such a little ship; obviously, Donatti had paid well to be carried around for his experiments, and been unwilling to sail without many of the comforts of home. A boat laden with liquors, fine tobacco, silk pillows, books, artificers\" instruments, alchemical drugs, and bags of silver coins was soon sent back to the Orchid, while'Ravelle's\" pirates finished sabotaging the little ship.\n\n\"Rudder lines disabled, sir,\" said Jean about half an hour after they'd boarded.\n\n\"Halyards cut, braces cut,\" shouted Delmastro, plainly enjoying her role as an ordinary buccaneer for this attack. She strolled along the larboard rail with a hatchet, chopping things seemingly at whim. \"Whatever the hell that was, cut!\"\n\n\"Sir, please,\" pleaded the captain, \"that'll take ages to fix. You got all the valuables already....\"\n\n\"I don't want you to die out here,\" said Locke, yawning in feigned boredom at the captain's pleas. \"I just want to have a few quiet hours before this news gets back to Tal Verrar.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Oh, sir, we'll do what you ask." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Whatever you want; we won't tell no one-\"\n\n\"Please,\" said Locke. \"Cling to some dignity, Master Pilchard. I want you to talk about this. Allover the place. Use it to leverage sympathy from whores. Maybe get a few free drinks in taverns. Most importantly, repeat my name. Orrin Ravelle.\"\n\n\"O-orrin Ravelle, sir.\"\n\n\"Captain Orrin Ravelle,\" said Locke, drawing a dagger and placing it against the captain's throat. \"Of the good ship Tal Verrar Is Fucked! You stop in and let them know I'm in the neighborhood!\"\n\n\"I, uh, I will, sir.\"\n\n\"Good.\" Locke dropped the man back to the deck and stowed his dagger. \"Then let's call it quits. I'll let you have your amusing little toy ship back now.\"\n\nLocke and Jean met briefly at the stern before boarding the last boat back to the Orchid.\n\n\"Gods,\" said Jean, \"the archon is going to love this.\"\n\n\"Well, we didn't lie to him, did we? We promised pirate attacks at every compass point. We just didn't say they'd all feature Zamira as the major attraction.\" Locke blew a kiss to the city, spread across the northern horizon. \"Happy festa, Protector.\"\n\n\"IF THERE'S one thing I never particularly need to do again in my life,\" said Locke, \"it's dangle here all day painting this bloody ship's ass.\"\n\nAt the third hour of the afternoon the next day, Locke and Jean were hanging from crude rope swings secured to the Poison Orchid's taffrail. Now that last night's hasty coat of dark paint had forever blotted out the Chimera, they were laboriously christening the ship with anew moniker, Delight. Their hands and tunics were spattered with thick silver gobs." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They had gotten as far as Delig, and Paolo and Cosetta were making faces at them through the stern windows of Zamira's cabin.\n\n\"I think piracy's a bit like drinking,\" said Jean. \"You want to stay out all night doing it, you pay the price the next day.\"\n\nThe Orchid had turned north that morning a comfortable forty or fifty miles west of the city; Drakasha had cleared the area of their Pilchard raid with haste, and decided to spend the day at a remove, brushing up her old wooden girl's new disguise. Or, more accurately, turning that duty over to Locke and Jean.\n\nThey finally managed to put the'light\" into Delight around the fourth hour of the afternoon. Thirsty and sun-baked, they were hauled up to the quarterdeck by Delmastro, Drakasha, and Nasreen. After they'd gulped down proffered mugs of lukewarm cask water, Drakasha beckoned for them to follow her down to her cabin.\n\n\"Last night was well done,\" she said. \"Well done and nicely confusing. I don't doubt the archon will be rather vexed.\"\n\n\"I'd pay something to be a fly on a tavern wall in Tal Verrar these next few days,\" said Locke.\n\n\"But it's also given me a thought, on our general strategy.\"\n\n\"Which is?\"\n\n\"You told me that captain and crew of the ketch weren't Verrari-that will curb some of the impact of their story. There'll be questions about their reliability. Ignorant rumors and mutterings.\"\n\n\"Right...\"\n\n\"So what we've just done will fester,\" said Zamira. \"It will cause comment, speculation, and a great deal of aggravation to Stragos, but it won't cause a panic, or have the Verrari rioting in the streets for his intercession. Ina way, as our first bit of piracy on his behalf, it's a bit of a botch job.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You wound our professional pride,\" said Jean.\n\n\"And my own! But consider this... perhaps what we need is a string of similarly botched jobs.\"\n\n\"This sounds like it's going to have a very entertaining explanation,\" said Locke.\n\n\"Del told me this afternoon that you two are pinning your hopes fora solution on Stragos' personal alchemist; that you can somehow secure his assistance by making him a private offer.\"\n\n\"That's true enough,\" said Locke. \"It's one of the aspects of last night's visit to the Mon Magisteria that didn't go very well.\"\n\n\"So obviously what we need to do,\" said Drakasha, \"is give you another chance to make this alchemist's acquaintance. Another plausible reason to visit the Mon Magisteria, soon. Good little servants, eager to hear their master's opinion on how their work is progressing.\"\n\n\"Ahhh,\" said Locke. \"And if he's looking to shout at us, we can be sure he'll at least let us in fora chat.\"\n\n\"Exactly. So. What we need to do... is something colorful. Something striking, something that is undeniably a sincere example of our best efforts on Stragos'behalf. But... it can't threaten Tal Verrar directly. Not to the point that Stragos would feel it a useful step in his intended direction.\"\n\n\"Hmmm,\" said Jean. \"Striking. Colorful. Nonthreatening. I'm not entirely sure these concepts blend well with the piratical life.\"\n\n\"Kosta,\" said Drakasha, \"you're staring at me very strangely. Do you have an idea, or did I leave you out in the sun for too long today?\"\n\n\"Striking, colorful, and not threatening Tal Verrar directly,\" Locke whispered. \"Gods! Captain Drakasha, you would so honor me if you would consent to one humble suggestion....\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "MOUNT AZAR was quiet this morning, the twenty-fifth of Aurim, and the sky above Salon Corbeau was blue as a river's depths, unmarked by the old volcano's gray smoke." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was another mild winter on the northern Brass Coast, in a climate more reliable than Verrari clockwork.\n\n\"New swells coming in,\" said Zoran, chief dock attendant of the morning watch.\n\n\"I don't see anymore waves than what we already got.\" Giatti, his more junior counterpart, stared earnestly across the harbor.\n\n\"Not swells, you idiot, swells. Gentlefolk. The landed and larded class.\" Zoran adjusted his olive-green tabard and brushed it clean, wishing that he didn't have to wear Lady Saljesca's damned felt hat. It made him look taller, but it generated sweat without keeping it out of his eyes.\n\nBeyond the natural rock walls of Salon Corbeau's harbor, a stately new brig, a two-master with a dark witchwood hull, had joined the two Lashani feluccas at anchor in the gentle sea. A longboat was coming in from the newcomer; four or five of the quality rowed by a dozen oarsmen.\n\nAs the longboat pulled up alongside the dock, Giatti bent down and began uncoiling a rope from one of the dock pilings. When the bow of the boat was secure, Zoran stepped to its side, bowed, and extended his hand to the first young woman to rise from her seat.\n\n\"Welcome to Salon Corbeau,\" he said. \"How are you styled, and how must you be announced?\"\n\nThe short young woman, unusually tanned for someone of her station, smiled prettily as she took Zoran's hand. She wore a forest-green jacket over a matching set of frilled skirts; the color set her curly, chestnut-colored hair off rather well. She seemed to be wearing rather less makeup and jewelry than might be expected, however. A poorer relative of whoever owned the ship?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Forgive me, madam, but I must know whom I'm announcing.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She stepped safely onto the dock, and he released his grip on her hand. To his surprise, she didn't release hers, and in one smooth motion she was up against him with the menacing weight of a blackened-steel dagger touching the crook of his thigh. He gasped.\n\n\"Heavily armed pirates, party of ninety-eight,\" the woman said. \"Scream or fightback and you're going to be one surprised eunuch.\"\n\n\"STAY CALM,\" said Delmastro as Locke led Jean, Streva, Jabril, and Big Konar up onto the dock. \"We're all friends here. Just a wealthy family coming up fora visit to your lovely little village. City. Thing.\" She kept her knife between herself and the older dock attendant, so there was no chance of anyone seeing it from more than a few feet away. Konar took the younger dock attendant, placing one arm around his shoulder as though they knew each other, and muttered something into his ear that made the color drain from the poor fellow's face.\n\nSlowly, carefully, the Orchids all made their way onto the dock. At the heart of the group, those wearing layers of fine clothing tried not to make too much noise, laden down as they were with an arsenal of clattering weapons beneath their cloaks and skirts. It had been too much to suppose that the dock attendants wouldn't notice sabers and hatchets in the belts of the rowers.\n\n\"Here we are, then,\" said Locke.\n\n\"Looks like a nice place,\" said Jean.\n\n\"Looks are most assuredly deceiving. Now we just wait for the captain to get things started.\"\n\n\"EXCUSE ME? Excuse me, sir?\"\n\nZamira Drakasha, alone in the Orchid's smallest boat, stared up at the bored-looking guard behind the ornamented gunwale of the yacht closest to her ship. That yacht, about fifteen yards long, had a single mast and banks of four oars per side. Those oars were locked upward now, poised like the wings of a stuffed and mounted bird. Just abaft the mast was a tent-like pavilion with faintly fluttering silk walls. This tent was between the guard and the mainland." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The guard peered down at her, squinting. Zamira was wearing a thick, shapeless yellow dress that was almost a robe. She'd left her hat in her cabin, and pulled the bangles and ribbons out of her hair.\n\n\"What do you want?\"\n\n\"My mistress has left me to tend to chores on her ship, while she takes her pleasure ashore,\" said Zamira. \"I have several heavy things to move, and I was wondering if I could beg for your help.\"\n\n\"You want me to come over there and be a mule for you?\"\n\n\"It would be so kind of you.\"\n\n\"And, ah, what are you prepared to do in exchange?\"\n\n\"Why, offer my heartfelt thanks to the gods for your goodness,\" said Zamira, \"or perhaps I could brew you some tea?\"\n\n\"You have a cabin over there?\"\n\n\"Yes, by the kindness of my mistress-\"\n\n\"A few minutes alone with you and that mouth of yours, and I'd be happy to move your shit for you.\"\n\n\"How... how inappropriate! My mistress will-\"\n\n\"Who's your mistress, then?\"\n\n\"The Lady-in-Becoming Ezriane de la Mastron, of Nicora-\"\n\n\"Nicora? Ha! As if anyone would give a shit. Get lost.\"\n\nThe guard turned away, chuckling to himself.\n\n\"Ah,\" said Zamira. \"So be it. I know when I'm not wanted.\"\n\nShe reached forward and moved the dun-colored tarpaulin on the bottom of the boat, just ahead of her feet. Beneath it was the heaviest crossbow in the Poison Orchid's arsenal, carrying a barbed steel bolt the length of her upper arm." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And I simply do not care.\"\n\nThe guard was no doubt flustered by the sudden emergence, two seconds later, of a crossbow quarrel's point from his sternum. Zamira wondered if he had time to speculate on the location of the rest of the bolt before he collapsed, the upper and lower halves of his spine no longer on speaking terms.\n\nZamira pulled the yellow dress up and over her head, then tossed it into the back of the boat. Beneath it she wore her Elderglass vest, light tunic and breeches, boots, and a pair of slender leather bracers. Her sword-belt was at her waist, empty; she reached beneath her rowing bench, pulled out her sabers, and slid them into their scabbards. She rowed her little boat up against the yacht's side and waved to Nasreen, who stood at the Orchid's bow. Two crewfolk climbed over the brig's side and dove into the water.\n\nThe swimmers were alongside a minute later. Zamira helped them out of the water and sent them forward to man one of the sets of oars. She then pulled the pins to release the yacht's anchor chains; no sense in wasting time hoisting it up. With her two sailors rowing and Zamira manning the rudder, it took just a few minutes to shift the yacht behind the Poison Orchid.\n\nHer crew began to come quietly down onto the yacht, armed and armored, looking completely incongruous as they squeezed themselves onto the fragile, scrollwork-covered vessel. Zamira counted forty-two before she felt the boat could take no more; crewfolk were crouched on deck, stuffed into the cabin, and manning all the oars. This would do; nearly two-thirds of her crew onshore to handle the main attack, and the other third on the Orchid to hit the vessels in the harbor." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She waved at Utgar, who would be in charge of that last duty. He grinned and left the entry port to begin his final preparations.\n\nZamira's rowers brought the yacht out and around the Orchid; they turned to larboard just past her stern and pointed themselves straight toward the beach. Beyond that the buildings and tiered gardens of the rich little valley could be seen, laid out neat as food before a banquet.\n\n\"Who brought the finishing touch?\" Zamira asked.\n\nOne of her crewmen unfolded a red silk banner and began securing it to the ensign halyard dangling from the yacht's mast.\n\n\"Right, then.\" Zamira knelt at the bow of the yacht and gave her sword-belt a habitual adjustment. \"Oars, with a will! Put us on that beach!\"\n\nAs the yacht surged forward across the temporarily calm waters of the bay, Zamira noticed a few small figures atop the nearby cliffs finally taking alarm. One or two of them ran toward the city; it looked as though they'd arrive about the same time Zamira expected to feel the sand of the beach beneath her boots.\n\n\"That's it,\" she shouted. \"Send up the red and let's have some music!\"\n\nAs the scarlet banner shot up the halyard and caught the wind, every Orchid on the yacht let loose with a wild, wordless howl. Their yells echoed throughout the harbor, the disguised Orchids at the dock began seizing weapons, every visible person on the cliffs was now fleeing for the city, and Zamira's sabers flashed in the sunlight as she drew them for action.\n\nIt was the very definition of a beautiful morning.\n\n\"WAS IT absolutely necessary to sack Salon Corbeau so thoroughly?\" said Stragos." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Locke and Jean were seated in the archon's office, surrounded by the faint shadowy flutterings of his thousand mechanical insects." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It might just have been the shadows of the low-lit room, but it seemed to Locke that the lines on Stragos\" face had deepened in the days since he'd last seen him.\n\n\"It was loads of fun. You have some particular attachment to the place?\"\n\n\"Not for my own sake, Lamora-it's just that I had the clear impression that you were going to focus your activities on shipping in the vicinity of Tal Verrar.\"\n\n\"Salon Corbeau is generally considered to be in the vicinity of-\"\n\n\"Is it a ship, Lamora?\"\n\n\"There were ships in the harbor-\"\n\n\"I have the gods-damned numbers here, from my agents,\" said Stragos. He stabbed at apiece of parchment with two fingers. \"Two feluccas sunk. Forty-six yachts, pleasure barges, and smaller craft, burned or sunk. One hundred and eighteen slaves stolen. Nineteen of Countess Saljesca's private guard slain, sixteen wounded. The vast majority of Salon Corbeau's residences and guest villas burnt, the gardens all but destroyed. Her replica stadium gutted. Miscellaneous damages and losses exceeding ninety-five thousand solari at a first estimate. About the only things you missed were a few shops and Lady Saljesca's residence itself!\"\n\nLocke smirked. That had been by design; after Saljesca's most important guests had fled to her fortresslike manor and barricaded themselves therewith her remaining soldiers, attacking the manor would have been fruitless; the Orchids would have been slaughtered beneath the walls. But with their only opposition bottled up atop the valley, Drakasha's crew had been free to run amok for more than an hour, looting and burning the valley at leisure. They'd lost only four crewfolk in the attack." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As for the shops, well-Locke had specifically requested that the area surrounding the Baumondain family business be left alone.\n\n\"We didn't have time to hit everything,\" he said. \"And now that Salon Corbeau's more or less ruined, some of those artisans might see fit to settle in Tal Verrar. Safer down here, with you and your military around, right?\"\n\n\"How can you spend your time executing a raid like that so efficiently,\" said Stragos, \"when your efforts toward my primary design are so perfunctory?\"\n\n\"I object-\"\n\n\"One attack by Orrin Ravelle-thank you for that, by the way-the night of the festa, against an Iridani ketch hired by a mad eccentric. Two more reported attacks, both in the vicinity of Salon Corbeau, one by Ravelle and one by the unknown\" Captain de la Mastron.\"Does Drakasha fear to take credit for her own work?\"\n\n\"We're trying to create the impression of multiple pirates at work-\"\n\n\"What you are trying is my patience. You have stolen no major cargos, burned no ships at sea, nor even murdered any crewfolk. You content yourselves with money and portable valuables, you humiliate and frighten your prisoners, you do little more than vandalize their vessels, and then you vanish.\"\n\n\"We can't weigh ourselves down with heavier cargo; we've got a lot of roaming to do.\"\n\n\"It seems tome that you have a fair bit of killing to do,\" said Stragos. \" The city is more bemused now than concerned; I continue to suffer in the public eye for the Ravelle affair, but few fear that this spree of... hooliganism truly bodes ill for Verrari trade.\n\n\"Even the sack of Salon Corbeau has failed to arouse anxiety. Your recent attacks give the impression that you now fear to approach the city again; that these waters remain safe.\" Stragos glared before continuing. \"Were I purchasing goods from a tradesman, at the moment, I would not be well pleased with their quality.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The difference, of course,\" said Locke, \"is that when I get fitted for, say, new jackets, I don't poison my tailor until he has the length of the sleeves right-\"\n\n\"My life and fortunes are at stake,\" said Stragos, rising from his chair. \" And so are yours, dependent upon your success. I require butchers, not jesters. Take ships within sight of my city's walls. Put their crews to the sword. Take their cargo or burn it-the time has come to be serious. That and that alone will stir this city to its foundations.\n\n\"Do not return,\" he said, emphasizing every word, \"until you have spilled blood in these waters. Until you have become a scourge.\"\n\n\"So be it,\" said Locke. \"Another sip of our antidote-\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"If you wish us to work with absolute confidence-\"\n\n\"You will keep,\" said Stragos. \"Like pickled eggs in ajar. It has been less than two weeks since your last dose. You are in no danger for six more.\"\n\n\"But-wait, Archon.\" Jean interrupted him as he was turning to leave. \"One thing more. When we came to this city on the night of the festa, we were attacked again.\"\n\nStragos' eyes narrowed. \"The same assassins as before?\"\n\n\"If you mean the same mystery, yes, we think so,\" said Jean. \"Some lurked in wait for us at the docks after we visited Requin. If they received a tip-off concerning our presence in the city, they moved damned fast.\"\n\n\"And the only place we went,\" added Locke, \"before visiting the Golden Steps was here.\"\n\n\"My people had nothing to do with it,\" said Stragos. \"Indeed, this is the first I have heard of the matter.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"We left four dead behind us,\" said Jean.\n\n\"Unremarkable. The constables found nearly thirty bodies throughout the city after the festa; there are always arguments and robberies to supply them.\" Stragos sighed. \"Obviously, this is nothing of my doing, and I have nothing more to tell you on the matter. I presume you'll be returning straight to your ship when you leave.\"\n\n\"At speed,\" said Locke. \"Staying as far from the islands as we can.\"\n\n\"The complications of some previous malfeasance have obviously comeback to ensnare you,\" said Stragos. \"Now leave. No more antidote and no more consultation. You extend your lease on fair health again only once you send panicked merchants to my gates, begging for help because death lurks beyond these harbors. Go now and do your job.\"\n\nHe whirled and left without a further word. A moment later a squad of Eyes marched in through the main door and waited expectantly.\n\n\"Well, damn,\" muttered Jean.\n\n\"WE'LL GET the bastard,\" said Ezri as they lay together in her cabin that night. The Poison Orchid, now calling itself the Mercurial, was treading heavy seas about twenty miles southwest of Tal Verrar, and the two of them clung to one another as they rocked back and forth in the hammock.\n\n\"With difficulty,\" said Jean. \"He won't see us now until we do some serious work on his behalf... and if we do that, we might push things to the point that he no longer needs us. We'll get a knife, rather than an antidote. Or... if it comes to that, he'll get the knife-\"\n\n\"Jean, I don't want to hear that,\" she said. \"Don't talk about it.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It's got to be faced, love-\"\n\n\"I don't believe it,\" she said. \"I don't. There's always away to attack or away to escape. That's the way it is out here.\" She rolled over on top of him and kissed him. \"I told you not to give up, Jean Tannen, and the thing about me is I get my way.\"\n\n\"Gods,\" whispered Jean, \"how did I ever live before I met you?\"\n\n\"Sadly, poorly, miserably,\" she said. \"I make everything so much better. It's why the gods put me here. Now quit moping and tell me something pleasant!\"\n\n\"Something pleasant?\"\n\n\"Yeah, slackwit, I've heard that other lovers sometimes tell one another pleasant things when they're alone-\"\n\n\"Yes, but with you it's sort of on pain of death, isn't it?\"\n\n\"It could be. Let me find a saber-\"\n\n\"Ezri,\" he said with sudden seriousness. \"Look-when this is over, Stragos and all, Leocanto and I might be... very rich men. If our other business in Tal Verrar goes well.\"\n\n\"Not if,\" she said. \"When.\"\n\n\"All right,\" he said. \"When it does... you really could come with us. Leo and I spoke about it a bit. You don't have to choose one life or another, Ezri. You can just sort of... goon leave fora bit. We all could.\"\n\n\"What do you mean?\"\n\n\"We could get a yacht,\" said Jean, \"in Vel Virazzo, there's this place-the private marina, where all the swells keep their boats and barges. They usually have a few for sale, if you've got a few hundred solari on hand, which we intend to. We have to go to Vel Virazzo anyway, to sort of... finish our business. We could have a boat fitted out in a couple of days, and then just... poke around a bit! Drift. Enjoy ourselves. Pretend to be useless gentlefolk fora while.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And comeback to all this later, you mean?\"\n\n\"Whenever you wanted,\" said Jean. \"Have it as you like. You always get your way, don't you?\"\n\n\"Live on a yacht fora while with you and Leocanto,\" she said. \"No offense, Jean, you're passable fora landsman, but by his own admission Leocanto couldn't con a shoe across a puddle of piss-\"\n\n\"What do you think we'd be bringing you along for, hmmm?\"\n\n\"Well, I would have imagined that this had something to do with it,\" she said, moving her hands strategically to a more interesting location.\n\n\"Ah,\" he said, \"and so it does, but you could sort of be honorary captain, too-\"\n\n\"Can I name the boat?\"\n\n\"As if you'd let anyone else do it!\"\n\n\"All right,\" she whispered. \"If that's the plan, that's the plan. We'll do it.\"\n\n\"You really mean-\"\n\n\"Hell,\" she said, \"with just the swag we pulled from Salon Corbeau, everyone on this crew can stay drunk for months when we get back to the Ghostwinds. Zamira won't miss me fora while.\" They kissed. \"Half a year.\" They kissed again. \"Year or two, maybe.\"\n\n\"Always away to attack,\" Jean mused between kisses, \"always away to escape.\"\n\n\"Of course,\" she whispered. \"Hold fast, and sooner or later you'll always find what you're after.\"\n\nJAFFRIM RODANOV paced the quarterdeck of the Dread Sovereign in the silvery-orange light of earliest morning. They were bound north by west with the wind on the starboard quarter, about forty miles southwest of Tal Verrar. The seas were running at five or six feet." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Tal Verrar. Half a day's sailing to the city they'd avoided like a colony of slipskinners these past seven years; to the home of a navy that could crush even his powerful Sovereign if roused to anger. There was no genuine freedom in these waters, only a vague illusion. Fat merchant ships he could never touch; a rich city he could never sack. Yet he could live with that. It was grand, provided only that the freedom and the plunder of the southern seas could remain.\n\n\"Captain,\" said Ydrena, appearing on deck with a chipped clay mug of her usual brandy-laced morning tea in one hand, \"I don't mean to ruin a fine new morning-\"\n\n\"You wouldn't be my first if I needed my ass kissed more than I needed my ship sailed.\"\n\n\"A week out here without a lead, Captain.\"\n\n\"We've seen two dozen sails of merchants, luggers, and pleasure galleys just these past two days,\" said Rodanov. \"And we have yet to see a naval ensign. There's still time to find her.\"\n\n\"No quarrel with that logic, Captain. It's the finding her that's-\"\n\n\"A royal pain in the ass. I know.\"\n\n\"It's not as though she'll be roaming around announcing herself as Zamira Drakasha of the Poison Orchid,\" said Ydrena, taking a sip of her tea. \"\"Well met, we're infamous shipwreckers from the Ghostwinds; mind if we pull alongside fora visit? '\"\n\n\"She can claim whatever name she likes,\" said Rodanov, \"paint whatever she wants on her stern, mess with her sail plan until she looks like a constipated xebec, but she's only got one hull. Dark witchwood hull. And we've been seeing it for years.\"" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Advance the storyline as the writer's tale partner.\nTags: fantasy, heist, pirates\nAuthor: Scott Lynch\nTitle: Red Seas Under Red Skies\nChapter: 21" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Tal Verrar. Half a day's sailing to the city they'd avoided like a colony of slipskinners these past seven years; to the home of a navy that could crush even his powerful Sovereign if roused to anger. There was no genuine freedom in these waters, only a vague illusion. Fat merchant ships he could never touch; a rich city he could never sack. Yet he could live with that. It was grand, provided only that the freedom and the plunder of the southern seas could remain.\n\n\"Captain,\" said Ydrena, appearing on deck with a chipped clay mug of her usual brandy-laced morning tea in one hand, \"I don't mean to ruin a fine new morning-\"\n\n\"You wouldn't be my first if I needed my ass kissed more than I needed my ship sailed.\"\n\n\"A week out here without a lead, Captain.\"\n\n\"We've seen two dozen sails of merchants, luggers, and pleasure galleys just these past two days,\" said Rodanov. \"And we have yet to see a naval ensign. There's still time to find her.\"\n\n\"No quarrel with that logic, Captain. It's the finding her that's-\"\n\n\"A royal pain in the ass. I know.\"\n\n\"It's not as though she'll be roaming around announcing herself as Zamira Drakasha of the Poison Orchid,\" said Ydrena, taking a sip of her tea. \"\"Well met, we're infamous shipwreckers from the Ghostwinds; mind if we pull alongside fora visit? '\"\n\n\"She can claim whatever name she likes,\" said Rodanov, \"paint whatever she wants on her stern, mess with her sail plan until she looks like a constipated xebec, but she's only got one hull. Dark witchwood hull. And we've been seeing it for years.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"All hulls are dark until you get awful close, Captain.\"\n\n\"Ydrena, if I had a better notion, believe me, we'd be pursuing it.\" He yawned and stretched, feeling the heavy muscles in his arms flex pleasantly. \"Only word we've got is a few ships getting hit, and now Salon Corbeau. She's circling out here somewhere, keeping west. It's what I'd do-more sea room.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" said Ydrena. \"Such a very great deal of sea room.\"\n\n\"Ydrena,\" he said softly, \"I've come along way to break an oath and kill a friend. I'll go as far as it takes, and I'll haunt her wake as long as it takes. We'll quarter this sea until one of us finds the other.\"\n\n\"Or the crew decides they've had-\"\n\n\"It's a good long haul till we cross that line. In the meantime, double all our top-eyes by night. Triple them by day. We'll put half the fucking crew up the masts if we have to.\"\n\n\"New sail ahoy,\" called a voice from atop the foremast. The cry was passed back down the deck, and Rodanov ran forward, unable to restrain himself. They'd heard the cry fifty times that week if they'd heard it once, but each time might be the time.\n\n\"Where away?\"\n\n\"Three points off the starboard bow!\"\n\n\"Ydrena,\" Rodanov shouted, \"set more canvas! Straight for the sighting! Helm, bring us about north-northeast on the starboard tack!\"\n\nWhatever the sighting was, the Dread Sovereign was at home in wind and waters like this; her size and weight allowed her to crash through waves that would steal speed from lighter vessels. They would close with the sighting very soon." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Still, the minutes passed interminably. They came about to their new course, seizing the power of the wind now blowing from just abaft their starboard beam. Rodanov prowled the forecastle, waiting-\n\n\"Captain Rodanov! She's a two-master, sir! Say again, two masts!\"\n\n\"Very good,\" he shouted. \"Ydrena! First mate to the forecastle!\"\n\nShe was therein a minute, pale blond hair fluttering in the breeze. She tossed back the last of her morning tea as she arrived.\n\n\"Take my best glass to the foretop,\" he said. \"Tell me... as soon as you know anything.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" she said. \"At least it's something to do.\"\n\nThe morning progressed with torturous slowness, but at least the sky was cloudless. Good conditions for spotting. The sun grew higher and brighter, until-\n\n\"Captain,\" hollered Ydrena. \"Witchwood hull! That's a two-masted brig with a witchwood hull!\"\n\nHe couldn't stand waiting passively anymore. \"I'm coming up myself,\" he shouted.\n\nLaboriously, he crawled up the foremast shrouds, to the observation platform at the maintop, a place he'd left to smaller, younger sailors for many years. Ydrena was perched there, along with a crewman who shuffled aside to make room for him on the platform. Rodanov took the glass and peered at the ship on the horizon, stared at it until not even the most cautious part of himself would let him deny it.\n\n\"It's her,\" he said. \"She's done something fancy to her sails, but that's the Orchid.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What now?\"\n\n\"Set every scrap of canvas we can bear,\" he said. \"Steal as much of this ocean from her as we can before she recognizes us.\"\n\n\"Do you want to try and bring her up with signals? Offer parley, then jump her?\"\n\n\"\"Let us speak behind our hands, lest our lips be read as the book of our designs,\"\" he said.\n\n\"More of your poetry?\"\n\n\"Verse, not poetry. And no. She'll recognize us, sooner or later, and when she does she'll know exactly what our business is.\"\n\nHe passed the glass back to Ydrena, and prepared to go back down the shrouds.\n\n\"Straight on for her, cloaks off and weapons free. We can give her that much, for the last fight she'll ever have.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "CHAPTER FIFTEEN\n\nBETWEEN BRETHREN\n\n\"DOES JEROME KNOW that you're asking me to do this?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\nLocke stood beside Drakasha at the taffrail, huddled close to her so they could converse privately. It was the seventh hour of the morning, more or less, and the sun was ascending into a cloudless bowl of blue sky. The wind was from the east, a touch abaft their starboard beam, and the waves were getting rowdy.\n\n\"And you feel that-\"\n\n\"Yes, I do feel that I can speak for both of us,\" said Locke. \"There's no other choice. We won't see Stragos again unless you do as he asks. And to be frank, if you do as he asks, I think our usefulness ends. We'll have one more chance at physical access to him. It's time to show this fucker how we used to do things in Camorr.\"\n\n\"I thought you specialized in dishonest finesse.\"\n\n\"I also do a brisk trade inputting knives to peoples' throats and shouting at them,\" said Locke.\n\n\"But if you request another meeting after we sink a few ships for him, don't you think he'll be prepared for treachery? Especially in a palace crowded with soldiers?\"\n\n\"All I have to do is get close to him,\" said Locke. \"I'm not going to pretend I could fight my way through a wall of guards, but from six inches with a good stiletto, I'm the hand of Aza Guilla Herself.\"\n\n\"Hold him hostage, then?\"\n\n\"Simple. Direct. Hopefully effective. If I can't trick an antidote out of him, or cut a deal with his apothecary, maybe I can frighten him half to death.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And you honestly believe you've thought this through?\"\n\n\"Captain Drakasha, I could barely sleep for pondering it. Why do you think I wandered back hereto find you?\"\n\n\"Well-\"\n\n\"Captain!\" The mainmast watch was hailing the deck. \"Got action behind us!\"\n\n\"What do you mean?\"\n\n\"Sail maybe three points off the larboard quarter, at the horizon. Just came around real sudden. Went from sort of westerly to pointed right at us.\"\n\n\"Good eyes,\" said Drakasha. \"Keep me informed. Utgar!\"\n\n\"Aye, Captain?\"\n\n\"Double the watch on each mast. On deck there! Make ready fora course change! Standby tacks and braces! Wait for my word!\"\n\n\"Real trouble, Captain?\"\n\n\"Probably not,\" said Drakasha. \"Even if Stragos had changed his mind since yesterday and decided to hunt us down now, a Verrari warship wouldn't becoming from that direction.\"\n\n\"Hopefully.\"\n\n\"Aye. So what we do is we change our own heading, nice and slow. If their course change was innocent, they'll sail merrily past.\" She cleared her throat. \"Helm, come round northwest by north, smartly! Utgar! Get the yards braced fora wind on the starboard quarter!\"\n\n\"Aye, Captain!\"\n\nThe Poison Orchid slowly heeled even farther to larboard, until she was headed almost due northwest. The stiff breeze now blew across the quarterdeck, nearly into Locke's face. To the south he fancied that he could see tiny sails; from the deck the vessel was still hull-down.\n\nA few minutes later came the shout. \"Captain! She's come five or six points to her larboard! She's for us again!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"We're off her starboard bow,\" said Drakasha. \"She's trying to close with us. But that doesn't make sense.\" She snapped her fingers. \"Wait. Might be a bounty-privateer.\"\n\n\"How could they know it's us?\"\n\n\"Probably got a description of the Orchid from the crew of that ketch you visited. Look, we could only hope to disguise my girl for so long. These lovely witchwood planks of hers are too distinctive.\"\n\n\"So... how much of a problem is this?\"\n\n\"Depends on who's got the speed. If she's a bounty-privateer, that's a profitless fight. She'll be carrying dangerous folk and no swag. So if we're the faster, I mean to show her our ass and wave farewell.\"\n\n\"And if not?\"\n\n\"A profitless fight.\"\n\n\"Captain,\" hollered one of the top-eyes, \"she's a three-master!\"\n\n\"This just gets better and better,\" said Drakasha. \"Go wake up Ezri and Jerome for me.\"\n\n\"BAD LUCK,\" said Delmastro. \"Bad damned luck.\"\n\n\"Only for them, if I have my way,\" said Zamira.\n\nThe captain and her lieutenant stood at the taffrail, staring at the faint square of white that marked their pursuer's position on the horizon. Locke waited with Jean a few steps away, at the starboard rail. Drakasha had nudged the ship a few points south, so that they were traveling west-northwest with the wind fine on the starboard quarter, what she claimed was the Orchid's best point of sail. Locke knew this was something of a risk; if their opponent was the faster, they could lay an intercepting course that would bring them up much sooner than astern chase. The trouble was that such a chase to the north could not last; unlimited sea room existed only to their west." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I'm not sure we're gaining any ground, Captain,\" said Delmastro after a few minutes of silence.\n\n\"Nor I. Damn this jumpy sea. If she's a three-master she may have the weight to carve a better speed out of it.\"\n\n\"Captain!\" The cry from up the mainmast was even more urgent than usual. \"Captain, she's not falling away, and... Captain, beggin\" pardon, but you might want to come and see this for yourself.\"\n\n\"See what?\"\n\n\"If I ain't mad I've seen that ship before,\" shouted the watch-woman. \"I'd swear it. I'd appreciate another set of eyes.\"\n\n\"I'll take a look,\" said Delmastro. \"Mind if I fetch up your favorite glass?\"\n\n\"Drop it, and I'll give your cabin over to Paolo and Cosetta.\"\n\nLocke watched as Delmastro went up the mainmast a few minutes later armed with Zamira's pride and joy, a masterpiece of Verrari optics bound in alchemically treated leather. It was a few minutes more before her shout fell to the deck.\n\n\"Captain, that's the Dread Sovereign!\"\n\n\"What? Del, are you absolutely sure?\"\n\n\"Seen her often enough, haven't I?\"\n\n\"I'm coming up myself!\"\n\nLocke exchanged a stare with Jean as Zamira leapt into the mainmast shrouds. Abuzz of muttering and swearing had arisen among the crewfolk on deck. About a dozen abandoned their chores and headed aft, craning their necks fora glimpse of the sail in the south. They cleared away in alarm when Drakasha and Delmastro returned to the quarterdeck, looking grim." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"So it's him?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "said Locke.\n\n\"It is,\" said Drakasha. \"And if he's been looking for us for any length of time, it means he sailed not all that long after we did.\"\n\n\"So... he could be carrying a message or something, right?\"\n\n\"No.\" Drakasha removed her hat and ran her other hand through her braids, almost nervously. \" He opposed this plan more than anyone else on the council of captains. He didn't sail as long and as far as we did, to risk his ship within spitting distance of Tal Verrar, to deliver any message.\n\n\"I'm afraid we'll need to postpone our previous conversation, Ravelle. The point is moot until we're sure this ship will still be floating at the end of the day.\"\n\nLOCKE STARED out across the whitecaps at the Dread Sovereign, now well over the horizon, fixed on them like a needle drawn toward a lodestone. It was the tenth hour of the morning, and Rodanov's progress at their expense was obvious.\n\nZamira slammed her glass shut and whirled away from the taffrail, where she'd been studying the same phenomenon.\n\n\"Captain,\" said Delmastro, \"there must be something... if we can just keep him off until nightfall-\"\n\n\"Then we'd have options, aye. But only a straight stern chase could buy us that much time, and if we fly north we'll find the coast long before dusk. Not to mention the fact that she's fresh-careened and we're past due. The plain truth is, we've already lost this race.\"\n\nDrakasha and Delmastro said nothing to each other for several moments, until Delmastro cleared her throat." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I'll, um, start getting things ready, shall I?\"\n\n\"You'd better. Let the Red watch keep sleeping as long as you can, if any of them are still asleep.\"\n\nDelmastro nodded, grabbed Jean by the tunic sleeve, and pulled him with her toward the main-deck cargo hatch.\n\n\"You mean to fight,\" said Locke.\n\n\"I have no choice but to fight. And neither do you, if you want to live to see dinner. Rodanov has nearly twice our numbers. You understand what a mess we're looking at.\"\n\n\"And it's all for my sake, more or less. I'm sorry, Captain-\"\n\n\"Avast bullshit, Ravelle. I won't second-guess my decision to help you, so no one else gets to, either. This is Stragos\" doing, not yours. One way or another his plans would have put us in a tight spot.\"\n\n\"Thank you for that, Captain Drakasha. Now... I know we've had our talk concerning the real extent of my skills in battle, but most of the crew probably still thinks I'm some sort of man-killer. I... I guess I'm saying-\"\n\n\"You want a spot in the thick of it?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Thought you might ask. I already have a place for you,\" she said. \"Don't think you'll have it easy.\"\n\nShe stepped away fora moment and shouted forward. \"Utgar!\"\n\n\"Aye, Captain?\"\n\n\"Fetch the deep-sea lead and give me a cast!\"\n\nLocke raised his eyebrows byway of a question, and she said, \"Need to know how much water we have beneath our feet. Then I'll know about how long it'll take the anchor to drop.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Why would you want to drop an anchor?\"\n\n\"On that matter, you'll just have to wait to be amazed. Along with Rodanov, hopefully... but that would be asking a great deal.\"\n\n\"Captain,\" Utgar yelled several minutes later, \"got about ninety fathoms under us!\"\n\n\"Right,\" she said. \"Ravelle, I know you're off watch right now, but you were witless enough to wander back here and call attention to yourself. Grab a couple of Blues and bring up some ale casks from down below. Try to stay quiet for the sake of the Reds still sleeping. I'll call all hands in about an hour, and it's never wise to send people into a tussle like this with their throats too dry.\"\n\n\"I'll be happy to do that, Captain. About an hour, then? When do you think we'll be-\"\n\n\"I mean to bring the fight before noon. Only one way to win when you're being chased by someone bigger and tougher than you are. Turn straight around, punch their teeth out, and hope the gods are fond of you.\"\n\n\"ALL HANDS,\" shouted Ezri one last time, \"all hands at the waist! Idlers and lazy motherfuckers on deck! If you have watchmates still below, haul 'em up yourselves!\"\n\nJean stood at the front of the crowd amidships, waiting for Drakasha to say her piece. She stood at the rail with Ezri, Nasreen, Utgar, Mumchance, Gwillem, and Treganne behind her. The scholar looked deeply annoyed that something as trivial as a murderous ship-to-ship fight could justify disrupting her usual habits.\n\n\"Listen well,\" shouted Drakasha. \"The ship bearing down onus is the Dread Sovereign. Captain Rodanov has taken exception to our business in these waters, and he's come along way to give us a fight.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"We can't fight that many people,\" shouted someone in the crowd.\n\n\"It's not as though we have a choice. They're closing to board now whether we like it or not,\" said Drakasha.\n\n\"But what if it's just you he's after?\" A crewman Jean didn't recognize spoke up; to give him credit, he too was standing at the front of the crowd, right where Drakasha and all of her officers could see him. \"We give you to him, we save ourselves a hell of a fight. This ain't a navy, and I got the right to be as fond of my life as-\"\n\nJabril pushed through the crowd behind the man and punched him in the small of the back. The man fell writhing to the deck.\n\n\"We don't know that it's just Drakasha he wants,\" Jabril shouted. \"Me, I ain't waitin\" at the rail with my breeches down for someone to kiss my cock! Most of you know as well as I-if captain fights captain it ain't convenient to let two sides\" a the story get back to Port Prodigal!\"\n\n\"Hold, Jabril,\" said Zamira. She hurried down the quarterdeck stairs, stepped over to the would-be pragmatist, and helped him sit up. She then stood before her assembled crew, within reach of the first row. \"Basryn here is right about one thing. This isn't a navy; so you do have the right to be fond of your own lives. I'm not your gods-damned empress. Anyone wants to try handing me over to Rodanov, I'm right here. Now's your chance.\"\n\nWhen nobody stepped forward from the crowd, Drakasha heaved Basryn to his feet and looked him straight in the eyes. \"Now, you can have the smallest boat,\" she said, \"you and anyone else who wants to help you take it. Or you can stay.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Ah, hell,\" he said, groaning. \"I'm sorry, Captain. I guess... I guess I'd rather live as a coward than die a fool.\"\n\n\"Oscarl,\" said Drakasha, \"when we're done here, get a party together and hoist out the small boat, on the quick. Anyone else wants off with Basryn, that's what I'm giving you. If Rodanov wins, take your chances. If I win... understand that we're at least fifty miles from land and you're not coming back aboard.\"\n\nThe man nodded, and that was that. Drakasha released him and he stumbled into the crowd, holding his back and ignoring the glares of those around him.\n\n\"Heed this, now,\" shouted Drakasha. \" The sea isn't our friend today; that son of a bitch has more bite in the water than we do. A chase in any direction can't buy us more than a few hours. If we're going to settle this at kissing distance, I intend to set the terms of the courtship.\n\n\"We need to kill two for one just to have any of us left standing, so obviously we need to do better even than that. If we lockup with him so that one of our sides is against his bow, we can crowd in all around his boarding point and outnumber him at the only place it matters. That big fat crew of his won't mean a damn thing if he has to feed it piece by piece right through our teeth.\n\n\"So, at the waist, I'll put you in ranks, like the old Therin Throne legions. Swords and shields upfront, spears and halberds behind. Don't take your sweet time. If you can't kill someone, knock them into the water. Just get them out of the damn fight!" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Del will choose our ten best archers and send you aloft to do the obvious. Five per mast. I wish I could send more, but we're going to need every blade on deck we can get.\n\n\"Ravelle, Valora, I'm going to give you a few crewfolk to form our flying company. Your job is the Sovereign's boats. They'll try and board us from all points of the compass once we're engaged at the waist, so you go wherever they go. One person on deck can keep five in a boat, provided you act with haste.\n\n\"Nasreen, you'll choose a party of three and standby at the starboard anchor for my command. Once it's given, you'll guard the bow against boats and free Ravelle's party to fight elsewhere.\n\n\"Utgar, you're with me to load crossbows. Now, there's ale at the forecastle and I want to seethe cask dry before we do this. Drink up, find your armor. If you've got mail or leathers you've been saving, pile it on. I don't care how much you sweat; you'll never need it again like you'll need it today.\"\n\nDrakasha dismissed the crew by turning away from them and striding backup the quarterdeck stairs. Pandemonium erupted amidships; suddenly crewfolk were shoving past one another in all directions, some going for their armor and weapons, others headed for what might be their last drink in life.\n\nEzri vaulted the quarterdeck railing and shouted as she strode forward into the chaos, \"Fire watches set double sand buckets! Rig the larboard razor net and hoist it high! Jerome, get your lazy ass upon the quarterdeck! Form up the flying company there!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Jean waved and followed Drakasha up to the stern of the ship, where Utgar waited, looking nervous. Treganne was just descending the companionway stairs, muttering something about'bulk rates.\"\n\nSuddenly, a low dark shape shot up the companionway and ran for Drakasha. She looked down in response to a sudden tug on her breeches and found Paolo clutching at her, unselfconsciously.\n\n\"Mommy, the noise!\"\n\nZamira smiled and swept him up off the deck, cradling him against the lapels of her jacket. She turned into the wind and let it push her hair out of her face. Jean could see that Paolo's eyes were on the Dread Sovereign as it heaved and swayed beneath the cloudless sky, implacably clawing across the distance between them.\n\n\"Paolo, love, Mommy needs you to help her hide you and your sister in the rope locker on the orlop deck, all right?\"\n\nThe little boy nodded, and Zamira kissed him on the forehead, burying her nose in his tangle of short dark curls with her eyes closed.\n\n\"Oh, good,\" she said a moment later. \"Because after that, Mommy needs to fetch her armor and her sabers. And then she needs to go board that lying motherfucker's ship and sink it like a stone.\"\n\nJAFFRIM RODANOV was at the bow of his ship, the Poison Orchid steady in the center of his glass, when she suddenly whirled to larboard and pointed herself at him like an arrow. Her mainsails shivered and began to vanish as Drakasha's crew hauled them up for battle.\n\n\"Ah,\" he said. \"There we go, Zamira. Doing the only sensible thing at last.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Rodanov had dressed fora fight, as usual, in a leather coat reinforced with mail inset at the back and the lapels." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The nicks and creases in the battered old thing were always a comfort to him, a reminder that people had been trying and failing to kill him for years.\n\nOn his hands he wore his favored segmented blackened-steel gauntlets. In the confusion of a close melee, they could catch blades and break skulls. For the less personal work of actually forcing his way aboard the Orchid, he leaned on a waist-high iron-studded club. He folded his glass carefully and slipped it into a pocket, resolving to return it to the binnacle before the fight began. Not like the last time.\n\n\"Orders, Captain?\"\n\nYdrena waited on the forecastle stairs, her own curved sword sheathed on her back, with the majority of his crew ready behind her.\n\n\"She's for us,\" boomed Rodanov. \" I know this doesn't come easy, but Drakasha's raiding in Verrari waters. She'll call down hell on the life we all enjoy-unless we stop her now.\n\n\"Form up to starboard, as we planned. Shields upfront. Crossbows behind. Remember, one volley, then throw \"em down and pull steel. Boat crews, over the starboard side once we're locked with the Orchid. Grapples ready at the waist and bow. Helm! You have your orders-make it perfect or pray you die in the fight.\n\n\"This day will be red! Drakasha is a foe to be reckoned with. But what are we, overall the winds and waters of the Sea of Brass?\"\n\n\"Sovereign!\" the crew shouted as one.\n\n\"Who are we, never boarded and never beaten?\"\n\n\"Sovereign!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What do our enemies scream, when they speak the name of their doom at the judgment of the gods?\"\n\n\"Sovereign!\"\n\n\"We are!\" He waved his club above his head. \"And we have some surprises for Zamira Drakasha! Bring the cages forward!\"\n\nThree teams of six sailors apiece brought canvas-covered cages to the forecastle deck. These cages had wooden carrying handles set well beyond their steel-mesh sides. They were about six feet long, and half as wide and high.\n\n\"Nothing to eat since yesterday, right?\"\n\n\"No,\" said Ydrena.\n\n\"Good.\" Rodanov double-checked the sections of the starboard rail his carpenter had weakened, so one good shove would knock them over for about a ten-foot length. A blemish on his beloved Sovereign, but one that could be fixed easily enough later. \"Set them down over here. And kick the cages. Let's get them riled up.\"\n\nTHE TWO ships crashed through the waves toward each other, and fora second time Locke Lamora found himself about to get involved rather intimately in a battle at sea.\n\n\"Steady, Mum,\" called Drakasha, who stood peering out over the larboard quarterdeck rail. Locke and Jean waited nearby, armed with hatchets and sabers. Jean also had a pair of leather bracers liberated from the property of Basryn, who was nowhere to be seen since he alone had gone over the side with the small boat. My boat, Locke thought, somewhat bitterly.\n\nFor their'flying company,\" Locke and Jean had Malakasti, Jabril, and Streva, as well as Gwillem. All save the latter had shields and spears; the timid-looking quartermaster wore a leather apron stuffed with heavy lead bullets for the sling he carried in his left hand." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Most of the crew waited amidships, ranked as Drakasha had ordered; those with large shields and stabbing swords upfront, those with polearms in back." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The mainsails were drawn up, fire buckets were set out, the larboard entry port was protected by what Delmastro had called a'skinner net,\" and the Poison Orchid was rushing to the Dread Sovereign's embrace like along-separated lover.\n\nDelmastro appeared out of the mess at the waist. She looked much as she had the first time Locke had ever seen her, with her leather armor on and her hair pulled back for action. Paying no heed to the weapons they were carrying at their belts, she leapt onto Jean, wrapping her arms and legs around him. He put his arms behind her back and they kissed until Locke chuckled out loud. Not the sort of thing one saw just before most battles, he imagined.\n\n\"This day is ours,\" she said when they parted at last.\n\n\"Try not to kill everyone over there before I even get involved, right?\" Jean grinned down at her, and she handed him something in a small silk bag.\n\n\"What's this?\"\n\n\"Lock of my hair,\" she said. \"Meant to give it to you days ago, but we got busy with all the raiding. You know. Piracy. Hectic life.\"\n\n\"Thank you, love,\" he said.\n\n\"Now, if you find yourself in trouble wherever you go, you can holdup that little bag to whoever's bothering you, and you can say,\"You have no idea who you're fucking with. I'm under the protection of the lady who gave me this object of her favor. '\"\n\n\"And that's supposed to make them stop?\"\n\n\"Shit no, that's just to confuse them. Then you kill them while they're standing there looking at you funny.\"\n\nThey hugged again, and Drakasha cleared her throat." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Del, if it's not too much trouble, we're planning to attack that ship just ahead of us, so could you-\"\n\n\"Oh, yeah, the fight for our lives. I guess I could help you out fora few minutes, Captain.\"\n\n\"Luck, Del.\"\n\n\"Luck, Zamira.\"\n\n\"Captain,\" said Mumchance, \"now-\"\n\n\"Nasreen!\" Drakasha bellowed at the top of her considerable voice. \"Starboard anchor away!\"\n\n\"Sound collision,\" called Delmastro a moment later. \"All hands brace yourselves! Up aloft! Grab a mast, grab a line!\"\n\nSomeone began to ring the foremast bell frantically. The two ships were closing with astonishing speed. Locke and Jean crouched on the larboard quarterdeck stairs, clinging tight to the inner rail. Locke glanced over at Drakasha and saw that she was counting something, mouthing each number intently to herself. Curious, he tried to puzzle them out and concluded she wasn't counting in Therin.\n\n\"Captain,\" said Mumchance, calm as someone ordering coffee, \"other ship-\"\n\n\"Helm harda-larboard,\" Drakasha shouted. Mumchance and his mate began manhandling the ship's wheel to the left. Suddenly there was a creak and a snapping noise from the bow; the ship shuddered end to end and was jerked to starboard as though caught in the teeth of a gale. Locke felt his stomach protesting and clung to the rail with all of his strength.\n\n\"Anchor party,\" yelled Drakasha, \"cut the cable!\"\n\nLocke had an excellent view of the Dread Sovereign, rushing down on them, scarcely a hundred yards away. He gasped to think of that heavy ship's bowsprit plunging like a spear into the Orchid or her massed crewfolk, but even as he watched, the three-master heeled over to larboard, making a turn of her own." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Rodanov avoided ahead-on collision, and Locke had to guess that was intentional; while it might have done serious damage to the Orchid, it would have locked his ship precisely where Zamira could best resist his boarders, and possibly sunk both ships sooner or later.\n\nWhat happened was spectacular enough; the sea creamed white between the two vessels, and Locke heard the protesting waves hissing like steam baking furiously from hot coals. There was noway for the Sovereign or the Orchid to shed all their forward momentum, but they slid into each other along their sides with a rolling cushion of water between them. The whole world seemed to shake as they met; timbers creaked, masts shuddered, and high overhead an Orchid was pitched from her position. She struck the Sovereign's deck, becoming the first casualty of the battle.\n\n\"Spanker! Spanker!\" Zamira cried, and everyone on the quarterdeck looked up in unison as the Orchid's spanker sail was unfurled in the most unseamanlike fashion possible by the small crew detailed to it. Fluttering down to full extension, it was braced in place with desperate speed. Ordinarily, the fore-and-aft sail would never have been placed side-onto a wind, but in this case the stiff breeze from the east pushed against it by intention, heaving the Orchid's stern away from contact with the Dread Sovereign. Mumchance hauled his wheel to starboard now, trying to help the process along.\n\nThere was a series of screams and snapping noises from forward; the Dread Sovereign's bowsprit was destroying or fouling much of the forward rigging, but Drakasha's plan seemed to be working. That bowsprit hadn't punched a hole in the hull, and now Rodanov's starboard bow was the only part of his ship in contact with Drakasha's larboard side. From high above, Locke thought, the gods might have seen the two ships as drunken fencers, their bowsprits crossed but doing relatively little harm as they waved about." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Unseen things clawed the air with a snakelike hiss, and Locke realized that arrows were raining around him. The fight had well and truly begun.\n\n\"CLEVER SYRESTI bitch,\" muttered Rodanov, and he crawled back to his feet after the collision. Drakasha was using her spanker for leverage to prevent full broadside-to-broadside contact. So be it; he had his own advantages ready to play.\n\n\"Let 'em loose!\" he shouted.\n\nA crewman standing well back from the rear of the three cages (with shield bearers flanking him) pulled the rope that released their doors. These were set just inches back from the collapsible section of the rail, which had been conveniently knocked clean away when the ships met.\n\nA trio of adult valcona-starving, shaken up, and pissed off beyond all measure-exploded from their confinement shrieking like the vengeful undead. The first thing they laid eyes on was the group of Orchids lining up across the way. Though heavily armed and armored, Zamira's people had no doubt expected to repel human boarders first.\n\nThe three attack birds launched themselves through the air and landed amidst shields and polearms, laying about with their beaks and their dagger-sized claws. Orchids screamed, shoved against one another, and caused utter chaos in their desperate struggle to either swing at or flee from the ferocious beasts.\n\nRodanov grinned fiercely. They'd been worth it-even though they'd cost too much in Prodigal, even though they'd stunk up the hold, even though they'd be dead soon enough. Every Orchid they mutilated was one less for his people to face, and it was always impossible to put a price on making your enemy shit their breeches." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Away boats,\" he yelled." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Sovereigns! On me!\"\n\nTHE SCREAMS from forward were more than human; Locke scrambled up the quarterdeck stairs on his hands and knees, straining to see what was going on. Brown shapes were flailing about within the packed masses of Zamira's'legions\" along the larboard side. What the hell was that? Drakasha herself dashed past, twin sabers out, running for the point of greatest chaos.\n\nSeveral sailors aboard Rodanov's ship hurled grappling hooks across the gap between the vessels. A team of Drakasha's crewfolk, waiting for this, hurried to the larboard rail to sever the grappling lines with hatchets. One of them toppled with an arrow in his throat; the rest made short work of every line Locke could see.\n\nA sharp, flat thwack told of an arrow landing nearby; Jean grabbed him by his tunic collar and hauled him all the way onto the quarterdeck. His'flying company\" was crouched behind their small shields; Malakasti was using hers to cover Mumchance as well, who manned the wheel from a crouch. Someone screamed and fell from the rigging aboard the Sovereign; a second later Jabril cried, \"Gah!\" as an arrow struck splinters from the taffrail beside his head.\n\nTo Locke's surprise, Gwillem suddenly stood up in the midst of all this and, with a placid look on his face, began to whirl a bullet overhand in the cradle of his sling. As his arm went up he released one of the sling's cords, and a second later a bowman on the Sovereign's quarterdeck fell backward. Jean pulled Gwillem back to the deck when the Vadran began to reach for another projectile." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Boats,\" hollered Streva. \"Boats coming around her!\"\n\nTwo boats, each carrying about twenty sailors, were pulling fast from behind the Dread Sovereign, curving around to approach the Orchid's stern. Locke wished mightily fora few arrows to season their passage, but the archers above had orders to ignore the boats. They were strictly the business of that legendary hero of the plunging beer cask, Orrin Ravelle.\n\nHe did, however, have one major advantage, and as usual its name was Jean Tannen. Sitting incongruously on the polished witchwood planks of the deck were several large round stones, plucked laboriously from the ship's ballast.\n\n\"Do the brute thing, Jerome,\" Locke shouted.\n\nAs the first boat of Sovereigns approached the taffrail, a pair of sailors armed with crossbows stood up to clear the way fora woman readying a grappling hook. Gwillem wound up and flung one of his stones downward, opening a bowman's head and toppling the body backward into the mess of would-be boarders. A moment later Jean stepped to the taffrail, hoisting a hundred-pound rock the size of an ordinary man's chest over his head. He hollered wordlessly and flung it down into the boat, where it shattered not just the legs of two rowers but the deck of the little craft itself. As water began to gush up through the hole, panic ensued.\n\nThen crossbow bolts came from the second boat. Streva, caught up watching the travails of the first, took one in the ribs and fell backward onto Locke, who pushed the unfortunate young man away, knowing it was beyond his power to help. The deck was already bright red with blood. A moment later Malakasti gasped as an arrow from the Sovereign's upper yards punched through her back; she fell against the taffrail and her shield went over the side." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Jabril pushed her spear away and yanked her down to the deck. Locke could see that the arrow had punctured one of her lungs, and the wet-sounding breaths she was fighting for now would be her last. Jabril, anguish on his face, tried to cover her with his body until Locke shouted at him, \"More coming! Don't lose your fucking head!\"\n\nGods-damned hypocrite, he thought to himself, heart hammering.\n\nOn the sinking boat below, another sailor wound up to toss a grappling hook. Gwillem struck again, shattering the man's arm. Yet another rock followed from Jean. That was it for the remaining Sovereigns; with the boat going down and corpses crowding the seats, the survivors were spilling over the side. They might be trouble again in a few minutes, but for now they were out of the fight.\n\nSo was a third of Locke's'company.\" The second enemy boat came on, wary enough of the stones to keep well back. It circled around the stern and darted for the starboard side, a shark with wounded prey.\n\nZAMIRA PULLED her saber from the body of the last valcona and hollered at her people along the larboard side, \"Re-form! Re-form! Plug the fucking gap, there!\"\n\nValcona! Damn Rodanov fora clever bastard; at least five of her people lay dead because of the bloody things, and gods knew how many more had been injured or shaken. He'd been expecting her to try and go broadside-to-bow; the beasts had been waiting like a spring-loaded trap.\n\nAnd there he was-impossible to miss, nearly the size of two men, wearing a dark coat and those damned gauntlets of his. In his hands, a club that must have weighed twenty pounds. His people flooded around him, cheering, and they poured against her first rank through the gap Rodanov had somehow contrived in his starboard rail. The point of decision was exactly the mess she'd expected: stabbing spears, flailing shields, corpses and living fighters alike too pressed by the crowd on either side to move, except downward. Some slipped through the ever-changing gap between ships, to be drowned or ground to a pulp as the two vessels scraped together again." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Crossbows,\" she yelled, \"crossbows!\"\n\nBehind her spear-carriers, nearly every crossbow on the ship had been set out and loaded. The rear rank of waiting Orchids seized these and fired a ragged volley past the forward ranks; eight or nine of Rodanov's people toppled, but he himself seemed untouched. A moment later there was a return volley from the deck of the Sovereign; Rodanov had had the same idea. Screaming men and women fell out of Zamira's lines with feathered shafts in their heads and chests, not one of them a person she could spare.\n\nSovereigns were attempting to hurtle the wider gap to the right of the main fight; some of them made it, and clung tenaciously to her rail, struggling to pull themselves up. She solved that problem herself, slashing faces and cracking skulls with the butts of her sabers. Three, four-more of them were coming. She was already gasping for breath. Not quite the tireless fighter she'd once been, she reflected ruefully. Arrows bit the air around her, more of Rodanov's people leapt, and it looked as though every single gods-damned pirate on the Sea of Brass was on the deck of the Dread Sovereign, lined up and waiting to storm her ship.\n\nLOCKE'S'FLYING company\" was now engaged at the starboard rail of the quarterdeck; while Mumchance and one of his mates wielded spears to fend off swimmers from any other angle, Locke, Jean, Jabril, and Gwillem tried to fight off the second boat.\n\nThis one was far sturdier than its predecessor; Jean's two hurled rocks had killed or injured at least five people, but failed to knock holes in the wood. Rodanov's crewfolk stabbed at them with boat hooks; it was an awkward duel between these and the spears of the Orchids. Jabril cried out as a hook gouged one of his legs, and he retaliated by stabbing a Sovereign in the neck." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Gwillem stood up and hurled a bullet down into the boat; he was rewarded for his effort by aloud scream." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Ashe reached into his pouch for another, an arrow seemed to appear in his back as though by magic. He sagged forward against the starboard rail, and sling bullets rolled onto the deck, clattering.\n\n\"Shit,\" Locke yelled. \"Are we out of big rocks?\"\n\n\"Used them all,\" said Jean. A woman with a dagger in her teeth vaulted acrobatically up to the rail and would have made it over had Jean not bashed her in the face with a shield. She toppled into the water.\n\nJabril frantically swept with his spear as four or five Sovereigns at once got their hands up above the rail; two let go, but in a moment two more were rolling onto the deck, sabers in hand. Jabril fell onto his back and speared one in the stomach; Jean got his hands on Gwillem's sling and threw it around the throat of the other, garroting the man, just like old times in Camorr. Another sailor poked his head up and shoved a crossbow through the rails, aiming for Jean. Locke felt every inch the legendary hero of the plunging beer cask as he kicked the man in the face.\n\nRising screams from the water told of some new development; warily, Locke glanced over the edge. A roiling, gelatinous mass floated beside the boat like a translucent blanket, pulsing with a faint internal luminescence that was visible even by day. As Locke watched, a swimming man was drawn, screaming, into this mass. In seconds, the gelatinous substance around his legs clouded red and he began to spasm. The thing was drawing the blood out of his pores as a man might suck the juice from a pulpy fruit.\n\nA death-lantern, drawn as ever to the scent of blood in the water. A gods-awful way to go, even for people Locke was actively trying to kill-but it and the others sure to come would take care of the swimmers. No more Sovereigns were climbing up the sides; the few left in the boat below were frantically trying to escape the thing in the water beside them. Locke dropped his spear and took a few much-needed deep breaths. A second later an arrow hit the rail two feet above his head; another hissed past it completely; a third struck the wheel. \"Cover,\" he hollered, looking around frantically fora shield. A moment later Jean grabbed him and dragged him to the right, where he was holding Gwillem's body up before him. Jabril crawled behind the binnacle, while Mumchance and his mate mimicked Jean's ploy with Streva's body. Locke felt the impact as at least one arrow sank into the quartermaster's corpse." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Might feel bad later about using the dead like this,\" hollered Jean, \"but hell, there's certainly enough of them around.\"\n\nYDRENA KOROS came over the rail and nearly killed Zamira with the first slash of her scimitar. The blade rebounded off Elderglass-still, Zamira burned at the thought that her guard had slipped. She struck back with both sabers; but Ydrena, small and lithe, had all the room she needed to parry one and avoid the other. So fast, so effortlessly fast-Zamira gritted her teeth. Two blades on one, and Koros still filled the air between them with a deadly silver blur; Zamira lost her hat and very nearly her neck, parrying only at the last second. Another slash hissed against her vest, a second sliced one of her bracers. Shit-she backed into one of her own sailors. There was nowhere else to goon the deck.\n\nKoros conjured a curving, broad-bladed dagger in her left hand, feinted with it, and swept her scimitar at Zamira's knees. Zamira released her sabers and stepped into Koros\" guard, putting them chest to chest. She grabbed Ydrena's arms with her own, forcing them out and down with all her strength. In that, at last, she had the advantage-that and one thing more. Fighting dirty usually prevailed over fighting prettily.\n\nZamira brought her left knee up into Ydrena's stomach. Ydrena sank; Zamira grabbed her hair and slammed her in the chin. The smaller woman's teeth made a sound like clattering billiard balls. Zamira heaved her to her feet and threw her backward, onto the sword of the Sovereign directly behind her. A brief look of surprise flared on the woman's blood-smeared face, then died with her. Zamira felt more relief than triumph." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She fetched her sabers from the deck where they'd fallen; as the sailor now in front of her pulled his sword from Ydrena and let her body drop, he suddenly found one of Zamira's blades in his chest. The battleground on, and her actions became mechanical-her sabers rose and fell against the screaming tide of Rodanov's people, and the deaths ran together into one red cacophony. Arrows flew, blood slicked the deck beneath her feet, and the ships rolled and yawed atop the sea, lending a nightmarish shifting quality to everything.\n\nIt might have been minutes or ages before she found Ezri at her arm, pulling her back from the rail. Rodanov's people were falling back to regroup; the deck was thick with dead and wounded, her own survivors were all but standing on them as they stumbled into one another and fell back themselves.\n\n\"Del,\" gasped Zamira, \"you hurt?\"\n\n\"No.\" Ezri was covered in blood; her leathers had been slashed and her hair was partially askew, but otherwise she seemed to be correct.\n\n\"The flying company?\"\n\n\"No idea, Captain.\"\n\n\"Nasreen? Utgar?\"\n\n\"Nasreen's dead. Haven't seen Utgar since the fight started.\"\n\n\"Drakasha,\" came a voice above the moans and mutterings of the confusion on both sides. Rodanov's voice. \"Drakasha! Cease fighting! Everyone, cease fighting! Drakasha, listen tome!\"\n\nRODANOV GLANCED at the arrow sunk into his right upper arm. Painful, but not the deep, grinding agony that told of a touch to the bone. He grimaced, used his left hand to steady the arrowhead, and then reached up with his right to snap the shaft just above it. He gasped, but that would do until he could deal with it properly. He hefted his club again, shaking blood onto the deck of the Sovereign." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Ydrena dead; gods-damn it, his first mate for five years, on the bloody deck. He'd laid about with his club to get to her side, splintering shields and beating aside spears. At least half a dozen Orchids to him, and he'd been their match-Dantierre he'd knocked clean over the side. But the fighting space was too narrow, the rolling of the ships unpredictable, his crewfolk too thin around him. Zamira'd suffered miserably, but at this confined point of contact he was stymied. Alack of brawling at the Orchid's stern meant that the boats had probably fared the same. Shit. Half his crew was gone, at least. It was time to spring his second surprise. His calling a halt to the battle was the signal to bring it on. All in, now-last game, last hand, last turn of the cards.\n\n\"Zamira, don't make me destroy your ship!\"\n\n\"GO TO hell, you oath-breaking son of a bitch! You come try again, if you think you still have any crewfolk willing to die in a hurry!\"\n\nLocke had left Jabril, Mumchance, and Mumchance's mate-along with the death-lanterns, he supposed-to guard the stern. He and Jean hurried forward, through the strangeness of air suddenly free from arrows, past the mounds of dead and wounded. Scholar Treganne stumped past, her false leg loud against the desk, single-handedly dragging Rask behind her. At the waist, Utgar stood, using a hook to pull up the main-deck cargo hatch grating. A leather satchel was at his feet; Locke presumed he was on some business for the captain and ignored him.\n\nThey found Drakasha and Delmastro at the bow, with about twenty surviving Orchids staring at twice their number of Sovereigns across the way. Ezri hugged Jean fiercely; she looked as though she'd been through a great deal of blood but not yet lost any of her own. Up here the Orchid seemed to have no deck; only a surface layer of dead and nearly dead. Blood drained off the sides in streams." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Not me,\" shouted Rodanov.\n\n\"Here,\" yelled Utgar at the Orchid's waist. \"Here, Drakasha!\"\n\nLocke turned to see Utgar holding a gray sphere, perhaps eight inches in diameter, with a curiously greasy surface. He cradled it in his left hand, holding it over the open cargo hatch, and his right hand clutched something sticking out of the top of the sphere.\n\n\"Utgar,\" said Drakasha, \"what the hell do you think you're-\"\n\n\"Don't make a fucking move, right? Or you know what I'll do with this thing.\"\n\n\"Gods above,\" whispered Ezri, \"I don't believe this.\"\n\n\"What the hell is that?\" Locke asked.\n\n\"Bad news,\" she said. \"Fucking awful news. That's a shipbane sphere.\"\n\nJEAN LISTENED as she explained quickly.\n\n\"Alchemy, black alchemy, expensive as hell. You have to be fucking crazy to bring one to sea, same reason most captains shy away from fire-oil. But worse. Whole thing goes white-hot. You can't touch it; can't get close. Leave it on deck and it burns right through; down into the innards, and it sets anything on fire. Hell, it can probably set water on fire. Sure doesn't go out when you douse it.\"\n\n\"Utgar,\" said Drakasha, \"you motherfucker, you traitor, how could-\"\n\n\"Traitor? No. I'm Rodanov's man; am and have been since before I joined. His idea, hey? If I've done you good service, Drakasha, I've just been doing my job.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Have him shot,\" said Jean.\n\n\"That thing he's holding is the twist-match fuse,\" said Ezri. \"He moves his right hand, or we kill him and make that thing drop, it comes right out and ignites. This is what those damned things are for, get it? One man can hold a hundred prisoner if he just stands in the right spot.\"\n\n\"Utgar,\" she said. \"Utgar, we're winning this fight.\"\n\n\"You might've been. Why do you think I stepped in?\"\n\n\"Utgar, please. This ship is heaped with wounded. My children are down there!\"\n\n\"Yeah. I know. So you'd best lay down your arms, hey? Backup against the starboard rail. Archers down from the masts. Everybody calm-and I'm sure for everyone but you, Drakasha, there's a happy arrangement waiting.\"\n\n\"Throats cut and over the side,\" shouted Treganne, who appeared at the top of the companionway with a crossbow in her hands. \"That's the happy arrangement, isn't it, Utgar?\" She stumped to the quarterdeck rail and put the crossbow to her shoulder. \"This ship is heaped with wounded, and they're my responsibility, you bastard!\"\n\n\"Treganne, no,\" Drakasha screamed.\n\nBut the scholar's deed was already done; Utgar seemed to jump and shudder as the bolt sank into the small of his back. The gray sphere tipped forward and fell from his left hand; his right hand pulled away, trailing a thin white cord. He toppled to the deck, and his device vanished from sight into the hold below.\n\n\"Oh, hell,\" said Jean.\n\n\"No, no, no,\" Ezri whispered." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Children,\" Jean found himself saying. \"I can get them-\"\n\nEzri stared at the cargo hatch, aghast. She looked at him, then back to the hatch.\n\n\"Not just them,\" she said. \"Whole ship.\"\n\n\"I'll go,\" said Jean.\n\nShe grabbed him, wrapped her arms around his neck so tightly he could barely breathe, and whispered in his ear, \"Gods damn you, Jean Tannen. You make this... you make it so hard.\"\n\nAnd then she hit him in the stomach, harder than even he had thought possible. He fell backward, doubled in agony, realizing her intentions as she released him. He screamed in wordless rage and denial, reaching for her. But she was already running across the deck toward the hatch.\n\nLOCKE KNOWS what Ezri means to do the instant he sees her make a fist, but Jean, his reflexes dulled by love or fatigue or both, plainly doesn't. And before Locke can do anything, she's hit Jean, and given him a shove backward so that Locke tumbles over him. Locke looks up just in time to see Ezri jump into the cargo hold, where an unnatural orange glare rises from the darkness a second later.\n\n\"Oh, Crooked Warden, damn it all to hell,\" he whispers, and he sees everything as time slows like cooling syrup-\n\nTreganne at the quarterdeck rail, dumbfounded; clearly ignorant of what her erstwhile good deed has done.\n\nDrakasha stumbling forward, sabers still in her hands, moving too slowly to stop Ezri or join her.\n\nJean crawling, barely able to move but willing himself after her with any muscle that will lend him force, one hand reaching uselessly after a woman already gone." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The crew of both ships staring, leaning on their weapons and on one another, the fight fora moment forgotten.\n\nUtgar reaching for the bolt in his back, flailing feebly. It has been five seconds since Ezri leapt down into the cargo hold. Five seconds is when the screaming, the new screaming, starts.\n\nSHE EMERGED from the main-deck stairs, holding it in her hands. No, more than that, Locke realized with horror-she must have known her hands wouldn't last. She must have cradled it close for that very reason.\n\nThe sphere was incandescent, a miniature sun, burning with the vivid colors of molten silver and gold. Locke felt the heat against his skin from thirty feet away, recoiled from the light, smelled the strange tang of scorched metal instantly. She ran, as best she could run; as she made her way toward the rail it became a jog, and then a desperate hop. She was on fire all the way, screaming all the way, unstoppable all the way.\n\nShe made it to the larboard rail and with one last convulsive effort, as much back and legs as what was left of her arms, she heaved the shipbane sphere across the gap to the Dread Sovereign. It grew in brightness even as it flew, a molten-metal comet, and Rodanov's crewfolk recoiled from it as it landed on their deck.\n\nYou couldn't touch such a thing, she'd said-well, clearly you could. But Locke knew you couldn't touch it and live. The arrow that took her in the stomach an eyeblink later was too late to beat her throw, and too late to do any real work. She fell to the deck, trailing smoke, and then all hell broke loose for the last time that morning." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Rodanov,\" yelled Drakasha. \"Rodanov!\"\n\nThere was an eruption of light and fire at the waist of the Dread Sovereign; the incandescent globe, rolling to and fro, had at last burst. White-hot alchemy rained down hatches, caught sails, engulfed crewfolk, and nearly bisected the ship in seconds.\n\n\"If they would burn the Sovereign,\" shouted Rodanov, \"all hands take the Orchid!\"\n\n\"Fend off,\" cried Drakasha, \"fend off and repel boarders! Helm hard a-larboard, Mum! Hard a-larboard!\"\n\nLocke could feel a growing new heat against his right cheek; the Sovereign was already doomed, and if the Orchid didn't disentangle from her shrouds and bowsprit and assorted debris, the fire would take both ships fora meal. Jean crawled slowly toward Ezri's body. Locke heard the sounds of new fighting breaking out behind them, and thought briefly of paying attention to it, but then realized that if he left Jean now he would never forgive himself. Or deserve forgiveness.\n\n\"Dear gods,\" he whispered when he saw her, \"please, no. Oh, gods.\"\n\nJean moaned, sobbing, his hands held out above her. Locke didn't know where he would have touched her, either. There was so little her left-skin and clothing and hair burnt into one awful texture. And still she moved, trying feebly to rise. Still she fought for something resembling breath.\n\n\"Valora,\" said Scholar Treganne, hobbling toward them. \"Valora don't, don't touch-\"\n\nJean pounded the deck and screamed. Treganne knelt beside what was left of Ezri, pulling a dagger from her belt sheath. Locke was startled to see tears trailing down her cheeks." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Valora,\" she said. \"Take this. She's dead already. She needs you, for the gods\" sake.\"\n\n\"No,\" sobbed Jean. \"No, no, no-\"\n\n\"Valora, look at her, gods damn it. She is beyond all help. Every second is an hour to her and she is praying for this knife.\"\n\nJean snatched the knife from Treganne's hand, wiped a tunic sleeve across his eyes, and shuddered. Gasping deep breaths despite the terrible smell of burning that lingered in the air, he moved the knife toward her, jerking in time with his sobs like a man with palsy. Treganne placed her hands over his to steady them, and Locke closed his eyes.\n\nThen it was over.\n\n\"I'm sorry,\" said Treganne. \"Forgive me, Valora. I didn't know-I didn't know what that thing was, what Utgar had. Forgive me.\"\n\nJean said nothing. Locke opened his eyes again, and saw Jean rising as though in a trance, his sobs all but stifled, the dagger still held loosely in his hand. He moved, as though he saw nothing of the battle still raging behind him, across the deck toward Utgar.\n\nTEN MORE Orchids fell at the bow saving them, following Zamira's orders, shoving with all their might against the Sovereign with spears and boat hooks and halberds. Shoving to get her bowsprit and rigging clear of the Orchid, while Rodanov's survivors at the bow fought like demons to escape. But they did it, with Mumchance's help, and the two battered ships tore apart at last.\n\n\"All hands,\" shouted Zamira, dazed by the effort it suddenly required. \"All hands! Tacks and braces! Put us west before the wind! Fire party to main hold! Get the wounded aft to Treganne!\" Assuming Treganne was alive, assuming... much. Sorrow later. More hardship now." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Rodanov hadn't joined the final fight to board the Orchid; Zamira had last seen him running aft, fighting his way through the blaze and headed for the wheel. Whether in a last hopeless effort to save his ship or destroy hers, he'd failed.\n\n\"HELP,\" UTGAR whispered. \"Help. Get it out. I can't reach it.\"\n\nHis movements were faint, and his eyes were going glassy. Jean knelt beside him, stared at him, and then brought the dagger down overhand into his back. Utgar took a shocked breath; Jean brought the knife down again and again while Locke watched; until Utgar was most certainly dead, until his back was covered in wounds, until Locke finally reached over and grabbed him by the wrist.\n\n\"Jean-\"\n\n\"It doesn't help,\" said Jean, in a disbelieving voice. \"Gods, it doesn't help.\"\n\n\"I know,\" said Locke. \"I know.\"\n\n\"Why didn't you stop her?\" Jean launched himself at Locke, pinning him to the deck, one hand around his throat. Locke gagged and fought back, and it did him about as much good as he expected. \"Why didn't you stop her?\"\n\n\"I tried,\" said Locke. \"She pushed you into me. She knew what we'd do, Jean. She knew. Please-\"\n\nJean released him and sat back as quickly as he had attacked. He looked down at his hands and shook his head. \"Oh, gods, forgive me. Forgive me, Locke.\"\n\n\"Always,\" said Locke. \"Jean, I am so, so sorry-I wouldn't, I wouldn't have had it happen for the world. For the world, do you hear me?\"\n\n\"I do,\" he said quietly. He buried his face in his hands and said nothing more." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "To the southeast, the fire aboard the Dread Sovereign turned the seared; it roared up the masts and sails, rained charred canvas like volcanic ash upon the waves, devoured the hull, and at last subsided into a billowing mountain of smoke and steam as the ship's charred hulk slipped beneath the waters.\n\n\"Ravelle,\" said Drakasha, placing a hand on Locke's shoulder and interrupting his reverie, \"if you can help, I-\"\n\n\"I'm fine,\" said Locke, stumbling to his feet. \"I can help. Just maybe... leave Jerome-\"\n\n\"Yes,\" she said. \"Ravelle, we need-\"\n\n\"Zamira, enough. Enough Ravelle this, Kosta that. Around the crew, sure. But my friends call me Locke.\"\n\n\"Locke,\" she said.\n\n\"Locke Lamora. Don't, ah-ahhh, who the hell would you tell anyway?\" He reached up to set a hand on hers, and in a moment they had drawn one another into a hug. \"I'm sorry,\" he whispered. \"Ezri, Nasreen, Malakasti, Gwillem-\"\n\n\"Gwillem?\"\n\n\"Yeah, he-one of Rodanov's archers, I'm sorry.\"\n\n\"Gods,\" she said. \"Gwillem was with the Orchid when I stole her. Last of the original crew. Ra-Locke. Mum has the wheel and we're safe for the moment. I need... I need to go down and see my children. And I need... I need you to look after Ezri. They can't see her like that.\"\n\n\"I'll take care of it,\" he said. \"Look, go down. I'll take care of things on deck. We'll get the rest of the wounded back to Treganne. We'll get all the bodies covered up.\"" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Proceed with the plot in your role as storytelling partner.\nTags: fantasy, heist, pirates\nAuthor: Scott Lynch\nTitle: Red Seas Under Red Skies\nChapter: 23" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "When the brief interrogation was over, and Caulus carted off-alive, to keep him in fear of consequences should he be leaving anything out-along with the bodies, the false Eyes armed themselves with the weapons and harnesses of the real thing, and drew on the brass masks. Then the carriage was off again, speeding on its way to the boat waiting at the inner docks, lest any of Stragos'agents should get across the bay in time to warn of what they'd seen.\n\n\"That was about as good as we could hope for,\" said Lyonis, sitting inside the carriage with them.\n\n\"How good are those fake uniforms?\" asked Locke.\n\n\"Fake? You misunderstand. The uniforms weren't the hard part; our sympathizers in Stragos\" forces supplied us with these sometime ago. It's the masks that are damned difficult. One per Eye, no spares; they keep them like family heirlooms. And they spend so much time looking at them even a close copy would be noticed.\" Cordo held up his mask and grinned. \"After tonight, hopefully, we'll never seethe damned things again. Now what the hell is in those oilcloth tubes?\"\n\n\"A gift from Requin,\" said Locke. \"Unrelated personal business.\"\n\n\"You know Requin well?\"\n\n\"We share a taste for the art of the late Therin Throne period,\" said Locke, smiling. \"In fact, we've even exchanged some pieces of work recently.\"\n\nAS LYONIS knocked the archon to the ground, the other false Eyes tore their masks off and took action. Locke and Jean slid out of the purely decorative knots at their wrists in less than a second.\n\nOne of Lyonis' men underestimated the skills of the real Eye he faced; he fell to his knees with most of his left side sliced open. Two more Priori pretenders closed in and harried the Eye until his guard slipped; they knocked him down and stabbed him several times. The other tried to run and fetch aid, but was slain before he could take five steps." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Merrain and the alchemist looked around, the alchemist far more nervously than Merrain, but two of Lyonis' people put them at swordpoint.\n\n\"Well, Stragos,\" said Lyonis, hauling the archon back to his knees, \"warmest regards from the House of Cordo.\" He raised his arm, sword reversed to strike, and grinned.\n\nJean grabbed him from behind, threw him to the ground, and stood over him, seething. \"The deal, Cordo!\"\n\n\"Yeah,\" said Lyonis, still smiling where he lay on the ground. \"Well, it's like this. You've done us quite a service, but we don't feel comfortable having loose ends running around. And there are now seven of us, and two of-\"\n\n\"You amateur double-crossers,\" said Locke. \"You make us professionals cringe. You think you're so fucking clever. I saw this coming about a hundred miles away, so I had a mutual friend offer an opinion on the subject.\"\n\nLocke reached into his boot and pulled out a slightly crumpled, moderately sweaty half-sheet of parchment, folded into quarters. Locke passed this to Lyonis and smiled, knowing as the Priori unfolded it that he would read:\n\nI WOULD TAKE IT AS A PERSONAL AFFRONT IF THE BEARERS OF THIS NOTE WERE TO BE HARMED OR HINDERED IN ANYWAY, ENGAGED AS THEY ARE UPON AN ERRAND OF MUTUAL BENEFIT. THE EXTENSION OF EVERY COURTESY TO THEM WILL BE NOTED AND RETURNED AS THOUGH A COURTESY TO MYSELF. THEY BEAR MY FULL AND ABSOLUTE TRUST." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "R\n\nAll, of course, above Requin's personal seal.\n\n\"I know that you yourself are not fond of his chance house,\" said Locke. \"But you must admit that the same is not generally true among the Priori, and many of your peers keep a great deal of money in his vault-\"\n\n\"Enough. I take your point.\" Cordo rose to his feet and all but threw the letter back at Locke. \"What do you ask?\"\n\n\"I only want two things,\" said Locke. \"The archon and his alchemist. What you do with this gods-damned city is entirely your business.\"\n\n\"The archon must-\"\n\n\"You were about to gut him like a fish. He's my business now. Just know that whatever happens to him won't bean inconvenience for you.\"\n\nThe sound of shouting arose from the other side of the gardens. No, Locke corrected himself-the other side of the fortress.\n\n\"What the hell is that?\" he asked.\n\n\"We have sympathizers at the Mon Magisteria's gate,\" said Cordo. \"We're bringing people into prevent anyone from leaving. They must be making their presence known.\"\n\n\"If you try to storm-\"\n\n\"We're not storming the Mon Magisteria. Just sealing it off. Once the troops inside comprehend the new situation, we're confident they'll accept the authority of the councils.\"\n\n\"You'd better hope that's the case across Tal Verrar,\" said Locke. \"But enough of this shit. Hey, Stragos, let's go have a chat with your pet alchemist.\"\n\nJean hoisted the archon-still clearly in shock-to his feet, and began to haul him over to where Merrain and the alchemist were standing under guard." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You,\" said Locke, pointing at the bald man, \"are about to start explaining a hell of a lot of things, if you know what's good for you.\"\n\nThe alchemist shook his head. \"Oh, but I... I...\"\n\n\"Pay close attention,\" said Locke. \"This is the end of the archonate, understand? The whole institution is getting sunk in the harbor once and for all tonight. After this, Maxilan Stragos won't have the power to buy a cup of warm piss for all the gold in Tal Verrar. That will leave you with nobody to go crawling to as you spend the rest of your short, miserable life answering to the two men you fucking poisoned. Do you have a permanent antidote?\"\n\n\"I... I carry an antidote for every poison I use in the archon's service, yes. Justin case.\"\n\n\"Xandrin, don't-,\" said Stragos. Jean punched him in the stomach.\n\n\"Oh, no. Do, Xandrin, do,\" said Locke.\n\nThe bald man reached into his satchel and held up a glass vial, full of transparent liquid. \"One dose is what I carry. This is enough for one man-do not split it. This will cleanse the substance from the humors and channels of the body.\"\n\nLocke took the vial from him, his hand trembling. \"And this... how much will it cost to have another alchemist make more?\"\n\n\"It's impossible,\" said Xandrin. \"I designed the antidote to defy reactive analysis. Any sample subjected to alchemical scrutiny will be ruined. The poison and its antidote are my proprietary formulation-\"\n\n\"Notes,\" said Locke. \"Recipes, whatever you call the damn things.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"In my head,\" said Xandrin. \"Paper is a poor keeper of secrets.\"\n\n\"Well then,\" said Locke, \"until you cook us up another dose, it looks like you're fucking well coming with us. Do you like the sea?\"\n\nMERRAIN MADE her decision then. If the antidote couldn't be duplicated, and she could knock the vial to the ground... the troublesome anomalies Kosta and de Ferra were as good as dead. That would leave only Stragos and Xandrin.\n\nIf they were dealt with, all those with any direct knowledge of the fact that she served a master beyond Tal Verrar would be silenced.\n\nShe moved her right arm slightly, dropping the hilt of her poisoned dagger into her hand, and took a deep breath.\n\nMerrain moved so fast that the false Eye standing to her side never even had the chance to raise his sword. Her sideways stab, not preceded by any telltale glance or lunge, took him in the side of the neck. She slid the blade sideways as she withdrew, tearing whatever she could in case the poison took a few extra seconds to do its work.\n\nMERRAIN'S FIRST victim had just uttered a gasp of surprise when she moved again, slashing across the back of Xandrin's neck with a knife she'd produced from nowhere. Locke stared fora split second, startled; he counted himself fast, but if she'd been aiming for him he realized that he never would have seen the blow coming in time.\n\nAs Xandrin cried out and stumbled forward, Merrain kicked at Locke, a fast attack rather than a solid one. She caught his arm and the vial flew from his fingers; Locke barely had time to yell, \"Shit!\" before he was diving after it, heedless of the gravel he was about to skin himself against or anything else Merrain might care to do to him. He plucked the still-intact vial off the ground, uttered a whisper of thanks, and was then knocked aside as Jean rushed past, arms extended." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Ashe hit the ground with the vial clutched to his chest, Locke saw Merrain windup and hurl her knife; Jean struck her at the moment of release, so that rather than impaling Stragos through the neck or chest as she'd clearly intended, she bounced her blade off the gravel at his feet. The archon flinched away from the weapon nonetheless.\n\nMerrain, improbably, put up an effective struggle against Jean; she freed one arm from his grasp somehow and elbowed him in the ribs. Lithe and no doubt desperate as all hell, she kicked his left foot, broke his grip, and tried to stumble away. Jean retained enough of a hold on her tunic to tear off her left sleeve all the way to the shoulder; thrown off balance as it gave way, he fell to the ground.\n\nLocke caught a flash of an elaborate, dark tattoo against the pale skin of Merrain's upper arm-something like a grapevine entwined around a sword. Then she was off like a crossbow bolt, darting into the night, away from Jean and the false Eyes who chased her in vain fora few dozen steps before giving up and swearing loudly.\n\n\"Well what the-oh, hell,\" said Locke, noticing for the first time that the false Eye Merrain had stabbed, along with Xandrin, was writhing on the ground with rivulets of foaming saliva trickling from the corners of his mouth. \"Oh, shit, shit, hell,\" Locke shouted, bending helplessly over the dying alchemist. The convulsions ceased in just a few seconds, and Locke stared down at the single vial of antidote in his hands, a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.\n\n\"No,\" said Jean from behind him. \"Oh, gods, why did she do that?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I don't know,\" said Locke.\n\n\"What the hell do we do?\"\n\n\"We... shit. Damned if I know that, either.\"\n\n\"You should-\"\n\n\"Nobody's doing anything,\" said Locke. \"I'll keep this safe. Once this is over, we'll sit down with it, have dinner, talk it over. We'll come up with something.\"\n\n\"You can-\"\n\n\"Time to go,\" said Locke, lowering his voice to an urgent whisper. \"Get what we came here for and go, before things get more complicated.\" Before troops loyal to the archon notice that he's having a bad night. Before Lyonis finds out that Requin is actually hunting for us as we speak. Before some other gods-damned surprise crawls out of the ground to bite us on the ass.\n\n\"Cordo,\" he shouted, \"where's that bag you promised?\"\n\nLyonis gestured to one of his surviving false Eyes, and the woman passed a heavy burlap sack to Locke. Locke shook it out-it was wider than he was, and nearly six feet long.\n\n\"Well, Maxilan,\" he said, \"I offered you the chance to forget all of this, and let us go, and keep what you had, but you had to be a fucking asshole, didn't you?\"\n\n\"Kosta,\" said Stragos, at least seeming to rediscover his voice, \"I... I can give you...\"\n\n\"You can't give me a gods-damned thing.\" Stragos seemed to bethinking of making an attempt for Merrain's dagger, so Locke gave it a hard kick. It skittered across the gravel and into the darkness of the gardens. \"Those of us in our profession, those who hold with the Crooked Warden, have a little tradition we follow when someone close to us dies. In this case, someone who got killed as a result of this mad fucking scheme of yours.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Kosta, don't throwaway what I can offer-\"\n\n\"We call it a death-offering,\" said Locke. \"Means we steal something of value, proportional to the life we lost. Except in this case I don't think there's anything in the world that qualifies. But we're doing our best.\"\n\nJean stepped up beside him and cracked his knuckles.\n\n\"Ezri Delmastro,\" he said, very quietly, \"I give you the archon of Tal Verrar.\"\n\nHe punched Stragos so hard that the archon's feet left the gravel. Ina moment, he was stuffing the unconscious old man into the burlap sack. Another moment, and the sack was tied off, and slung over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes.\n\n\"Well, Lyonis,\" said Locke, \"best of luck with your revolution, or whatever the hell it is. We're sneaking out of here before things have a chance to get anymore interesting onus.\"\n\n\"And Stragos-\"\n\n\"You'll never see him again,\" said Locke.\n\n\"Good enough, then. Are you leaving the city?\"\n\n\"Not half fast enough for our gods-damned taste.\"\n\nJEAN DUMPED him on the quarterdeck, under the eyes of Zamira and all the surviving crew. It had been along and arduous trip back-first to retrieve their backpacks from Cordo's little boat, and then to dutifully retrieve Drakasha's ship's boat, and then to row nearly out to sea-but it had all been worth it. The entire night had been worth it, Locke decided, just to seethe expression on Stragos\" face when he found Zamira standing over him.\n\n\"Dr... r... akasha,\" he mumbled, then spit one of his teeth onto the deck. Blood ran in several streams down his chin." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Maxilan Stragos, former archon of Tal Verrar,\" she said. \"Final archon of Tal Verrar. Last time I saw you my perspective was somewhat different.\"\n\n\"As was... mine.\" He sighed. \"What now?\"\n\n\"There are too many debts riding on your carcass to buy them off with death,\" said Zamira. \"We thought long and hard about this. We've decided that we're going to try to keep you around as long as we possibly can.\"\n\nShe snapped her fingers, and Jabril stepped forward, carrying amass of sturdy, if slightly rusted, iron chains and cuffs in his arms. He dropped them on the deck next to Stragos and laughed as the old man jumped. The hands of other crewfolk seized him, and he began to sob in disbelief as his legs and arms were clamped, and as the chains were draped around him.\n\n\"You're going in the orlop, Stragos. You're going into the dark. And we're going to treat it as a special privilege, to carry you around with us wherever we go. In any weather, in any sea, in any heat. We're going to haul you a mighty long way. You and your irons. Long after your clothes falloff, I guarantee, you'll still have those to wear.\"\n\n\"Drakasha, please...\"\n\n\"Throw him as far down as we got,\" she said, and half a dozen crewfolk began carrying him toward a main-deck hatch. \"Chain him to the bulkhead. Then let him get cozy.\"\n\n\"Drakasha,\" he screamed, \"you can't! You can't! I'll go mad!\"\n\n\"I know,\" she said. \"And you'll scream. Gods, how you'll wail down there. But that's okay. We can always do with a bit of music at sea.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Then he was carried below the Poison Orchid's deck, to the rest of his life.\n\n\"Well,\" said Drakasha, turning to Locke and Jean. \"You two delivered. I'll be damned, but you got what you wanted.\"\n\n\"No, Captain,\" said Jean. \"We got what we went after, mostly. But we didn't get what we wanted. Not by along gods-damned shot.\"\n\n\"I'm sorry, Jerome,\" she said.\n\n\"I hope nobody ever calls me that again,\" said Jean. \"The name is Jean.\"\n\n\"Locke and Jean,\" she said. \"All right, then. Can I take you two somewhere?\"\n\n\"Vel Virazzo, if you don't mind,\" said Locke. \"We've got some business to transact.\"\n\n\"And then you'll be rich men?\"\n\n\"We'll be in funds, yes. Do you want some, for your-\"\n\n\"No,\" she said. \"You went into Tal Verrar and did the stealing. Keep it. We've got swag enough from Salon Corbeau, and so few ways to split it now. We'll be fine. So what will you do after that?\"\n\n\"We had a plan,\" said Locke. \"Remember what you told meat the rail that night? If someone tries to draw lines around your ship, just... set more sail?\"\n\nDrakasha nodded.\n\n\"I guess you could say we're going to give it a try,\" said Locke.\n\n\"Will you need anything else, then?\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Locke, \"for safety's sake, given our past history... perhaps you'd let us consider borrowing one of your ship's cats?\"\n\nTHEY MET the next day, at Requin's invitation, in what could only be described as the wreckage of his office. The main door was smashed off its hinges, the suite of chairs still lay broken across the floor, and of course almost all of the paintings on the walls had been sliced out of their frames. Requin seemed to derive a perverse pleasure in seating the seven Priori on fine chairs in the midst of the chaos and pretending that all was perfectly normal. Selendri paced the room behind the guests." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Has everything gone more smoothly for you ladies and gentlemen since last night?\" asked Requin.\n\n\"Fighting's ended in the Sword Marina,\" said Jacantha Tiga, youngest of the Inner Seven. \"The navy is on the leash.\"\n\n\"The Mon Magisteria is ours,\" said Lyonis Cordo, standing in for his father. \"All of Stragos' captains are in custody, except for two captains of intelligence-\"\n\n\"We can't have another fucking Ravelle incident,\" said a middle-aged Priori.\n\n\"I've got people working on that issue myself,\" said Requin. \"They won't go to ground within the city, I can promise that much.\"\n\n\"The ambassadors from Talisham, Espara, and the Kingdom of the Seven Marrows have publicly expressed confidence in the leadership of the council,\" said Tiga.\n\n\"I know,\" said Requin, smiling. \"I forgave them some rather substantial debts last night, and suggested that they might make themselves useful to the new regime. Now, what about the Eyes?\"\n\n\"About half of them are alive and in custody,\" said Cordo. \"The rest are dead, with just a few thought to be trying to stir up resistance.\"\n\n\"They won't get far,\" said Tiga. \"Loyalty to the old archonate won't buy food or beer. I expect they'll turn up dead here and there once they annoy the regulars too much.\"\n\n\"We'll have the rest quietly gotten rid of over the next few days,\" said Cordo.\n\n\"Now, I wonder,\" said Requin, \"if that's really so very wise. The Eyes of the Archon represent a significant pool of highly trained and committed people. Surely there's got to be a better use for them than filling graves.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"They were loyal to Stragos alone-\"\n\n\"Or perhaps to Tal Verrar, were you to ask them.\" Requin placed a handover his heart. \"My patriotic duty compels me to point this out.\"\n\nCordo snorted. \"They were his shock troops, his bodyguards, his torturers. They're useless to us, if not actively seditious.\"\n\n\"Perhaps, for all of his vaunted military understanding, our dear departed archon employed the Eyes inefficiently,\" said Requin. \"Perhaps the business with the faceless masks was too much. They might have been better off in plainclothes, as an enhancement to his intelligence apparatus, rather than terrorizing people as his enforcers.\"\n\n\"Maybe for his sake,\" said Tiga. \"Had he done so, that intelligence apparatus might have foiled our move against him yesterday. It was a close thing.\"\n\n\"Still,\" said Cordo, \"hard to keep a kingdom when you no longer have a king.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Tiga, \"we're all so very impressed, Cordo. Subtly mention your involvement in passing as often as you like, please.\"\n\n\"At least I-\"\n\n\"And more difficult still to keep a kingdom,\" interrupted Requin, \"when you discard perfectly good tools left behind by the king.\"\n\n\"Forgive us our density,\" said Saravelle Fioran, a woman nearly as old as Marius Cordo, \"but what precisely are you driving at, Requin?\"\n\n\"Merely that the Eyes, properly vetted and retrained, could be a significant asset to Tal Verrar, if used not as shock troops but as... a secret constabulary?\"\n\n\"Says the man in charge of the very people such a force would be charged with hunting down,\" scoffed Cordo." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Younger Cordo,\" said Requin, \"those are also the \"very people\" whose interference with your family business is kept to an acceptable minimum through my involvement. They are the very people who were instrumental in delivering our victory yesterday-carrying your messages, filling the streets to detain army reinforcements, distracting Stragos' most loyal officers while some of you were allowed to approach this affair with the air of amateurs dabbling at lawn bowling.\"\n\n\"Not I-,\" said Cordo.\n\n\"No, not you. You did fight. But I flaunt my hypocrisy with a smile on my face, Lyonis. Don't you dare pretend, herein our highest privacy, that your disdain somehow absolves you for your involvement with the likes of me. You don't want to imagine a city with crime unregulated by the likes of me! As for the Eyes, I am not asking, I am telling. Those few who were true fanatics for Stragos can conveniently trip and land on swords, yes. The rest are too useful to throwaway.\"\n\n\"On what grounds,\" said Tiga, \"do you presume to lecture-\"\n\n\"On the grounds that six of the seven people sitting here have seen fit to store goods and funds at the Sinspire vault. Items that, let us be frank, need not ever reappear in the event that I begin to feel anxious about our relationship.\n\n\"I have an investment in this city, the same as you. I would not take kindly to having a foreign power interrupt my affairs. To give Stragos his due, I cannot imagine that the army and navy in your hands will inspire a great deal of awe in our enemies, given what happened last time the Priori governed during a war. Therefore I see fit to hedge all of our bets.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Surely we could discuss this in just a few days,\" said Lyonis.\n\n\"I think not. Inconveniences like our surviving Eyes have a habit of disappearing before arguments can broaden, don't they? It's a busy time. Messages might be lost, or misconstrued, and I'm sure there'd be a perfectly plausible reason for whatever happened.\"\n\n\"So what do you want?\" asked Fioran.\n\n\"If you're going to take the Mon Magisteria as an administrative center for our shiny new government, I would imagine that a suite of offices would be a good start. Something nice and prestigious, before all the nice ones are gone. Plus I'll expect a rudimentary operating budget by the end of the week; I'll set down the rough finnicking myself. Salaries for the next year. Speaking of which, I will expect at least three or four positions within the hierarchy of this new organization to be placed entirely at my discretion. Salaries in the range often to fifteen solari per annum.\"\n\n\"So you can pass out sinecures to some of your jumped-up thieves,\" said Lyonis.\n\n\"So I can aid them in their transition to life as respectable citizens and defenders of Tal Verrar, yes,\" said Requin.\n\n\"Will this be your own transition to life as a respectable citizen?\" asked Tiga.\n\n\"Here I thought I already was,\" said Requin. \"Gods, no. I have no desire to turn away from the responsibilities I currently enjoy. But it just so happens that I have an ideal candidate in mind to head our new organization. Someone who shares my qualms about the manner in which Stragos employed his Eyes, and should betaken all the more seriously for the fact that she used to be one.\"\n\nSelendri couldn't help smiling as the Priori turned in their seats to stare at her." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Now, Requin, hold on,\" said Cordo.\n\n\"I see no need,\" said Requin. \"I don't believe your six fellows are actually going to deny me this very minor and very patriotic request, are they?\"\n\nCordo looked around, and Selendri knew what he was seeing on the faces of the other Priori; if he formally tried to stop this, he would be alone, and he would weaken not only his father's borrowed position but his own future prospects.\n\n\"I think her starting compensation should be something handsome, rather handsome,\" said Requin cheerfully. \"And of course she'll require use of official carriages and barges. An official residence; Stragos had dozens of houses and manors at his disposal. Oh, and I think her office at the Mon Magisteria should be the nicest and most prestigious of all. Don't you?\"\n\nThey kissed one another fora very longtime, alone in the office once the Priori had left in various states of bemusement, worry, and aggravation. Ashe usually did, Requin removed his gloves to run the brown, pocked skin of his hands over her, over the matching scar tissue on her left-hand side as well as the healthy flesh on her right.\n\n\"There you are, my dear,\" he said. \"I know you've been chafing here for sometime, running up and down these tower steps, fetching and bowing for drunkards of quality.\"\n\n\"I'm still sorry for my failure to-\"\n\n\"Our failure was entirely shared,\" said Requin. \"In fact, I fell for Kosta and de Ferra's line of bullshit harder than you did-you retained your suspicion the whole way. Left to your own devices, you would have thrown them out the window early on and avoided the entire mess at the end, I'm sure.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She smiled.\n\n\"And those smirking Priori assume I'm inflicting one last grand sinecure on them where you're concerned.\" Requin ran his fingers through her hair. \"Gods, are they in fora surprise. I can't wait to see you inaction. You'll build something that will make my little coteries of felantozzi look tawdry.\"\n\nSelendri stared around at the wreckage of the office. Requin laughed. \"I suppose,\" he said, \"that I have to admire the audacious little shits. To spend two years planning such a thing, and then the business with the chairs... and with my seal! My, Lyonis was throwing a fit....\"\n\n\"I'd have thought you'd be furious,\" said Selendri.\n\n\"Furious? I suppose I am. I was rather fond of that suite of chairs.\"\n\n\"I know how long you worked to acquire those paintings-\"\n\n\"Ah, the paintings, yes.\" Requin grinned mischievously. \"Well, as for that... the walls have been left somewhat underdecorated. How would you like to go down to the vault with me to start fetching out the real ones?\"\n\n\"What do you mean, the real ones?\"" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Advance the plot as the writer's tale assistant.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, war\nAuthor: J.R.R. Tolkien\nTitle: The Return of the King\nChapter: 10" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Pippin looked out from the shelter of Gandalf's cloak. He wondered if he was awake or still sleeping, still in the swift-moving dream in which he had been wrapped so long since the great ride began. The dark world was rushing by and the wind sang loudly in his ears. He could see nothing but the wheeling stars, and away to his right vast shadows against the sky where the mountains of the South marched past. Sleepily he tried to reckon the times and stages of their journey, but his memory was drowsy and uncertain.\n\nThere had been the first ride at terrible speed without a halt, and then in the dawn he had seen a pale gleam of gold, and they had come to the silent town and the great empty house on the hill. And hardly had they reached its shelter when the winged shadow had passed over once again, and men wilted with fear. But Gandalf had spoken soft words to him, and he had slept in a corner, tired but uneasy, dimly aware of comings and goings and of men talking and Gandalf giving orders. And then again riding, riding in the night. This was the second, no, the third night since he had looked in the Stone. And with that hideous memory he woke fully, and shivered, and the noise of the wind became filled with menacing voices.\n\nAlight kindled in the sky, ablaze of yellow fire behind dark barriers. Pippin cowered back, afraid fora moment, wondering into what dreadful country Gandalf was bearing him. He rubbed his eyes, and then he saw that it was the moon rising above the eastern shadows, now almost at the full. So the night was not yet old and for hours the dark journey would goon. He stirred and spoke.\n\n\"Where are we, Gandalf?\" he asked." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"In the realm of Gondor,\" the wizard answered. \"The land of Anórien is still passing by.\"\n\nThere was a silence again fora while. Then, \"What is that?\" cried Pippin suddenly, clutching at Gandalf's cloak.\"Look! Fire, red fire! Are there dragons in this land? Look, there is another! '\n\nFor answer Gandalf cried aloud to his horse. \"On, Shadowfax! We must hasten. Time is short. See! The beacons of Gondor are alight, calling for aid. War is kindled. See, there is the fire on Amon Dîn, and flame on Eilenach; and there they go speeding west: Nardol, Erelas, Min-Rimmon, Calenhad, and the Halifirien on the borders of Rohan.\"\n\nBut Shadowfax paused in his stride, slowing to a walk, and then he lifted up his head and neighed. And out of the darkness the answering neigh of other horses came; and presently the thudding of hoofs was heard, and three riders swept up and passed like flying ghosts in the moon and vanished into the West. Then Shadowfax gathered himself together and sprang away, and the night flowed over him like a roaring wind.\n\nPippin became drowsy again and paid little attention to Gandalf telling him of the customs of Gondor, and how the Lord of the City had beacons built on the tops of outlying hills along both borders of the great range, and maintained posts at these points where fresh horses were always in readiness to bear his errand-riders to Rohan in the North, or to Belfalas in the South. \"It is long since the beacons of the North were lit,\" he said; \"and in the ancient days of Gondor they were not needed, for they had the Seven Stones.\" Pippin stirred uneasily." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Sleep again, and do not be afraid!\" said Gandalf. \"For you are not going like Frodo to Mordor, but to Minas Tirith, and there you will be as safe as you can be anywhere in these days. If Gondor falls, or the Ring is taken, then the Shire will be no refuge.\"\n\n\"You do not comfort me,\" said Pippin, but nonetheless sleep crept over him. The last thing that he remembered before he fell into deep dream was a glimpse of high white peaks, glimmering like floating isles above the clouds as they caught the light of the westering moon. He wondered where Frodo was, and if he was already in Mordor, or if he was dead; and he did not know that Frodo from faraway looked on that same moon as it set beyond Gondor ere the coming of the day.\n\nPippin woke to the sound of voices. Another day of hiding and a night of journey had fleeted by. It was twilight: the cold dawn was at hand again, and chill grey mists were about them. Shadowfax stood steaming with sweat, but he held his neck proudly and showed no sign of weariness. Many tall men heavily cloaked stood beside him, and behind them in the mist loomed a wall of stone. Partly ruinous it seemed, but already before the night was passed the sound of hurried labour could be heard: beat of hammers, clink of trowels, and the creak of wheels. Torches and flares glowed dully here and therein the fog. Gandalf was speaking to the men that barred his way, and as he listened Pippin became aware that he himself was being discussed.\n\n\"Yea truly, we know you, Mithrandir,\" said the leader of the men, \"and you know the pass-words of the Seven Gates and are free to go forward. But we do not know your companion. What is he? A dwarf out of the mountains in the North? We wish for no strangers in the land at this time, unless they be mighty men of arms in whose faith and help we can trust.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I will vouch for him before the seat of Denethor,\" said Gandalf. \"And as for valour, that cannot be computed by stature. He has passed through more battles and perils than you have, Ingold, though you be twice his height; and he comes now from the storming of Isengard, of which we bear tidings, and great weariness is on him, or I would wake him. His name is Peregrin, a very valiant man.\"\n\n\"Man?\" said Ingold dubiously, and the others laughed.\n\n\"Man!\" cried Pippin, now thoroughly roused. \"Man! Indeed not! I am a hobbit and no more valiant than I am a man, save perhaps now and again by necessity. Do not let Gandalf deceive you!\"\n\n\"Many a doer of great deeds might say no more,\" said Ingold. \"But what is a hobbit?\"\n\n\"A Halfling,\" answered Gandalf. \"Nay, not the one that was spoken of,\" he added seeing the wonder in the men's faces.\"Not he, yet one of his kindred. '\n\n\"Yes, and one who journeyed with him,\" said Pippin. \"And Boromir of your City was with us, and he saved me in the snows of the North, and at the last he was slain defending me from many foes.\"\n\n\"Peace!\" said Gandalf. \"The news of that grief should have been told first to the father.\"\n\n\"It has been guessed already,\" said Ingold; \"for there have been strange portents hereof late. But pass on now quickly! For the Lord of Minas Tirith will be eager to see any that bear the latest tidings of his son, be he manor--\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Hobbit,\" said Pippin. \"Little service can I offer to your lord, but what I can do, I would do, remembering Boromir the brave.\"\n\n\"Fare you well!\" said Ingold; and the men made way for Shadowfax, and he passed through a narrow gate in the wall. \"May you bring good counsel to Denethor in his need, and to us all, Mithrandir!\" Ingold cried. \"But you come with tidings of grief and danger, as is your wont, they say.\"\n\n\"Because I come seldom but when my help is needed,\" answered Gandalf. \"And as for counsel, to you I would say that you are over-late in repairing the wall of the Pelennor. Courage will now be your best defence against the storm that is at hand– that and such hope as I bring. For not all the tidings that I bring are evil. But leave your trowels and sharpen your swords!\"\n\n\"The work will be finished ere evening,\" said Ingold. \"This is the last portion of the wall to be put in defence: the least open to attack, for it looks towards our friends of Rohan. Do you know aught of them? Will they answer the summons, think you?\"\n\n\"Yes, they will come. But they have fought many battles at your back. This road and no road looks towards safety any longer. Be vigilant! But for Gandalf Stormcrow you would have seen a host of foes coming out of Anórien and no Riders of Rohan. And you may yet. Fare you well, and sleep not!\"\n\nGandalf passed now into the wide land beyond the Rammas Echor. So the men of Gondor called the out-wall that they had built with great labour, after Ithilien fell under the shadow of their Enemy. For ten leagues or more it ran from the mountains' feet and so back again, enclosing in its fence the fields of the Pelennor: fair and fertile townlands on the long slopes and terraces falling to the deep levels of the Anduin. At its furthest point from the Great Gate of the City, north-eastward, the wall was four leagues distant, and therefrom a frowning bank it overlooked the long flats beside the river, and men had made it high and strong; for at that point, upon a walled causeway, the road came in from the fords and bridges of Osgiliath and passed through a guarded gate between embattled towers. At its nearest point the wall was little more than one league from the City, and that was south-eastward. There Anduin, going in a wide knee about the hills of Emyn Arnen in South Ithilien, bent sharply west, and the out-wall rose upon its very brink; and beneath it lay the quays and landings of the Harlond for craft that came upstream from the southern fiefs." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The townlands were rich, with wide tilth and many orchards, and homesteads there were with oast and garner, fold and byre, and many rills rippling through the green from the highlands down to Anduin. Yet the herdsmen and husbandmen that dwelt there were not many, and the most part of the people of Gondor lived in the seven circles of the City, or in the high vales of the mountain-borders, in Lossarnach, or further south in fair Lebennin with its five swift streams. There dwelt a hardy folk between the mountains and the sea. They were reckoned men of Gondor, yet their blood was mingled, and there were short and swarthy folk among them whose sires came more from the forgotten men who housed in the shadow of the hills in the Dark Years ere the coming of the kings. But beyond, in the great fief of Belfalas, dwelt Prince Imrahil in his castle of Dol Amroth by the sea, and he was of high blood, and his folk also, tall men and proud with sea-grey eyes.\n\nNow after Gandalf had ridden for sometime the light of day grew in the sky, and Pippin roused himself and looked up. To his left lay a sea of mist, rising to a bleak shadow in the East; but to his right great mountains reared their heads, ranging from the West to a steep and sudden end, as if in the making of the land the River had burst through a great barrier, carving out a mighty valley to be a land of battle and debate in times to come. And there where the White Mountains of Ered Nimrais came to their end he saw, as Gandalf had promised, the dark mass of Mount Mindolluin, the deep purple shadows of its high glens, and its tall face whitening in the rising day. And upon its out-thrust knee was the Guarded City, with its seven walls of stone so strong and old that it seemed to have been not builded but carven by giants out of the bones of the earth." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Even as Pippin gazed in wonder the walls passed from looming grey to white, blushing faintly in the dawn; and suddenly the sun climbed over the eastern shadow and sent forth a shaft that smote the face of the City. Then Pippin cried aloud, for the Tower of Ecthelion, standing high within the topmost wall, shone out against the sky, glimmering like a spike of pearl and silver, tall and fair and shapely, and its pinnacle glittered as if it were wrought of crystals; and white banners broke and fluttered from the battlements in the morning breeze, and high and far he heard a clear ringing as of silver trumpets.\n\nSo Gandalf and Peregrin rode to the Great Gate of the Men of Gondor at the rising of the sun, and its iron doors rolled back before them.\n\n\"Mithrandir! Mithrandir!\" men cried. \"Now we know that the storm is indeed nigh!\"\n\n\"It is upon you,\" said Gandalf. \"I have ridden on its wings. Let me pass! I must come to your Lord Denethor, while his stewardship lasts. Whatever betide, you have come to the end of the Gondor that you have known. Let me pass!\"\n\nThen men fell back before the command of his voice and questioned him no further, though they gazed in wonder at the hobbit that sat before him and at the horse that bore him. For the people of the City used horses very little and they were seldom seen in their streets, save only those ridden by the errand-riders of their lord. And they said: \"Surely that is one of the great steeds of the King of Rohan? Maybe the Rohirrim will come soon to strengthen us.\" But Shadowfax walked proudly up the long winding road." }, { "from": "human", "value": "For the fashion of Minas Tirith was such that it was built on seven levels, each delved into the hill, and about each was set a wall, and in each wall was agate." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But the gates were not set in a line: the Great Gate in the City Wall was at the east point of the circuit, but the next faced half south, and the third half north, and so to and fro upwards; so that the paved way that climbed towards the Citadel turned first this way and then that across the face of the hill. And each time that it passed the line of the Great Gate it went through an arched tunnel, piercing avast pier of rock whose huge out-thrust bulk divided in two all the circles of the City save the first. For partly in the primeval shaping of the hill, partly by the mighty craft and labour of old, there stood up from the rear of the wide court behind the Gate a towering bastion of stone, its edge sharp as a ship-keel facing east. Up it rose, even to the level of the topmost circle, and there was crowned by a battlement; so that those in the Citadel might, like mariners in a mountainous ship, look from its peak sheer down upon the Gate seven hundred feet below. The entrance to the Citadel also looked eastward, but was delved in the heart of the rock; thence along lamp-lit slope ran up to the seventh gate. Thus men reached at last the High Court, and the Place of the Fountain before the feet of the White Tower: tall and shapely, fifty fathoms from its base to the pinnacle, where the banner of the Stewards floated a thousand feet above the plain.\n\nA strong citadel it was indeed, and not to betaken by a host of enemies, if there were any within that could hold weapons; unless some foe could come behind and scale the lower skirts of Mindolluin, and so come upon the narrow shoulder that joined the Hill of Guard to the mountain mass. But that shoulder, which rose to the height of the fifth wall, was hedged with great ramparts right up to the precipice that overhung its western end; and in that space stood the houses and domed tombs of bygone kings and lords, forever silent between the mountain and the tower." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Pippin gazed ingrowing wonder at the great stone city, vaster and more splendid than anything that he had dreamed of; greater and stronger than Isengard, and far more beautiful. Yet it was in truth falling year by year into decay; and already it lacked half the men that could have dwelt at ease there. In every street they passed some great house or court over whose doors and arched gates were carved many fair letters of strange and ancient shapes: names Pippin guessed of great men and kindreds that had once dwelt there; and yet now they were silent, and no footsteps rang on their wide pavements, nor voice was heard in their halls, nor any face looked out from door or empty window.\n\nAt last they came out of shadow to the seventh gate, and the warm sun that shone down beyond the river, as Frodo walked in the glades of Ithilien, glowed hereon the smooth walls and rooted pillars, and the great arch with keystone carven in the likeness of a crowned and kingly head. Gandalf dismounted, for no horse was allowed in the Citadel, and Shadowfax suffered himself to be led away at the soft word of his master.\n\nThe Guards of the gate were robed in black, and their helms were of strange shape, high-crowned, with long cheek-guards close-fitting to the face, and above the cheek-guards were set the white wings of sea-birds; but the helms gleamed with aflame of silver, for they were indeed wrought of mithril, heirlooms from the glory of old days. Upon the black surcoats were embroidered in white a tree blossoming like snow beneath a silver crown and many-pointed stars. This was the livery of the heirs of Elendil, and none wore it now in all Gondor, save the Guards of the Citadel before the Court of the Fountain where the White Tree once had grown." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Already it seemed that word of their coming had gone before them; and at once they were admitted, silently, and without question. Quickly Gandalf strode across the white-paved court. A sweet fountain played therein the morning sun, and a sward of bright green layabout it; but in the midst, drooping over the pool, stood a dead tree, and the falling drops dripped sadly from its barren and broken branches back into the clear water.\n\nPippin glanced at it as he hurried after Gandalf. It looked mournful, he thought, and he wondered why the dead tree was left in this place where everything else was well tended.\n\nSeven stars and seven stones and one white tree.\n\nThe words that Gandalf had murmured came back into his mind. And then he found himself at the doors of the great hall beneath the gleaming tower; and behind the wizard he passed the tall silent door-wardens and entered the cool echoing shadows of the house of stone.\n\nThey walked down a paved passage, long and empty, and as they went Gandalf spoke softly to Pippin. \"Be careful of your words, Master Peregrin! This is no time for hobbit pertness. Théoden is a kindly old man. Denethor is of another sort, proud and subtle, a man of far greater lineage and power, though he is not called a king. But he will speak most to you, and question you much, since you can tell him of his son Boromir. He loved him greatly: too much perhaps; and the more so because they were unlike. But undercover of this love he will think it easier to learn what he wishes from you rather than from me. Do not tell him more than you need, and leave quiet the matter of Frodo's errand. I will deal with that in due time. And say nothing about Aragorn either, unless you must. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Why not? What is wrong with Strider?\" Pippin whispered. \"He meant to come here, didn't he? And he'll be arriving soon himself, anyway.\"\n\n\"Maybe, maybe,\" said Gandalf. \"Though if he comes, it is likely to be in someway that no one expects, not even Denethor. It will be better so. At least he should come unheralded by us.\"\n\nGandalf halted before a tall door of polished metal. \"See, Master Pippin, there is no time to instruct you now in the history of Gondor; though it might have been better, if you had learned something of it, when you were still birds-nesting and playing truant in the woods of the Shire. Do as Ibid! It is scarcely wise when bringing the news of the death of his heir to a mighty lord to speak overmuch of the coming of one who will, if he comes, claim the kingship. Is that enough?\"\n\n\"Kingship?\" said Pippin amazed.\n\n\"Yes,\" said Gandalf. \"If you have walked all these days with closed ears and mind asleep, wake up now!\" He knocked on the door.\n\nThe door opened, but no one could be seen to open it. Pippin looked into a great hall. It was lit by deep windows in the wide aisles at either side, beyond the rows of tall pillars that upheld the roof. Monoliths of black marble, they rose to great capitals carved in many strange figures of beasts and leaves; and far above in shadow the wide vaulting gleamed with dull gold. The floor was of polished stone, white-gleaming, inset with flowing traceries of many colours. No hangings nor storied webs, nor anythings of woven stuff or of wood, were to be seen in that long solemn hall; but between the pillars there stood a silent company of tall images graven in cold stone." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Suddenly Pippin was reminded of the hewn rocks of Argonath, and awe fell on him, as he looked down that avenue of kings long dead." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "At the far end upon a dais of many steps was set a high throne under a canopy of marble shaped like a crowned helm; behind it was carved upon the wall and set with gems an image of a tree in flower. But the throne was empty. At the foot of the dais, upon the lowest step which was broad and deep, there was a stone chair, black and unadorned, and on it sat an old man gazing at his lap. In his hand was a white rod with a golden knob. He did not lookup. Solemnly they paced the long floor towards him, until they stood three paces from his footstool. Then Gandalf spoke.\n\n\"Hail, Lord and Steward of Minas Tirith, Denethor son of Ecthelion! I am come with counsel and tidings in this dark hour.\"\n\nThen the old man looked up. Pippin saw his carven face with its proud bones and skin like ivory, and the long curved nose between the dark deep eyes; and he was reminded not so much of Boromir as of Aragorn. \"Dark indeed is the hour,\" said the old man, \"and at such times you are wont to come, Mithrandir. But though all the signs forebode that the doom of Gondor is drawing nigh, less now tome is that darkness than my own darkness. It has been told tome that you bring with you one who saw my son die. Is this he?\"\n\n\"It is,\" said Gandalf. \"One of the twain. The other is with Théoden of Rohan and may come hereafter. Halflings they are, as you see, yet this is not he of whom the omens spoke.\"\n\n\"Yet a Halfling still,\" said Denethor grimly, \"and little love do I bear the name, since those accursed words came to trouble our counsels and drew away my son on the wild errand to his death. My Boromir! Now we have need of you. Faramir should have gone in his stead.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"He would have gone,\" said Gandalf." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Be not unjust in your grief! Boromir claimed the errand and would not suffer any other to have it. He was a masterful man, and one to take what he desired. I journeyed far with him and learned much of his mood. But you speak of his death. You have had news of that ere we came?\"\n\n\"I have received this,\" said Denethor, and laying down his rod he lifted from his lap the thing that he had been gazing at. In each hand he held up one half of a great horn cloven through the middle: a wild-ox horn bound with silver.\n\n\"That is the horn that Boromir always wore!\" cried Pippin.\n\n\"Verily,\" said Denethor. \"And in my turn I bore it, and so did each eldest son of our house, far back into the vanished years before the failing of the kings, since Vorondil father of Mardil hunted the wild kine of Araw in the far fields of Rhûn. I heard it blowing dim upon the northern marches thirteen days ago, and the River brought it tome, broken: it will wind no more.\" He paused and there was a heavy silence. Suddenly he turned his black glance upon Pippin. \"What say you to that, Halfling?\"\n\n\"Thirteen, thirteen days,\" faltered Pippin. \"Yes, I think that would be so. Yes, I stood beside him, as he blew the horn. But no help came. Only more orcs.\"\n\n\"So,\" said Denethor, looking keenly at Pippin's face.\"You were there? Tell me more! Why did no help come? And how did you escape, and yet he did not, so mighty a man as he was, and only orcs to withstand him? '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Pippin flushed and forgot his fear. \"The mightiest man maybe slain by one arrow,\" he said; \"and Boromir was pierced by many. When last I saw him he sank beside a tree and plucked a black-feathered shaft from his side. Then I swooned and was made captive. I saw him no more, and know no more. But I honour his memory, for he was very valiant. He died to save us, my kinsman Meriadoc and myself, waylaid in the woods by the soldiery of the Dark Lord; and though he fell and failed, my gratitude is none the less.\"\n\nThen Pippin looked the old man in the eye, for pride stirred strangely within him, still stung by the scorn and suspicion in that cold voice. \"Little service, no doubt, will so great a lord of Men think to find in a hobbit, a halfling from the northern Shire; yet such as it is, I will offer it, in payment of my debt.\" Twitching aside his grey cloak, Pippin drew forth his small sword and laid it at Denethor's feet.\n\nA pale smile, like agleam of cold sun on a winter's evening, passed over the old man's face; but he bent his head and held out his hand, laying the shards of the horn aside. \"Give me the weapon!\" he said.\n\nPippin lifted it and presented the hilt to him. \"Whence came this?\" said Denethor. \"Many, many years lie on it. Surely this is a blade wrought by our own kindred in the North in the deep past?\"\n\n\"It came out of the mounds that lie on the borders of my country,\" said Pippin. \"But only evil wights dwell there now, and I will not willingly tell more of them.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I see that strange tales are woven about you,\" said Denethor, \"and once again it is shown that looks may belie the man– or the halfling. I accept your service. For you are not daunted bywords; and you have courteous speech, strange though the sound of it maybe to us in the South. And we shall have need of all folk of courtesy, be they great or small, in the days to come. Swear tome now!\"\n\n\"Take the hilt,\" said Gandalf, \"and speak after the Lord, if you are resolved on this.\"\n\n\"I am,\" said Pippin.\n\nThe old man laid the sword along his lap, and Pippin put his hand to the hilt, and said slowly after Denethor:\n\n\"Here do I swear fealty and service to Gondor, and to the Lord and Steward of the realm, to speak and to be silent, to do and to let be, to come and to go, in need or plenty, in peace or war, in living or dying, from this hour henceforth, until my lord release me, or death take me, or the world end. So say I, Peregrin son of Paladin of the Shire of the Halflings.\"\n\n\"And this do I hear, Denethor son of Ecthelion, Lord of Gondor, Steward of the High King, and I will not forget it, nor fail to reward that which is given: fealty with love, valour with honour, oath-breaking with vengeance.\" Then Pippin received back his sword and put it in its sheath.\n\n\"And now,\" said Denethor, \"my first command to you: speak and be not silent! Tell me your full tale, and see that you recall all that you can of Boromir, my son. Sit now and begin!\" Ashe spoke he struck a small silver gong that stood near his footstool, and at once servants came forward. Pippin saw then that they had been standing in alcoves on either side of the door, unseen as he and Gandalf entered." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Bring wine and food and seats for the guests,\" said Denethor, \"and see that none trouble us for one hour.\"\n\n\"It is all that I have to spare, for there is much else to heed,\" he said to Gandalf. \"Much of more import, it may seem, and yet tome less pressing. But maybe we can speak again at the end of the day.\"\n\n\"And earlier, it is to be hoped,\" said Gandalf. \"For I have not ridden hither from Isengard, one hundred and fifty leagues, with the speed of wind, only to bring you one small warrior, however courteous. Is it naught to you that Théoden has fought a great battle, and that Isengard is overthrown, and that I have broken the staff of Saruman?\"\n\n\"It is much tome. But I know already sufficient of these deeds for my own counsel against the menace of the East.\" He turned his dark eyes on Gandalf, and now Pippin saw a likeness between the two, and he felt the strain between them, almost as if he saw a line of smouldering fire, drawn from eye to eye, that might suddenly burst into flame.\n\nDenethor looked indeed much more like a great wizard than Gandalf did, more kingly, beautiful, and powerful; and older. Yet by a sense other than sight Pippin perceived that Gandalf had the greater power and the deeper wisdom, and a majesty that was veiled. And he was older, far older. \"How much older?\" he wondered, and then he thought how odd it was that he had never thought about it before. Treebeard had said something about wizards, but even then he had not thought of Gandalf as one of them. What was Gandalf? In what far time and place did he come into the world, and when would he leave it? And then his musings broke off, and he saw that Denethor and Gandalf still looked each other in the eye, as if reading the other's mind. But it was Denethor who first withdrew his gaze." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Yea,\" he said; \"for though the Stones be lost, they say, still the lords of Gondor have keener sight than lesser men, and many messages come to them." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But sit now!\"\n\nThen men came bearing a chair and a low stool, and one brought a salver with a silver flagon and cups, and white cakes. Pippin sat down, but he could not take his eyes from the old lord. Was it so, or had he only imagined it, that as he spoke of the Stones a sudden gleam of his eye had glanced upon Pippin's face?\n\n\"Now tell me your tale, my liege,\" said Denethor, half kindly, half mockingly. \"For the words of one whom my son so befriended will be welcome indeed.\"\n\nPippin never forgot that hour in the great hall under the piercing eye of the Lord of Gondor, stabbed ever and anon by his shrewd questions, and all the while conscious of Gandalf at his side, watching and listening, and (so Pippin felt) holding in check arising wrath and impatience. When the hour was over and Denethor again rang the gong, Pippin felt worn out. \"It cannot be more than nine o'clock, \"he thought.\"I could now eat three breakfasts on end. '\n\n\"Lead the Lord Mithrandir to the housing prepared for him,\" said Denethor, 'and his companion may lodge with him for the present, if he will. But be it known that I have now sworn him to my service, and he shall be known as Peregrin son of Paladin and taught the lesser pass-words. Send word to the Captains that they shall wait on me here, as soon as maybe after the third hour has rung.\n\n\"And you, my Lord Mithrandir, shall come too, as and when you will. None shall hinder your coming tome at anytime, save only in my brief hours of sleep. Let your wrath at an old man's folly runoff, and then return to my comfort! '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Folly?\" said Gandalf. \"Nay, my lord, when you area dotard you will die. You can use even your grief as a cloak. Do you think that I do not understand your purpose in questioning for an hour one who knows the least, while I sit by?\"\n\n\"If you understand it, then be content,\" returned Denethor. \"Pride would be folly that disdained help and counsel at need; but you deal out such gifts according to your own designs. Yet the Lord of Gondor is not to be made the tool of other men's purposes, however worthy. And to him there is no purpose higher in the world as it now stands than the good of Gondor; and the rule of Gondor, my lord, is mine and no other man's, unless the king should come again.\"\n\n\"Unless the king should come again?\" said Gandalf. \"Well, my lord Steward, it is your task to keep some kingdom still against that event, which few now look to see. In that task you shall have all the aid that you are pleased to ask for. But I will say this: the rule of no realm is mine, neither of Gondor nor any other, great or small. But all worthy things that are in peril as the world now stands, those are my care. And for my part, I shall not wholly fail of my task, though Gondor should perish, if anything passes through this night that can still grow fair or bear fruit and flower again in days to come. For I also am a steward. Did you not know?\" And with that he turned and strode from the hall with Pippin running at his side.\n\nGandalf did not look at Pippin or speak a word to him as they went. Their guide brought them from the doors of the hall, and then led them across the Court of the Fountain into a lane between tall buildings of stone. After several turns they came to a house close to the wall of the citadel upon the north side, not far from the shoulder that linked the hill with the mountain. Within, upon the first floor above the street, up a wide carven stair, he showed them to a fair room, light and airy, with goodly hangings of dull gold sheen unfigured. It was sparely furnished, having but a small table, two chairs and a bench; but at either side there were curtained alcoves and well-clad beds within with vessels and basins for washing. There were three high narrow windows that looked northward over the great curve of Anduin, still shrouded in mists, towards the Emyn Muil and Rauros faraway. Pippin had to climb on the bench to lookout over the deep stone sill." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Are you angry with me, Gandalf?\" he said, as their guide went out and closed the door. \"I did the best I could.\"\n\n\"You did indeed!\" said Gandalf, laughing suddenly; and he came and stood beside Pippin, putting his arm about the hobbit's shoulders, and gazing out of the window. Pippin glanced in some wonder at the face now close beside his own, for the sound of that laugh had been gay and merry. Yet in the wizard's face he saw at first only lines of care and sorrow; though as he looked more intently he perceived that under all there was a great joy: a fountain of mirth enough to set a kingdom laughing, were it to gush forth.\n\n\"Indeed you did your best,\" said the wizard; \"and I hope that it maybe long before you find yourself in such a tight corner again between two such terrible old men. Still the Lord of Gondor learned more from you than you may have guessed, Pippin. You could not hide the fact that Boromir did not lead the Company from Moria, and that there was one among you of high honour who was coming to Minas Tirith; and that he had a famous sword. Men think much about the stories of old days in Gondor; and Denethor has given long thought to the rhyme and to the words Isildur's Bane, since Boromir went away.\n\n'He is not as other men of this time, Pippin, and whatever be his descent from father to son, by some chance the blood of Westernesse runs nearly true in him; as it does in his other son, Faramir, and yet did not in Boromir whom he loved best. He has long sight. He can perceive, if he bends his will thither, much of what is passing in the minds of men, even of those that dwell far off. It is difficult to deceive him, and dangerous to try." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Remember that! For you are now sworn to his service. I do not know what put it into your head, or your heart, to do that. But it was well done. I did not hinder it, for generous deed should not be checked by cold counsel. It touched his heart, as well (may I say it) as pleasing his humour. And at least you are free now to move about as you will in Minas Tirith– when you are not on duty. For there is another side to it. You are at his command; and he will not forget. Be wary still!\"\n\nHe fell silent and sighed. \"Well, no need to brood on what tomorrow may bring. For one thing, tomorrow will be certain to bring worse than today, for many days to come. And there is nothing more that I can do to help it. The board is set, and the pieces are moving. One piece that I greatly desire to find is Faramir, now the heir of Denethor. I do not think that he is in the City; but I have had no time to gather news. I must go, Pippin. I must go to this lords\" council and learn what I can. But the Enemy has the move, and he is about to open his full game. And pawns are likely to see as much of it as any, Peregrin son of Paladin, soldier of Gondor. Sharpen your blade! '\n\nGandalf went to the door, and there he turned. \"I am in haste, Pippin,\" he said. \"Do me a favour when you go out. Even before you rest, if you are not too weary. Go and find Shadowfax and see how he is housed. These people are kindly to beasts, for they area good and wise folk, but they have less skill with horses than some.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "With that Gandalf went out; and as he did so, there came the note of a clear sweet bell ringing in a tower of the citadel." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Three strokes it rang, like silver in the air, and ceased: the third hour from the rising of the sun.\n\nAfter a minute Pippin went to the door and down the stair and looked about the street. The sun was now shining warm and bright, and the towers and tall houses cast long clear-cut shadows westward. High in the blue air Mount Mindolluin lifted its white helm and snowy cloak. Armed men went to and fro in the ways of the City, as if going at the striking of the hour to changes of post and duty.\n\n\"Nine o'clock we'd call it in the Shire,\" said Pippin aloud to himself. \"Just the time fora nice breakfast by the open window in spring sunshine. And how I should like breakfast! Do these people ever have it, or is it over? And when do they have dinner, and where?\"\n\nPresently he noticed a man, clad in black and white, coming along the narrow street from the centre of the citadel towards him. Pippin felt lonely and made up his mind to speak as the man passed; but he had no need. The man came straight up to him.\n\n\"You are Peregrin the Halfling?\" he said. \"I am told that you have been sworn to the service of the Lord and of the City. Welcome!\" He held out his hand and Pippin took it.\n\n\"I am named Beregond son of Baranor. I have no duty this morning, and I have been sent to you to teach you the pass-words, and to tell you some of the many things that no doubt you will wish to know. And for my part, I would learn of you also. For never before have we seen a halfling in this land and though we have heard rumour of them, little is said of them in any tale that we know. Moreover you area friend of Mithrandir. Do you know him well?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Well,\" said Pippin. \"I have known of him all my short life, as you might say; and lately I have travelled far with him. But there is much to read in that book, and I cannot claim to have seen more than a page or two. Yet perhaps I know him as well as any but a few. Aragorn was the only one of our Company, I think, who really knew him.\"\n\n\"Aragorn?\" said Beregond. \"Who is he?\"\n\n\"Oh,\" stammered Pippin, \"he was a man who went about with us. I think he is in Rohan now.\"\n\n\"You have been in Rohan, I hear. There is much that I would ask you of that land also; for we put much of what little hope we have in its people. But I am forgetting my errand, which was first to answer what you would ask. What would you know, Master Peregrin?\"\n\n\"Er well,\" said Pippin, \"if I may venture to say so, rather a burning question in my mind at present is, well, what about breakfast and all that? I mean, what are the meal-times, if you understand me, and where is the dining-room, if there is one? And the inns? I looked, but never a one could I see as we rode up, though I had been borne up by the hope of a draught of ale as soon as we came to the homes of wise and courtly men.\"\n\nBeregond looked at him gravely. \"An old campaigner, I see,\" he said. \"They say that men who go warring afield look ever to the next hope of food and of drink; though I am not a travelled man myself. Then you have not yet eaten today?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Well, yes, to speak in courtesy, yes,\" said Pippin." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"But no more than a cup of wine and a white cake or two by the kindness of your lord; but he racked me for it with an hour of questions, and that is hungry work.\"\n\nBeregond laughed. \"At the table small men may do the greater deeds, we say. But you have broken your fast as well as any man in the Citadel, and with greater honour. This is a fortress and a tower of guard and is now in posture of war. We rise ere the Sun, and take a morsel in the grey light, and go to our duties at the opening hour. But do not despair!\" He laughed again, seeing the dismay in Pippin's face.\"Those who have had heavy duty take somewhat to refresh their strength in the mid-morning. Then there is the nuncheon, at noon or after as duties allow; and men gather for the daymeal, and such mirth as there still maybe, about the hour of sunset.\n\n\"Come! We will walk a little and then go find us some refreshment, and eat and drink on the battlement, and survey the fair morning.\"\n\n\"One moment!\" said Pippin blushing. \"Greed, or hunger by your courtesy, put it out of my mind. But Gandalf, Mithrandir as you call him, asked me to see to his horse– Shadowfax, a great steed of Rohan, and the apple of the king's eye, I am told, though he has given him to Mithrandir for his services. I think his new master loves the beast better than he loves many men, and if his goodwill is of any value to this city, you will treat Shadowfax with all honour: with greater kindness than you have treated this hobbit, if it is possible. '\n\n\"Hobbit?\" said Beregond." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"That is what we call ourselves,\" said Pippin.\n\n\"I am glad to learn it,\" said Beregond, \"for now I may say that strange accents do not mar fair speech, and hobbits area fair-spoken folk. But come! You shall make me acquainted with this good horse. I love beasts, and we see them seldom in this stony city; for my people came from the mountain-vales, and before that from Ithilien. But fear not! The visit shall be short, a mere call of courtesy, and we will go thence to the butteries.\"\n\nPippin found that Shadowfax had been well housed and tended. For in the sixth circle, outside the walls of the citadel, there were some fair stables where a few swift horses were kept, hard by the lodgings of the errand-riders of the Lord: messengers always ready to goat the urgent command of Denethor or his chief captains. But now all the horses and the riders were out and away.\n\nShadowfax whinnied as Pippin entered the stable and turned his head. \"Good morning!\" said Pippin. \"Gandalf will come as soon as he may. He is busy, but he sends greetings, and I am to see that all is well with you; and you resting, I hope, after your long labours.\"\n\nShadowfax tossed his head and stamped. But he allowed Beregond to handle his head gently and stroke his great flanks.\n\n\"He looks as if he were spoiling fora race, and not newly come from a great journey,\" said Beregond. \"How strong and proud he is! Where is his harness? It should be rich and fair.\"\n\n\"None is rich and fair enough for him,\" said Pippin. \"He will have none. If he will consent to bear you, bear you he does; and if not, well, no bit, bridle, whip, or thong will tame him. Farewell, Shadowfax! Have patience. Battle is coming.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Shadowfax lifted up his head and neighed, so that the stable shook, and they covered their ears. Then they took their leave, seeing that the manger was well filled.\n\n\"And now for our manger,\" said Beregond, and he led Pippin back to the citadel, and so to a door in the north side of the great tower. There they went down along cool stair into a wide alley lit with lamps. There were hatches in the walls at the side, and one of these was open.\n\n\"This is the storehouse and buttery of my company of the Guard,\" said Beregond. \"Greetings, Targon!\" he called through the hatch. \"It is early yet, but here is a newcomer that the Lord has taken into his service. He has ridden long and far with a tight belt, and has had sore labour this morning, and he is hungry. Give us what you have!\"\n\nThey got there bread, and butter, and cheese and apples: the last of the winter store, wrinkled but sound and sweet; and a leather flagon of new-drawn ale, and wooden platters and cups. They put all into a wicker basket and climbed back into the sun; and Beregond brought Pippin to a place at the east end of the great out-thrust battlement where there was an embrasure in the walls with a stone seat beneath the sill. From there they could lookout on the morning over the world.\n\nThey ate and drank; and they talked now of Gondor and its ways and customs, now of the Shire and the strange countries that Pippin had seen. And ever as they talked Beregond was more amazed, and looked with greater wonder at the hobbit, swinging his short legs as he sat on the seat, or standing tiptoe upon it to peer over the sill at the lands below." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I will not hide from you, Master Peregrin,\" said Beregond, \"that to us you look almost as one of our children, a lad of nine summers or so; and yet you have endured perils and seen marvels that few of our greybeards could boast of. I thought it was the whim of our Lord to take him a noble page, after the manner of the kings of old, they say. But I see that it is not so, and you must pardon my foolishness.\"\n\n\"I do,\" said Pippin. \"Though you are not far wrong. I am still little more than a boy in the reckoning of my own people, and it will be four years yet before I'come of age\", as we say in the Shire. But do not bother about me. Come and look and tell me what I can see.\"\n\nThe sun was now climbing, and the mists in the vale below had been drawn up. The last of them were floating away, just overhead, as wisps of white cloud borne on the stiffening breeze from the East, that was now flapping and tugging the flags and white standards of the citadel. Away down in the valley-bottom, five leagues or so as the eye leaps, the Great River could now be seen grey and glittering, coming out of the north-west, and bending in a mighty sweep south and west again, till it was lost to view in a haze and shimmer, far beyond which lay the Sea fifty leagues away.\n\nPippin could see all the Pelennor laid out before him, dotted into the distance with farmsteads and little walls, barns and byres, but nowhere could he see any kine or other beasts. Many roads and tracks crossed the green fields, and there was much coming and going: wains moving in lines towards the Great Gate, and others passing out. Now and again a horseman would ride up, and leap from the saddle and hasten into the City. But most of the traffic went out along the chief highway, and that turned south, and then bending swifter than the River skirted the hills and passed soon from sight. It was wide and well-paved, and along its eastern edge ran abroad green riding-track, and beyond that a wall. On the ride horsemen galloped to and fro, but all the street seemed to be choked with great covered wains going south. But soon Pippin saw that all was in fact well-ordered: the wains were moving in three lines, one swifter drawn by horses; another slower, great waggons with fair housings of many colours, drawn by oxen; and along the west rim of the road many smaller carts hauled by trudging men." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"That is the road to the vales of Tumladen and Lossarnach, and the mountain-villages, and then onto Lebennin,\" said Beregond. \"There go the last of the wains that bear away to refuge the aged, the children, and the women that must go with them. They must all begone from the Gate and the road clear fora league before noon: that was the order. It is a sad necessity.\" He sighed. \"Few, maybe, of those now sundered will meet again. And there were always too few children in this city; but now there are none– save some young lads that will not depart, and may find some task to do: my own son is one of them.\"\n\nThey fell silent fora while. Pippin gazed anxiously eastward, as if at any moment he might see thousands of orcs pouring over the fields. \"What can I see there?\" he asked, pointing down to the middle of the great curve of the Anduin. \"Is that another city, or what is it?\"\n\n\"It was a city,\" said Beregond, \"the chief city of Gondor, of which this was only a fortress. For that is the ruin of Osgiliath on either side of Anduin, which our enemies took and burned long ago. Yet we won it back in the days of the youth of Denethor: not to dwell in, but to hold as an outpost, and to rebuild the bridge for the passage of our arms. And then came the Fell Riders out of Minas Morgul.\"\n\n\"The Black Riders?\" said Pippin, opening his eyes, and they were wide and dark with an old fear re-awakened.\n\n\"Yes, they were black,\" said Beregond, \"and I see that you know something of them, though you have not spoken of them in any of your tales.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I know of them,\" said Pippin softly, \"but I will not speak of them now, so near, so near.\" He broke off and lifted his eyes above the River, and it seemed to him that all he could see was avast and threatening shadow. Perhaps it was mountains looming on the verge of sight, their jagged edges softened by wellnigh twenty leagues of misty air; perhaps it was but a cloud-wall, and beyond that again a yet deeper gloom. But even as he looked it seemed to his eyes that the gloom was growing and gathering, very slowly, slowly rising to smother the regions of the sun.\n\n\"So near to Mordor?\" said Beregond quietly. \"Yes, there it lies. We seldom name it; but we have dwelt ever insight of that shadow: sometimes it seems fainter and more distant; sometimes nearer and darker. It is growing and darkening now; and therefore our fear and disquiet grow too. And the Fell Riders, less than a year ago they won back the crossings, and many of our best men were slain. Boromir it was that drove the enemy at last back from this western shore, and we hold still the near half of Osgiliath. Fora little while. But we await now anew onslaught there. Maybe the chief onslaught of the war that comes.\"\n\n\"When?\" said Pippin. \"Have you a guess? For I saw the beacons two nights ago and the errand-riders; and Gandalf said that it was a sign that war had begun. He seemed in a desperate hurry. But now everything seems to have slowed up again.\"\n\n\"Only because everything is now ready,\" said Beregond. \"It is but the deep breath before the plunge.\"\n\n\"But why were the beacons lit two nights ago?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It is over-late to send for aid when you are already besieged,\" answered Beregond. 'But I do not know the counsel of the Lord and his captains. They have many ways of gathering news. And the Lord Denethor is unlike other men: he sees far. Some say that as he sits alone in his high chamber in the Tower at night, and bends his thought this way and that, he can read somewhat of the future; and that he will at times search even the mind of the Enemy, wrestling with him. And so it is that he is old, worn before his time. But however that maybe, my lord Faramir is abroad, beyond the River on some perilous errand, and he may have sent tidings.\n\n'But if you would know what I think set the beacons ablaze, it was the news that came that eve out of Lebennin. There is a great fleet drawing near to the mouths of Anduin, manned by the corsairs of Umbar in the South. They have long ceased to fear the might of Gondor, and they have allied them with the Enemy, and now make a heavy stroke in his cause. For this attack will draw off much of the help that we looked to have from Lebennin and Belfalas, where folk are hardy and numerous. All the more do our thoughts go north to Rohan; and the more glad are we for these tidings of victory that you bring.\n\n\"And yet\"– he paused and stood up, and looked round, north, east, and south– 'the doings at Isengard should warn us that we are caught now in a great net and strategy. This is no longer a bickering at the fords, raiding from Ithilien and from Anórien, ambushing and pillaging. This is a great war long-planned, and we are but one piece in it, whatever pride may say. Things move in the far East beyond the Inland Sea, it is reported; and north in Mirkwood and beyond; and south in Harad. And now all realms shall be put to the test, to stand, or fall– under the Shadow." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Yet, Master Peregrin, we have this honour: ever we bear the brunt of the chief hatred of the Dark Lord, for that hatred comes down out of the depths of time and over the deeps of the Sea. Here will the hammer-stroke fall hardest. And for that reason Mithrandir came hither in such haste. For if we fall, who shall stand? And, Master Peregrin, do you see any hope that we shall stand?\"\n\nPippin did not answer. He looked at the great walls, and the towers and brave banners, and the sun in the high sky, and then at the gathering gloom in the East; and he thought of the long fingers of that Shadow: of the orcs in the woods and the mountains, the treason of Isengard, the birds of evil eye, and the Black Riders even in the lanes of the Shire– and of the winged terror, the Nazgûl. He shuddered, and hope seemed to wither. And even at that moment the sun fora second faltered and was obscured, as though a dark wing had passed across it. Almost beyond hearing he thought he caught, high and far up in the heavens, a cry: faint, but heart-quelling, cruel and cold. He blanched and cowered against the wall.\n\n\"What was that?\" asked Beregond. \"You also felt something?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" muttered Pippin. \"It is the sign of our fall, and the shadow of doom, a Fell Rider of the air.\"\n\n\"Yes, the shadow of doom,\" said Beregond. \"I fear that Minas Tirith shall fall. Night comes. The very warmth of my blood seems stolen away.\"\n\nFora time they sat together with bowed heads and did not speak. Then suddenly Pippin looked up and saw that the sun was still shining and the banners still streaming in the breeze. He shook himself. \"It is passed,\" he said. \"No, my heart will not yet despair. Gandalf fell and has returned and is with us. We may stand, if only on one leg, or at least be left still upon our knees.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Rightly said!\" cried Beregond, rising and striding to and fro. \"Nay, though all things must come utterly to an end in time, Gondor shall not perish yet. Not though the walls betaken by a reckless foe that will build a hill of carrion before them. There are still other fastnesses, and secret ways of escape into the mountains. Hope and memory shall live still in some hidden valley where the grass is green.\"\n\n\"All the same, I wish it was over for good or ill,\" said Pippin. \"I am no warrior at all and dislike any thought of battle; but waiting on the edge of one that I can't escape is worst of all. What along day it seems already! I should be happier, if we were not obliged to stand and watch, making no move, striking nowhere first. No stroke would have been struck in Rohan, I think, but for Gandalf. '\n\n\"Ah, there you lay your finger on the sore that many feel!\" said Beregond. \"But things may change when Faramir returns. He is bold, more bold than many deem; for in these days men are slow to believe that a captain can be wise and learned in the scrolls of lore and song, as he is, and yet a man of hardihood and swift judgement in the field. But such is Faramir. Less reckless and eager than Boromir, but not less resolute. Yet what indeed can he do? We cannot assault the mountains of– of yonder realm. Our reach is shortened, and we cannot strike till some foe comes within it. Then our hand must be heavy!\" He smote the hilt of his sword.\n\nPippin looked at him: tall and proud and noble, as all the men that he had yet seen in that land; and with aglitter in his eye as he thought of the battle. \"Alas! my own hand feels as light as a feather,\" he thought, but he said nothing. \"A pawn did Gandalf say? Perhaps; but on the wrong chessboard.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "So they talked until the sun reached its height, and suddenly the noon-bells were rung, and there was astir in the citadel; for all save the watchmen were going to their meal.\n\n\"Will you come with me?\" said Beregond. \"You may join my mess for this day. I do not know to what company you will be assigned; or the Lord may hold you at his own command. But you will be welcome. And it will be well to meet as many men as you may, while there is yet time.\"\n\n\"I shall be glad to come,\" said Pippin. \"I am lonely, to tell you the truth. I left my best friend behind in Rohan, and I have had no one to talk to or jest with. Perhaps I could really join your company? Are you the captain? If so, you could take me on, or speak for me?\"\n\n\"Nay, nay,\" Beregond laughed, \"I am no captain. Neither office nor rank nor lordship have I, being but a plain man of arms of the Third Company of the Citadel. Yet, Master Peregrin, to be only a man of arms of the Guard of the Tower of Gondor is held worthy in the City, and such men have honour in the land.\"\n\n\"Then it is far beyond me,\" said Pippin. \"Take me back to our room, and if Gandalf is not there, I will go where you like– as your guest.\"\n\nGandalf was not in the lodging and had sent no message; so Pippin went with Beregond and was made known to the men of the Third Company. And it seemed that Beregond got as much honour from it as his guest, for Pippin was very welcome. There had already been much talk in the citadel about Mithrandir's companion and his long closeting with the Lord; and rumour declared that a Prince of the Halflings had come out of the North to offer allegiance to Gondor and five thousand swords. And some said that when the Riders came from Rohan each would bring behind him a halfling warrior, small maybe, but doughty." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Though Pippin had regretfully to destroy this hopeful tale, he could not be rid of his new rank, only fitting, men thought, to one befriended by Boromir and honoured by the Lord Denethor; and they thanked him for coming among them, and hung on his words and stories of the outlands, and gave him as much food and ale as he could wish. Indeed his only trouble was to be \"wary\" according to the counsel of Gandalf, and not to let his tongue wag freely after the manner of a hobbit among friends.\n\nAt length Beregond rose. \"Farewell for this time!\" he said. \"I have duty now till sundown, as have all the others here, I think. But if you are lonely, as you say, maybe you would like a merry guide about the City. My son would go with you gladly. A good lad, I may say. If that pleases you, go down to the lowest circle and ask for the Old Guesthouse in the Rath Celerdain, the Lampwrights\" Street. You will find him therewith other lads that are remaining in the City. There maybe things worth seeing down at the Great Gate ere the closing. '\n\nHe went out, and soon after all the others followed. The day was still fine, though it was growing hazy, and it was hot for March, even so far southwards. Pippin felt sleepy, but the lodging seemed cheerless, and he decided to go down and explore the City. He took a few morsels that he had saved to Shadowfax, and they were graciously accepted, though the horse seemed to have no lack. Then he walked on down many winding ways.\n\nPeople stared much as he passed. To his face men were gravely courteous, saluting him after the manner of Gondor with bowed head and hands upon the breast; but behind him he heard many calls, as those out of doors cried to others within to come and seethe Prince of the Halflings, the companion of Mithrandir. Many used some other tongue than the Common Speech, but it was not long before he learned at least what was meant by Ernil i Pheriannath and knew that his title had gone down before him into the City." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He came at last by arched streets and many fair alleys and pavements to the lowest and widest circle, and there he was directed to the Lampwrights' Street, abroad way running towards the Great Gate. In it he found the Old Guesthouse, a large building of grey weathered stone with two wings running back from the street, and between them a narrow greensward, behind which was the many-windowed house, fronted along its whole width by a pillared porch and a flight of steps down onto the grass. Boys were playing among the pillars, the only children that Pippin had seen in Minas Tirith, and he stopped to look at them. Presently one of them caught sight of him, and with a shout he sprang across the grass and came into the street, followed by several others. There he stood in front of Pippin, looking him up and down.\n\n\"Greetings!\" said the lad. \"Where do you come from? You area stranger in the City.\"\n\n\"I was,\" said Pippin; \"but they say I have become a man of Gondor.\"\n\n\"Oh come!\" said the lad. \"Then we are all men here. But how old are you, and what is your name? I am ten years already, and shall soon be five feet. I am taller than you. But then my father is a Guard, one of the tallest. What is your father?\"\n\n\"Which question shall I answer first?\" said Pippin. \"My father farms the lands round Whitwell near Tuckborough in the Shire. I am nearly twenty-nine, so I pass you there; though I am but four feet, and not likely to grow anymore, save sideways.\"\n\n\"Twenty-nine!\" said the lad and whistled. \"Why, you are quite old! As old as my uncle Iorlas. Still,\" he added hopefully, \"I wager I could stand you on your head or lay you on your back.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Maybe you could, if I let you,\" said Pippin with a laugh." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And maybe I could do the same to you: we know some wrestling tricks in my little country. Where, let me tell you, I am considered uncommonly large and strong; and I have never allowed anyone to stand me on my head. So if it came to atrial and nothing else would serve, I might have to kill you. For when you are older, you will learn that folk are not always what they seem; and though you may have taken me fora soft stranger-lad and easy prey, let me warn you: I am not, I am a halfling, hard, bold, and wicked!\" Pippin pulled such a grim face that the boy stepped back apace, but at once he returned with clenched fists and the light of battle in his eye.\n\n\"No!\" Pippin laughed. \"Don't believe what strangers say of themselves either! I am not a fighter. But it would be politer in any case for the challenger to say who he is. '\n\nThe boy drew himself up proudly. \"I am Bergil son of Beregond of the Guards,\" he said.\n\n\"So I thought,\" said Pippin, \"for you look like your father. I know him and he sent me to find you.\"\n\n\"Then why did you not say so at once?\" said Bergil, and suddenly a look of dismay came over his face. \"Do not tell me that he has changed his mind, and will send me away with the maidens! But no, the last wains have gone.\"\n\n\"His message is less bad than that, if not good,\" said Pippin. \"He says that if you would prefer it to standing me on my head, you might show me round the City fora while and cheer my loneliness. I can tell you some tales of far countries in return.\"" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Advance the story as the writer's narrative assistant.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, war\nAuthor: J.R.R. Tolkien\nTitle: The Return of the King\nChapter: 10" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Maybe you could, if I let you,\" said Pippin with a laugh." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And maybe I could do the same to you: we know some wrestling tricks in my little country. Where, let me tell you, I am considered uncommonly large and strong; and I have never allowed anyone to stand me on my head. So if it came to atrial and nothing else would serve, I might have to kill you. For when you are older, you will learn that folk are not always what they seem; and though you may have taken me fora soft stranger-lad and easy prey, let me warn you: I am not, I am a halfling, hard, bold, and wicked!\" Pippin pulled such a grim face that the boy stepped back apace, but at once he returned with clenched fists and the light of battle in his eye.\n\n\"No!\" Pippin laughed. \"Don't believe what strangers say of themselves either! I am not a fighter. But it would be politer in any case for the challenger to say who he is. '\n\nThe boy drew himself up proudly. \"I am Bergil son of Beregond of the Guards,\" he said.\n\n\"So I thought,\" said Pippin, \"for you look like your father. I know him and he sent me to find you.\"\n\n\"Then why did you not say so at once?\" said Bergil, and suddenly a look of dismay came over his face. \"Do not tell me that he has changed his mind, and will send me away with the maidens! But no, the last wains have gone.\"\n\n\"His message is less bad than that, if not good,\" said Pippin. \"He says that if you would prefer it to standing me on my head, you might show me round the City fora while and cheer my loneliness. I can tell you some tales of far countries in return.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Bergil clapped his hands, and laughed with relief." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"All is well,\" he cried. \"Come then! We were soon going to the Gate to look on. We will go now.\"\n\n\"What is happening there?\"\n\n\"The Captains of the Outlands are expected up the South Road ere sundown. Come with us and you will see.\"\n\nBergil proved a good comrade, the best company Pippin had had since he parted from Merry, and soon they were laughing and talking gaily as they went about the streets, heedless of the many glances that men gave them. Before long they found themselves in a throng going towards the Great Gate. There Pippin went up much in the esteem of Bergil, for when he spoke his name and the pass-word the guard saluted him and let him pass through; and what was more, he allowed him to take his companion with him.\n\n\"That is good!\" said Bergil. \"We boys are no longer allowed to pass the Gate without an elder. Now we shall see better.\"\n\nBeyond the Gate there was a crowd of men along the verge of the road and of the great paved space into which all the ways to Minas Tirith ran. All eyes were turned southwards, and soon a murmur rose: \"There is dust away there! They are coming!\"\n\nPippin and Bergil edged their way forward to the front of the crowd, and waited. Horns sounded at some distance, and the noise of cheering rolled towards them like a gathering wind. Then there was aloud trumpet-blast, and all about them people were shouting.\n\n\"Forlong! Forlong!\" Pippin heard men calling. \"What do they say?\" he asked.\n\n\"Forlong has come,\" Bergil answered; \"old Forlong the Fat, the Lord of Lossarnach. That is where my grandsire lives. Hurrah! Here he is. Good old Forlong!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Leading the line there came walking a big thick-limbed horse, and on it sat a man of wide shoulders and huge girth, but old and grey-bearded, yet mail-clad and black-helmed and bearing along heavy spear. Behind him marched proudly a dusty line of men, well-armed and bearing great battle-axes; grim-faced they were, and shorter and somewhat swarthier than any men that Pippin had yet seen in Gondor.\n\n\"Forlong!\" men shouted. \"True heart, true friend! Forlong!\" But when the men of Lossarnach had passed they muttered: \"So few! Two hundreds, what are they? We hoped for ten times the number. That will be the new tidings of the black fleet. They are sparing only a tithe of their strength. Still every little is again.\"\n\nAnd so the companies came and were hailed and cheered and passed through the Gate, men of the Outlands marching to defend the City of Gondor in a dark hour; but always too few, always less than hope looked for or need asked. The men of Ringló Vale behind the son of their lord, Dervorin striding on foot: three hundreds. From the uplands of Morthond, the great Blackroot Vale, tall Duinhir with his sons, Duilin and Derufin, and five hundred bowmen. From the Anfalas, the Langstrand faraway, along line of men of many sorts, hunters and herdsmen and men of little villages, scantily equipped save for the household of Golasgil their lord. From Lamedon, a few grim hillmen without a captain. Fisher-folk of the Ethir, some hundred or more spared from the ships. Hirluin the Fair of the Green Hills from Pinnath Gelin with three hundreds of gallant green-clad men. And last and proudest, Imrahil, Prince of Dol Amroth, kinsman of the Lord, with gilded banners bearing his token of the Ship and the Silver Swan, and a company of knights in full harness riding grey horses; and behind them seven hundreds of men at arms, tall as lords, grey-eyed, dark-haired, singing as they came." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And that was all, less than three thousands full told. No more would come. Their cries and the tramp of their feet passed into the City and died away. The onlookers stood silent fora while. Dust hung in the air, for the wind had died and the evening was heavy. Already the closing hour was drawing nigh, and the red sun had gone behind Mindolluin. Shadow came down on the City.\n\nPippin looked up, and it seemed to him that the sky had grown ashen-grey, as if avast dust and smoke hung above them, and light came dully through it. But in the West the dying sun had set all the fume on fire, and now Mindolluin stood black against a burning smoulder flecked with embers. \"So ends a fair day in wrath!\" he said, forgetful of the lad at his side.\n\n\"So it will, if I have not returned before the sundown-bells,\" said Bergil. \"Come! There goes the trumpet for the closing of the Gate.\"\n\nHand in hand they went back into the City, the last to pass the Gate before it was shut; and as they reached the Lampwrights' Street all the bells in the towers tolled solemnly. Lights sprang in many windows, and from the houses and wards of the men at arms along the walls there came the sound of song.\n\n\"Farewell for this time,\" said Bergil. \"Take my greetings to my father, and thank him for the company that he sent. Come again soon, I beg. Almost I wish now that there was no war, for we might have had some merry times. We might have journeyed to Lossarnach, to my grandsire's house; it is good to be therein spring, the woods and fields are full of flowers. But maybe we will go thither together yet. They will never overcome our Lord, and my father is very valiant. Farewell and return! '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They parted and Pippin hurried back towards the citadel. It seemed along way, and he grew hot and very hungry; and night closed down swift and dark. Not a star pricked the sky. He was late for the daymeal in the mess, and Beregond greeted him gladly, and sat him at his side to hear news of his son. After the meal Pippin stayed awhile, and then took his leave, fora strange gloom was on him, and now he desired very much to see Gandalf again.\n\n\"Can you find your way?\" said Beregond at the door of the small hall, on the north side of the citadel, where they had sat. \"It is a black night, and all the blacker since orders came that lights are to bedimmed within the City, and none are to shine out from the walls. And I can give you news of another order: you will be summoned to the Lord Denethor early tomorrow. I fear you will not be for the Third Company. Still we may hope to meet again. Farewell and sleep in peace!\"\n\nThe lodging was dark, save fora little lantern set on the table. Gandalf was not there. Gloom settled still more heavily on Pippin. He climbed on the bench and tried to peer out of a window, but it was like looking into a pool of ink. He got down and closed the shutter and went to bed. Fora while he lay and listened for sounds of Gandalf's return, and then he fell into an uneasy sleep.\n\nIn the night he was wakened by alight, and he saw that Gandalf had come and was pacing to and fro in the room beyond the curtain of the alcove. There were candles on the table and rolls of parchment. He heard the wizard sigh, and mutter: \"When will Faramir return?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Hullo!\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "said Pippin, poking his head round the curtain. \"I thought you had forgotten all about me. I am glad to see you back. It has been along day.\"\n\n\"But the night will be too short,\" said Gandalf. \"I have comeback here, for I must have a little peace, alone. You should sleep, in abed while you still may. At the sunrise I shall take you to the Lord Denethor again. No, when the summons comes, not at sunrise. The Darkness has begun. There will be no dawn.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Two days later the army of the West was all assembled on the Pelennor. The host of Orcs and Easterlings had turned back out of Anórien, but harried and scattered by the Rohirrim they had broken and fled with little fighting towards Cair Andros; and with that threat destroyed and new strength arriving out of the South the City was as well manned as might be. Scouts reported that no enemies remained upon the roads east as far as the Cross-roads of the Fallen King. All now was ready for the last throw.\n\nLegolas and Gimli were to ride again together in the company of Aragorn and Gandalf, who went in the van with the Dúnedain and the sons of Elrond. But Merry to his shame was not to go with them.\n\n\"You are not fit for such a journey,\" said Aragorn. \"But do not be ashamed. If you do no more in this war, you have already earned great honour. Peregrin shall go and represent the Shire-folk; and do not grudge him his chance of peril, for though he has done as well as his fortune allowed him, he has yet to match your deed. But in truth all now are in like danger. Though it maybe our part to find a bitter end before the Gate of Mordor, if we do so, then you will come also to a last stand, either here or wherever the black tide overtakes you. Farewell!\"\n\nAnd so despondently Merry now stood and watched the mustering of the army. Bergil was with him, and he also was downcast; for his father was to march leading a company of the Men of the City: he could not rejoin the Guard until his case was judged. In that same company Pippin was also to go, as a soldier of Gondor. Merry could see him not far off, a small but upright figure among the tall men of Minas Tirith." }, { "from": "human", "value": "At last the trumpets rang and the army began to move." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Troop by troop, and company by company, they wheeled and went off eastward. And long after they had passed away out of sight down the great road to the Causeway, Merry stood there. The last glint of the morning sun on spear and helm twinkled and was lost, and still he remained with bowed head and heavy heart, feeling friendless and alone. Everyone that he cared for had gone away into the gloom that hungover the distant eastern sky; and little hope at all was left in his heart that he would ever see any of them again.\n\nAs if recalled by his mood of despair, the pain in his arm returned, and he felt weak and old, and the sunlight seemed thin. He was roused by the touch of Bergil's hand.\n\n\"Come, Master Perian!\" said the lad. \"You are still in pain, I see. I will help you back to the Healers. But do not fear! They will comeback. The Men of Minas Tirith will never be overcome. And now they have the Lord Elfstone, and Beregond of the Guard too.\"\n\nEre noon the army came to Osgiliath. There all the workers and craftsmen that could be spared were busy. Some were strengthening the ferries and boat-bridges that the enemy had made and in part destroyed when they fled; some gathered stores and booty; and others on the eastern side across the River were throwing up hasty works of defence.\n\nThe vanguard passed on through the ruins of Old Gondor, and over the wide River, and on up the long straight road that in the high days had been made to run from the fair Tower of the Sun to the tall Tower of the Moon, which now was Minas Morgul in its accursed vale. Five miles beyond Osgiliath they halted, ending their first day's march." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But the horsemen pressed on and ere evening they came to the Cross-roads and the great ring of trees, and all was silent. No sign of any enemy had they seen, no cry or call had been heard, no shaft had sped from rock or thicket by the way, yet ever as they went forward they felt the watchfulness of the land increase. Tree and stone, blade and leaf were listening. The darkness had been dispelled, and faraway westward sunset was on the Vale of Anduin, and the white peaks of the mountains blushed in the blue air; but a shadow and a gloom brooded upon the Ephel Dúath.\n\nThen Aragorn set trumpeters at each of the four roads that ran into the ring of trees, and they blew a great fanfare, and the heralds cried aloud: \"The Lords of Gondor have returned and all this land that is theirs they take back.\" The hideous orc-head that was set upon the carven figure was cast down and broken in pieces, and the old king's head was raised and set in its place once more, still crowned with white and golden flowers; and men laboured to wash and pare away all the foul scrawls that orcs had put upon the stone.\n\nNow in their debate some had counselled that Minas Morgul should first be assailed, and if they might take it, it should be utterly destroyed. \"And, maybe,\" said Imrahil, \"the road that leads thence to the pass above will prove an easier way of assault upon the Dark Lord than his northern gate.\"\n\nBut against this Gandalf had spoken urgently, because of the evil that dwelt in the valley, where the minds of living men would turn to madness and horror, and because also of the news that Faramir had brought. For if the Ring-bearer had indeed attempted that way, then above all they should not draw the Eye of Mordor thither. So the next day when the main host came up, they set a strong guard upon the Cross-roads to make some defence, if Mordor should send a force over the Morgul Pass, or should bring more men up from the South. For that guard they chose mostly archers who knew the ways of Ithilien and would lie hid in the woods and slopes about the meeting of the ways. But Gandalf and Aragorn rode with the vanguard to the entrance of Morgul Vale and looked on the evil city." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was dark and lifeless; for the Orcs and lesser creatures of Mordor that had dwelt there had been destroyed in battle, and the Nazgûl were abroad. Yet the air of the valley was heavy with fear and enmity. Then they broke the evil bridge and set red flames in the noisome fields and departed.\n\nThe day after, being the third day since they set out from Minas Tirith, the army began its northward march along the road. It was some hundred miles by that way from the Cross-roads to the Morannon, and what might befall them before they came so far none knew. They went openly but heedfully, with mounted scouts before them on the road, and others on foot upon either side, especially on the eastward flank; for there lay dark thickets, and a tumbled land of rocky ghylls and crags, behind which the long grim slopes of the Ephel Dúath clambered up. The weather of the world remained fair, and the wind held in the west, but nothing could waft away the glooms and the sad mists that clung about the Mountains of Shadow; and behind them at whiles great smokes would arise and hover in the upper winds.\n\nEver and anon Gandalf let blow the trumpets, and the heralds would cry: \"The Lords of Gondor are come! Let all leave this land or yield them up!\" But Imrahil said: \"Say not The Lords of Gondor. Say The King Elessar. For that is true, even though he has not yet sat upon the throne; and it will give the Enemy more thought, if the heralds use that name.\" And thereafter thrice a day the heralds proclaimed the coming of the King Elessar. But none answered the challenge." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Nonetheless, though they marched in seeming peace, the hearts of all the army, from the highest to the lowest, were downcast, and with every mile that they went north foreboding of evil grew heavier on them. It was near the end of the second day of their march from the Cross-roads that they first met any offer of battle. Fora strong force of Orcs and Easterlings attempted to take their leading companies in an ambush; and that was in the very place where Faramir had waylaid the men of Harad, and the road went in a deep cutting through an out-thrust of the eastward hills. But the Captains of the West were well warned by their scouts, skilled men from Henneth Annûn led by Mablung; and so the ambush was itself trapped. For horsemen went wide about westward and came upon the flank of the enemy and from behind, and they were destroyed or driven east into the hills.\n\nBut the victory did little to enhearten the captains. \"It is but a feint,\" said Aragorn; \"and its chief purpose, I deem, was rather to draw us on by a false guess of our Enemy's weakness than to do us much hurt, yet. ' And from that evening onward the Nazgûl came and followed every move of the army. They still flew high and out of sight of all save Legolas, and yet their presence could be felt, as a deepening of shadow and a dimming of the sun; and though the Ringwraiths did not yet stoop low upon their foes and were silent, uttering no cry, the dread of them could not be shaken off.\n\nSo time and the hopeless journey wore away. Upon the fourth day from the Cross-roads and the sixth from Minas Tirith they came at last to the end of the living lands, and began to pass into the desolation that lay before the gates of the Pass of Cirith Gorgor; and they could descry the marshes and the desert that stretched north and west to the Emyn Muil. So desolate were those places and so deep the horror that lay on them that some of the host were unmanned, and they could neither walk nor ride further north." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Aragorn looked at them, and there was pity in his eyes rather than wrath; for these were young men from Rohan, from Westfold faraway, or husbandmen from Lossarnach, and to them Mordor had been from childhood a name of evil, and yet unreal, a legend that had no part in their simple life; and now they walked like men in a hideous dream made true, and they understood not this war nor why fate should lead them to such a pass.\n\n\"Go!\" said Aragorn. \"But keep what honour you may, and do not run! And there is a task which you may attempt and so be not wholly shamed. Take your way south-west till you come to Cair Andros, and if that is still held by enemies, as I think, then re-take it, if you can; and hold it to the last in defence of Gondor and Rohan!\"\n\nThen some being shamed by his mercy overcame their fear and went on, and the others took new hope, hearing of a manful deed within their measure that they could turn to, and they departed. And so, since many men had already been left at the Cross-roads, it was with less than six thousands that the Captains of the West came at last to challenge the Black Gate and the might of Mordor.\n\nThey advanced now slowly, expecting at every hour some answer to their challenge, and they drew together, since it was but waste of men to send out scouts or small parties from the main host. At nightfall of the fifth day of the march from Morgul Vale they made their last camp, and set fires about it of such deadwood and heath as they could find. They passed the hours of night in wakefulness and they were aware of many things half-seen that walked and prowled all about them, and they heard the howling of wolves. The wind had died and all the air seemed still. They could see little, for though it was cloudless and the waxing moon was four nights old, there were smokes and fumes that rose out of the earth and the white crescent was shrouded in the mists of Mordor." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It grew cold. As morning came the wind began to stir again, but now it came from the North, and soon it freshened to arising breeze. All the night-walkers were gone, and the land seemed empty. North amid their noisome pits lay the first of the great heaps and hills of slag and broken rock and blasted earth, the vomit of the maggot-folk of Mordor; but south and now near loomed the great rampart of Cirith Gorgor, and the Black Gate amidmost, and the two Towers of the Teeth tall and dark upon either side. For in their last march the Captains had turned away from the old road as it bent east, and avoided the peril of the lurking hills, and so now they were approaching the Morannon from the northwest, even as Frodo had done.\n\nThe two vast iron doors of the Black Gate under its frowning arch were fast closed. Upon the battlement nothing could be seen. All was silent but watchful. They were come to the last end of their folly, and stood forlorn and chill in the grey light of early day before towers and walls which their army could not assault with hope, not even if it had brought thither engines of great power, and the Enemy had no more force than would suffice for the manning of the gate and wall alone. Yet they knew that all the hills and rocks about the Morannon were filled with hidden foes, and the shadowy defile beyond was bored and tunnelled by teeming broods of evil things. And as they stood they saw all the Nazgûl gathered together, hovering above the Towers of the Teeth like vultures; and they knew that they were watched. But still the Enemy made no sign.\n\nNo choice was left them but to play their part to its end. Therefore Aragorn now set the host in such array as could best be contrived; and they were drawn upon two great hills of blasted stone and earth that orcs had piled in years of labour. Before them towards Mordor lay like a moat a great mire of reeking mud and foul-smelling pools. When all was ordered, the Captains rode forth towards the Black Gate with a great guard of horsemen and the banner and heralds and trumpeters. There was Gandalf as chief herald, and Aragorn with the sons of Elrond, and Éomer of Rohan, and Imrahil; and Legolas and Gimli and Peregrin were bidden to go also, so that all the enemies of Mordor should have a witness." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They came within cry of the Morannon, and unfurled the banner, and blew upon their trumpets; and the heralds stood out and sent their voices up over the battlement of Mordor.\n\n\"Come forth!\" they cried. \"Let the Lord of the Black Land come forth! Justice shall be done upon him. For wrongfully he has made war upon Gondor and wrested its lands. Therefore the King of Gondor demands that he should atone for his evils, and depart then forever. Come forth!\"\n\nThere was along silence, and from wall and gate no cry or sound was heard in answer. But Sauron had already laid his plans, and he had a mind first to play these mice cruelly before he struck to kill. So it was that, even as the Captains were about to turn away, the silence was broken suddenly. There came along rolling of great drums like thunder in the mountains, and then a braying of horns that shook the very stones and stunned men's ears. And thereupon the door of the Black Gate was thrown open with a great clang, and out of it there came an embassy from the Dark Tower.\n\nAt its head there rode a tall and evil shape, mounted upon a black horse, if horse it was; for it was huge and hideous, and its face was a frightful mask, more like a skull than a living head, and in the sockets of its eyes and in its nostrils there burned aflame. The rider was robed all in black, and black was his lofty helm; yet this was no Ringwraith but a living man. The Lieutenant of the Tower of Barad-dûr he was, and his name is remembered in no tale; for he himself had forgotten it, and he said: \"I am the Mouth of Sauron.\" But it is told that he was a renegade, who came of the race of those that are named the Black Númenóreans; for they established their dwellings in Middle-earth during the years of Sauron's domination, and they worshipped him, being enamoured of evil knowledge. And he entered the service of the Dark Tower when it first rose again, and because of his cunning he grew ever higher in the Lord's favour; and he learned great sorcery, and knew much of the mind of Sauron; and he was more cruel than any orc." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He it was that now rode out, and with him came only a small company of black-harnessed soldiery, and a single banner, black but bearing on it in red the Evil Eye. Now halting a few paces before the Captains of the West he looked them up and down and laughed.\n\n\"Is there anyone in this rout with authority to treat with me?\" he asked. \"Or indeed with wit to understand me? Not thou at least!\" he mocked, turning to Aragorn with scorn. \"It needs more to make a king than apiece of Elvish glass, or a rabble such as this. Why, any brigand of the hills can show as good a following!\"\n\nAragorn said naught in answer, but he took the other's eye and held it, and fora moment they strove thus; but soon, though Aragorn did not stir nor move hand to weapon, the other quailed and gave back as if menaced with a blow.\"I am a herald and ambassador, and may not be assailed! ' he cried.\n\n\"Where such laws hold,\" said Gandalf, \"it is also the custom for ambassadors to useless insolence. But no one has threatened you. You have naught to fear from us, until your errand is done. But unless your master has come to new wisdom, then with all his servants you will be in great peril.\"\n\n\"So!\" said the Messenger. \"Then thou art the spokesman, old greybeard? Have we not heard of thee at whiles, and of thy wanderings, ever hatching plots and mischief at a safe distance? But this time thou hast stuck out thy nose too far, Master Gandalf; and thou shalt see what comes to him who sets his foolish webs before the feet of Sauron the Great. I have tokens that I was bidden to show to thee– to thee in especial, if thou shouldst dare to come.\" He signed to one of his guards, and he came forward bearing a bundle swathed in black cloths." }, { "from": "human", "value": "The Messenger put these aside, and thereto the wonder and dismay of all the Captains he held up first the short sword that Sam had carried, and next a grey cloak with an elven-brooch, and last the coat of mithril-mail that Frodo had worn wrapped in his tattered garments." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A blackness came before their eyes, and it seemed to them in a moment of silence that the world stood still, but their hearts were dead and their last hope gone. Pippin who stood behind Prince Imrahil sprang forward with a cry of grief.\n\n\"Silence!\" said Gandalf sternly, thrusting him back; but the Messenger laughed aloud.\n\n\"So you have yet another of these imps with you!\" he cried. \"What use you find in them I cannot guess; but to send them as spies into Mordor is beyond even your accustomed folly. Still, I thank him, for it is plain that this brat at least has seen these tokens before, and it would be vain for you to deny them now.\"\n\n\"I do not wish to deny them,\" said Gandalf. \"Indeed, I know them all and all their history, and despite your scorn, foul Mouth of Sauron, you cannot say as much. But why do you bring them here?\"\n\n\"Dwarf-coat, elf-cloak, blade of the downfallen West, and spy from the little rat-land of the Shire– nay, do not start! We know it well– here are the marks of a conspiracy. Now, maybe he that bore these things was a creature that you would not grieve to lose, and maybe otherwise: one dear to you, perhaps? If so, take swift counsel with what little wit is left to you. For Sauron does not love spies, and what his fate shall be depends now on your choice.\"\n\nNo one answered him; but he saw their faces grey with fear and the horror in their eyes, and he laughed again, for it seemed to him that his sport went well. \"Good, good!\" he said. \"He was dear to you, I see. Or else his errand was one that you did not wish to fail? It has. And now he shall endure the slow torment of years, as long and slow as our arts in the Great Tower can contrive, and never be released, unless maybe when he is changed and broken, so that he may come to you, and you shall see what you have done. This shall surely be unless you accept my Lord's terms. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Name the terms,\" said Gandalf steadily, but those nearby saw the anguish in his face, and now he seemed an old and wizened man, crushed, defeated at last." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They did not doubt that he would accept.\n\n\"These are the terms,\" said the Messenger, and smiled as he eyed them one by one. \"The rabble of Gondor and its deluded allies shall withdraw at once beyond the Anduin, first taking oaths never again to assail Sauron the Great in arms, open or secret. All lands east of the Anduin shall be Sauron's forever, solely. West of the Anduin as far as the Misty Mountains and the Gap of Rohan shall be tributary to Mordor, and men there shall bear no weapons, but shall have leave to govern their own affairs. But they shall help to rebuild Isengard which they have wantonly destroyed, and that shall be Sauron's, and there his lieutenant shall dwell: not Saruman, but one more worthy of trust.\"\n\nLooking in the Messenger's eyes they read his thought. He was to be that lieutenant, and gather all that remained of the West under his sway; he would be their tyrant and they his slaves.\n\nBut Gandalf said: \"This is much to demand for the delivery of one servant: that your Master should receive in exchange what he must else fight many a war to gain! Or has the field of Gondor destroyed his hope in war, so that he falls to haggling? And if indeed we rated this prisoner so high, what surety have we that Sauron, the Base Master of Treachery, will keep his part? Where is this prisoner? Let him be brought forth and yielded to us, and then we will consider these demands.\"\n\nIt seemed then to Gandalf, intent, watching him as a man engaged in fencing with a deadly foe, that for the taking of a breath the Messenger was at a loss; yet swiftly he laughed again.\n\n\"Do not bandy words in your insolence with the Mouth of Sauron!\" he cried. \"Surety you crave! Sauron gives none. If you sue for his clemency you must first do his bidding. These are his terms. Take them or leave them!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"These we will take!\" said Gandalf suddenly. He cast aside his cloak and a white light shone forth like a sword in that black place. Before his upraised hand the foul Messenger recoiled, and Gandalf coming seized and took from him the tokens: coat, cloak, and sword. \"These we will take in memory of our friend,\" he cried. \"But as for your terms, we reject them utterly. Get you gone, for your embassy is over and death is near to you. We did not come hereto waste words in treating with Sauron, faithless and accursed; still less with one of his slaves. Begone!\"\n\nThen the Messenger of Mordor laughed no more. His face was twisted with amazement and anger to the likeness of some wild beast that, as it crouches on its prey, is smitten on the muzzle with a stinging rod. Rage filled him and his mouth slavered, and shapeless sounds of fury came strangling from his throat. But he looked at the fell faces of the Captains and their deadly eyes, and fear overcame his wrath. He gave a great cry, and turned, leaped upon his steed, and with his company galloped madly back to Cirith Gorgor. But as they went his soldiers blew their horns in signal long arranged; and even before they came to the gate Sauron sprang his trap.\n\nDrums rolled and fires leaped up. The great doors of the Black Gate swung back wide. Out of it streamed a great host as swiftly as swirling waters when a sluice is lifted.\n\nThe Captains mounted again and rode back, and from the host of Mordor there went up a jeering yell. Dust rose smothering the air, as from nearby there marched up an army of Easterlings that had waited for the signal in the shadows of Ered Lithui beyond the further Tower. Down from the hills on either side of the Morannon poured Orcs innumerable. The men of the West were trapped, and soon, all about the grey mounds where they stood, forces ten times and more than ten times their match would ring them in a sea of enemies. Sauron had taken the proffered bait in jaws of steel." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Little time was left to Aragorn for the ordering of his battle." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Upon the one hill he stood with Gandalf, and there fair and desperate was raised the banner of the Tree and Stars. Upon the other hill hard by stood the banners of Rohan and Dol Amroth, White Horse and Silver Swan. And about each hill a ring was made facing all ways, bristling with spear and sword. But in the front towards Mordor where the first bitter assault would come there stood the sons of Elrond on the left with the Dúnedain about them, and on the right the Prince Imrahil with the men of Dol Amroth tall and fair, and picked men of the Tower of Guard.\n\nThe wind blew, and the trumpets sang, and arrows whined; but the sun now climbing towards the South was veiled in the reeks of Mordor, and through a threatening haze it gleamed, remote, a sullen red, as if it were the ending of the day, or the end maybe of all the world of light. And out of the gathering mirk the Nazgûl came with their cold voices crying words of death; and then all hope was quenched.\n\nPippin had bowed crushed with horror when he heard Gandalf reject the terms and doom Frodo to the torment of the Tower; but he had mastered himself, and now he stood beside Beregond in the front rank of Gondor with Imrahil's men. For it seemed best to him to die soon and leave the bitter story of his life, since all was in ruin.\n\n\"I wish Merry was here,\" he heard himself saying, and quick thoughts raced through his mind, even as he watched the enemy come charging to the assault. \"Well, well, now at any rate I understand poor Denethor a little better. We might die together, Merry and I, and since die we must, why not? Well, as he is not here, I hope he'll find an easier end. But now I must do my best. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He drew his sword and looked at it, and the intertwining shapes of red and gold; and the flowing characters of Númenor glinted like fire upon the blade. \"This was made for just such an hour,\" he thought. \"If only I could smite that foul Messenger with it, then almost I should draw level with old Merry. Well, I'll smite some of this beastly brood before the end. I wish I could see cool sunlight and green grass again! '\n\nThen even as he thought these things the first assault crashed into them. The orcs hindered by the mires that lay before the hills halted and poured their arrows into the defending ranks. But through them there came striding up, roaring like beasts, a great company of hill-trolls out of Gorgoroth. Taller and broader than Men they were, and they were clad only in close-fitting mesh of horny scales, or maybe that was their hideous hide; but they bore round bucklers huge and black and wielded heavy hammers in their knotted hands. Reckless they sprang into the pools and waded across, bellowing as they came. Like a storm they broke upon the line of the men of Gondor, and beat upon helm and head, and arm and shield, as smiths hewing the hot bending iron. At Pippin's side Beregond was stunned and overborne, and he fell; and the great troll-chief that smote him down bent over him, reaching out a clutching claw; for these fell creatures would bite the throats of those that they threw down.\n\nThen Pippin stabbed upwards, and the written blade of Westernesse pierced through the hide and went deep into the vitals of the troll, and his black blood came gushing out. He toppled forward and came crashing down like a falling rock, burying those beneath him. Blackness and stench and crushing pain came upon Pippin, and his mind fell away into a great darkness." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"So it ends as I guessed it would,\" his thought said, even as it fluttered away; and it laughed a little within him ere it fled, almost gay it seemed to be casting off at last all doubt and care and fear. And then even as it winged away into forgetfulness it heard voices, and they seemed to be crying in some forgotten world far above:\n\n\"The Eagles are coming! The Eagles are coming!\"\n\nFor one moment more Pippin's thought hovered.\"Bilbo! \"it said.\"But no! That came in his tale, long long ago. This is my tale, and it is ended now. Good-bye! ' And his thought fled faraway and his eyes saw no more." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sam roused himself painfully from the ground. Fora moment he wondered where he was, and then all the misery and despair returned to him. He was in the deep dark outside the under-gate of the orcs' stronghold; its brazen doors were shut. He must have fallen stunned when he hurled himself against them; but how long he had lain there he did not know. Then he had been on fire, desperate and furious; now he was shivering and cold. He crept to the doors and pressed his ears against them.\n\nFar within he could hear faintly the voices of orcs clamouring, but soon they stopped or passed out of hearing, and all was still. His head ached and his eyes saw phantom lights in the darkness, but he struggled to steady himself and think. It was clear at any rate that he had no hope of getting into the orc-hold by that gate; he might wait therefor days before it was opened, and he could not wait: time was desperately precious. He no longer had any doubt about his duty: he must rescue his master or perish in the attempt.\n\n\"The perishing is more likely, and will be a lot easier anyway,\" he said grimly to himself, as he sheathed Sting and turned from the brazen doors. Slowly he groped his way back in the dark along the tunnel, not daring to use the elven-light; and as he went he tried to fit together the events since Frodo and he had left the Cross-roads. He wondered what the time was. Somewhere between one day and the next, he supposed; but even of the days he had quite lost count. He was in a land of darkness where the days of the world seemed forgotten, and where all who entered were forgotten too.\n\n\"I wonder if they think of us at all,\" he said, \"and what is happening to them all away there.\" He waved his hand vaguely in the air before him; but he was in fact now facing southwards, as he came back to Shelob's tunnel, not west. Out westward in the world it was drawing to noon upon the fourteenth day of March in the Shire-reckoning, and even now Aragorn was leading the black fleet from Pelargir, and Merry was riding with the Rohirrim down the Stonewain Valley, while in Minas Tirith flames were rising and Pippin watched the madness growing in the eyes of Denethor. Yet amid all their cares and fear the thoughts of their friends turned constantly to Frodo and Sam. They were not forgotten. But they were far beyond aid, and no thought could yet bring any help to Samwise Hamfast's son; he was utterly alone." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He came back at last to the stone door of the orc-passage, and still unable to discover the catch or bolt that held it, he scrambled over as before and dropped softly to the ground. Then he made his way stealthily to the outlet of Shelob's tunnel, where the rags of her great web were still blowing and swaying in the cold airs. For cold they seemed to Sam after the noisome darkness behind; but the breath of them revived him. He crept cautiously out.\n\nAll was ominously quiet. The light was no more than that of dusk at a dark day's end. The vast vapours that arose in Mordor and went streaming westward passed low overhead, a great welter of cloud and smoke now lit again beneath with a sullen glow of red.\n\nSam looked up towards the orc-tower, and suddenly from its narrow windows lights stared out like small red eyes. He wondered if they were some signal. His fear of the orcs, forgotten fora while in his wrath and desperation, now returned. As far as he could see, there was only one possible course for him to take: he must goon and try to find the main entrance to the dreadful tower; but his knees felt weak, and he found that he was trembling. Drawing his eyes down from the tower and the horns of the Cleft before him, he forced his unwilling feet to obey him, and slowly, listening with all his ears, peering into the dense shadows of the rocks beside the way, he retraced his steps, past the place where Frodo fell, and still the stench of Shelob lingered, and then on and up, until he stood again in the very cleft where he had put on the Ring and seen Shagrat's company go by.\n\nThere he halted and sat down. For the moment he could drive himself no further. He felt that if once he went beyond the crown of the pass and took one step veritably down into the land of Mordor, that step would be irrevocable. He could never comeback. Without any clear purpose he drew out the Ring and put it on again. Immediately he felt the great burden of its weight, and felt afresh, but now more strong and urgent than ever, the malice of the Eye of Mordor, searching, trying to pierce the shadows that it had made for its own defence, but which now hindered it in its unquiet and doubt." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As before, Sam found that his hearing was sharpened, but that to his sight the things of this world seemed thin and vague. The rocky walls of the path were pale, as if seen through a mist, but still at a distance he heard the bubbling of Shelob in her misery; and harsh and clear, and very close it seemed, he heard cries and the clash of metal. He sprang to his feet, and pressed himself against the wall beside the road. He was glad of the Ring, for here was yet another company of orcs on the march. Or so at first he thought. Then suddenly he realized that it was not so, his hearing had deceived him: the orc-cries came from the tower, whose topmost horn was now right above him, on the left hand of the Cleft.\n\nSam shuddered and tried to force himself to move. There was plainly some devilry going on. Perhaps in spite of all orders the cruelty of the orcs had mastered them, and they were tormenting Frodo, or even savagely hacking him to pieces. He listened; and as he did so agleam of hope came to him. There could not be much doubt: there was fighting in the tower, the orcs must beat war among themselves, Shagrat and Gorbag had come to blows. Faint as was the hope that his guess brought him, it was enough to rouse him. There might be just a chance. His love for Frodo rose above all other thoughts, and forgetting his peril he cried aloud: \"I'm coming, Mr. Frodo! '\n\nHe ran forward to the climbing path, and over it. At once the road turned left and plunged steeply down. Sam had crossed into Mordor.\n\nHe took off the Ring, moved it maybe by some deep premonition of danger, though to himself he thought only that he wished to see more clearly. \"Better have a look at the worst,\" he muttered. \"No good blundering about in a fog!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Hard and cruel and bitter was the land that met his gaze. Before his feet the highest ridge of the Ephel Dúath fell steeply in great cliffs down into a dark trough, on the further side of which there rose another ridge, much lower, its edge notched and jagged with crags like fangs that stood out black against the red light behind them: it was the grim Morgai, the inner ring of the fences of the land. Far beyond it, but almost straight ahead, across a wide lake of darkness dotted with tiny fires, there was a great burning glow; and from it rose in huge columns a swirling smoke, dusty red at the roots, black above where it merged into the billowing canopy that roofed in all the accursed land.\n\nSam was looking at Orodruin, the Mountain of Fire. Ever and anon the furnaces far below its ashen cone would grow hot and with a great surging and throbbing pour forth rivers of molten rock from chasms in its sides. Some would flow blazing towards Barad-dûr down great channels; some would wind their way into the stony plain, until they cooled and lay like twisted dragon-shapes vomited from the tormented earth. In such an hour of labour Sam beheld Mount Doom, and the light of it, cutoff by the high screen of the Ephel Dúath from those who climbed up the path from the West, now glared against the stark rock faces, so that they seemed to be drenched with blood.\n\nIn that dreadful light Sam stood aghast, for now, looking to his left, he could seethe Tower of Cirith Ungol in all its strength. The horn that he had seen from the other side was only its topmost turret. Its eastern face stood up in three great tiers from a shelf in the mountain-wall far below; its back was to a great cliff behind, from which it jutted out in pointed bastions, one above the other, diminishing as they rose, with sheer sides of cunning masonry that looked north-east and south-east. About the lowest tier, two hundred feet below where Sam now stood, there was a battlemented wall enclosing a narrow court. Its gate, upon the near south-eastern side, opened on abroad road, the outer parapet of which ran upon the brink of a precipice, until it turned southward and went winding down into the darkness to join the road that came over the Morgul Pass. Then on it went through a jagged rift in the Morgai out into the valley of Gorgoroth and away to Barad-dûr. The narrow upper way on which Sam stood leapt swiftly down by stair and steep path to meet the main road under the frowning walls close to the Tower-gate." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Ashe gazed at it suddenly Sam understood, almost with a shock, that this stronghold had been built not to keep enemies out of Mordor, but to keep them in. It was indeed one of the works of Gondor long ago, an eastern outpost of the defences of Ithilien, made when, after the Last Alliance, Men of Westernesse kept watch on the evil land of Sauron where his creatures still lurked. But as with Narchost and Carchost, the Towers of the Teeth, so here too the vigilance had failed, and treachery had yielded up the Tower to the Lord of the Ringwraiths, and now for long years it had been held by evil things. Since his return to Mordor, Sauron had found it useful; for he had few servants but many slaves of fear, and still its chief purpose as of old was to prevent escape from Mordor. Though if an enemy were so rash as to try to enter that land secretly, then it was also a last unsleeping guard against any that might pass the vigilance of Morgul and of Shelob.\n\nOnly too clearly Sam saw how hopeless it would be for him to creep down under those many-eyed walls and pass the watchful gate. And even if he did so, he could not go far on the guarded road beyond: not even the black shadows, lying deep where the red glow could not reach, would shield him long from the night-eyed orcs. But desperate as that road might be, his task was now far worse: not to avoid the gate and escape, but to enter it, alone.\n\nHis thought turned to the Ring, but there was no comfort there, only dread and danger. No sooner had he come insight of Mount Doom, burning faraway, than he was aware of a change in his burden. As it drew near the great furnaces where, in the deeps of time, it had been shaped and forged, the Ring's power grew, and it became more fell, untameable save by some mighty will. As Sam stood there, even though the Ring was not on him but hanging by its chain about his neck, he felt himself enlarged, as if he were robed in a huge distorted shadow of himself, avast and ominous threat halted upon the walls of Mordor. He felt that he had from now on only two choices: to forbear the Ring, though it would torment him; or to claim it, and challenge the Power that satin its dark hold beyond the valley of shadows. Already the Ring tempted him, gnawing at his will and reason. Wild fantasies arose in his mind; and he saw Samwise the Strong, Hero of the Age, striding with a flaming sword across the darkened land, and armies flocking to his callas he marched to the overthrow of Barad-dûr. And then all the clouds rolled away, and the white sun shone, and at his command the vale of Gorgoroth became a garden of flowers and trees and brought forth fruit. He had only to put on the Ring and claim it for his own, and all this could be." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "In that hour of trial it was the love of his master that helped most to hold him firm; but also deep down in him lived still unconquered his plain hobbit-sense: he knew in the core of his heart that he was not large enough to bear such a burden, even if such visions were not a mere cheat to betray him. The one small garden of a free gardener was all his need and due, not a garden swollen to a realm; his own hands to use, not the hands of others to command.\n\n\"And anyway all these notions are only a trick,\" he said to himself. \"He'd spot me and cow me, before I could so much as shout out. He'd spot me, pretty quick, if I put the Ring on now, in Mordor. Well, all I can say is: things look as hopeless as a frost in Spring. Just when being invisible would be really useful, I can't use the Ring! And if ever I get any further, it's going to be nothing but a drag and a burden every step. So what's to be done? '\n\nHe was not really in any doubt. He knew that he must go down to the gate and not linger anymore. With a shrug of his shoulders, as if to shake off the shadow and dismiss the phantoms, he began slowly to descend. With each step he seemed to diminish. He had not gone far before he had shrunk again to a very small and frightened hobbit. He was now passing under the very walls of the Tower, and the cries and sounds of fighting could be heard with his unaided ears. At the moment the noise seemed to becoming from the court behind the outer wall.\n\nSam was about halfway down the path when out of the dark gateway into the red glow there came two orcs running. They did not turn towards him. They were making for the main road; but even as they ran they stumbled and fell to the ground and lay still. Sam had seen no arrows, but he guessed that the orcs had been shot down by others on the battlements or hidden in the shadow of the gate. He went on, hugging the wall on his left. One look upward had shown him that there was no hope of climbing it. The stone-work rose thirty feet, without a crack or ledge, to overhanging courses like inverted steps. The gate was the only way." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He crept on; and as he went he wondered how many orcs lived in the Tower with Shagrat, and how many Gorbag had, and what they were quarrelling about, if that was what was happening. Shagrat's company had seemed to be about forty, and Gorbag's more than twice as large; but of course Shagrat's patrol had only been apart of his garrison. Almost certainly they were quarrelling about Frodo, and the spoil. Fora second Sam halted, for suddenly things seemed clear to him, almost as if he had seen them with his eyes. The mithril coat! Of course, Frodo was wearing it, and they would find it. And from what Sam had heard Gorbag would covet it. But the orders of the Dark Tower were at present Frodo's only protection, and if they were set aside, Frodo might be killed out of hand at any moment.\n\n\"Come on, you miserable sluggard!\" Sam cried to himself. \"Now for it!\" He drew Sting and ran towards the open gate. But just as he was about to pass under its great arch he felt a shock: as if he had run into some web like Shelob's, only invisible. He could see no obstacle, but something too strong for his will to overcome barred the way. He looked about, and then within the shadow of the gate he saw the Two Watchers.\n\nThey were like great figures seated upon thrones. Each had three joined bodies, and three heads facing outward, and inward, and across the gateway. The heads had vulture-faces, and on their great knees were laid clawlike hands. They seemed to be carved out of huge blocks of stone, immovable, and yet they were aware: some dreadful spirit of evil vigilance abode in them. They knew an enemy. Visible or invisible none could pass unheeded. They would forbid his entry, or his escape." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Hardening his will Sam thrust forward once again, and halted with a jerk, staggering as if from a blow upon his breast and head. Then greatly daring, because he could think of nothing else to do, answering a sudden thought that came to him, he drew slowly out the phial of Galadriel and held it up. Its white light quickened swiftly, and the shadows under the dark arch fled. The monstrous Watchers sat there cold and still, revealed in all their hideous shape. Fora moment Sam caught aglitter in the black stones of their eyes, the very malice of which made him quail; but slowly he felt their will waver and crumble into fear.\n\nHe sprang past them; but even as he did so, thrusting the phial back into his bosom, he was aware, as plainly as if a bar of steel had snapped to behind him, that their vigilance was renewed. And from those evil heads there came a high shrill cry that echoed in the towering walls before him. Far up above, like an answering signal, a harsh bell clanged a single stroke.\n\n\"That's done it! \"said Sam.\"Now I've rung the front-doorbell! Well, come on somebody!\" he cried. \"Tell Captain Shagrat that the great Elf-warrior has called, with his elf-sword too!\"\n\nThere was no answer. Sam strode forward. Sting glittered blue in his hand. The courtyard lay in deep shadow, but he could see that the pavement was strewn with bodies. Right at his feet were two orc-archers with knives sticking in their backs. Beyond lay many more shapes; some singly as they had been hewn down or shot; others in pairs, still grappling one another, dead in the very throes of stabbing, throttling, biting. The stones were slippery with dark blood." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Two liveries Sam noticed, one marked by the Red Eye, the other by a Moon disfigured with a ghastly face of death; but he did not stop to look more closely. Across the court a great door at the foot of the Tower stood half open, and a red light came through; a large orc lay dead upon the threshold. Sam sprang over the body and went in; and then he peered about at a loss.\n\nA wide and echoing passage led back from the door towards the mountain-side. It was dimly lit with torches flaring in brackets on the walls, but its distant end was lost in gloom. Many doors and openings could be seen on this side and that; but it was empty save for two or three more bodies sprawling on the floor. From what he had heard of the captains' talk Sam knew that, dead or alive, Frodo would most likely be found in a chamber high up in the turret far above; but he might search fora day before he found the way.\n\n\"It'll be near the back, I guess, \"Sam muttered.\"The whole Tower climbs backwards-like. And anyway I'd better follow these lights.\"\n\nHe advanced down the passage, but slowly now, each step more reluctant. Terror was beginning to grip him again. There was no sound save the rap of his feet, which seemed to grow to an echoing noise, like the slapping of great hands upon the stones. The dead bodies; the emptiness; the dank black walls that in the torchlight seemed to drip with blood; the fear of sudden death lurking in doorway or shadow; and behind all his mind the waiting watchful malice at the gate: it was almost more than he could screw himself to face. He would have welcomed a fight– with not too many enemies at a time– rather than this hideous brooding uncertainty. He forced himself to think of Frodo, lying bound or in pain or dead somewhere in this dreadful place. He went on." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He had passed beyond the torchlight, almost to a great arched door at the end of the passage, the inner side of the under-gate, as he rightly guessed, when there came from high above a dreadful choking shriek. He stopped short. Then he heard feet coming. Someone was running in great haste down an echoing stairway overhead.\n\nHis will was too weak and slow to restrain his hand. It dragged at the chain and clutched the Ring. But Sam did not put it on; for even as he clasped it to his breast, an orc came clattering down. Leaping out of a dark opening at the right, it ran towards him. It was no more than six paces from him when, lifting its head, it saw him; and Sam could hear its gasping breath and seethe glare in its bloodshot eyes. It stopped short aghast. For what it saw was not a small frightened hobbit trying to hold a steady sword: it saw a great silent shape, cloaked in a grey shadow, looming against the wavering light behind; in one hand it held a sword, the very light of which was a bitter pain, the other was clutched at its breast, but held concealed some nameless menace of power and doom.\n\nFora moment the orc crouched, and then with a hideous yelp of fear it turned and fled back as it had come. Never was any dog more heartened when its enemy turned tail than Sam at this unexpected flight. With a shout he gave chase.\n\n\"Yes! The Elf-warrior is loose!\" he cried. \"I'm coming. Just you show me the way up, or I'll skin you!\"\n\nBut the orc was in its own haunts, nimble and well-fed. Sam was a stranger, hungry and weary. The stairs were high and steep and winding. Sam's breath began to come in gasps. The orc had soon passed out of sight, and now only faintly could be heard the slapping of its feet as it went on and up. Every now and again it gave a yell, and the echo ran along the walls. But slowly all sound of it died away." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Sam plodded on." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He felt that he was on the right road, and his spirits had risen a good deal. He thrust the Ring away and tightened his belt. \"Well, well!\" he said. \"If only they all take such a dislike tome and my Sting, this may turnout better than I hoped. And anyway it looks as if Shagrat, Gorbag, and company have done nearly all my job for me. Except for that little frightened rat, I do believe there's nobody left alive in the place! '\n\nAnd with that he stopped, brought up hard, as if he had hit his head against the stonewall. The full meaning of what he had said struck him like a blow. Nobody left alive! Whose had been that horrible dying shriek? \"Frodo, Frodo! Master!\" he cried half sobbing. \"If they've killed you, what shall I do? Well, I'm coming at last, right to the top, to see what I must.\"\n\nUp, up he went. It was dark save for an occasional torch flaring at a turn, or beside some opening that led into the higher levels of the Tower. Sam tried to count the steps, but after two hundred he lost his reckoning. He was moving quietly now; for he thought that he could hear the sound of voices talking, still someway above. More than one rat remained alive it seemed.\n\nAll at once, when he felt that he could pump out no more breath, nor force his knees to bend again, the stair ended. He stood still. The voices were now loud and near. Sam peered about. He had climbed right to the flat roof of the third and highest tier of the Tower: an open space, about twenty yards across, with a low parapet. There the stair was covered by a small domed chamber in the midst of the roof, with low doors facing east and west. Eastward Sam could seethe plain of Mordor vast and dark below, and the burning mountain faraway. Afresh turmoil was surging in its deep wells, and the rivers of fire blazed so fiercely that even at this distance of many miles the light of them lit the tower-top with a red glare. Westward the view was blocked by the base of the great turret that stood at the back of this upper court and reared its horn high above the crest of the encircling hills. Light gleamed in a window-slit. Its door was not ten yards from where Sam stood. It was open but dark, and from just within its shadow the voices came." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "At first Sam did not listen; he took apace out of the eastward door and looked about. At once he saw that up here the fighting had been fiercest. All the court was choked with dead orcs, or their severed and scattered heads and limbs. The place stank of death. A snarl followed by a blow and a cry sent him darting back into hiding. An orc-voice rose in anger, and he knew it again at once, harsh, brutal, cold. It was Shagrat speaking, Captain of the Tower.\n\n\"You won't go again, you say? Curse you, Snaga, you little maggot! If you think I'm so damaged that it's safe to flout me, you're mistaken. Come here, and I'll squeeze your eyes out, like I did to Radbug just now. And when some new lads come, I'll deal with you: I'll send you to Shelob. '\n\n\"They won't come, not before you're dead anyway,\" answered Snaga surlily. \"I've told you twice that Gorbag's swine got to the gate first, and none of ours got out. Lagduf and Muzgash ran through, but they were shot. I saw it from a window, I tell you. And they were the last.\"\n\n\"Then you must go. I must stay here anyway. But I'm hurt. The Black Pits take that filthy rebel Gorbag! \"Shagrat's voice trailed off into a string of foul names and curses. \"I gave him better than I got, but he knifed me, the dung, before I throttled him. You must go, or I'll eat you. News must get through to Lugbúrz, or we'll both be for the Black Pits. Yes, you too. You won't escape by skulking here. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I'm not going down those stairs again, \"growled Snaga,\"be you captain or no." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Nar! Keep your hands off your knife, or I'll put an arrow in your guts. You won't be a captain long when They hear about all these goings-on. I've fought for the Tower against those stinking Morgul-rats, but a nice mess you two precious captains have made of things, fighting over the swag.\"\n\n\"That's enough from you, \"snarled Shagrat.\"I had my orders. It was Gorbag started it, trying to pinch that pretty shirt. '\n\n\"Well, you put his backup, being so high and mighty. And he had more sense than you anyway. He told you more than once that the most dangerous of these spies was still loose, and you wouldn't listen. And you won't listen now. Gorbag was right, I tell you. There's a great fighter about, one of those bloody-handed Elves, or one of the filthy tarks. * He's coming here, I tell you. You heard the bell. He's got past the Watchers, and that's tark's work. He's on the stairs. And until he's off them, I'm not going down. Not if you were a Nazgûl, I wouldn't. '\n\n\"So that's it, is it? \"yelled Shagrat.\"You'll do this, and you'll not do that? And when he does come, you'll bolt and leave me? No, you won't! I'll put red maggot-holes in your belly first.\"\n\nOut of the turret-door the smaller orc came flying. Behind him came Shagrat, a large orc with long arms that, as he ran crouching, reached to the ground. But one arm hung limp and seemed to be bleeding; the other hugged a large black bundle. In the red glare Sam, cowering behind the stair-door, caught a glimpse of his evil face as it passed: it was scored as if by rending claws and smeared with blood; slaver dripped from its protruding fangs; the mouth snarled like an animal." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Extend the plot as the writer's co-author.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, war\nAuthor: J.R.R. Tolkien\nTitle: The Return of the King\nChapter: 13" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He gave Frodo water and an additional wafer of the waybread, and he made a pillow of his cloak for his master's head. Frodo was too weary to debate the matter, and Sam did not tell him that he had drunk the last drop of their water, and eaten Sam's share of the food as well as his own. When Frodo was asleep Sam bent over him and listened to his breathing and scanned his face. It was lined and thin, and yet in sleep it looked content and unafraid. \"Well, here goes, Master!\" Sam muttered to himself. \"I'll have to leave you fora bit and trust to luck. Water we must have, or we'll get no further.\"\n\nSam crept out, and flitting from stone to stone with more than hobbit-care, he went down to the water-course, and then followed it for someway as it climbed north, until he came to the rock-steps where long ago, no doubt, its spring had come gushing down in a little waterfall. All now seemed dry and silent; but refusing to despair Sam stooped and listened, and to his delight he caught the sound of trickling. Clambering a few steps up he found a tiny stream of dark water that came out from the hill-side and filled a little bare pool, from which again it spilled, and vanished then under the barren stones.\n\nSam tasted the water, and it seemed good enough. Then he drank deeply, refilled the bottle, and turned to go back. At that moment he caught a glimpse of a black form or shadow flitting among the rocks away near Frodo's hiding-place. Biting back a cry, he leapt down from the spring and ran, jumping from stone to stone. It was a wary creature, difficult to see, but Sam had little doubt about it: he longed to get his hands on its neck. But it heard him coming and slipped quickly away. Sam thought he saw a last fleeting glimpse of it, peering back over the edge of the eastward precipice, before it ducked and disappeared." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Well, luck did not let me down,\" muttered Sam, \"but that was a near thing!" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Isn't it enough to have orcs by the thousand without that stinking villain coming nosing round? I wish he had been shot! ' He sat down by Frodo and did not rouse him; but he did not dare to go to sleep himself. At last when he felt his eyes closing and knew that his struggle to keep awake could not goon much longer, he wakened Frodo gently.\n\n\"That Gollum's about again, I'm afraid, Mr. Frodo,\" he said. \"Leastways, if it wasn't him, then there's two of him. I went away to find some water and spied him nosing round just as I turned back. I reckon it isn't safe for us both to sleep together, and begging your pardon, but I can't holdup my lids much longer.\"\n\n\"Bless you, Sam!\" said Frodo. \"Lie down and take your proper turn! But I'd rather have Gollum than orcs. At any rate he won't give us away to them– not unless he's caught himself. '\n\n\"But he might do a bit of robbery and murder on his own,\" growled Sam. \"Keep your eyes open, Mr. Frodo! There's a bottle full of water. Drink up. We can fill it again when we goon. ' With that Sam plunged into sleep.\n\nLight was fading again when he woke. Frodo sat propped against the rock behind, but he had fallen asleep. The water-bottle was empty. There was no sign of Gollum.\n\nMordor-dark had returned, and the watch-fires on the heights burned fierce and red, when the hobbits set out again on the most dangerous stage of all their journey. They went first to the little spring, and then climbing warily up they came to the road at the point where it swung east towards the Isenmouthe twenty miles away. It was not abroad road, and it had no wall or parapet along the edge, and as it ran on the sheer drop from its brink became deeper and deeper. The hobbits could hear no movements, and after listening fora while they set off eastward at a steady pace." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "After doing some twelve miles, they halted. A short way back the road had bent a little northward and the stretch that they had passed over was now screened from sight. This proved disastrous. They rested for some minutes and then went on; but they had not taken many steps when suddenly in the stillness of the night they heard the sound that all along they had secretly dreaded: the noise of marching feet. It was still someway behind them, but looking back they could seethe twinkle of torches coming round the bend less than a mile away, and they were moving fast: too fast for Frodo to escape by flight along the road ahead.\n\n\"I feared it, Sam,\" said Frodo. \"We've trusted to luck, and it has failed us. We're trapped.\" He looked wildly up at the frowning wall, where the road-builders of old had cut the rock sheer for many fathoms above their heads. He ran to the other side and looked over the brink into a dark pit of gloom. \"We're trapped at last! ' he said. He sank to the ground beneath the wall of rock and bowed his head.\n\n\"Seems so,\" said Sam. \"Well, we can but wait and see.\" And with that he sat down beside Frodo under the shadow of the cliff.\n\nThey did not have to wait long. The orcs were going at a great pace. Those in the foremost files bore torches. On they came, red flames in the dark, swiftly growing. Now Sam too bowed his head, hoping that it would hide his face when the torches reached them; and he set their shields before their knees to hide their feet.\n\n\"If only they are in a hurry and will let a couple of tired soldiers alone and pass on!\" he thought.\n\nAnd so it seemed that they would. The leading orcs came loping along, panting, holding their heads down. They were a gang of the smaller breeds being driven unwilling to their Dark Lord's wars; all they cared for was to get the march over and escape the whip. Beside them, running up and down the line, went two of the large fierce uruks, cracking lashes and shouting. File after file passed, and the tell-tale torchlight was already someway ahead. Sam held his breath. Now more than half the line had gone by. Then suddenly one of the slave-drivers spied the two figures by the road-side. He flicked a whip at them and yelled:\"Hi, you! Getup! ' They did not answer, and with a shout he halted the whole company." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Come on, you slugs!\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "he cried. \"This is no time for slouching.\" He took a step towards them, and even in the gloom he recognized the devices on their shields. \"Deserting, eh?\" he snarled. \"Or thinking of it? All your folk should have been inside Udûn before yesterday evening. You know that. Up you get and fall in, or I'll have your numbers and report you. '\n\nThey struggled to their feet, and keeping bent, limping like footsore soldiers, they shuffled back towards the rear of the line. \"No, not at the rear!\" the slave-driver shouted. \"Three files up. And stay there, or you'll know it, when I comedown the line! ' He sent his long whip-lash cracking over their heads; then with another crack and a yell he started the company off again at a brisk trot.\n\nIt was hard enough for poor Sam, tired as he was; but for Frodo it was a torment, and soon a nightmare. He set his teeth and tried to stop his mind from thinking, and he struggled on. The stench of the sweating orcs about him was stifling, and he began to gasp with thirst. On, on they went, and he bent all his will to draw his breath and to make his legs keep going; and yet to what evil end he toiled and endured he did not dare to think. There was no hope of falling out unseen. Now and again the orc-driver fell back and jeered at them.\n\n\"There now!\" he laughed, flicking at their legs. \"Where there's a whip there's a will, my slugs. Holdup! I'd give you a nice freshener now, only you'll get as much lash as your skins will carry when you come in late to your camp. Do you good. Don't you know we're at war?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "They had gone some miles, and the road was at last running down along slope into the plain, when Frodo's strength began to give out and his will wavered." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He lurched and stumbled. Desperately Sam tried to help him and hold him up, though he felt that he could himself hardly stay the pace much longer. At any moment now he knew that the end would come: his master would faint or fall, and all would be discovered, and their bitter efforts be in vain.\"I'll have that big slave-driving devil anyway,\" he thought.\n\nThen just as he was putting his hand to the hilt of his sword, there came an unexpected relief. They were out on the plain now and drawing near the entrance to Udûn. Someway in front of it, before the gate at the bridge-end, the road from the west converged with others coming from the south, and from Barad-dûr. Along all the roads troops were moving; for the Captains of the West were advancing and the Dark Lord was speeding his forces north. So it chanced that several companies came together at the road-meeting, in the dark beyond the light of the watch-fires on the wall. At once there was great jostling and cursing as each troop tried to get first to the gate and the ending of their march. Though the drivers yelled and plied their whips, scuffles broke out and some blades were drawn. A troop of heavy-armed uruks from Barad-dûr charged into the Durthang line and threw them into confusion.\n\nDazed as he was with pain and weariness, Sam woke up, grasped quickly at his chance, and threw himself to the ground, dragging Frodo down with him. Orcs fell over them, snarling and cursing. Slowly on hand and knee the hobbits crawled away out of the turmoil, until at last unnoticed they dropped over the further edge of the road. It had a high kerb by which troop-leaders could guide themselves in black night or fog, and it was banked up some feet above the level of the open land." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They lay still fora while. It was too dark to seek for cover, if indeed there was any to find; but Sam felt that they ought at least to get further away from the highways and out of the range of torchlight.\n\n\"Come on, Mr. Frodo!\" he whispered. \"One more crawl, and then you can lie still.\"\n\nWith a last despairing effort Frodo raised himself on his hands, and struggled on for maybe twenty yards. Then he pitched down into a shallow pit that opened unexpectedly before them, and there he lay like a dead thing." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sam put his ragged orc-cloak under his master's head, and covered them both with the grey robe of Lórien; and as he did so his thoughts went out to that fair land, and to the Elves, and he hoped that the cloth woven by their hands might have some virtue to keep them hidden beyond all hope in this wilderness of fear. He heard the scuffling and cries die down as the troops passed on through the Isenmouthe. It seemed that in the confusion and the mingling of many companies of various kinds they had not been missed, not yet at any rate.\n\nSam took a sip of water, but pressed Frodo to drink, and when his master had recovered a little he gave him a whole wafer of their precious waybread and made him eat it. Then, too worn out even to feel much fear, they stretched themselves out. They slept a little in uneasy fits; for their sweat grew chill on them, and the hard stones bit them, and they shivered. Out of the north from the Black Gate through Cirith Gorgor there flowed whispering along the ground a thin cold air.\n\nIn the morning a grey light came again, for in the high regions the West Wind still blew, but down on the stones behind the fences of the Black Land the air seemed almost dead, chill and yet stifling. Sam looked up out of the hollow. The land all about was dreary, flat and drab-hued. On the roads nearby nothing was moving now; but Sam feared the watchful eyes on the wall of the Isenmouthe, no more than a furlong away northward. South-eastward, far off like a dark standing shadow, loomed the Mountain. Smokes were pouring from it, and while those that rose into the upper air trailed away eastward, great rolling clouds floated down its sides and spread over the land. A few miles to the north-east the foothills of the Ashen Mountains stood like sombre grey ghosts, behind which the misty northern heights rose like a line of distant cloud hardly darker than the lowering sky." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sam tried to guess the distances and to decide what way they ought to take. \"It looks every step of fifty miles,\" he muttered gloomily, staring at the threatening mountain, \"and that'll take a week, if it takes a day, with Mr. Frodo as he is. ' He shook his head, and as he worked things out, slowly anew dark thought grew in his mind. Never for long had hope died in his staunch heart, and always until now he had taken some thought for their return. But the bitter truth came home to him at last: at best their provision would take them to their goal; and when the task was done, there they would come to an end, alone, houseless, foodless in the midst of a terrible desert. There could be no return.\n\n\"So that was the job I felt I had to do when I started,\" thought Sam: \"to help Mr. Frodo to the last step and then die with him? Well, if that is the job then I must do it. But I would dearly like to see Bywater again, and Rosie Cotton and her brothers, and the Gaffer and Marigold and all. I can't think somehow that Gandalf would have sent Mr. Frodo on this errand, if there hadn't a\" been any hope of his ever coming back at all. Things all went wrong when he went down in Moria. I wish he hadn't. He would have done something.\"\n\nBut even as hope died in Sam, or seemed to die, it was turned to anew strength. Sam's plain hobbit-face grew stern, almost grim, as the will hardened in him, and he felt through all his limbs a thrill, as if he was turning into some creature of stone and steel that neither despair nor weariness nor endless barren miles could subdue." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "With anew sense of responsibility he brought his eyes back to the ground near at hand, studying the next move. As the light grew a little he saw to his surprise that what from a distance had seemed wide and featureless flats were in fact all broken and tumbled. Indeed the whole surface of the plains of Gorgoroth was pocked with great holes, as if, while it was still a waste of soft mud, it had been smitten with a shower of bolts and huge slingstones. The largest of these holes were rimmed with ridges of broken rock, and broad fissures ran out from them in all directions. It was a land in which it would be possible to creep from hiding to hiding, unseen by all but the most watchful eyes: possible at least for one who was strong and had no need for speed. For the hungry and worn, who had far to go before life failed, it had an evil look.\n\nThinking of all these things Sam went back to his master. He had no need to rouse him. Frodo was lying on his back with eyes open, staring at the cloudy sky. \"Well, Mr. Frodo,\" said Sam, \"I've been having a look round and thinking a bit. There's nothing on the roads, and we'd best begetting away while there's a chance. Can you manage it?\"\n\n\"I can manage it,\" said Frodo. \"I must.\"\n\nOnce more they started, crawling from hollow to hollow, flitting behind such cover as they could find, but moving always in aslant towards the foothills of the northern range. But as they went the most easterly of the roads followed them, until it ran off, hugging the skirts of the mountains, away into a wall of black shadow far ahead. Neither man nor orc now moved along its flat grey stretches; for the Dark Lord had almost completed the movement of his forces, and even in the fastness of his own realm he sought the secrecy of night, fearing the winds of the world that had turned against him, tearing aside his veils, and troubled with tidings of bold spies that had passed through his fences." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The hobbits had gone a few weary miles when they halted. Frodo seemed nearly spent. Sam saw that he could not go much further in this fashion, crawling, stooping, now picking a doubtful way very slowly, now hurrying at a stumbling run.\n\n\"I'm going back onto the road while the light lasts, Mr. Frodo, \"he said.\"Trust to luck again! It nearly failed us last time, but it didn't quite. A steady pace fora few more miles, and then a rest.\"\n\nHe was taking afar greater risk than he knew; but Frodo was too much occupied with his burden and with the struggle in his mind to debate, and almost too hopeless to care. They climbed onto the causeway and trudged along, down the hard cruel road that led to the Dark Tower itself. But their luck held, and for the rest of that day they met no living or moving thing; and when night fell they vanished into the darkness of Mordor. All the land now brooded as at the coming of a great storm: for the Captains of the West had passed the Cross-roads and set flames in the deadly fields of Imlad Morgul.\n\nSo the desperate journey went on, as the Ring went south and the banners of the kings rode north. For the hobbits each day, each mile, was more bitter than the one before, as their strength lessened and the land became more evil. They met no enemies by day. At times by night, as they cowered or drowsed uneasily in some hiding beside the road, they heard cries and the noise of many feet or the swift passing of some cruelly ridden steed. But far worse than all such perils was the ever-approaching threat that beat upon them as they went: the dreadful menace of the Power that waited, brooding in deep thought and sleepless malice behind the dark veil about its Throne. Nearer and nearer it drew, looming blacker, like the oncoming of a wall of night at the last end of the world." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There came at last a dreadful nightfall; and even as the Captains of the West drew near to the end of the living lands, the two wanderers came to an hour of blank despair. Four days had passed since they had escaped from the orcs, but the time lay behind them like an ever-darkening dream. All this last day Frodo had not spoken, but had walked half-bowed, often stumbling, as if his eyes no longer saw the way before his feet. Sam guessed that among all their pains he bore the worst, the growing weight of the Ring, a burden on the body and a torment to his mind. Anxiously Sam had noted how his master's left hand would often be raised as if toward off a blow, or to screen his shrinking eyes from a dreadful Eye that sought to look in them. And sometimes his right hand would creep to his breast, clutching, and then slowly, as the will recovered mastery, it would be withdrawn.\n\nNow as the blackness of night returned Frodo sat, his head between his knees, his arms hanging wearily to the ground where his hands lay feebly twitching. Sam watched him, till night covered them both and hid them from one another. He could no longer find any words to say; and he turned to his own dark thoughts. As for himself, though weary and under a shadow of fear, he still had some strength left. The lembas had a virtue without which they would long ago have lain down to die. It did not satisfy desire, and at times Sam's mind was filled with the memories of food, and the longing for simple bread and meats. And yet this waybread of the Elves had a potency that increased as travellers relied on it alone and did not mingle it with other foods. It fed the will, and it gave strength to endure, and to master sinew and limb beyond the measure of mortal kind. But now anew decision must be made. They could not follow this road any longer; for it went on eastward into the great Shadow, but the Mountain now loomed upon their right, almost due south, and they must turn towards it. Yet still before it there stretched a wide region of fuming, barren, ash-ridden land." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Water, water!\" muttered Sam. He had stinted himself, and in his parched mouth his tongue seemed thick and swollen; but for all his care they now had very little left, perhaps half his bottle, and maybe there were still days to go. All would long ago have been spent, if they had not dared to follow the orc-road. For at long intervals on that highway cisterns had been built for the use of troops sent in haste through the waterless regions. In one Sam had found some water left, stale, muddied by the orcs, but still sufficient for their desperate case. Yet that was now a day ago. There was no hope of anymore.\n\nAt last wearied with his cares Sam drowsed, leaving the morrow till it came; he could do no more. Dream and waking mingled uneasily. He saw lights like gloating eyes, and dark creeping shapes, and he heard noises as of wild beasts or the dreadful cries of tortured things; and he would startup to find the world all dark and only empty blackness all about him. Once only, as he stood and stared wildly round, did it seem that, though now awake, he could still see pale lights like eyes; but soon they flickered and vanished.\n\nThe hateful night passed slowly and reluctantly. Such daylight as followed was dim; for here as the Mountain drew near the air was ever mirky, while out from the Dark Tower there crept the veils of Shadow that Sauron wove about himself. Frodo was lying on his back not moving. Sam stood beside him, reluctant to speak, and yet knowing that the word now lay with him: he must set his master's will to work for another effort. At length, stooping and caressing Frodo's brow, he spoke in his ear." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Wake up, Master!\" he said. \"Time for another start.\"\n\nAs if roused by a sudden bell, Frodo rose quickly, and stood up and looked away southwards; but when his eyes beheld the Mountain and the desert he quailed again.\n\n\"I can't manage it, Sam, \"he said.\"It is such a weight to carry, such a weight. '\n\nSam knew before he spoke, that it was vain, and that such words might do more harm than good, but in his pity he could not keep silent. \"Then let me carry it a bit for you, Master,\" he said. \"You know I would, and gladly, as long as I have any strength.\"\n\nA wild light came into Frodo's eyes.\"Stand away! Don't touch me!\" he cried. \"It is mine, I say. Be off!\" His hand strayed to his sword-hilt. But then quickly his voice changed. \"No, no, Sam,\" he said sadly. \"But you must understand. It is my burden, and no one else can bear it. It is too late now, Sam dear. You can't help me in that way again. I am almost in its power now. I could not give it up, and if you tried to take it I should go mad. '\n\nSam nodded. \"I understand,\" he said. \"But I've been thinking, Mr. Frodo, there's other things we might do without. Why not lighten the load a bit? We're going that way now, as straight as we can make it. \"He pointed to the Mountain.\"It's no good taking anything we're not sure to need. '\n\nFrodo looked again towards the Mountain. \"No,\" he said, \"we shan't need much on that road. And at its end nothing. ' Picking up his orc-shield he flung it away and threw his helmet after it. Then pulling off the grey cloak he undid the heavy belt and let it fall to the ground, and the sheathed sword with it. The shreds of the black cloak he tore off and scattered." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"There, I'll bean orc no more, \"he cried,\"and I'll bear no weapon, fair or foul. Let them take me, if they will!\"\n\nSam did likewise, and put aside his orc-gear; and he took out all the things in his pack. Somehow each of them had become dear to him, if only because he had borne them so far with so much toil. Hardest of all it was to part with his cooking-gear. Tears welled in his eyes at the thought of casting it away.\n\n\"Do you remember that bit of rabbit, Mr. Frodo?\" he said. \"And our place under the warm bank in Captain Faramir's country, the day I saw an oliphaunt? '\n\n\"No, I am afraid not, Sam,\" said Frodo. \"At least, I know that such things happened, but I cannot see them. No taste of food, no feel of water, no sound of wind, no memory of tree or grass or flower, no image of moon or star are left tome. I am naked in the dark, Sam, and there is no veil between me and the wheel of fire. I begin to see it even with my waking eyes, and all else fades.\"\n\nSam went to him and kissed his hand. \"Then the sooner we're rid of it, the sooner to rest, \"he said haltingly, finding no better words to say.\"Talking won't mend nothing,\" he muttered to himself, as he gathered up all the things that they had chosen to castaway. He was not willing to leave them lying open in the wilderness for any eyes to see. \"Stinker picked up that orc-shirt, seemingly, and he isn't going to add a sword to it. His hands are bad enough when empty. And he isn't going to mess with my pans!\" With that he carried all the gear away to one of the many gaping fissures that scored the land and threw them in. The clatter of his precious pans as they fell down into the dark was like a death-knell to his heart." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He came back to Frodo, and then of his elven-rope he cut a short piece to serve his master as a girdle and bind the grey cloak close about his waist. The rest he carefully coiled and put back in his pack. Beside that he kept only the remnants of their waybread and the water-bottle, and Sting still hanging by his belt; and hidden away in a pocket of his tunic next his breast the phial of Galadriel and the little box that she gave him for his own.\n\nNow at last they turned their faces to the Mountain and set out, thinking no more of concealment, bending their weariness and failing wills only to the one task of going on. In the dimness of its dreary day few things even in that land of vigilance could have espied them, save from close at hand. Of all the slaves of the Dark Lord, only the Nazgûl could have warned him of the peril that crept, small but indomitable, into the very heart of his guarded realm. But the Nazgûl and their black wings were abroad on other errand: they were gathered faraway, shadowing the march of the Captains of the West, and thither the thought of the Dark Tower was turned.\n\nThat day it seemed to Sam that his master had found some new strength, more than could be explained by the small lightening of the load that he had to carry. In the first marches they went further and faster than he had hoped. The land was rough and hostile, and yet they made much progress, and ever the Mountain drew nearer. But as the day wore on and all too soon the dim light began to fail, Frodo stooped again, and began to stagger, as if the renewed effort had squandered his remaining strength.\n\nAt their last halt he sank down and said: \"I'm thirsty, Sam, \"and did not speak again. Sam gave him a mouthful of water; only one more mouthful remained. He went without himself; and now as once more the night of Mordor closed over them, through all his thoughts there came the memory of water; and every brook or stream or fount that he had ever seen, under green willow-shades or twinkling in the sun, danced and rippled for his torment behind the blindness of his eyes. He felt the cool mud about his toes as he paddled in the Pool at Bywater with Jolly Cotton and Tom and Nibs, and their sister Rosie.\"But that was years ago, \"he sighed,\"and faraway. The way back, if there is one, goes past the Mountain. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He could not sleep and he held a debate with himself. \"Well, come now, we've done better than you hoped, \"he said sturdily.\"Began well anyway. I reckon we crossed half the distance before we stopped. One more day will do it. ' And then he paused.\n\n\"Don't be a fool, Sam Gamgee, \"came an answer in his own voice.\"He won't go another day like that, if he moves at all. And you can't goon much longer giving him all the water and most of the food. '\n\n\"I can goon a good way though, and I will.\"\n\n\"Where to?\"\n\n\"To the Mountain, of course.\"\n\n\"But what then, Sam Gamgee, what then? When you get there, what are you going to do? He won't be able to do anything for himself. '\n\nTo his dismay Sam realized that he had not got an answer to this. He had no clear idea at all. Frodo had not spoken much to him of his errand, and Sam only knew vaguely that the Ring had somehow to be put into the fire. \"The Cracks of Doom,\" he muttered, the old name rising to his mind. \"Well, if Master knows how to find them, I don't. '\n\n\"There you are!\" came the answer. \"It's all quite useless. He said so himself. You are the fool, going on hoping and toiling. You could have lain down and gone to sleep together days ago, if you hadn't been so dogged. But you'll die just the same, or worse. You might just as well lie down now and give it up. You'll never get to the top anyway.\"\n\n\"I'll get there, if I leave everything but my bones behind, \"said Sam.\"And I'll carry Mr. Frodo up myself, if it breaks my back and heart. So stop arguing!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "At that moment Sam felt a tremor in the ground beneath him, and he heard or sensed a deep remote rumble as of thunder imprisoned under the earth. There was a brief red flame that flickered under the clouds and died away. The Mountain too slept uneasily.\n\nThe last stage of their journey to Orodruin came, and it was a torment greater than Sam had ever thought that he could bear. He was in pain, and so parched that he could no longer swallow even a mouthful of food. It remained dark, not only because of the smokes of the Mountain: there seemed to be a storm coming up, and away to the south-east there was a shimmer of lightnings under the black skies. Worst of all, the air was full of fumes; breathing was painful and difficult, and a dizziness came on them, so that they staggered and often fell. And yet their wills did not yield, and they struggled on.\n\nThe Mountain crept up ever nearer, until, if they lifted their heavy heads, it filled all their sight, looming vast before them: a huge mass of ash and slag and burned stone, out of which a sheer-sided cone was raised into the clouds. Before the daylong dusk ended and true night came again they had crawled and stumbled to its very feet.\n\nWith a gasp Frodo cast himself on the ground. Sam sat by him. To his surprise he felt tired but lighter, and his head seemed clear again. No more debates disturbed his mind. He knew all the arguments of despair and would not listen to them. His will was set, and only death would break it. He felt no longer either desire or need of sleep, but rather of watchfulness. He knew that all the hazards and perils were now drawing together to a point: the next day would be a day of doom, the day of final effort or disaster, the last gasp." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But when would it come? The night seemed endless and timeless, minute after minute falling dead and adding up to no passing hour, bringing no change. Sam began to wonder if a second darkness had begun and no day would ever reappear. At last he groped for Frodo's hand. It was cold and trembling. His master was shivering.\n\n\"I didn't ought to have left my blanket behind, ' muttered Sam; and lying down he tried to comfort Frodo with his arms and body. Then sleep took him, and the dim light of the last day of their quest found them side by side. The wind had fallen the day before as it shifted from the West, and now it came from the North and began to rise; and slowly the light of the unseen Sun filtered down into the shadows where the hobbits lay.\n\n\"Now for it! Now for the last gasp!\" said Sam as he struggled to his feet. He bent over Frodo, rousing him gently. Frodo groaned; but with a great effort of will he staggered up; and then he fell upon his knees again. He raised his eyes with difficulty to the dark slopes of Mount Doom towering above him, and then pitifully he began to crawl forward on his hands.\n\nSam looked at him and wept in his heart, but no tears came to his dry and stinging eyes. \"I said I'd carry him, if it broke my back, \"he muttered,\"and I will! '\n\n\"Come, Mr. Frodo!\" he cried. \"I can't carry it for you, but I can carry you and it as well. Soup you get! Come on, Mr. Frodo dear! Sam will give you a ride. Just tell him whereto go, and he'll go.\"\n\nAs Frodo clung upon his back, arms loosely about his neck, legs clasped firmly under his arms, Sam staggered to his feet; and then to his amazement he felt the burden light. He had feared that he would have barely strength to lift his master alone, and beyond that he had expected to share in the dreadful dragging weight of the accursed Ring. But it was not so. Whether because Frodo was so worn by his long pains, wound of knife, and venomous sting, and sorrow, fear, and homeless wandering, or because some gift of final strength was given to him, Sam lifted Frodo with no more difficulty than if he were carrying a hobbit-child pig-a-back in some romp on the lawns or hayfields of the Shire. He took a deep breath and started off." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They had reached the Mountain's foot on its northern side, and a little to the westward; there its long grey slopes, though broken, were not sheer. Frodo did not speak, and so Sam struggled on as best he could, having no guidance but the will to climb as high as might be before his strength gave out and his will broke. On he toiled, up and up, turning this way and that to lessen the slope, often stumbling forward, and at the last crawling like a snail with a heavy burden on its back. When his will could drive him no further, and his limbs gave way, he stopped and laid his master gently down.\n\nFrodo opened his eyes and drew a breath. It was easier to breathe up here above the reeks that coiled and drifted down below. \"Thank you, Sam,\" he said in a cracked whisper. \"How far is thereto go?\"\n\n\"I don't know, \"said Sam,\"because I don't know where we're going. '\n\nHe looked back, and then he looked up; and he was amazed to see how far his last effort had brought him. The Mountain standing ominous and alone had looked taller than it was. Sam saw now that it was less lofty than the high passes of the Ephel Dúath which he and Frodo had scaled. The confused and tumbled shoulders of its great base rose for maybe three thousand feet above the plain, and above them was reared half as high again its tall central cone, like avast oast or chimney capped with a jagged crater. But already Sam was more than halfway up the base, and the plain of Gorgoroth was dim below him, wrapped in fume and shadow. Ashe looked up he would have given a shout, if his parched throat had allowed him; for amid the rugged humps and shoulders above him he saw plainly a path or road. It climbed like arising girdle from the west and wound snakelike about the Mountain, until before it went round out of view it reached the foot of the cone upon its eastern side." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Sam could not seethe course immediately above him, where it was lowest, fora steep slope went up from where he stood; but he guessed that if he could only struggle on just a little way further up, they would strike this path." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Agleam of hope returned to him. They might conquer the Mountain yet. \"Why, it might have been put there a-purpose!\" he said to himself. \"If it wasn't there, I'd have to say I was beaten in the end.\"\n\nThe path was not put therefor the purposes of Sam. He did not know it, but he was looking at Sauron's Road from Barad-dûr to the Sammath Naur, the Chambers of Fire. Out from the Dark Tower's huge western gate it came over a deep abyss by avast bridge of iron, and then passing into the plain it ran fora league between two smoking chasms, and so reached along sloping causeway that led upon to the Mountain's eastern side. Thence, turning and encircling all its wide girth from south to north, it climbed at last, high in the upper cone, but still far from the reeking summit, to a dark entrance that gazed back east straight to the Window of the Eye in Sauron's shadow-mantled fortress. Often blocked or destroyed by the tumults of the Mountain's furnaces, always that road was repaired and cleared again by the labours of countless orcs.\n\nSam drew a deep breath. There was a path, but how he was to getup the slope to it he did not know. First he must ease his aching back. He lay flat beside Frodo fora while. Neither spoke. Slowly the light grew. Suddenly a sense of urgency which he did not understand came to Sam. It was almost as if he had been called: \"Now, now, or it will be too late!\" He braced himself and got up. Frodo also seemed to have felt the call. He struggled to his knees.\n\n\"I'll crawl, Sam, ' he gasped.\n\nSo foot by foot, like small grey insects, they crept up the slope. They came to the path and found that it was broad, paved with broken rubble and beaten ash. Frodo clambered onto it, and then moved as if by some compulsion he turned slowly to face the East. Far off the shadows of Sauron hung; but torn by some gust of wind out of the world, or else moved by some great disquiet within, the mantling clouds swirled, and fora moment drew aside; and then he saw, rising black, blacker and darker than the vast shades amid which it stood, the cruel pinnacles andiron crown of the topmost tower of Barad-dûr. One moment only it stared out, but as from some great window immeasurably high there stabbed northward aflame of red, the flicker of a piercing Eye; and then the shadows were furled again and the terrible vision was removed. The Eye was not turned to them: it was gazing north to where the Captains of the West stood at bay, and thither all its malice was now bent, as the Power moved to strike its deadly blow; but Frodo at that dreadful glimpse fellas one stricken mortally. His hand sought the chain about his neck." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sam knelt by him. Faint, almost inaudibly, he heard Frodo whispering: \"Help me, Sam! Help me, Sam! Hold my hand! I can't stop it. \"Sam took his master's hands and laid them together, palm to palm, and kissed them; and then he held them gently between his own. The thought came suddenly to him: \"He's spotted us! It's all up, or it soon will be. Now, Sam Gamgee, this is the end of ends.\"\n\nAgain he lifted Frodo and drew his hands down to his own breast, letting his master's legs dangle. Then he bowed his head and struggled off along the climbing road. It was not as easy away to take as it had looked at first. By fortune the fires that had poured forth in the great turmoils when Sam stood upon Cirith Ungol had flowed down mainly on the southern and western slopes, and the road on this side was not blocked. Yet in many places it had crumbled away or was crossed by gaping rents. After climbing eastward for sometime it bent back upon itself at a sharp angle and went westward fora space. Thereat the bend it was cut deep through a crag of old weathered stone once long ago vomited from the Mountain's furnaces. Panting under his load Sam turned the bend; and even as he did so, out of the corner of his eye, he had a glimpse of something falling from the crag, like a small piece of black stone that had toppled off as he passed.\n\nA sudden weight smote him and he crashed forward, tearing the backs of his hands that still clasped his master's. Then he knew what had happened, for above him as he lay he heard a hated voice.\n\n\"Wicked masster!\" it hissed. \"Wicked masster cheats us; cheats Sméagol, gollum. He musstn't go that way. He musstn't hurt Preciouss. Give it to Sméagol, yess, give it to us! Give it to uss!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "With a violent heave Sam rose up. At once he drew his sword; but he could do nothing. Gollum and Frodo were locked together. Gollum was tearing at his master, trying to get at the chain and the Ring. This was probably the only thing that could have roused the dying embers of Frodo's heart and will: an attack, an attempt to wrest his treasure from him by force. He fought back with a sudden fury that amazed Sam, and Gollum also. Even so things might have gone far otherwise, if Gollum himself had remained unchanged; but whatever dreadful paths, lonely and hungry and waterless, he had trodden, driven by a devouring desire and a terrible fear, they had left grievous marks on him. He was a lean, starved, haggard thing, all bones and tight-drawn sallow skin. A wild light flamed in his eyes, but his malice was no longer matched by his old griping strength. Frodo flung him off and rose up quivering.\n\n\"Down, down!\" he gasped, clutching his hand to his breast, so that beneath the cover of his leather shirt he clasped the Ring. \"Down, you creeping thing, and out of my path! Your time is at an end. You cannot betray me or slay me now.\"\n\nThen suddenly, as before under the eaves of the Emyn Muil, Sam saw these two rivals with other vision. A crouching shape, scarcely more than the shadow of a living thing, a creature now wholly ruined and defeated, yet filled with a hideous lust and rage; and before it stood stern, untouchable now by pity, a figure robed in white, but at its breast it held a wheel of fire. Out of the fire there spoke a commanding voice." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Begone, and trouble me no more! If you touch me ever again, you shall be cast yourself into the Fire of Doom.\"\n\nThe crouching shape backed away, terror in its blinking eyes, and yet at the same time insatiable desire.\n\nThen the vision passed and Sam saw Frodo standing, hand on breast, his breath coming in great gasps, and Gollum at his feet, resting on his knees with his wide-splayed hands upon the ground.\n\n\"Look out!\" cried Sam. \"He'll spring! \"He stepped forward, brandishing his sword.\"Quick, Master! \"he gasped.\"Go on! Goon! No time to lose. I'll deal with him. Goon!\"\n\nFrodo looked at him as if atone now faraway. \"Yes, I must goon,\" he said. \"Farewell, Sam! This is the end at last. On Mount Doom doom shall fall. Farewell!\" He turned and went on, walking slowly but erect, up the climbing path.\n\n\"Now!\" said Sam. \"At last I can deal with you!\" He leaped forward withdrawn blade ready for battle. But Gollum did not spring. He fell flat upon the ground and whimpered.\n\n\"Don't kill us, \"he wept.\"Don't hurt us with nassty cruel steel! Let us live, yes, live just a little longer. Lost lost! We're lost. And when Precious goes we'll die, yes, die into the dust.\" He clawed up the ashes of the path with his long fleshless fingers. \"Dusst!\" he hissed.\n\nSam's hand wavered. His mind was hot with wrath and the memory of evil. It would be just to slay this treacherous, murderous creature, just and many times deserved; and also it seemed the only safe thing to do. But deep in his heart there was something that restrained him: he could not strike this thing lying in the dust, forlorn, ruinous, utterly wretched. He himself, though only fora little while, had borne the Ring, and now dimly he guessed the agony of Gollum's shrivelled mind and body, enslaved to that Ring, unable to find peace or relief ever in life again. But Sam had no words to express what he felt." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Oh, curse you, you stinking thing!\" he said. \"Go away! Be off! I don't trust you, not as far as I could kick you; but be off. Or I shall hurt you, yes, with nasty cruel steel. '\n\nGollum got upon all fours, and backed away for several paces, and then he turned, and as Sam aimed a kick at him he fled away down the path. Sam gave no more heed to him. He suddenly remembered his master. He looked up the path and could not see him. As fast as he could he trudged up the road. If he had looked back, he might have seen not far below Gollum turn again, and then with a wild light of madness glaring in his eyes come, swiftly but warily, creeping on behind, a slinking shadow among the stones.\n\nThe path climbed on. Soon it bent again and with a last eastward course passed in a cutting along the face of the cone and came to the dark door in the Mountain's side, the door of the Sammath Naur. Faraway now rising towards the South the sun, piercing the smokes and haze, burned ominous, a dull bleared disc of red; but all Mordor layabout the Mountain like a dead land, silent, shadow-folded, waiting for some dreadful stroke.\n\nSam came to the gaping mouth and peered in. It was dark and hot, and a deep rumbling shook the air. \"Frodo! Master!\" he called. There was no answer. Fora moment he stood, his heart beating with wild fears, and then he plunged in. A shadow followed him.\n\nAt first he could see nothing. In his great need he drew out once more the phial of Galadriel, but it was pale and cold in his trembling hand and threw no light into that stifling dark. He was come to the heart of the realm of Sauron and the forges of his ancient might, greatest in Middle-earth; all other powers were here subdued. Fearfully he took a few uncertain steps in the dark, and then all at once there came a flash of red that leaped upward, and smote the high black roof. Then Sam saw that he was in along cave or tunnel that bored into the Mountain's smoking cone. But only a short way ahead its floor and the walls on either side were cloven by a great fissure, out of which the red glare came, now leaping up, now dying down into darkness; and all the while far below there was a rumour and a trouble as of great engines throbbing and labouring." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The light sprang up again, and thereon the brink of the chasm, at the very Crack of Doom, stood Frodo, black against the glare, tense, erect, but still as if he had been turned to stone.\n\n\"Master!\" cried Sam.\n\nThen Frodo stirred and spoke with a clear voice, indeed with a voice clearer and more powerful than Sam had ever heard him use, and it rose above the throb and turmoil of Mount Doom, ringing in the roof and walls.\n\n\"I have come,\" he said. \"But I do not choose now to do what I came to do. I will not do this deed. The Ring is mine!\" And suddenly, as he set it on his finger, he vanished from Sam's sight. Sam gasped, but he had no chance to cry out, for at that moment many things happened.\n\nSomething struck Sam violently in the back, his legs were knocked from under him and he was flung aside, striking his head against the stony floor, as a dark shape sprang over him. He lay still and fora moment all went black.\n\nAnd faraway, as Frodo put on the Ring and claimed it for his own, even in Sammath Naur the very heart of his realm, the Power in Barad-dûr was shaken, and the Tower trembled from its foundations to its proud and bitter crown. The Dark Lord was suddenly aware of him, and his Eye piercing all shadows looked across the plain to the door that he had made; and the magnitude of his own folly was revealed to him in a blinding flash, and all the devices of his enemies were at last laid bare. Then his wrath blazed in consuming flame, but his fear rose like avast black smoke to choke him. For he knew his deadly peril and the thread upon which his doom now hung." }, { "from": "human", "value": "From all his policies and webs of fear and treachery, from all his stratagems and wars his mind shook free; and throughout his realm a tremor ran, his slaves quailed, and his armies halted, and his captains suddenly steerless, bereft of will, wavered and despaired." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "For they were forgotten. The whole mind and purpose of the Power that wielded them was now bent with overwhelming force upon the Mountain. At his summons, wheeling with a rending cry, in a last desperate race there flew, faster than the winds, the Nazgûl, the Ring-wraiths, and with a storm of wings they hurtled southwards to Mount Doom.\n\nSam got up. He was dazed, and blood streaming from his head dripped in his eyes. He groped forward, and then he saw a strange and terrible thing. Gollum on the edge of the abyss was fighting like a mad thing with an unseen foe. To and fro he swayed, now so near the brink that almost he tumbled in, now dragging back, falling to the ground, rising, and falling again. And all the while he hissed but spoke no words.\n\nThe fires below awoke in anger, the red light blazed, and all the cavern was filled with a great glare and heat. Suddenly Sam saw Gollum's long hands draw upwards to his mouth; his white fangs gleamed, and then snapped as they bit. Frodo gave a cry, and there he was, fallen upon his knees at the chasm's edge. But Gollum, dancing like a mad thing, held aloft the ring, a finger still thrust within its circle. It shone now as if verily it was wrought of living fire.\n\n\"Precious, precious, precious!\" Gollum cried. \"My Precious! O my Precious!\" And with that, even as his eyes were lifted up to gloat on his prize, he stepped too far, toppled, wavered fora moment on the brink, and then with a shriek he fell. Out of the depths came his last wail Precious, and he was gone." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There was a roar and a great confusion of noise. Fires leaped up and licked the roof. The throbbing grew to a great tumult, and the Mountain shook. Sam ran to Frodo and picked him up and carried him out to the door. And thereupon the dark threshold of the Sammath Naur, high above the plains of Mordor, such wonder and terror came on him that he stood still forgetting all else, and gazed as one turned to stone.\n\nA brief vision he had of swirling cloud, and in the midst of it towers and battlements, tall as hills, founded upon a mighty mountain-throne above immeasurable pits; great courts and dungeons, eyeless prisons sheer as cliffs, and gaping gates of steel and adamant: and then all passed. Towers fell and mountains slid; walls crumbled and melted, crashing down; vast spires of smoke and spouting steams went billowing up, up, until they toppled like an overwhelming wave, and its wild crest curled and came foaming down upon the land. And then at last over the miles between there came a rumble, rising to a deafening crash and roar; the earth shook, the plain heaved and cracked, and Orodruin reeled. Fire belched from its riven summit. The skies burst into thunder seared with lightning. Down like lashing whips fella torrent of black rain. And into the heart of the storm, with a cry that pierced all other sounds, tearing the clouds asunder, the Nazgûl came, shooting like flaming bolts, as caught in the fiery ruin of hill and sky they crackled, withered, and went out.\n\n\"Well, this is the end, Sam Gamgee,\" said a voice by his side. And there was Frodo, pale and worn, and yet himself again; and in his eyes there was peace now, neither strain of will, nor madness, nor any fear. His burden was taken away. There was the dear master of the sweet days in the Shire." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Master!\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "cried Sam, and fell upon his knees. In all that ruin of the world for the moment he felt only joy, great joy. The burden was gone. His master had been saved; he was himself again, he was free. And then Sam caught sight of the maimed and bleeding hand.\n\n\"Your poor hand!\" he said. \"And I have nothing to bind it with, or comfort it. I would have spared him a whole hand of mine rather. But he's gone now beyond recall, gone forever. '\n\n\"Yes,\" said Frodo. \"But do you remember Gandalf's words: Even Gollum may have something yet to do? But for him, Sam, I could not have destroyed the Ring. The Quest would have been in vain, even at the bitter end. So let us forgive him! For the Quest is achieved, and now all is over. I am glad you are herewith me. Here at the end of all things, Sam. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "All about the hills the hosts of Mordor raged. The Captains of the West were foundering in a gathering sea. The sun gleamed red, and under the wings of the Nazgûl the shadows of death fell dark upon the earth. Aragorn stood beneath his banner, silent and stern, as one lost in thought of things long pastor faraway; but his eyes gleamed like stars that shine the brighter as the night deepens. Upon the hill-top stood Gandalf, and he was white and cold and no shadow fell on him. The onslaught of Mordor broke like a wave on the beleaguered hills, voices roaring like a tide amid the wreck and crash of arms.\n\nAs if to his eyes some sudden vision had been given, Gandalf stirred; and he turned, looking back north where the skies were pale and clear. Then he lifted up his hands and cried in aloud voice ringing above the din: The Eagles are coming! And many voices answered crying: The Eagles are coming! The Eagles are coming! The hosts of Mordor looked up and wondered what this sign might mean.\n\nThere came Gwaihir the Windlord, and Landroval his brother, greatest of all the Eagles of the North, mightiest of the descendants of old Thorondor, who built his eyries in the inaccessible peaks of the Encircling Mountains when Middle-earth was young. Behind them in long swift lines came all their vassals from the northern mountains, speeding on a gathering wind. Straight down upon the Nazgûl they bore, stooping suddenly out of the high airs, and the rush of their wide wings as they passed over was like a gale.\n\nBut the Nazgûl turned and fled, and vanished into Mordor's shadows, hearing a sudden terrible call out of the Dark Tower; and even at that moment all the hosts of Mordor trembled, doubt clutched their hearts, their laughter failed, their hands shook and their limbs were loosed. The Power that drove them on and filled them with hate and fury was wavering, its will was removed from them; and now looking in the eyes of their enemies they saw a deadly light and were afraid." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Then all the Captains of the West cried aloud, for their hearts were filled with anew hope in the midst of darkness. Out from the beleaguered hills knights of Gondor, Riders of Rohan, Dúnedain of the North, close-serried companies, drove against their wavering foes, piercing the press with the thrust of bitter spears. But Gandalf lifted up his arms and called once more in a clear voice:\n\n\"Stand, Men of the West! Stand and wait! This is the hour of doom.\"\n\nAnd even as he spoke the earth rocked beneath their feet. Then rising swiftly up, far above the Towers of the Black Gate, high above the mountains, avast soaring darkness sprang into the sky, flickering with fire. The earth groaned and quaked. The Towers of the Teeth swayed, tottered, and fell down; the mighty rampart crumbled; the Black Gate was hurled in ruin; and from faraway, now dim, now growing, now mounting to the clouds, there came a drumming rumble, a roar, along echoing roll of ruinous noise.\n\n\"The realm of Sauron is ended!\" said Gandalf. \"The Ring-bearer has fulfilled his Quest.\" And as the Captains gazed south to the Land of Mordor, it seemed to them that, black against the pall of cloud, there rose a huge shape of shadow, impenetrable, lightning-crowned, filling all the sky. Enormous it reared above the world, and stretched out towards them avast threatening hand, terrible but impotent: for even as it leaned over them, a great wind took it, and it was all blown away, and passed; and then a hush fell.\n\nThe Captains bowed their heads; and when they looked up again, behold! their enemies were flying and the power of Mordor was scattering like dust in the wind. As when death smites the swollen brooding thing that inhabits their crawling hill and holds them all in sway, ants will wander witless and purposeless and then feebly die, so the creatures of Sauron, orc or troll or beast spell-enslaved, ran hither and thither mindless; and some slew themselves, or cast themselves in pits, or fled wailing back to hide in holes and dark lightless places far from hope. But the Men of Rhûn and of Harad, Easterling and Southron, saw the ruin of their war and the great majesty and glory of the Captains of the West. And those that were deepest and longest in evil servitude, hating the West, and yet were men proud and bold, in their turn now gathered themselves fora last stand of desperate battle. But the most part fled eastward as they could; and some cast their weapons down and sued for mercy." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Then Gandalf, leaving all such matters of battle and command to Aragorn and the other lords, stood upon the hill-top and called; and down to him came the great eagle, Gwaihir the Windlord, and stood before him.\n\n\"Twice you have borne me, Gwaihir my friend,\" said Gandalf. \"Thrice shall pay for all, if you are willing. You will not find me a burden much greater than when you bore me from Zirakzigil, where my old life burned away.\"\n\n\"I would bear you,\" answered Gwaihir, \"whither you will, even were you made of stone.\"\n\n\"Then come, and let your brother go with us, and some other of your folk who is most swift! For we have need of speed greater than any wind, outmatching the wings of the Nazgûl.\"\n\n\"The North Wind blows, but we shall outfly it,\" said Gwaihir. And he lifted up Gandalf and sped away south, and with him went Landroval, and Meneldor young and swift. And they passed over Udûn and Gorgoroth and saw all the land in ruin and tumult beneath them, and before them Mount Doom blazing, pouring out its fire.\n\n\"I am glad that you are herewith me,\" said Frodo. \"Here at the end of all things, Sam.\"\n\n\"Yes, I am with you, Master,\" said Sam, laying Frodo's wounded hand gently to his breast.\"And you're with me. And the journey's finished. But after coming all that way I don't want to give up yet. It's not like me, somehow, if you understand. '\n\n\"Maybe not, Sam,\" said Frodo; \"but it's like things are in the world. Hopes fail. An end comes. We have only a little time to wait now. We are lost in ruin and downfall, and there is no escape. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Well, Master, we could at least go further from this dangerous place here, from this Crack of Doom, if that's its name. Now couldn't we? Come, Mr. Frodo, let's go down the path at any rate! '\n\n\"Very well, Sam. If you wish to go, I'll come, \"said Frodo; and they rose and went slowly down the winding road; and even as they passed towards the Mountain's quaking feet, a great smoke and steam belched from the Sammath Naur, and the side of the cone was riven open, and a huge fiery vomit rolled in slow thunderous cascade down the eastern mountain-side.\n\nFrodo and Sam could go no further. Their last strength of mind and body was swiftly ebbing. They had reached a low ashen hill piled at the Mountain's foot; but from it there was no more escape. It was an island now, not long to endure, amid the torment of Orodruin. All about it the earth gaped, and from deep rifts and pits smoke and fumes leaped up. Behind them the Mountain was convulsed. Great rents opened in its side. Slow rivers of fire came down the long slopes towards them. Soon they would be engulfed. A rain of hot ash was falling.\n\nThey stood now; and Sam still holding his master's hand caressed it. He sighed.\"What a tale we have been in, Mr. Frodo, haven't we?\" he said. \"I wish I could hear it told! Do you think they'll say: Now comes the story of Nine-fingered Frodo and the Ring of Doom? And then everyone will hush, like we did, when in Rivendell they told us the tale of Beren One-hand and the Great Jewel. I wish I could hear it! And I wonder how it will goon after our part. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But even while he spoke so, to keep fear away until the very last, his eyes still strayed north, north into the eye of the wind, to where the sky far off was clear, as the cold blast, rising to a gale, drove back the darkness and the ruin of the clouds.\n\nAnd so it was that Gwaihir saw them with his keen far-seeing eyes, as down the wild wind he came, and daring the great peril of the skies he circled in the air: two small dark figures, forlorn, hand in hand upon a little hill, while the world shook under them, and gasped, and rivers of fire drew near. And even as he espied them and came swooping down, he saw them fall, worn out, or choked with fumes and heat, or stricken down by despair at last, hiding their eyes from death.\n\nSide by side they lay; and down swept Gwaihir, and down came Landroval and Meneldor the swift; and in a dream, not knowing what fate had befallen them, the wanderers were lifted up and borne faraway out of the darkness and the fire.\n\nWhen Sam awoke, he found that he was lying on some soft bed, but over him gently swayed wide beechen boughs, and through their young leaves sunlight glimmered, green and gold. All the air was full of a sweet mingled scent.\n\nHe remembered that smell: the fragrance of Ithilien. \"Bless me!\" he mused. \"How long have I been asleep?\" For the scent had borne him back to the day when he had lit his little fire under the sunny bank; and for the moment all else between was out of waking memory. He stretched and drew a deep breath. \"Why, what a dream I've had! \"he muttered.\"I am glad to wake! ' He sat up and then he saw that Frodo was lying beside him, and slept peacefully, one hand behind his head, and the other resting upon the coverlet. It was the right hand, and the third finger was missing." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Full memory flooded back, and Sam cried aloud: \"It wasn't a dream! Then where are we? '\n\nAnd a voice spoke softly behind him: \"In the land of Ithilien, and in the keeping of the King; and he awaits you.\" With that Gandalf stood before him, robed in white, his beard now gleaming like pure snow in the twinkling of the leafy sunlight. \"Well, Master Samwise, how do you feel?\" he said.\n\nBut Sam lay back, and stared with open mouth, and fora moment, between bewilderment and great joy, he could not answer. At last he gasped: \"Gandalf! I thought you were dead! But then I thought I was dead myself. Is everything sad going to come untrue? What's happened to the world? '\n\n\"A great Shadow has departed,\" said Gandalf, and then he laughed, and the sound was like music, or like water in a parched land; and as he listened the thought came to Sam that he had not heard laughter, the pure sound of merriment, for days upon days without count. It fell upon his ears like the echo of all the joys he had ever known. But he himself burst into tears. Then, as a sweet rain will pass down a wind of spring and the sun will shine out the clearer, his tears ceased, and his laughter welled up, and laughing he sprang from his bed.\n\n\"How do I feel?\" he cried. \"Well, I don't know how to say it. I feel, I feel\"– he waved his arms in the air–\"I feel like spring after winter, and sun on the leaves; and like trumpets and harps and all the songs I have ever heard! \"He stopped and he turned towards his master.\"But how's Mr. Frodo?\" he said. \"Isn't it a shame about his poor hand? But I hope he's all right otherwise. He's had a cruel time. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Yes, I am all right otherwise,\" said Frodo, sitting up and laughing in his turn." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I fell asleep again waiting for you, Sam, you sleepy-head. I was awake early this morning, and now it must be nearly noon.\"\n\n\"Noon?\" said Sam, trying to calculate. \"Noon of what day?\"\n\n\"The fourteenth of the New Year,\" said Gandalf; \"or if you like, the eighth day of April in the Shire-reckoning. * But in Gondor the New Year will always now begin upon the twenty-fifth of March when Sauron fell, and when you were brought out of the fire to the King. He has tended you, and now he awaits you. You shall eat and drink with him. When you are ready I will lead you to him.\"\n\n\"The King?\" said Sam. \"What king, and who is he?\"\n\n\"The King of Gondor and Lord of the Western Lands,\" said Gandalf; \"and he has taken back all his ancient realm. He will ride soon to his crowning, but he waits for you.\"\n\n\"What shall we wear?\" said Sam; for all he could see was the old and tattered clothes that they had journeyed in, lying folded on the ground beside their beds.\n\n\"The clothes that you wore on your way to Mordor,\" said Gandalf. \"Even the orc-rags that you bore in the black land, Frodo, shall be preserved. No silks and linens, nor any armour or heraldry could be more honourable. But later I will find some other clothes, perhaps.\"\n\nThen he held out his hands to them, and they saw that one shone with light. \"What have you got there?\" Frodo cried. \"Can it be--?\"\n\n\"Yes, I have brought your two treasures. They were found on Sam when you were rescued, the Lady Galadriel's gifts: your glass, Frodo, and your box, Sam. You will be glad to have these safe again. '" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Assist in storytelling, proceed with the tale.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, war\nAuthor: J.R.R. Tolkien\nTitle: The Return of the King\nChapter: 15" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Yes, I am all right otherwise,\" said Frodo, sitting up and laughing in his turn." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I fell asleep again waiting for you, Sam, you sleepy-head. I was awake early this morning, and now it must be nearly noon.\"\n\n\"Noon?\" said Sam, trying to calculate. \"Noon of what day?\"\n\n\"The fourteenth of the New Year,\" said Gandalf; \"or if you like, the eighth day of April in the Shire-reckoning. * But in Gondor the New Year will always now begin upon the twenty-fifth of March when Sauron fell, and when you were brought out of the fire to the King. He has tended you, and now he awaits you. You shall eat and drink with him. When you are ready I will lead you to him.\"\n\n\"The King?\" said Sam. \"What king, and who is he?\"\n\n\"The King of Gondor and Lord of the Western Lands,\" said Gandalf; \"and he has taken back all his ancient realm. He will ride soon to his crowning, but he waits for you.\"\n\n\"What shall we wear?\" said Sam; for all he could see was the old and tattered clothes that they had journeyed in, lying folded on the ground beside their beds.\n\n\"The clothes that you wore on your way to Mordor,\" said Gandalf. \"Even the orc-rags that you bore in the black land, Frodo, shall be preserved. No silks and linens, nor any armour or heraldry could be more honourable. But later I will find some other clothes, perhaps.\"\n\nThen he held out his hands to them, and they saw that one shone with light. \"What have you got there?\" Frodo cried. \"Can it be--?\"\n\n\"Yes, I have brought your two treasures. They were found on Sam when you were rescued, the Lady Galadriel's gifts: your glass, Frodo, and your box, Sam. You will be glad to have these safe again. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "When they were washed and clad, and had eaten alight meal, the Hobbits followed Gandalf. They stepped out of the beech-grove in which they had lain, and passed onto along green lawn, glowing in sunshine, bordered by stately dark-leaved trees laden with scarlet blossom. Behind them they could hear the sound of falling water, and a stream ran down before them between flowering banks, until it came to a greenwood at the lawn's foot and passed then on under an archway of trees, through which they saw the shimmer of water faraway.\n\nAs they came to the opening in the wood, they were surprised to see knights in bright mail and tall guards in silver and black standing there, who greeted them with honour and bowed before them. And then one blew along trumpet, and they went on through the aisle of trees beside the singing stream. So they came to a wide green land, and beyond it was abroad river in a silver haze, out of which rose along wooded isle, and many ships lay by its shores. But on the field where they now stood a great host was drawn up, in ranks and companies glittering in the sun. And as the Hobbits approached swords were unsheathed, and spears were shaken, and horns and trumpets sang, and men cried with many voices and in many tongues:\n\n'Long live the Halflings! Praise them with great praise!\n\nCuio i Pheriain anann! Aglar'ni Pheriannath!\n\nPraise them with great praise, Frodo and Samwise!\n\nDaur a Berhael, Conin en Annûn! Eglerio!\n\nPraise them!\n\nEglerio!\n\nA laita te, laita te! Andave laituvalmet!" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Praise them!\n\nCormacolindor, a laita tárienna!\n\nPraise them! The Ring-bearers, praise them with great praise! '\n\nAnd so the red blood blushing in their faces and their eyes shining with wonder, Frodo and Sam went forward and saw that amidst the clamorous host were set three high-seats built of green turves. Behind the seat upon the right floated, white on green, a great horse running free; upon the left was a banner, silver upon blue, a ship swan-prowed faring on the sea; but behind the highest throne in the midst of all a great standard was spread in the breeze, and there a white tree flowered upon a sable field beneath a shining crown and seven glittering stars. On the throne sat a mail-clad man, a great sword was laid across his knees, but he wore no helm. As they drew near he rose. And then they knew him, changed as he was, so high and glad of face, kingly, lord of Men, dark-haired with eyes of grey.\n\nFrodo ran to meet him, and Sam followed close behind. \"Well, if this isn't the crown of all! \"he said.\"Strider, or I'm still asleep!\"\n\n\"Yes, Sam, Strider,\" said Aragorn. \"It is along way, is it not, from Bree, where you did not like the look of me? Along way for us all, but yours has been the darkest road.\"\n\nAnd then to Sam's surprise and utter confusion he bowed his knee before them; and taking them by the hand, Frodo upon his right and Sam upon his left, he led them to the throne, and setting them upon it, he turned to the men and captains who stood by and spoke, so that his voice rang overall the host, crying:" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Praise them with great praise!\"\n\nAnd when the glad shout had swelled up and died away again, to Sam's final and complete satisfaction and pure joy, a minstrel of Gondor stood forth, and knelt, and begged leave to sing. And behold! he said:\n\n\"Lo! lords and knights and men of valour unashamed, kings and princes, and fair people of Gondor, and Riders of Rohan, and ye sons of Elrond, and Dúnedain of the North, and Elf and Dwarf, and greathearts of the Shire, and all free folk of the West, now listen to my lay. For I will sing to you of Frodo of the Nine Fingers and the Ring of Doom.\"\n\nAnd when Sam heard that he laughed aloud for sheer delight, and he stood up and cried: \"O great glory and splendour! And all my wishes have come true!\" And then he wept.\n\nAnd all the host laughed and wept, and in the midst of their merriment and tears the clear voice of the minstrel rose like silver and gold, and all men were hushed. And he sang to them, now in the elven-tongue, now in the speech of the West, until their hearts, wounded with sweet words, overflowed, and their joy was like swords, and they passed in thought out to regions where pain and delight flow together and tears are the very wine of blessedness.\n\nAnd at the last, as the Sun fell from the noon and the shadows of the trees lengthened, he ended. \"Praise them with great praise!\" he said and knelt. And then Aragorn stood up, and all the host arose, and they passed to pavilions made ready, to eat and drink and make merry while the day lasted." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Frodo and Sam were led apart and brought to a tent, and there their old raiment was taken off, but folded and set aside with honour; and clean linen was given to them. Then Gandalf came and in his arms, to the wonder of Frodo, he bore the sword and the elven-cloak and the mithril-coat that had been taken from him in Mordor. For Sam he brought a coat of gilded mail, and his elven-cloak all healed of the soils and hurts that it had suffered; and then he laid before them two swords.\n\n\"I do not wish for any sword,\" said Frodo.\n\n\"Tonight at least you should wear one,\" said Gandalf.\n\nThen Frodo took the small sword that had belonged to Sam, and had been laid at his side in Cirith Ungol. \"Sting I gave to you Sam,\" he said.\n\n\"No, master! Mr. Bilbo gave it to you, and it goes with his silver coat; he would not wish anyone else to wear it now.\"\n\nFrodo gave way; and Gandalf, as if he were their esquire, knelt and girt the sword-belts about them, and then rising he set circlets of silver upon their heads. And when they were arrayed they went to the great feast; and they sat at the King's table with Gandalf, and King Éomer of Rohan, and the Prince Imrahil and all the chief captains; and there also were Gimli and Legolas.\n\nBut when, after the Standing Silence, wine was brought there came in two esquires to serve the kings; or so they seemed to be: one was clad in the silver and sable of the Guards of Minas Tirith, and the other in white and green. But Sam wondered what such young boys were doing in an army of mighty men. Then suddenly as they drew near and he could see them plainly, he exclaimed:" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Why, look Mr." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Frodo! Look here! Well, if it isn't Pippin. Mr. Peregrin Took I should say, and Mr. Merry! How they have grown! Bless me! But I can see there's more tales to tell than ours.\"\n\n\"There are indeed,\" said Pippin turning towards him. \"And we'll begin telling them, as soon as this feast is ended. In the meantime you can try Gandalf. He's not so close as he used to be, though he laughs now more than he talks. For the present Merry and I are busy. We are knights of the City and of the Mark, as I hope you observe.\"\n\nAt last the glad day ended; and when the Sun was gone and the round Moon rode slowly above the mists of Anduin and flickered through the fluttering leaves, Frodo and Sam sat under the whispering trees amid the fragrance of fair Ithilien; and they talked deep into the night with Merry and Pippin and Gandalf, and after awhile Legolas and Gimli joined them. There Frodo and Sam learned much of all that had happened to the Company after their fellowship was broken on the evil day at Parth Galen by Rauros Falls; and still there was always more to ask and more to tell.\n\nOrcs, and talking trees, and leagues of grass, and galloping riders, and glittering caves, and white towers and golden halls, and battles, and tall ships sailing, all these passed before Sam's mind until he felt bewildered. But amidst all these wonders he returned always to his astonishment at the size of Merry and Pippin; and he made them stand back to back with Frodo and himself. He scratched his head.\"Can't understand it at your age!\" he said. \"But there it is: you're three inches taller than you ought to be, or I'm a dwarf.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"That you certainly are not,\" said Gimli. \"But what did I say? Mortals cannot go drinking ent-draughts and expect no more to come of them than of a pot of beer.\"\n\n\"Ent-draughts?\" said Sam. \"There you go about Ents again; but what they are beats me. Why, it will take weeks before we get all these things sized up!\"\n\n\"Weeks indeed,\" said Pippin. \"And then Frodo will have to be locked up in a tower in Minas Tirith and write it all down. Otherwise he will forget half of it, and poor old Bilbo will be dreadfully disappointed.\"\n\nAt length Gandalf rose. \"The hands of the King are hands of healing, dear friends,\" he said. \"But you went to the very brink of death ere he recalled you, putting forth all his power, and sent you into the sweet forgetfulness of sleep. And though you have indeed slept long and blessedly, still it is now time to sleep again.\"\n\n\"And not only Sam and Frodo here,\" said Gimli, \"but you too, Pippin. I love you, if only because of the pains you have cost me, which I shall never forget. Nor shall I forget finding you on the hill of the last battle. But for Gimli the Dwarf you would have been lost then. But at least I know now the look of a hobbit's foot, though it be all that can be seen under a heap of bodies. And when I heaved that great carcase off you, I made sure you were dead. I could have torn out my beard. And it is only a day yet since you were first up and abroad again. To bed now you go. And so shall I. '\n\n\"And I,\" said Legolas, 'shall walk in the woods of this fair land, which is rest enough. In days to come, if my Elven-lord allows, some of our folk shall remove hither; and when we come it shall be blessed, fora while. Fora while: a month, a life, a hundred years of Men. But Anduin is near, and Anduin leads down to the Sea. To the Sea!" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "To the Sea, to the Sea! The white gulls are crying,\n\nThe wind is blowing, and the white foam is flying.\n\nWest, west away, the round sun is falling.\n\nGrey ship, grey ship, do you hear them calling,\n\nThe voices of my people that have gone before me?\n\nI will leave, I will leave the woods that bore me;\n\nFor our days are ending and our years failing.\n\nI will pass the wide waters lonely sailing.\n\nLong are the waves on the Last Shore falling,\n\nSweet are the voices in the Lost Isle calling,\n\nIn Eressëa, in Elvenhome that no man can discover,\n\nWhere the leaves fall not: land of my people forever! '\n\nAnd so singing Legolas went away down the hill.\n\nThen the others also departed, and Frodo and Sam went to their beds and slept. And in the morning they rose again in hope and peace; and they spent many days in Ithilien. For the Field of Cormallen, where the host was now encamped, was near to Henneth Annûn, and the stream that flowed from its falls could be heard in the night as it rushed down through its rocky gate, and passed through the flowery meads into the tides of Anduin by the Isle of Cair Andros. The hobbits wandered here and there visiting again the places that they had passed before; and Sam hoped always in some shadow of the woods or secret glade to catch, maybe, a glimpse of the great Oliphaunt. And when he learned that at the siege of Gondor there had been a great number of these beasts but that they were all destroyed, he thought it a sad loss." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Well, one can't be everywhere at once, I suppose, \"he said.\"But I missed a lot, seemingly. '\n\nIn the meanwhile the host made ready for the return to Minas Tirith. The weary rested and the hurt were healed. For some had laboured and fought much with the remnants of the Easterlings and Southrons, until all were subdued. And, latest of all, those returned who had passed into Mordor and destroyed the fortresses in the north of the land.\n\nBut at the last when the month of May was drawing near the Captains of the West set out again; and they went aboard ship with all their men, and they sailed from Cair Andros down Anduin to Osgiliath; and there they remained for one day; and the day after they came to the green fields of the Pelennor and saw again the white towers under tall Mindolluin, the City of the Men of Gondor, last memory of Westernesse, that had passed through the darkness and fire to anew day.\n\nAnd therein the midst of the fields they setup their pavilions and awaited the morning; for it was the Eve of May, and the King would enter his gates with the rising of the Sun." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Over the city of Gondor doubt and great dread had hung. Fair weather and clear sun had seemed but a mockery to men whose days held little hope, and who looked each morning for news of doom. Their lord was dead and burned, dead lay the King of Rohan in their citadel, and the new king that had come to them in the night was gone again to a war with powers too dark and terrible for any might or valour to conquer. And no news came. After the host left Morgul Vale and took the northward road beneath the shadow of the mountains no messenger had returned nor any rumour of what was passing in the brooding East.\n\nWhen the Captains were but two days gone, the Lady Éowyn bade the women who tended her to bring her raiment, and she would not be gainsaid, but rose; and when they had clothed her and set her arm in a sling of linen, she went to the Warden of the Houses of Healing.\n\n\"Sir,\" she said, \"I am in great unrest, and I cannot lie longer in sloth.\"\n\n\"Lady,\" he answered, \"you are not yet healed, and I was commanded to tend you with especial care. You should not have risen from your bed for seven days yet, or so I was bidden. I beg you to go back.\"\n\n\"I am healed,\" she said, \"healed at least in body, save my left arm only, and that is at ease. But I shall sicken anew, if there is naught that I can do. Are there no tidings of war? The women can tell me nothing.\"\n\n\"There are no tidings,\" said the Warden, \"save that the Lords have ridden to Morgul Vale; and men say that the new captain out of the North is their chief. A great lord is that, and a healer; and it is a thing passing strange tome that the healing hand should also wield the sword. It is not thus in Gondor now, though once it was so, if old tales be true. But for long years we healers have only sought to patch the rents made by the men of swords. Though we should still have enough to do without them: the world is full enough of hurts and mischances without wars to multiply them.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"It needs but one foe to breed a war, not two, Master Warden,\" answered Éowyn." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And those who have not swords can still die upon them. Would you have the folk of Gondor gather you herbs only, when the Dark Lord gathers armies? And it is not always good to be healed in body. Nor is it always evil to die in battle, even in bitter pain. Were I permitted, in this dark hour I would choose the latter.\"\n\nThe Warden looked at her. Tall she stood there, her eyes bright in her white face, her right hand clenched as she turned and gazed out of his window that opened to the East. He sighed and shook his head. After a pause she turned to him again.\n\n\"Is there no deed to do?\" she said. \"Who commands in this City?\"\n\n\"I do not rightly know,\" he answered. \"Such things are not my care. There is a marshal over the Riders of Rohan; and the Lord Húrin, I am told, commands the men of Gondor. But the Lord Faramir is by right the Steward of the City.\"\n\n\"Where can I find him?\"\n\n\"In this house, lady. He was sorely hurt, but is now set again on the way to health. But I do not know--\"\n\n\"Will you not bring me to him? Then you will know.\"\n\nThe Lord Faramir was walking alone in the garden of the Houses of Healing, and the sunlight warmed him, and he felt life run new in his veins; but his heart was heavy, and he looked out over the walls eastward. And coming, the Warden spoke his name, and he turned and saw the Lady Éowyn of Rohan; and he was moved with pity, for he saw that she was hurt, and his clear sight perceived her sorrow and unrest.\n\n\"My lord,\" said the Warden, \"here is the Lady Éowyn of Rohan. She rode with the king and was sorely hurt, and dwells now in my keeping. But she is not content, and she wishes to speak to the Steward of the City.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Do not misunderstand him, lord,\" said Éowyn." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It is not lack of care that grieves me. No houses could be fairer, for those who desire to be healed. But I cannot lie in sloth, idle, caged. I looked for death in battle. But I have not died, and battle still goes on.\"\n\nAt a sign from Faramir, the Warden bowed and departed. \"What would you have me do, lady?\" said Faramir. \"I also am a prisoner of the healers.\" He looked at her, and being a man whom pity deeply stirred, it seemed to him that her loveliness amid her grief would pierce his heart. And she looked at him and saw the grave tenderness in his eyes, and yet knew, for she was bred among men of war, that here was one whom no Rider of the Mark would outmatch in battle.\n\n\"What do you wish?\" he said again. \"If it lies in my power, I will do it.\"\n\n\"I would have you command this Warden, and bid him let me go,\" she said; but though her words were still proud, her heart faltered, and for the first time she doubted herself. She guessed that this tall man, both stern and gentle, might think her merely wayward, like a child that has not the firmness of mind to goon with a dull task to the end.\n\n\"I myself am in the Warden's keeping, \"answered Faramir.\"Nor have I yet taken up my authority in the City. But had I done so, I should still listen to his counsel, and should not cross his will in matters of his craft, unless in some great need. '\n\n\"But I do not desire healing,\" she said. \"I wish to ride to warlike my brother Éomer, or better like Théoden the king, for he died and has both honour and peace.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"It is too late, lady, to follow the Captains, even if you had the strength,\" said Faramir." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"But death in battle may come to us all yet, willing or unwilling. You will be better prepared to face it in your own manner, if while there is still time you do as the Healer commanded. You and I, we must endure with patience the hours of waiting.\"\n\nShe did not answer, but as he looked at her it seemed to him that something in her softened, as though a bitter frost were yielding at the first faint presage of spring. A tear sprang in her eye and fell down her cheek, like a glistening rain-drop. Her proud head drooped a little. Then quietly, more as if speaking to herself than to him: \"But the healers would have me lie abed seven days yet,\" she said. \"And my window does not look eastward.\" Her voice was now that of a maiden young and sad.\n\nFaramir smiled, though his heart was filled with pity. \"Your window does not look eastward?\" he said. \"That can be amended. In this I will command the Warden. If you will stay in this house in our care, lady, and take your rest, then you shall walk in this garden in the sun, as you will; and you shall look east, whither all our hopes have gone. And here you will find me, walking and waiting, and also looking east. It would ease my care, if you would speak tome, or walk at whiles with me.\"\n\nThen she raised her head and looked him in the eyes again; and a colour came in her paleface. \"How should I ease your care, my lord?\" she said. \"And I do not desire the speech of living men.\"\n\n\"Would you have my plain answer?\" he said.\n\n\"I would.\"\n\n\"Then, Éowyn of Rohan, I say to you that you are beautiful. In the valleys of our hills there are flowers fair and bright, and maidens fairer still; but neither flower nor lady have I seen till now in Gondor so lovely, and so sorrowful. It maybe that only a few days are left ere darkness falls upon our world, and when it comes I hope to face it steadily; but it would ease my heart, if while the Sun yet shines, I could see you still. For you and I have both passed under the wings of the Shadow, and the same hand drew us back.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Alas, not me, lord!\" she said. \"Shadow lies on me still. Look not tome for healing! I am a shieldmaiden and my hand is ungentle. But I thank you for this at least, that I need not keep to my chamber. I will walk abroad by the grace of the Steward of the City.\" And she did him a courtesy and walked back to the house. But Faramir fora long while walked alone in the garden, and his glance now strayed rather to the house than to the eastward walls.\n\nWhen he returned to his chamber he called for the Warden, and heard all that he could tell of the Lady of Rohan.\n\n\"But I doubt not, lord,\" said the Warden, \"that you would learn more from the Halfling that is with us; for he was in the riding of the king, and with the Lady at the end, they say.\"\n\nAnd so Merry was sent to Faramir, and while that day lasted they talked long together, and Faramir learned much, more even than Merry put into words; and he thought that he understood now something of the grief and unrest of Éowyn of Rohan. And in the fair evening Faramir and Merry walked in the garden, but she did not come.\n\nBut in the morning, as Faramir came from the Houses, he saw her, as she stood upon the walls; and she was clad all in white, and gleamed in the sun. And he called to her, and she came down, and they walked on the grass or sat under a green tree together, now in silence, now in speech. And each day after they did likewise. And the Warden looking from his window was glad in heart, for he was a healer, and his care was lightened; and certain it was that, heavy as was the dread and foreboding of those days upon the hearts of men, still these two of his charges prospered and grew daily in strength." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And so the fifth day came since the Lady Éowyn went first to Faramir; and they stood now together once more upon the walls of the City and looked out. No tidings had yet come, and all hearts were darkened. The weather, too, was bright no longer. It was cold. A wind that had sprung up in the night was blowing now keenly from the North, and it was rising; but the lands about looked grey and drear.\n\nThey were clad in warm raiment and heavy cloaks, and overall the Lady Éowyn wore a great blue mantle of the colour of deep summer-night, and it was set with silver stars about hem and throat. Faramir had sent for this robe and had wrapped it about her; and he thought that she looked fair and queenly indeed as she stood thereat his side. The mantle was wrought for his mother, Finduilas of Amroth, who died untimely, and was to him but a memory of loveliness in far days and of his first grief; and her robe seemed to him raiment fitting for the beauty and sadness of Éowyn.\n\nBut she now shivered beneath the starry mantle, and she looked northward, above the grey hither lands, into the eye of the cold wind where faraway the sky was hard and clear.\n\n\"What do you look for, Éowyn?\" said Faramir.\n\n\"Does not the Black Gate lie yonder?\" said she. \"And must he not now become thither? It is seven days since he rode away.\"\n\n\"Seven days,\" said Faramir. \"But think not ill of me, if I say to you: they have brought me both a joy and a pain that I never thought to know. Joy to see you; but pain, because now the fear and doubt of this evil time are grown dark indeed. Éowyn, I would not have this world end now, or lose so soon what I have found.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Lose what you have found, lord?\" she answered; but she looked at him gravely and her eyes were kind. \"I know not what in these days you have found that you could lose. But come, my friend, let us not speak of it! Let us not speak at all! I stand upon some dreadful brink, and it is utterly dark in the abyss before my feet, but whether there is any light behind me I cannot tell. For I cannot turn yet. I wait for some stroke of doom.\"\n\n\"Yes, we wait for the stroke of doom,\" said Faramir. And they said no more; and it seemed to them as they stood upon the wall that the wind died, and the light failed, and the Sun was bleared, and all sounds in the City or in the lands about were hushed: neither wind, nor voice, nor bird-call, nor rustle of leaf, nor their own breath could be heard; the very beating of their hearts was stilled. Time halted.\n\nAnd as they stood so, their hands met and clasped, though they did not know it. And still they waited for they knew not what. Then presently it seemed to them that above the ridges of the distant mountains another vast mountain of darkness rose, towering up like a wave that should engulf the world, and about it lightnings flickered; and then a tremor ran through the earth, and they felt the walls of the City quiver. A sound like a sigh went up from all the lands about them; and their hearts beat suddenly again.\n\n\"It reminds me of Númenor,\" said Faramir, and wondered to hear himself speak.\n\n\"Of Númenor?\" said Éowyn.\n\n\"Yes,\" said Faramir, \"of the land of Westernesse that foundered, and of the great dark wave climbing over the green lands and above the hills, and coming on, darkness unescapable. I often dream of it.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Then you think that the Darkness is coming?\" said Éowyn. \"Darkness Unescapable?\" And suddenly she drew close to him.\n\n\"No,\" said Faramir, looking into her face. \"It was but a picture in the mind. I do not know what is happening. The reason of my waking mind tells me that great evil has befallen and we stand at the end of days. But my heart says nay; and all my limbs are light, and a hope and joy are come tome that no reason can deny. Éowyn, Éowyn, White Lady of Rohan, in this hour I do not believe that any darkness will endure!\" And he stooped and kissed her brow.\n\nAnd so they stood on the walls of the City of Gondor, and a great wind rose and blew, and their hair, raven and golden, streamed out mingling in the air. And the Shadow departed, and the Sun was unveiled, and light leaped forth; and the waters of Anduin shone like silver, and in all the houses of the City men sang for the joy that welled up in their hearts from what source they could not tell.\n\nAnd before the Sun had fallen far from the noon out of the East there came a great Eagle flying, and he bore tidings beyond hope from the Lords of the West, crying:\n\nSing now, ye people of the Tower of Anor,\n\nfor the Realm of Sauron is ended forever,\n\nand the Dark Tower is thrown down.\n\nSing and rejoice, ye people of the Tower of Guard,\n\nfor your watch hath not been in vain,\n\nand the Black Gate is broken,\n\nand your King hath passed through,\n\nand he is victorious.\n\nSing and be glad, all ye children of the West," }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "for your King shall come again,\n\nand he shall dwell among you\n\nall the days of your life.\n\nAnd the Tree that was withered shall be renewed,\n\nand he shall plant it in the high places,\n\nand the City shall be blessed.\n\nSing all ye people!\n\nAnd the people sang in all the ways of the City.\n\nThe days that followed were golden, and Spring and Summer joined and made revel together in the fields of Gondor. And tidings now came by swift riders from Cair Andros of all that was done, and the City made ready for the coming of the King. Merry was summoned and rode away with the wains that took store of goods to Osgiliath and thence by ship to Cair Andros; but Faramir did not go, for now being healed he took upon him his authority and the Stewardship, although it was only fora little while, and his duty was to prepare for one who should replace him.\n\nAnd Éowyn did not go, though her brother sent word begging her to come to the field of Cormallen. And Faramir wondered at this, but he saw her seldom, being busy with many matters; and she dwelt still in the Houses of Healing and walked alone in the garden, and her face grew pale again, and it seemed that in all the City she only was ailing and sorrowful. And the Warden of the Houses was troubled, and he spoke to Faramir.\n\nThen Faramir came and sought her, and once more they stood on the walls together; and he said to her: \"Éowyn, why do you tarry here, and do not go to the rejoicing in Cormallen beyond Cair Andros, where your brother awaits you?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And she said: \"Do you not know?\"\n\nBut he answered: \"Two reasons there maybe, but which is true, I do not know.\"\n\nAnd she said: \"I do not wish to play at riddles. Speak plainer!\"\n\n\"Then if you will have it so, lady,\" he said: \"you do not go, because only your brother called for you, and to look on the Lord Aragorn, Elendil's heir, in his triumph would now bring you no joy. Or because I do not go, and you desire still to be near me. And maybe for both these reasons, and you yourself cannot choose between them. Éowyn, do you not love me, or will you not? '\n\n\"I wished to beloved by another,\" she answered. \"But I desire no man's pity. '\n\n\"That I know,\" he said. \"You desired to have the love of the Lord Aragorn. Because he was high and puissant, and you wished to have renown and glory and to be lifted far above the mean things that crawl on the earth. And as a great captain may to a young soldier he seemed to you admirable. For so he is, a lord among men, the greatest that now is. But when he gave you only understanding and pity, then you desired to have nothing, unless a brave death in battle. Look at me, Éowyn!\"\n\nAnd Éowyn looked at Faramir long and steadily; and Faramir said: \"Do not scorn pity that is the gift of a gentle heart, Éowyn! But I do not offer you my pity. For you area lady high and valiant and have yourself won renown that shall not be forgotten; and you area lady beautiful, I deem, beyond even the words of the elven-tongue to tell. And I love you. Once I pitied your sorrow. But now, were you sorrowless, without fear or any lack, were you the blissful Queen of Gondor, still I would love you. Éowyn, do you not love me?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Then the heart of Éowyn changed, or else at last she understood it. And suddenly her winter passed, and the sun shone on her.\n\n\"I stand in Minas Anor, the Tower of the Sun,\" she said; \"and behold! the Shadow has departed! I will be a shieldmaiden no longer, nor vie with the great Riders, nor take joy only in the songs of slaying. I will be a healer, and love all things that grow and are not barren.\" And again she looked at Faramir. \"No longer do I desire to be a queen,\" she said.\n\nThen Faramir laughed merrily. \"That is well,\" he said; \"for I am not a king. Yet I will wed with the White Lady of Rohan, if it be her will. And if she will, then let us cross the River and in happier days let us dwell in fair Ithilien and there make a garden. All things will grow with joy there, if the White Lady comes.\"\n\n\"Then must I leave my own people, man of Gondor?\" she said. \"And would you have your proud folk say of you: \"There goes a lord who tamed a wild shieldmaiden of the North! Was there no woman of the race of Númenor to choose?\"\"\n\n\"I would,\" said Faramir. And he took her in his arms and kissed her under the sunlit sky, and he cared not that they stood high upon the walls in the sight of many. And many indeed saw them and the light that shone about them as they came down from the walls and went hand in hand to the Houses of Healing.\n\nAnd to the Warden of the Houses Faramir said: \"Here is the Lady Éowyn of Rohan, and now she is healed.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And the Warden said: \"Then I release her from my charge and bid her farewell, and may she suffer never hurt nor sickness again. I commend her to the care of the Steward of the City, until her brother returns.\"\n\nBut Éowyn said: \"Yet now that I have leave to depart, I would remain. For this House has become tome of all dwellings the most blessed.\" And she remained there until King Éomer came.\n\nAll things were now made ready in the City; and there was great concourse of people, for the tidings had gone out into all parts of Gondor, from Min-Rimmon even to Pinnath Gelin and the far coasts of the sea; and all that could come to the City made haste to come. And the City was filled again with women and fair children that returned to their homes laden with flowers; and from Dol Amroth came the harpers that harped most skilfully in all the land; and there were players upon viols and upon flutes and upon horns of silver, and clear-voiced singers from the vales of Lebennin.\n\nAt last an evening came when from the walls the pavilions could be seen upon the field, and all nightlights were burning as men watched for the dawn. And when the sun rose in the clear morning above the mountains in the East, upon which shadows lay no more, then all the bells rang, and all the banners broke and flowed in the wind; and upon the White Tower of the citadel the standard of the Stewards, bright argent like snow in the sun, bearing no charge nor device, was raised over Gondor for the last time.\n\nNow the Captains of the West led their host towards the City, and folk saw them advance inline upon line, flashing and glinting in the sunrise and rippling like silver. And so they came before the Gateway and halted a furlong from the walls. As yet no gates had been setup again, but a barrier was laid across the entrance to the City, and there stood men at arms in silver and black with long swords drawn. Before the barrier stood Faramir the Steward, and Húrin Warden of the Keys, and other captains of Gondor, and the Lady Éowyn of Rohan with Elfhelm the Marshal and many knights of the Mark; and upon either side of the Gate was a great press of fair people in raiment of many colours and garlands of flowers." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "So now there was a wide space before the walls of Minas Tirith, and it was hemmed in upon all sides by the knights and the soldiers of Gondor and of Rohan, and by the people of the City and of all parts of the land. A hush fell upon all as out from the host stepped the Dúnedain in silver and grey; and before them came walking slow the Lord Aragorn. He was clad in blackmail girt with silver, and he wore along mantle of pure white clasped at the throat with a great jewel of green that shone from afar; but his head was bare save fora star upon his forehead bound by a slender fillet of silver. With him were Éomer of Rohan, and the Prince Imrahil, and Gandalf robed all in white, and four small figures that many men marvelled to see.\n\n\"Nay, cousin! they are not boys,\" said Ioreth to her kinswoman from Imloth Melui, who stood beside her. \"Those are Periain, out of the far country of the Halflings, where they are princes of great fame, it is said. I should know, for I had one to tend in the Houses. They are small, but they are valiant. Why, cousin, one of them went with only his esquire into the Black Country and fought with the Dark Lord all by himself, and set fire to his Tower, if you can believe it. At least that is the tale in the City. That will be the one that walks with our Elfstone. They are dear friends, I hear. Now he is a marvel, the Lord Elfstone: not too soft in his speech, mind you, but he has a golden heart, as the saying is; and he has the healing hands. \"The hands of the king are the hands of a healer\", I said; and that was how it was all discovered. And Mithrandir, he said tome: \"Ioreth, men will long remember your words\", and--\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But Ioreth was not permitted to continue the instruction of her kinswoman from the country, fora single trumpet rang, and a dead silence followed. Then forth from the Gate went Faramir with Húrin of the Keys, and no others, save that behind them walked four men in the high helms and armour of the Citadel, and they bore a great casket of black lebethron bound with silver.\n\nFaramir met Aragorn in the midst of those there assembled, and he knelt, and said: \"The last Steward of Gondor begs leave to surrender his office.\" And he held out a white rod; but Aragorn took the rod and gave it back, saying: \"That office is not ended, and it shall be thine and thy heirs\" as long as my line shall last. Do now thy office! '\n\nThen Faramir stood up and spoke in a clear voice: \"Men of Gondor, hear now the Steward of this Realm! Behold! one has come to claim the kingship again at last. Here is Aragorn son of Arathorn, chieftain of the Dúnedain of Arnor, Captain of the Host of the West, bearer of the Star of the North, wielder of the Sword Reforged, victorious in battle, whose hands bring healing, the Elfstone, Elessar of the line of Valandil, Isildur's son, Elendil's son of Númenor. Shall he be king and enter into the City and dwell there?\"\n\nAnd all the host and all the people cried yea with one voice.\n\nAnd Ioreth said to her kinswoman: \"This is just a ceremony such as we have in the City, cousin; for he has already entered, as I was telling you; and he said tome--\" And then again she was obliged to silence, for Faramir spoke again." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Men of Gondor, the loremasters tell that it was the custom of old that the king should receive the crown from his father ere he died; or if that might not be, that he should go alone and take it from the hands of his father in the tomb where he was laid. But since things must now be done otherwise, using the authority of the Steward, I have today brought hither from Rath Dínen the crown of Eärnur the last king, whose days passed in the time of our longfathers of old.\"\n\nThen the guards stepped forward, and Faramir opened the casket, and he held up an ancient crown. It was shaped like the helms of the Guards of the Citadel, save that it was loftier, and it was all white, and the wings at either side were wrought of pearl and silver in the likeness of the wings of a sea-bird, for it was the emblem of kings who came over the Sea; and seven gems of adamant were set in the circlet, and upon its summit was set a single jewel the light of which went up like aflame.\n\nThen Aragorn took the crown and held it up and said:\n\nEt Eärello Endorenna utúlien. Sinome maruvan ar Hildinyar tenn' Ambar-metta!\n\nAnd those were the words that Elendil spoke when he came up out of the Sea on the wings of the wind: \"Out of the Great Sea to Middle-earth I am come. In this place will I abide, and my heirs, unto the ending of the world.\"\n\nThen to the wonder of many Aragorn did not put the crown upon his head, but gave it back to Faramir, and said: \"By the labour and valour of many I have come into my inheritance. In token of this I would have the Ring-bearer bring the crown tome, and let Mithrandir set it upon my head, if he will; for he has been the mover of all that has been accomplished, and this is his victory.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Then Frodo came forward and took the crown from Faramir and bore it to Gandalf; and Aragorn knelt, and Gandalf set the White Crown upon his head, and said:\n\n\"Now come the days of the King, and may they be blessed while the thrones of the Valar endure!\"\n\nBut when Aragorn arose all that beheld him gazed in silence, for it seemed to them that he was revealed to them now for the first time. Tall as the sea-kings of old, he stood above all that were near; ancient of days he seemed and yet in the flower of manhood; and wisdom sat upon his brow, and strength and healing were in his hands, and alight was about him. And then Faramir cried:\n\n\"Behold the King!\"\n\nAnd in that moment all the trumpets were blown, and the King Elessar went forth and came to the barrier, and Húrin of the Keys thrust it back; and amid the music of harp and of viol and of flute and the singing of clear voices the King passed through the flower-laden streets, and came to the Citadel, and entered in; and the banner of the Tree and the Stars was unfurled upon the topmost tower, and the reign of King Elessar began, of which many songs have told.\n\nIn his time the City was made more fair than it had ever been, even in the days of its first glory; and it was filled with trees and with fountains, and its gates were wrought of mithril and steel, and its streets were paved with white marble; and the Folk of the Mountain laboured in it, and the Folk of the Wood rejoiced to come there; and all was healed and made good, and the houses were filled with men and women and the laughter of children, and no window was blind nor any courtyard empty; and after the ending of the Third Age of the world into the new age it preserved the memory and the glory of the years that were gone." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "In the days that followed his crowning the King sat on his throne in the Hall of the Kings and pronounced his judgements. And embassies came from many lands and peoples, from the East and the South, and from the borders of Mirkwood, and from Dunland in the west. And the King pardoned the Easterlings that had given themselves up, and sent them away free, and he made peace with the peoples of Harad; and the slaves of Mordor he released and gave to them all the lands about Lake Núrnen to be their own. And there were brought before him many to receive his praise and reward for their valour; and last the captain of the Guard brought to him Beregond to be judged.\n\nAnd the King said to Beregond: 'Beregond, by your sword blood was spilled in the Hallows, where that is forbidden. Also you left your post without leave of Lord or of Captain. For these things, of old, death was the penalty. Now therefore I must pronounce your doom.\n\n\"All penalty is remitted for your valour in battle, and still more because all that you did was for the love of the Lord Faramir. Nonetheless you must leave the Guard of the Citadel, and you must go forth from the City of Minas Tirith.\"\n\nThen the blood left Beregond's face, and he was stricken to the heart and bowed his head. But the King said:\n\n\"So it must be, for you are appointed to the White Company, the Guard of Faramir, Prince of Ithilien, and you shall be its captain and dwell in Emyn Arnen in honour and peace, and in the service of him for whom you risked all, to save him from death.\"\n\nAnd then Beregond, perceiving the mercy and justice of the King, was glad, and kneeling kissed his hand, and departed in joy and content. And Aragorn gave to Faramir Ithilien to be his princedom, and bade him dwell in the hills of Emyn Arnen within sight of the City." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"For,\" said he, \"Minas Ithil in Morgul Vale shall be utterly destroyed, and though it may in time to come be made clean, no man may dwell therefor many long years.\"\n\nAnd last of all Aragorn greeted Éomer of Rohan, and they embraced, and Aragorn said: \"Between us there can be no word of giving or taking, nor of reward; for we are brethren. In happy hour did Eorl ride from the North, and never has any league of peoples been more blessed, so that neither has ever failed the other, nor shall fail. Now, as you know, we have laid Théoden the Renowned in a tomb in the Hallows, and there he shall lie forever among the Kings of Gondor, if you will. Or if you desire it, we will come to Rohan and bring him back to rest with his own people.\"\n\nAnd Éomer answered: \"Since the day when you rose before me out of the green grass of the downs I have loved you, and that love shall not fail. But now I must depart fora while to my own realm, where there is much to heal and set in order. But as for the Fallen, when all is made ready we will return for him; but here let him sleep awhile.\"\n\nAnd Éowyn said to Faramir: \"Now I must go back to my own land and look on it once again, and help my brother in his labour; but when one whom I long loved as father is laid at last to rest, I will return.\"\n\nSo the glad days passed; and on the eighth day of May the Riders of Rohan made ready, and rode off by the North-way, and with them went the sons of Elrond. All the road was lined with people to do them honour and praise them, from the Gate of the City to the walls of the Pelennor. Then all others that dwelt afar went back to their homes rejoicing; but in the City there was labour of many willing hands to rebuild and renew and to remove all the scars of war and the memory of the darkness." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The hobbits still remained in Minas Tirith, with Legolas and Gimli; for Aragorn was loth for the fellowship to be dissolved. \"At last all such things must end,\" he said, \"but I would have you wait a little while longer: for the end of the deeds that you have shared in has not yet come. A day draws near that I have looked for in all the years of my manhood, and when it comes I would have my friends beside me.\" But of that day he would say no more.\n\nIn those days the Companions of the Ring dwelt together in a fair house with Gandalf, and they went to and fro as they wished. And Frodo said to Gandalf: \"Do you know what this day is that Aragorn speaks of? For we are happy here, and I don't wish to go; but the days are running away, and Bilbo is waiting; and the Shire is my home. '\n\n\"As for Bilbo,\" said Gandalf, \"he is waiting for the same day, and he knows what keeps you. And as for the passing of the days, it is now only May and high summer is not yet in; and though all things may seem changed, as if an age of the world had gone by, yet to the trees and the grass it is less than a year since you set out.\"\n\n\"Pippin,\" said Frodo, \"didn't you say that Gandalf was less close than of old? He was weary of his labours then, I think. Now he is recovering. '\n\nAnd Gandalf said: \"Many folk like to know beforehand what is to beset on the table; but those who have laboured to prepare the feast like to keep their secret; for wonder makes the words of praise louder. And Aragorn himself waits fora sign.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There came a day when Gandalf could not be found, and the Companions wondered what was going forward. But Gandalf took Aragorn out from the City by night, and he brought him to the southern feet of Mount Mindolluin; and there they found a path made in ages past that few now dared to tread. For it led upon to the mountain to a high hallow where only the kings had been wont to go. And they went up by steep ways, until they came to a high field below the snows that clad the lofty peaks, and it looked down over the precipice that stood behind the City. And standing there they surveyed the lands, for the morning was come; and they saw the towers of the City far below them like white pencils touched by the sunlight, and all the Vale of Anduin was like a garden, and the Mountains of Shadow were veiled in a golden mist. Upon the one side their sight reached to the grey Emyn Muil, and the glint of Rauros was like a star twinkling far off; and upon the other side they saw the River like a ribbon laid down to Pelargir, and beyond that was alight on the hem of the sky that spoke of the Sea.\n\nAnd Gandalf said: \"This is your realm, and the heart of the greater realm that shall be. The Third Age of the world is ended, and the new age is begun; and it is your task to order its beginning and to preserve what maybe preserved. For though much has been saved, much must now pass away; and the power of the Three Rings also is ended. And all the lands that you see, and those that lie roundabout them, shall be dwellings of Men. For the time comes of the Dominion of Men, and the Elder Kindred shall fade or depart.\"\n\n\"I know it well, dear friend,\" said Aragorn; \"but I would still have your counsel.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Not for long now,\" said Gandalf." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The Third Age was my age. I was the Enemy of Sauron; and my work is finished. I shall go soon. The burden must lie now upon you and your kindred.\"\n\n\"But I shall die,\" said Aragorn. \"For I am a mortal man, and though being what I am and of the race of the West unmingled, I shall have life far longer than other men, yet that is but a little while; and when those who are now in the wombs of women are born and have grown old, I too shall grow old. And who then shall govern Gondor and those who look to this City as to their queen, if my desire be not granted? The Tree in the Court of the Fountain is still withered and barren. When shall I see a sign that it will ever be otherwise?\"\n\n\"Turn your face from the green world, and look where all seems barren and cold!\" said Gandalf.\n\nThen Aragorn turned, and there was a stony slope behind him running down from the skirts of the snow; and as he looked he was aware that alone therein the waste a growing thing stood. And he climbed to it, and saw that out of the very edge of the snow there sprang a sapling tree no more than three foot high. Already it had put forth young leaves long and shapely, dark above and silver beneath, and upon its slender crown it bore one small cluster of flowers whose white petals shone like the sunlit snow.\n\nThen Aragorn cried: \"Yé! utúvienyes! I have found it! Lo! here is a scion of the Eldest of Trees! But how comes it here? For it is not itself yet seven years old.\"\n\nAnd Gandalf coming looked at it, and said: \"Verily this is a sapling of the line of Nimloth the fair; and that was a seedling of Galathilion, and that a fruit of Telperion of many names, Eldest of Trees. Who shall say how it comes herein the appointed hour? But this is an ancient hallow, and ere the kings failed or the Tree withered in the court, a fruit must have been set here. For it is said that, though the fruit of the Tree comes seldom to ripeness, yet the life within may then lie sleeping through many long years, and none can foretell the time in which it will awake. Remember this. For if ever a fruit ripens, it should be planted, lest the line die out of the world. Here it has lain hidden on the mountain, even as the race of Elendil lay hidden in the wastes of the North. Yet the line of Nimloth is older far than your line, King Elessar.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Then Aragorn laid his hand gently to the sapling, and lo! it seemed to hold only lightly to the earth, and it was removed without hurt; and Aragorn bore it back to the Citadel. Then the withered tree was uprooted, but with reverence; and they did not burn it, but laid it to rest in the silence of Rath Dínen. And Aragorn planted the new tree in the court by the fountain, and swiftly and gladly it began to grow; and when the month of June entered in it was laden with blossom.\n\n\"The sign has been given,\" said Aragorn, \"and the day is not far off.\" And he set watchmen upon the walls.\n\nIt was the day before Midsummer when messengers came from Amon Dîn to the City, and they said that there was a riding of fair folk out of the North, and they drew near now to the walls of the Pelennor. And the King said: \"At last they have come. Let all the City be made ready!\"\n\nUpon the very Eve of Midsummer, when the sky was blue as sapphire and white stars opened in the East, but the West was still golden, and the air was cool and fragrant, the riders came down the North-way to the gates of Minas Tirith. First rode Elrohir and Elladan with a banner of silver, and then came Glorfindel and Erestor and all the household of Rivendell, and after them came the Lady Galadriel and Celeborn, Lord of Lothlórien, riding upon white steeds and with them many fair folk of their land, grey-cloaked with white gems in their hair; and last came Master Elrond, mighty among Elves and Men, bearing the sceptre of Annúminas, and beside him upon a grey palfrey rode Arwen his daughter, Evenstar of her people." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And Frodo when he saw her come glimmering in the evening, with stars on her brow and a sweet fragrance about her, was moved with great wonder, and he said to Gandalf: \"At last I understand why we have waited! This is the ending. Now not day only shall be beloved, but night too shall be beautiful and blessed and all its fear pass away!\"\n\nThen the King welcomed his guests, and they alighted; and Elrond surrendered the sceptre, and laid the hand of his daughter in the hand of the King, and together they went up into the High City, and all the stars flowered in the sky. And Aragorn the King Elessar wedded Arwen Undómiel in the City of the Kings upon the day of Midsummer, and the tale of their long waiting and labours was come to fulfilment." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "When the days of rejoicing were over at last the Companions thought of returning to their own homes. And Frodo went to the King as he was sitting with the Queen Arwen by the fountain, and she sang a song of Valinor, while the Tree grew and blossomed. They welcomed Frodo and rose to greet him; and Aragorn said:\n\n\"I know what you have come to say, Frodo: you wish to return to your own home. Well, dearest friend, the tree grows best in the land of its sires; but for you in all the lands of the West there will ever be a welcome. And though your people have had little fame in the legends of the great, they will now have more renown than many wide realms that are no more.\"\n\n\"It is true that I wish to go back to the Shire,\" said Frodo. \"But first I must go to Rivendell. For if there could be anything wanting in a time so blessed, I missed Bilbo; and I was grieved when among all the household of Elrond I saw that he was not come.\"\n\n\"Do you wonder at that, Ring-bearer?\" said Arwen. \"For you know the power of that thing which is now destroyed; and all that was done by that power is now passing away. But your kinsman possessed this thing longer than you. He is ancient in years now, according to his kind; and he awaits you, for he will not again make any long journey save one.\"\n\n\"Then I beg leave to depart soon,\" said Frodo.\n\n\"In seven days we will go,\" said Aragorn. \"For we shall ride with you far on the road, even as far as the country of Rohan. In three days now Éomer will return hitherto bear Théoden back to rest in the Mark, and we shall ride with him to honour the fallen. But now before you go I will confirm the words that Faramir spoke to you, and you are made free forever of the realm of Gondor; and all your companions likewise. And if there were any gifts that I could give to match with your deeds you should have them; but whatever you desire you shall take with you, and you shall ride in honour and arrayed as princes of the land.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But the Queen Arwen said: \"A gift I will give you. For I am the daughter of Elrond. I shall not go with him now when he departs to the Havens; for mine is the choice of Lúthien, and as she so have I chosen, both the sweet and the bitter. But in my stead you shall go, Ring-bearer, when the time comes, and if you then desire it. If your hurts grieve you still and the memory of your burden is heavy, then you may pass into the West, until all your wounds and weariness are healed. But wear this now in memory of Elfstone and Evenstar with whom your life has been woven!\"\n\nAnd she took a white gem like a star that lay upon her breast hanging upon a silver chain, and she set the chain about Frodo's neck.\"When the memory of the fear and the darkness troubles you, \"she said,\"this will bring you aid. '\n\nIn three days, as the King had said, Éomer of Rohan came riding to the City, and with him came an éored of the fairest knights of the Mark. He was welcomed; and when they sat all at table in Merethrond, the Great Hall of Feasts, he beheld the beauty of the ladies that he saw and was filled with great wonder. And before he went to his rest he sent for Gimli the Dwarf, and he said to him: \"Gimli Glóin's son, have you your axe ready? '\n\n\"Nay, lord,\" said Gimli, \"but I can speedily fetch it, if there be need.\"\n\n\"You shall judge,\" said Éomer. \"For there are certain rash words concerning the Lady in the Golden Wood that lie still between us. And now I have seen her with my eyes.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Well, lord,\" said Gimli, \"and what say you now?\"\n\n\"Alas!\" said Éomer. \"I will not say that she is the fairest lady that lives.\"\n\n\"Then I must go for my axe,\" said Gimli.\n\n\"But first I will plead this excuse,\" said Éomer. \"Had I seen her in other company, I would have said all that you could wish. But now I will put Queen Arwen Evenstar first, and I am ready to do battle on my own part with any who deny me. Shall I call for my sword?\"\n\nThen Gimli bowed low. \"Nay, you are excused for my part, lord,\" he said. \"You have chosen the Evening; but my love is given to the Morning. And my heart forebodes that soon it will pass away forever.\"\n\nAt last the day of departure came, and a great and fair company made ready to ride north from the City. Then the kings of Gondor and Rohan went to the Hallows and they came to the tombs in Rath Dínen, and they bore away King Théoden upon a golden bier, and passed through the City in silence. Then they laid the bier upon a great wain with Riders of Rohan all about it and his banner borne before; and Merry being Théoden's esquire rode upon the wain and kept the arms of the king.\n\nFor the other Companions steeds were furnished according to their stature; and Frodo and Samwise rode at Aragorn's side, and Gandalf rode upon Shadowfax, and Pippin rode with the knights of Gondor; and Legolas and Gimli as ever rode together upon Arod.\n\nIn that riding went also Queen Arwen, and Celeborn and Galadriel with their folk, and Elrond and his sons; and the princes of Dol Amroth and of Ithilien, and many captains and knights. Never had any king of the Mark such company upon the road as went with Théoden Thengel's son to the land of his home." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Without haste and at peace they passed into Anórien, and they came to the Grey Wood under Amon Dîn; and there they heard a sound as of drums beating in the hills, though no living thing could be seen. Then Aragorn let the trumpets be blown; and heralds cried:\n\n\"Behold, the King Elessar is come! The Forest of Drúadan he gives to Ghân-buri-Ghân and to his folk, to be their own forever; and hereafter let no man enter it without their leave!\"\n\nThen the drums rolled loudly, and were silent.\n\nAt length after fifteen days of journey the wain of King Théoden passed through the green fields of Rohan and came to Edoras; and there they all rested. The Golden Hall was arrayed with fair hangings and it was filled with light, and there was held the highest feast that it had known since the days of its building. For after three days the Men of the Mark prepared the funeral of Théoden; and he was laid in a house of stone with his arms and many other fair things that he had possessed, and over him was raised a great mound, covered with green turves of grass and of white evermind. And now there were eight mounds on the east-side of the Barrowfield.\n\nThen the Riders of the King's House upon white horses rode roundabout the barrow and sang together a song of Théoden Thengel's son that Gléowine his minstrel made, and he made no other song after. The slow voices of the Riders stirred the hearts even of those who did not know the speech of that people; but the words of the song brought alight to the eyes of the folk of the Mark as they heard again afar the thunder of the hooves of the North and the voice of Eorl crying above the battle upon the Field of Celebrant; and the tale of the kings rolled on, and the horn of Helm was loud in the mountains, until the Darkness came and King Théoden arose and rode through the Shadow to the fire, and died in splendour, even as the Sun, returning beyond hope, gleamed upon Mindolluin in the morning." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Proceed with the plot in your role as storytelling partner.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, war\nAuthor: J.R.R. Tolkien\nTitle: The Return of the King\nChapter: 20" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It's an ill wind as blows nobody no good, as I always say. And All's well as ends Better!\"\n\nThere was some discussion of the name that the new row should be given. Battle Gardens was thought of, or Better Smials. But after awhile insensible hobbit-fashion it was just called New Row. It was a purely Bywater joke to refer to it as Sharkey's End.\n\nThe trees were the worst loss and damage, for at Sharkey's bidding they had been cut down recklessly far and wide over the Shire; and Sam grieved over this more than anything else. For one thing, this hurt would take long to heal, and only his great-grandchildren, he thought, would seethe Shire as it ought to be.\n\nThen suddenly one day, for he had been too busy for weeks to give a thought to his adventures, he remembered the gift of Galadriel. He brought the box out and showed it to the other Travellers (for so they were now called by everyone), and asked their advice.\n\n\"I wondered when you would think of it,\" said Frodo. \"Open it!\"\n\nInside it was filled with a grey dust, soft and fine, in the middle of which was a seed, like a small nut with a silver shale. \"What can I do with this?\" said Sam.\n\n\"Throw it in the air on a breezy day and let it do its work!\" said Pippin.\n\n\"On what?\" said Sam.\n\n\"Choose one spot as a nursery, and see what happens to the plants there,\" said Merry.\n\n\"But I'm sure the Lady would not like me to keep it all for my own garden, now so many folk have suffered, ' said Sam.\n\n\"Use all the wits and knowledge you have of your own, Sam,\" said Frodo, \"and then use the gift to help your work and better it. And use it sparingly. There is not much here, and I expect every grain has a value.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "So Sam planted saplings in all the places where specially beautiful or beloved trees had been destroyed, and he put a grain of the precious dust in the soil at the root of each. He went up and down the Shire in this labour; but if he paid special attention to Hobbiton and Bywater no one blamed him. And at the end he found that he still had a little of the dust left; so he went to the Three-Farthing Stone, which is as near the centre of the Shire as no matter, and cast it in the air with his blessing. The little silver nut he planted in the Party Field where the tree had once been; and he wondered what would come of it. All through the winter he remained as patient as he could, and tried to restrain himself from going round constantly to see if anything was happening.\n\nSpring surpassed his wildest hopes. His trees began to sprout and grow, as if time was in a hurry and wished to make one year do for twenty. In the Party Field a beautiful young sapling leaped up: it had silver bark and long leaves and burst into golden flowers in April. It was indeed a mallorn, and it was the wonder of the neighbourhood. In after years, as it grew in grace and beauty, it was known far and wide and people would come long journeys to see it: the only mallorn west of the Mountains and east of the Sea, and one of the finest in the world.\n\nAltogether 1420 in the Shire was a marvellous year. Not only was there wonderful sunshine and delicious rain, in due times and perfect measure, but there seemed something more: an air of richness and growth, and agleam of a beauty beyond that of mortal summers that flicker and pass upon this Middle-earth. All the children born or begotten in that year, and there were many, were fair to see and strong, and most of them had a rich golden hair that had before been rare among hobbits. The fruit was so plentiful that young hobbits very nearly bathed in strawberries and cream; and later they sat on the lawns under the plum-trees and ate, until they had made piles of stones like small pyramids or the heaped skulls of a conqueror, and then they moved on. And no one was ill, and everyone was pleased, except those who had to mow the grass." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "In the Southfarthing the vines were laden, and the yield of \"leaf\" was astonishing; and everywhere there was so much corn that at Harvest every barn was stuffed. The Northfarthing barley was so fine that the beer of 1420 malt was long remembered and became a byword. Indeed a generation later one might hear an old gaffer in an inn, after a good pint of well-earned ale, put down his mug with a sigh: \"Ah! that was proper fourteen-twenty, that was!\"\n\nSam stayed at first at the Cottons' with Frodo; but when the New Row was ready he went with the Gaffer. In addition to all his other labours he was busy directing the cleaning up and restoring of Bag End; but he was often away in the Shire on his forestry work. So he was not at home in early March and did not know that Frodo had been ill. On the thirteenth of that month Farmer Cotton found Frodo lying on his bed; he was clutching a white gem that hung on a chain about his neck and he seemed half in a dream.\n\n\"It is gone forever,\" he said, \"and now all is dark and empty.\"\n\nBut the fit passed, and when Sam got back on the twenty-fifth, Frodo had recovered, and he said nothing about himself. In the meanwhile Bag End had been set in order, and Merry and Pippin came over from Crickhollow bringing back all the old furniture and gear, so that the old hole soon looked very much as it always had done.\n\nWhen all was at last ready Frodo said: \"When are you going to move in and join me, Sam?\"\n\nSam looked a bit awkward.\n\n\"There is no need to come yet, if you don't want to, \"said Frodo.\"But you know the Gaffer is close at hand, and he will be very well looked after by Widow Rumble. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It's not that, Mr. Frodo, ' said Sam, and he went very red.\n\n\"Well, what is it?\"\n\n\"It's Rosie, Rose Cotton, \"said Sam.\"It seems she didn't like my going abroad at all, poor lass; but as I hadn't spoken, she couldn't say so. And I didn't speak, because I had a job to do first. But now I have spoken, and she says: \"Well, you've wasted a year, so why wait longer?\" \"Wasted?\" I says. \"I wouldn't call it that.\" Still I see what she means. I feel torn in two, as you might say. '\n\n\"I see,\" said Frodo: \"you want to get married, and yet you want to live with me in Bag End too? But my dear Sam, how easy! Get married as soon as you can, and then move in with Rosie. There's room enough in Bag End for as big a family as you could wish for. '\n\nAnd so it was settled. Sam Gamgee married Rose Cotton in the spring of 1420 (which was also famous for its weddings), and they came and lived at Bag End. And if Sam thought himself lucky, Frodo knew that he was more lucky himself; for there was not a hobbit in the Shire that was looked after with such care. When the labours of repair had all been planned and set going he took to a quiet life, writing a great deal and going through all his notes. He resigned the office of Deputy Mayor at the Free Fair that Midsummer, and dear old Will Whitfoot had another seven years of presiding at Banquets.\n\nMerry and Pippin lived together for sometime at Crickhollow, and there was much coming and going between Buckland and Bag End. The two young Travellers cut a great dash in the Shire with their songs and their tales and their finery, and their wonderful parties. \"Lordly\" folk called them, meaning nothing but good; for it warmed all hearts to see them go riding by with their mail-shirts so bright and their shields so splendid, laughing and singing songs of faraway; and if they were now large and magnificent, they were unchanged otherwise, unless they were indeed more fairspoken and more jovial and full of merriment than ever before." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Frodo and Sam, however, went back to ordinary attire, except that when there was need they both wore long grey cloaks, finely woven and clasped at the throat with beautiful brooches; and Mr. Frodo wore always a white jewel on a chain that he often would finger.\n\nAll things now went well, with hope always of becoming still better; and Sam was as busy and as full of delight as even a hobbit could wish. Nothing for him marred that whole year, except for some vague anxiety about his master. Frodo dropped quietly out of all the doings of the Shire, and Sam was pained to notice how little honour he had in his own country. Few people knew or wanted to know about his deeds and adventures; their admiration and respect were given mostly to Mr. Meriadoc and Mr. Peregrin and (if Sam had known it) to himself. Also in the autumn there appeared a shadow of old troubles.\n\nOne evening Sam came into the study and found his master looking very strange. He was very pale and his eyes seemed to see things faraway.\n\n\"What's the matter, Mr. Frodo? ' said Sam.\n\n\"I am wounded,\" he answered, \"wounded; it will never really heal.\"\n\nBut then he got up, and the turn seemed to pass, and he was quite himself the next day. It was not until afterwards that Sam recalled that the date was October the sixth. Two years before on that day it was dark in the dell under Weathertop.\n\nTime went on, and 1421 came in. Frodo was ill again in March, but with a great effort he concealed it, for Sam had other things to think about. The first of Sam and Rosie's children was born on the twenty-fifth of March, a date that Sam noted." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Well, Mr. Frodo,\" he said. \"I'm in a bit of a fix. Rose and me had settled to call him Frodo, with your leave; but it's not him, it's her. Though as pretty a maidchild as anyone could hope for, taking after Rose more than me, luckily. So we don't know what to do.\"\n\n\"Well, Sam,\" said Frodo, \"what's wrong with the old customs? Choose a flower name like Rose. Half the maidchildren in the Shire are called by such names, and what could be better? '\n\n\"I suppose you're right, Mr. Frodo, \"said Sam.\"I've heard some beautiful names on my travels, but I suppose they're a bit too grand for daily wear and tear, as you might say. The Gaffer, he says: \"Make it short, and then you won't have to cut it short before you can use it.\" But if it's to be a flower-name, then I don't trouble about the length: it must be a beautiful flower, because, you see, I think she is very beautiful, and is going to be beautifuller still.\"\n\nFrodo thought fora moment. \"Well, Sam, what about elanor, the sun-star, you remember the little golden flower in the grass of Lothlórien?\"\n\n\"You're right again, Mr. Frodo! \"said Sam delighted.\"That's what I wanted.\"\n\nLittle Elanor was nearly six months old, and 1421 had passed to its autumn, when Frodo called Sam into the study.\n\n\"It will be Bilbo's Birthday on Thursday, Sam, \"he said.\"And he will pass the Old Took. He will be a hundred and thirty-one! '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"So he will!\" said Sam. \"He's a marvel! '\n\n\"Well, Sam,\" said Frodo, \"I want you to see Rose and find out if she can spare you, so that you and I can go off together. You can't go far or fora longtime now, of course, ' he said a little wistfully.\n\n\"Well, not very well, Mr. Frodo.\"\n\n\"Of course not. But never mind. You can see me on my way. Tell Rose that you won't be away very long, not more than a fortnight; and you'll comeback quite safe.\"\n\n\"I wish I could go all the way with you to Rivendell, Mr. Frodo, and see Mr. Bilbo,\" said Sam. \"And yet the only place I really want to be in is here. I am that torn in two.\"\n\n\"Poor Sam! It will feel like that, I am afraid,\" said Frodo. \"But you will be healed. You were meant to be solid and whole, and you will be.\"\n\nIn the next day or two Frodo went through his papers and his writings with Sam, and he handed over his keys. There was a big book with plain red leather covers; its tall pages were now almost filled. At the beginning there were many leaves covered with Bilbo's thin wandering hand; but most of it was written in Frodo's firm flowing script. It was divided into chapters but Chapter 80 was unfinished, and after that were some blank leaves. The title page had many titles on it, crossed out one after another, so:\n\nMy Diary. My Unexpected Journey. There and Back Again. And What Happened After.\n\nAdventures of Five Hobbits. The Tale of the Great Ring, compiled by Bilbo Baggins from his own observations and the accounts of his friends. What we did in the War of the Ring." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Here Bilbo's hand ended and Frodo had written:\n\nTHE DOWNFALL OF THE LORD OF THE RINGS AND THE RETURN OF THE KING\n\n(as seen by the Little People; being the memoirs of Bilbo and Frodo of the Shire, supplemented by the accounts of their friends and the learning of the Wise.)\n\nTogether with extracts from Books of Lore translated by Bilbo in Rivendell.\n\n\"Why, you have nearly finished it, Mr. Frodo!\" Sam exclaimed. \"Well, you have kept at it, I must say.\"\n\n\"I have quite finished, Sam,\" said Frodo. \"The last pages are for you.\"\n\nOn September the twenty-first they set out together, Frodo on the pony that had borne him all the way from Minas Tirith, and was now called Strider; and Sam on his beloved Bill. It was a fair golden morning, and Sam did not ask where they were going: he thought he could guess.\n\nThey took the Stock Road over the hills and went towards the Woody End, and they let their ponies walk at their leisure.\n\nThey camped in the Green Hills, and on September the twenty-second they rode gently down into the beginning of the trees as afternoon was wearing away.\n\n\"If that isn't the very tree you hid behind when the Black Rider first showed up, Mr. Frodo! \"said Sam pointing to the left.\"It seems like a dream now. '\n\nIt was evening, and the stars were glimmering in the eastern sky as they passed the ruined oak and turned and went on down the hill between the hazel-thickets. Sam was silent, deep in his memories. Presently he became aware that Frodo was singing softly to himself, singing the old walking-song, but the words were not quite the same." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Still round the corner there may wait\n\nAnew road or a secret gate;\n\nAnd though I oft have passed them by,\n\nA day will come at last when I\n\nShall take the hidden paths that run\n\nWest of the Moon, East of the Sun.\n\nAnd as if in answer, from down below, coming up the road out of the valley, voices sang:\n\nA! Elbereth Gilthoniel!\n\nsilivren penna míriel\n\no menel aglar elenath,\n\nGilthoniel, A! Elbereth!\n\nWe still remember, we who dwell\n\nIn this far land beneath the trees\n\nThe starlight on the Western Seas.\n\nFrodo and Sam halted and sat silent in the soft shadows, until they saw a shimmer as the travellers came towards them.\n\nThere was Gildor and many fair Elven folk; and thereto Sam's wonder rode Elrond and Galadriel. Elrond wore a mantle of grey and had a star upon his forehead, and a silver harp was in his hand, and upon his finger was a ring of gold with a great blue stone, Vilya, mightiest of the Three. But Galadriel sat upon a white palfrey and was robed all in glimmering white, like clouds about the Moon; for she herself seemed to shine with a soft light. On her finger was Nenya, the ring wrought of mithril, that bore a single white stone flickering like a frosty star. Riding slowly behind on a small grey pony, and seeming to nod in his sleep, was Bilbo himself.\n\nElrond greeted them gravely and graciously, and Galadriel smiled upon them. \"Well, Master Samwise,\" she said. \"I hear and see that you have used my gift well. The Shire shall now be more than ever blessed and beloved.\" Sam bowed, but found nothing to say. He had forgotten how beautiful the Lady was." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Then Bilbo woke up and opened his eyes. \"Hullo, Frodo!\" he said. \"Well, I have passed the Old Took today! So that's settled. And now I think I am quite ready to goon another journey. Are you coming? '\n\n\"Yes, I am coming,\" said Frodo. \"The Ring-bearers should go together.\"\n\n\"Where are you going, Master?\" cried Sam, though at last he understood what was happening.\n\n\"To the Havens, Sam,\" said Frodo.\n\n\"And I can't come. '\n\n\"No, Sam. Not yet anyway, not further than the Havens. Though you too were a Ring-bearer, if only fora little while. Your time may come. Do not be too sad, Sam. You cannot be always torn in two. You will have to be one and whole, for many years. You have so much to enjoy and to be, and to do.\"\n\n\"But,\" said Sam, and tears started in his eyes, \"I thought you were going to enjoy the Shire, too, for years and years, after all you have done.\"\n\n'So I thought too, once. But I have been too deeply hurt, Sam. I tried to save the Shire, and it has been saved, but not for me. It must often be so, Sam, when things are in danger: someone has to give them up, lose them, so that others may keep them. But you are my heir: all that I had and might have had I leave to you. And also you have Rose, and Elanor; and Frodo-lad will come, and Rosie-lass, and Merry, and Goldilocks, and Pippin; and perhaps more that I cannot see. Your hands and your wits will be needed everywhere. You will be the Mayor, of course, as long as you want to be, and the most famous gardener in history; and you will read things out of the Red Book, and keep alive the memory of the age that is gone, so that people will remember the Great Danger and so love their beloved land all the more. And that will keep you as busy and as happy as anyone can be, as long as your part of the Story goes on." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Come now, ride with me!\"\n\nThen Elrond and Galadriel rode on; for the Third Age was over, and the Days of the Rings were passed, and an end was come of the story and song of those times. With them went many Elves of the High Kindred who would no longer stay in Middle-earth; and among them, filled with a sadness that was yet blessed and without bitterness, rode Sam, and Frodo, and Bilbo, and the Elves delighted to honour them.\n\nThough they rode through the midst of the Shire all the evening and all the night, none saw them pass, save the wild creatures; or here and there some wanderer in the dark who saw a swift shimmer under the trees, or alight and shadow flowing through the grass as the Moon went westward. And when they had passed from the Shire, going about the south skirts of the White Downs, they came to the Far Downs, and to the Towers, and looked on the distant Sea; and so they rode down at last to Mithlond, to the Grey Havens in the long firth of Lune.\n\nAs they came to the gates Círdan the Shipwright came forth to greet them. Very tall he was, and his beard was long, and he was grey and old, save that his eyes were keen as stars; and he looked at them and bowed, and said: \"All is now ready.\"\n\nThen Círdan led them to the Havens, and there was a white ship lying, and upon the quay beside a great grey horse stood a figure robed all in white awaiting them. Ashe turned and came towards them Frodo saw that Gandalf now wore openly on his hand the Third Ring, Narya the Great, and the stone upon it was red as fire. Then those who were to go were glad, for they knew that Gandalf also would take ship with them." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But Sam was now sorrowful at heart, and it seemed to him that if the parting would be bitter, more grievous still would be the long road home alone. But even as they stood there, and the Elves were going aboard, and all was being made ready to depart, up rode Merry and Pippin in great haste. And amid his tears Pippin laughed.\n\n\"You tried to give us the slip once before and failed, Frodo,\" he said. \"This time you have nearly succeeded, but you have failed again. It was not Sam, though, that gave you away this time, but Gandalf himself!\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Gandalf; \"for it will be better to ride back three together than one alone. Well, here at last, dear friends, on the shores of the Sea comes the end of our fellowship in Middle-earth. Go in peace! I will not say: do not weep; for not all tears are an evil.\"\n\nThen Frodo kissed Merry and Pippin, and last of all Sam, and went aboard; and the sails were drawn up, and the wind blew, and slowly the ship slipped away down the long grey firth; and the light of the glass of Galadriel that Frodo bore glimmered and was lost. And the ship went out into the High Sea and passed on into the West, until at last on a night of rain Frodo smelled a sweet fragrance on the air and heard the sound of singing that came over the water. And then it seemed to him that as in his dream in the house of Bombadil, the grey rain-curtain turned all to silver glass and was rolled back, and he beheld white shores and beyond them afar green country under a swift sunrise.\n\nBut to Sam the evening deepened to darkness as he stood at the Haven; and as he looked at the grey sea he saw only a shadow on the waters that was soon lost in the West. There still he stood far into the night, hearing only the sigh and murmur of the waves on the shores of Middle-earth, and the sound of them sank deep into his heart. Beside him stood Merry and Pippin, and they were silent." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "At last the three companions turned away, and never again looking back they rode slowly homewards; and they spoke no word to one another until they came back to the Shire, but each had great comfort in his friends on the long grey road.\n\nAt last they rode over the downs and took the East Road, and then Merry and Pippin rode onto Buckland; and already they were singing again as they went. But Sam turned to Bywater, and so came backup the Hill, as day was ending once more. And he went on, and there was yellow light, and fire within; and the evening meal was ready, and he was expected. And Rose drew him in, and set him in his chair, and put little Elanor upon his lap.\n\nHe drew a deep breath. \"Well, I'm back, ' he said." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gandalf was gone, and the thudding hoofs of Shadowfax were lost in the night, when Merry came back to Aragorn. He had only alight bundle, for he had lost his pack at Parth Galen, and all he had was a few useful things he had picked up among the wreckage of Isengard. Hasufel was already saddled. Legolas and Gimli with their horse stood close by.\n\n\"So four of the Company still remain,\" said Aragorn. \"We will ride on together. But we shall not go alone, as I thought. The king is now determined to set out at once. Since the coming of the winged shadow, he desires to return to the hills undercover of night.\"\n\n\"And then whither?\" said Legolas.\n\n\"I cannot say yet,\" Aragorn answered. \"As for the king, he will go to the muster that he commanded at Edoras, four nights from now. And there, I think, he will hear tidings of war, and the Riders of Rohan will go down to Minas Tirith. But for myself, and any that will go with me...\"\n\n\"I for one!\" cried Legolas. \"And Gimli with him!\" said the Dwarf.\n\n\"Well, for myself,\" said Aragorn, \"it is dark before me. I must go down also to Minas Tirith, but I do not yet seethe road. An hour long prepared approaches.\"\n\n\"Don't leave me behind! \"said Merry.\"I have not been of much use yet; but I don't want to be laid aside, like baggage to be called for when all is over. I don't think the Riders will want to be bothered with me now. Though, of course, the king did say that I was to sit by him when he came to his house and tell him all about the Shire. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Yes,\" said Aragorn, \"and your road lies with him, I think, Merry. But do not look for mirth at the ending. It will belong, I fear, ere Théoden sits at ease again in Meduseld. Many hopes will wither in this bitter Spring.\"\n\nSoon all were ready to depart: twenty-four horses, with Gimli behind Legolas, and Merry in front of Aragorn. Presently they were riding swiftly through the night. They had not long passed the mounds at the Fords of Isen, when a Rider galloped up from the rear of their line.\n\n\"My lord,\" he said to the king, \"there are horsemen behind us. As we crossed the fords I thought that I heard them. Now we are sure. They are overtaking us, riding hard.\"\n\nThéoden at once called a halt. The Riders turned about and seized their spears. Aragorn dismounted and set Merry on the ground, and drawing his sword he stood by the king's stirrup. Éomer and his esquire rode back to the rear. Merry felt more like unneeded baggage than ever, and he wondered, if there was a fight, what he should do. Supposing the king's small escort was trapped and overcome, but he escaped into the darkness– alone in the wild fields of Rohan with no idea of where he was in all the endless miles? \"No good!\" he thought. He drew his sword and tightened his belt.\n\nThe sinking moon was obscured by a great sailing cloud, but suddenly it rode out clear again. Then they all heard the sound of hoofs, and at the same moment they saw dark shapes coming swiftly on the path from the fords. The moonlight glinted here and thereon the points of spears. The number of the pursuers could not be told, but they seemed no fewer than the king's escort, at the least." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "When they were some fifty paces off, Éomer cried in aloud voice: \"Halt! Halt! Who rides in Rohan?\"\n\nThe pursuers brought their steeds to a sudden stand. A silence followed; and then in the moonlight, a horseman could be seen dismounting and walking slowly forward. His hand showed white as he held it up, palm outward, in token of peace; but the king's men gripped their weapons. At ten paces the man stopped. He was tall, a dark standing shadow. Then his clear voice rang out.\n\n\"Rohan? Rohan did you say? That is a glad word. We seek that land in haste from long afar.\"\n\n\"You have found it,\" said Éomer. \"When you crossed the fords yonder you entered it. But it is the realm of Théoden the King. None ride here save by his leave. Who are you? And what is your haste?\"\n\n\"Halbarad Dúnadan, Ranger of the North I am,\" cried the man. \"We seek one Aragorn son of Arathorn, and we heard that he was in Rohan.\"\n\n\"And you have found him also!\" cried Aragorn. Giving his reins to Merry, he ran forward and embraced the newcomer. \"Halbarad!\" he said. \"Of all joys this is the least expected!\"\n\nMerry breathed a sigh of relief. He had thought that this was some last trick of Saruman's, to waylay the king while he had only a few men about him; but it seemed that there would be no need to die in Théoden's defence, not yet at any rate. He sheathed his sword.\n\n\"All is well,\" said Aragorn, turning back. \"Here are some of my own kin from the far land where I dwelt. But why they come, and how many they be, Halbarad shall tell us.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I have thirty with me,\" said Halbarad. \"That is all of our kindred that could be gathered in haste; but the brethren Elladan and Elrohir have ridden with us, desiring to go to the war. We rode as swiftly as we might when your summons came.\"\n\n\"But I did not summon you,\" said Aragorn, \"save only in wish. My thoughts have often turned to you, and seldom more than tonight; yet I have sent no word. But come! All such matters must wait. You find us riding in haste and danger. Ride with us now, if the king will give his leave.\"\n\nThéoden was indeed glad of the news. \"It is well!\" he said. \"If these kinsmen be in anyway like to yourself, my lord Aragorn, thirty such knights will be a strength that cannot be counted by heads.\"\n\nThen the Riders set out again, and Aragorn fora while rode with the Dúnedain; and when they had spoken of tidings in the North and in the South, Elrohir said to him:\n\n\"I bring word to you from my father: The days are short. If thou art in haste, remember the Paths of the Dead.\"\n\n\"Always my days have seemed tome too short to achieve my desire,\" answered Aragorn. \"But great indeed will be my haste ere I take that road.\"\n\n\"That will soon be seen,\" said Elrohir. \"But let us speak no more of these things upon the open road!\"\n\nAnd Aragorn said to Halbarad: \"What is that that you bear, kinsman?\" For he saw that instead of a spear he bore a tall staff, as it were a standard, but it was close-furled in a black cloth bound about with many thongs." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It is a gift that I bring you from the Lady of Rivendell,\" answered Halbarad. \"She wrought it in secret, and long was the making. But she also sends word to you: The days now are short. Either our hope cometh, or all hope's end. Therefore I send thee what I have made for thee. Farewell, Elfstone! '\n\nAnd Aragorn said: \"Now I know what you bear. Bear it still for me awhile!\" And he turned and looked away to the North under the great stars, and then he fell silent and spoke no more while the night's journey lasted.\n\nThe night was old and the East grey when they rode up at last from Deeping-coomb and came back to the Hornburg. There they were to lie and rest fora brief while and take counsel.\n\nMerry slept until he was roused by Legolas and Gimli. \"The Sun is high,\" said Legolas. \"All others are up and doing. Come, Master Sluggard, and look at this place while you may!\"\n\n\"There was a battle here three nights ago,\" said Gimli, \"and here Legolas and I played a game that I won only by a single orc. Come and see how it was! And there are caves, Merry, caves of wonder! Shall we visit them, Legolas, do you think?\"\n\n\"Nay! There is no time,\" said the Elf. \"Do not spoil the wonder with haste! I have given you my word to return hither with you, if a day of peace and freedom comes again. But it is now near to noon, and at that hour we eat, and then set out again, I hear.\"\n\nMerry got up and yawned. His few hours'sleep had not been nearly enough; he was tired and rather dismal. He missed Pippin, and felt that he was only a burden, while everybody was making plans for speed in a business that he did not fully understand.\"Where is Aragorn? ' he asked." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"In a high chamber of the Burg,\" said Legolas. \"He has neither rested nor slept, I think. He went thither some hours ago, saying that he must take thought, and only his kinsman, Halbarad, went with him; but some dark doubt or care sits on him.\"\n\n\"They area strange company, these newcomers,\" said Gimli. \"Stout men and lordly they are, and the Riders of Rohan look almost as boys beside them; for they are grim men of face, worn like weathered rocks for the most part, even as Aragorn himself; and they are silent.\"\n\n\"But even as Aragorn they are courteous, if they break their silence,\" said Legolas. \"And have you marked the brethren Elladan and Elrohir? Less sombre is their gear than the others\", and they are fair and gallant as Elven-lords; and that is not to be wondered at in the sons of Elrond of Rivendell. '\n\n\"Why have they come? Have you heard?\" asked Merry. He had now dressed, and he flung his grey cloak about his shoulders; and the three passed out together towards the ruined gate of the Burg.\n\n\"They answered a summons, as you heard,\" said Gimli. \"Word came to Rivendell, they say: Aragorn has need of his kindred. Let the Dúnedain ride to him in Rohan! But whence this message came they are now in doubt. Gandalf sent it, I would guess.\"\n\n\"Nay, Galadriel,\" said Legolas. \"Did she not speak through Gandalf of the ride of the Grey Company from the North?\"\n\n\"Yes, you have it,\" said Gimli. \"The Lady of the Wood! She read many hearts and desires. Now why did not we wish for some of our own kinsfolk, Legolas?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Legolas stood before the gate and turned his bright eyes away north and east, and his fair face was troubled." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I do not think that any would come,\" he answered. \"They have no need to ride to war; war already marches on their own lands.\"\n\nFora while the three companions walked together, speaking of this and that turn of the battle, and they went down from the broken gate, and passed the mounds of the fallen on the greensward beside the road, until they stood on Helm's Dike and looked into the Coomb. The Death Down already stood there, black and tall and stony, and the great trampling and scoring of the grass by the Huorns could be plainly seen. The Dunlendings and many men of the garrison of the Burg were at work on the Dike or in the fields and about the battered walls behind; yet all seemed strangely quiet: a weary valley resting after a great storm. Soon they turned back and went to the midday meal in the hall of the Burg.\n\nThe king was already there, and as soon as they entered he called for Merry and had a seat set for him at his side. \"It is not as I would have it,\" said Théoden; \"for this is little like my fair house in Edoras. And your friend is gone, who should also be here. But it maybe long ere we sit, you and I, at the high table in Meduseld; there will be no time for feasting when I return thither. But come now! Eat and drink, and let us speak together while we may. And then you shall ride with me.\"\n\n\"May I?\" said Merry, surprised and delighted. \"That would be splendid!\" He had never felt more grateful for any kindness in words. \"I am afraid I am only in everybody's way, \"he stammered;\"but I should like to do anything I could, you know. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I doubt it not,\" said the king. \"I have had a good hill-pony made ready for you. He will bear you as swift as any horse by the roads that we shall take. For I will ride from the Burg by mountain paths, not by the plain, and so come to Edoras byway of Dunharrow where the Lady Éowyn awaits me. You shall be my esquire, if you will. Is there gear of war in this place, Éomer, that my sword-thain could use?\"\n\n\"There are no great weapon-hoards here, lord,\" answered Éomer. \"Maybe alight helm might be found to fit him; but we have no mail or sword for one of his stature.\"\n\n\"I have a sword,\" said Merry, climbing from his seat, and drawing from its black sheath his small bright blade. Filled suddenly with love for this old man, he knelt on one knee, and took his hand and kissed it. \"May I lay the sword of Meriadoc of the Shire on your lap, Théoden King?\" he cried. \"Receive my service, if you will!\"\n\n\"Gladly will I take it,\" said the king; and laying his long old hands upon the brown hair of the hobbit, he blessed him. \"Rise now, Meriadoc, esquire of Rohan of the household of Meduseld!\" he said. \"Take your sword and bear it unto good fortune!\"\n\n\"As a father you shall be tome,\" said Merry.\n\n\"For a little while,\" said Théoden.\n\nThey talked then together as they ate, until presently Éomer spoke. \"It is near the hour that we set for our going, lord,\" he said. \"Shall Ibid men sound the horns? But where is Aragorn? His place is empty and he has not eaten.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"We will make ready to ride,\" said Théoden; \"but let word be sent to the Lord Aragorn that the houris nigh.\"\n\nThe king with his guard and Merry at his side passed down from the gate of the Burg to where the Riders were assembling on the green. Many were already mounted. It would be a great company; for the king was leaving only a small garrison in the Burg, and all who could be spared were riding to the weapontake at Edoras. A thousand spears had indeed already ridden away at night; but still there would be some five hundred more to go with the king, for the most part men from the fields and dales of Westfold.\n\nA little apart the Rangers sat, silent, in an ordered company, armed with spear and bow and sword. They were clad in cloaks of dark grey, and their hoods were cast now over helm and head. Their horses were strong and of proud bearing, but rough-haired; and one stood there without a rider,\n\nAragorn's own horse that they had brought from the North; Roheryn was his name. There was no gleam of stone or gold, nor any fair thing in all their gear and harness; nor did their riders bear any badge or token, save only that each cloak was pinned upon the left shoulder by a brooch of silver shaped like a rayed star.\n\nThe king mounted his horse, Snowmane, and Merry sat beside him on his pony: Stybba was his name. Presently Éomer came out from the gate, and with him was Aragorn, and Halbarad bearing the great staff close-furled in black, and two tall men, neither young nor old. So much alike were they, the sons of Elrond, that few could tell them apart: dark-haired, grey-eyed, and their faces elven-fair, clad alike in bright mail beneath cloaks of silver-grey. Behind them walked Legolas and Gimli. But Merry had eyes only for Aragorn, so startling was the change that he saw in him, as if in one night many years had fallen on his head. Grim was his face, grey-hued and weary." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I am troubled in mind, lord,\" he said, standing by the king's horse.\"I have heard strange words, and I see new perils far off. I have laboured long in thought, and now I fear that I must change my purpose. Tell me, Théoden, you ride now to Dunharrow, how long will it be ere you come there? '\n\n\"It is now a full hour past noon,\" said Éomer. \"Before the night of the third day from now we should come to the Hold. The Moon will then be two nights past his full, and the muster that the king commanded will beheld the day after. More speed we cannot make, if the strength of Rohan is to be gathered.\"\n\nAragorn was silent fora moment. \"Three days,\" he murmured, \"and the muster of Rohan will only be begun. But I see that it cannot now be hastened.\" He looked up, and it seemed that he had made some decision; his face was less troubled. \"Then, by your leave, lord, I must take new counsel for myself and my kindred. We must ride our own road, and no longer in secret. For me the time of stealth has passed. I will ride east by the swiftest way, and I will take the Paths of the Dead.\"\n\n\"The Paths of the Dead!\" said Théoden, and trembled. \"Why do you speak of them?\" Éomer turned and gazed at Aragorn, and it seemed to Merry that the faces of the Riders that sat within hearing turned pale at the words. \"If there be in truth such paths,\" said Théoden, \"their gate is in Dunharrow; but no living man may pass it.\"\n\n\"Alas! Aragorn my friend!\" said Éomer. \"I had hoped that we should ride to war together; but if you seek the Paths of the Dead, then our parting is come, and it is little likely that we shall ever meet again under the Sun.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"That road I will take, nonetheless,\" said Aragorn." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"But I say to you, Éomer, that in battle we may yet meet again, though all the hosts of Mordor should stand between.\"\n\n\"You will do as you will, my lord Aragorn,\" said Théoden. \"It is your doom, maybe, to tread strange paths that others dare not. This parting grieves me, and my strength is lessened by it; but now I must take the mountain-roads and delay no longer. Farewell!\"\n\n\"Farewell, lord!\" said Aragorn. \"Ride unto great renown! Farewell, Merry! I leave you in good hands, better than we hoped when we hunted the orcs to Fangorn. Legolas and Gimli will still hunt with me, I hope; but we shall not forget you.\"\n\n\"Good-bye!\" said Merry. He could find no more to say. He felt very small, and he was puzzled and depressed by all these gloomy words. More than ever he missed the unquenchable cheerfulness of Pippin. The Riders were ready, and their horses were fidgeting; he wished they would start and get it over.\n\nNow Théoden spoke to Éomer, and he lifted up his hand and cried aloud, and with that word the Riders set forth. They rode over the Dike and down the Coomb, and then, turning swiftly eastwards, they took a path that skirted the foothills fora mile or so, until bending south it passed back among the hills and disappeared from view. Aragorn rode to the Dike and watched till the king's men were far down the Coomb. Then he turned to Halbarad.\n\n\"There go three that I love, and the smallest not the least,\" he said. \"He knows not to what end he rides; yet if he knew, he still would goon.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"A little people, but of great worth are the Shire-folk,\" said Halbarad. \"Little do they know of our long labour for the safekeeping of their borders, and yet I grudge it not.\"\n\n\"And now our fates are woven together,\" said Aragorn. \"And yet, alas! here we must part. Well, I must eat a little, and then we also must hasten away. Come, Legolas and Gimli! I must speak with you as I eat.\"\n\nTogether they went back into the Burg; yet for sometime Aragorn sat silent at the table in the hall, and the others waited for him to speak. \"Come!\" said Legolas at last. \"Speak and be comforted, and shake off the shadow! What has happened since we came back to this grim place in the grey morning?\"\n\n\"A struggle somewhat grimmer for my part than the battle of the Hornburg,\" answered Aragorn. \"I have looked in the Stone of Orthanc, my friends.\"\n\n\"You have looked in that accursed stone of wizardry!\" exclaimed Gimli with fear and astonishment in his face. \"Did you say aught to– him? Even Gandalf feared that encounter.\"\n\n\"You forget to whom you speak,\" said Aragorn sternly, and his eyes glinted. \"What do you fear that I should say to him? Did I not openly proclaim my title before the doors of Edoras? Nay, Gimli,\" he said in a softer voice, and the grimness left his face, and he looked like one who has laboured in sleepless pain for many nights. \"Nay, my friends, I am the lawful master of the Stone, and I had both the right and the strength to use it, or so I judged. The right cannot be doubted. The strength was enough– barely.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He drew a deep breath. \"It was a bitter struggle, and the weariness is slow to pass. I spoke no word to him, and in the end I wrenched the Stone to my own will. That alone he will find hard to endure. And he beheld me. Yes, Master Gimli, he saw me, but in other guise than you see me here. If that will aid him, then I have done ill. But I do not think so. To know that I lived and walked the earth was a blow to his heart, I deem; for he knew it not till now. The eyes in Orthanc did not see through the armour of Théoden; but Sauron has not forgotten Isildur and the sword of Elendil. Now in the very hour of his great designs the heir of Isildur and the Sword are revealed; for I showed the blade re-forged to him. He is not so mighty yet that he is above fear; nay, doubt ever gnaws him.\"\n\n\"But he wields great dominion, nonetheless,\" said Gimli; \"and now he will strike more swiftly.\"\n\n\"The hasty stroke goes oft astray,\" said Aragorn. \"We must press our Enemy, and no longer wait upon him for the move. See my friends, when I had mastered the Stone, I learned many things. A grave peril I saw coming unlooked-for upon Gondor from the South that will draw off great strength from the defence of Minas Tirith. If it is not countered swiftly, I deem that the City will be lost ere ten days begone.\"\n\n\"Then lost it must be,\" said Gimli. \"For what help is thereto send thither, and how could it come therein time?\"\n\n\"I have no help to send, therefore I must go myself,\" said Aragorn. \"But there is only one way through the mountains that will bring me to the coastlands before all is lost. That is the Paths of the Dead.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"The Paths of the Dead!\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "said Gimli. \"It is a fell name; and little to the liking to the Men of Rohan, as I saw. Can the living use such a road and not perish? And even if you pass that way, what will so few avail to counter the strokes of Mordor?\"\n\n\"The living have never used that road since the coming of the Rohirrim,\" said Aragorn, \"for it is closed to them. But in this dark hour the heir of Isildur may use it, if he dare. Listen! This is the word that the sons of Elrond bring tome from their father in Rivendell, wisest in lore: Bid Aragorn remember the words of the seer, and the Paths of the Dead.\"\n\n\"And what maybe the words of the seer?\" said Legolas.\n\n\"Thus spoke Malbeth the Seer, in the days of Arvedui, last king at Fornost,\" said Aragorn:\n\nOver the land there lies along shadow,\n\nwestward reaching wings of darkness.\n\nThe Tower trembles; to the tombs of kings\n\ndoom approaches. The Dead awaken;\n\nfor the houris come for the oathbreakers:\n\nat the Stone of Erech they shall stand again\n\nand hear there a horn in the hills ringing.\n\nWhose shall the horn be? Who shall call them\n\nfrom the grey twilight, the forgotten people?\n\nThe heir of him to whom the oath they swore.\n\nFrom the North shall he come, need shall drive him:\n\nhe shall pass the Door to the Paths of the Dead.\n\n\"Dark ways, doubtless,\" said Gimli, \"but no darker than these staves are tome.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"If you would understand them better, then Ibid you come with me,\" said Aragorn; \"for that way I now shall take. But I do not go gladly; only need drives me. Therefore, only of your freewill would I have you come, for you will find both toil and great fear, and maybe worse.\"\n\n\"I will go with you even on the Paths of the Dead, and to whatever end they may lead,\" said Gimli.\n\n\"I also will come,\" said Legolas, \"for I do not fear the Dead.\"\n\n\"I hope that the forgotten people will not have forgotten how to fight,\" said Gimli; \"for otherwise I see not why we should trouble them.\"\n\n\"That we shall know if ever we come to Erech,\" said Aragorn. 'But the oath that they broke was to fight against Sauron, and they must fight therefore, if they are to fulfil it. For at Erech there stands yet a black stone that was brought, it was said, from Númenor by Isildur; and it was set upon a hill, and upon it the King of the Mountains swore allegiance to him in the beginning of the realm of Gondor. But when Sauron returned and grew in might again, Isildur summoned the Men of the Mountains to fulfil their oath, and they would not: for they had worshipped Sauron in the Dark Years.\n\n\"Then Isildur said to their king: \"Thou shalt be the last king. And if the West prove mightier than thy Black Master, this curse I lay upon thee and thy folk: to rest never until your oath is fulfilled. For this war will last through years uncounted, and you shall be summoned once again ere the end.\" And they fled before the wrath of Isildur, and did not dare to go forth to war on Sauron's part; and they hid themselves in secret places in the mountains and had no dealings with other men, but slowly dwindled in the barren hills. And the terror of the Sleepless Dead lies about the Hill of Erech and all places where that people lingered. But that way I must go, since there are none living to help me. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He stood up. \"Come!\" he cried, and drew his sword, and it flashed in the twilit hall of the Burg. \"To the Stone of Erech! I seek the Paths of the Dead. Come with me who will!\"\n\nLegolas and Gimli made no answer, but they rose and followed Aragorn from the hall. On the green there waited, still and silent, the hooded Rangers. Legolas and Gimli mounted. Aragorn sprang upon Roheryn. Then Halbarad lifted a great horn, and the blast of it echoed in Helm's Deep: and with that they leapt away, riding down the Coomb like thunder, while all the men that were left on Dike or Burg stared in amaze.\n\nAnd while Théoden went by slow paths in the hills, the Grey Company passed swiftly over the plain, and on the next day in the afternoon they came to Edoras; and there they halted only briefly, ere they passed up the valley, and so came to Dunharrow as darkness fell.\n\nThe Lady Éowyn greeted them and was glad of their coming; for no mightier men had she seen than the Dúnedain and the fair sons of Elrond; but on Aragorn most of all her eyes rested. And when they sat at supper with her, they talked together, and she heard of all that had passed since Théoden rode away, concerning which only hasty tidings had yet reached her; and when she heard of the battle in Helm's Deep and the great slaughter of their foes, and of the charge of Théoden and his knights, then her eyes shone.\n\nBut at last she said: \"Lords, you are weary and shall now go to your beds with such ease as can be contrived in haste. But tomorrow fairer housing shall be found for you.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "But Aragorn said: \"Nay, lady, be not troubled for us!" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "If we may lie here tonight and break our fast tomorrow, it will be enough. For I ride on an errand most urgent, and with the first light of morning we must go.\"\n\nShe smiled on him and said: \"Then it was kindly done, lord, to ride so many miles out of your way to bring tidings to Éowyn, and to speak with her in her exile.\"\n\n\"Indeed no man would count such a journey wasted,\" said Aragorn; \"and yet, lady, I could not have come hither, if it were not that the road which I must take leads me to Dunharrow.\"\n\nAnd she answered as one that likes not what is said: \"Then, lord, you are astray; for out of Harrowdale no road runs east or south; and you had best return as you came.\"\n\n\"Nay, lady,\" said he, \"I am not astray; for I walked in this land ere you were born to grace it. There is a road out of this valley, and that road I shall take. Tomorrow I shall ride by the Paths of the Dead.\"\n\nThen she stared at him as one that is stricken, and her face blanched, and for long she spoke no more, while all sat silent. \"But, Aragorn,\" she said at last, \"is it then your errand to seek death? For that is all that you will find on that road. They do not suffer the living to pass.\"\n\n\"They may suffer me to pass,\" said Aragorn; \"but at the least I will adventure it. No other road will serve.\"\n\n\"But this is madness,\" she said. \"For here are men of renown and prowess, whom you should not take into the shadows, but should lead to war, where men are needed. I beg you to remain and ride with my brother; for then all our hearts will be gladdened, and our hope be the brighter.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"It is not madness, lady,\" he answered; \"for I goon a path appointed." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But those who follow me do so of their freewill; and if they wish now to remain and ride with the Rohirrim, they may do so. But I shall take the Paths of the Dead, alone, if needs be.\"\n\nThen they said no more, and they ate in silence; but her eyes were ever upon Aragorn, and the others saw that she was in great torment of mind. At length they arose, and took their leave of the Lady, and thanked her for her care, and went to their rest.\n\nBut as Aragorn came to the booth where he was to lodge with Legolas and Gimli, and his companions had gone in, there came the Lady Éowyn after him and called to him. He turned and saw her as a glimmer in the night, for she was clad in white; but her eyes were on fire.\n\n\"Aragorn,\" she said, \"why will you goon this deadly road?\"\n\n\"Because I must,\" he said. \"Only so can I see any hope of doing my part in the war against Sauron. I do not choose paths of peril, Éowyn. Were Ito go where my heart dwells, far in the North I would now be wandering in the fair valley of Rivendell.\"\n\nFora while she was silent, as if pondering what this might mean. Then suddenly she laid her hand on his arm. \"You area stern lord and resolute,\" she said; \"and thus do men win renown.\" She paused. \"Lord,\" she said, \"if you must go, then let me ride in your following. For I am weary of skulking in the hills, and wish to face peril and battle.\"\n\n\"Your duty is with your people,\" he answered.\n\n\"Too often have I heard of duty,\" she cried. \"But am I not of the House of Eorl, a shieldmaiden and not a dry-nurse? I have waited on faltering feet long enough. Since they falter no longer, it seems, may I not now spend my life as I will?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Few may do that with honour,\" he answered." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"But as for you, lady: did you not accept the charge to govern the people until their lord's return? If you had not been chosen, then some marshal or captain would have been set in the same place, and he could not ride away from his charge, were he weary of it or no. '\n\n\"Shall I always be chosen?\" she said bitterly. \"Shall I always be left behind when the Riders depart, to mind the house while they win renown, and find food and beds when they return?\"\n\n\"A time may come soon,\" said he, \"when none will return. Then there will be need of valour without renown, for none shall remember the deeds that are done in the last defence of your homes. Yet the deeds will not be less valiant because they are unpraised.\"\n\nAnd she answered: \"All your words are but to say: you area woman, and your part is in the house. But when the men have died in battle and honour, you have leave to be burned in the house, for the men will need it no more. But I am of the House of Eorl and not a serving-woman. I can ride and wield blade, and I do not fear either pain or death.\"\n\n\"What do you fear, lady?\" he asked.\n\n\"A cage,\" she said. \"To stay behind bars, until use and old age accept them, and all chance of doing great deeds is gone beyond recall or desire.\"\n\n\"And yet you counselled me not to adventure on the road that I had chosen, because it is perilous?\"\n\n\"So may one counsel another,\" she said. \"Yet I do not bid you flee from peril, but to ride to battle where your sword may win renown and victory. I would not see a thing that is high and excellent castaway needlessly.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Nor would I,\" he said." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Therefore I say to you, lady: Stay! For you have no errand to the South.\"\n\n\"Neither have those others who go with thee. They go only because they would not be parted from thee– because they love thee.\" Then she turned and vanished into the night.\n\nWhen the light of day was come into the sky but the sun was not yet risen above the high ridges in the East, Aragorn made ready to depart. His company was all mounted, and he was about to leap into the saddle, when the Lady Éowyn came to bid them farewell. She was clad as a Rider and girt with a sword. In her hand she bore a cup, and she set it to her lips and drank a little, wishing them good speed; and then she gave the cup to Aragorn, and he drank, and he said: \"Farewell, Lady of Rohan! I drink to the fortunes of your House, and of you, and of all your people. Say to your brother: beyond the shadows we may meet again!\"\n\nThen it seemed to Gimli and Legolas who were nearby that she wept, and in one so stern and proud that seemed the more grievous. But she said: \"Aragorn, wilt thou go?\"\n\n\"I will,\" he said.\n\n\"Then wilt thou not let me ride with this company, as I have asked?\"\n\n\"I will not, lady,\" he said. \"For that I could not grant without leave of the king and of your brother; and they will not return until tomorrow. But I count now every hour, indeed every minute. Farewell!\"\n\nThen she fell on her knees, saying: \"I beg thee!\"\n\n\"Nay, lady,\" he said, and taking her by the hand he raised her. Then he kissed her hand, and sprang into the saddle, and rode away, and did not look back; and only those who knew him well and were near to him saw the pain that he bore." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But Éowyn stood still as a figure carven in stone, her hands clenched at her sides, and she watched them until they passed into the shadows under the black Dwimorberg, the Haunted Mountain, in which was the Door of the Dead. When they were lost to view, she turned, stumbling as one that is blind, and went back to her lodging. But none of her folk saw this parting, for they hid themselves in fear and would not come forth until the day was up, and the reckless strangers were gone.\n\nAnd some said: \"They are Elvish wights. Let them go where they belong, into the dark places, and never return. The times are evil enough.\"\n\nThe light was still grey as they rode, for the sun had not yet climbed over the black ridges of the Haunted Mountain before them. A dread fell on them, even as they passed between the lines of ancient stones and so came to the Dimholt. Thereunder the gloom of black trees that not even Legolas could long endure they found a hollow place opening at the mountain's root, and right in their path stood a single mighty stone like a finger of doom.\n\n\"My blood runs chill,\" said Gimli, but the others were silent, and his voice fell dead on the dank fir-needles at his feet. The horses would not pass the threatening stone, until the riders dismounted and led them about. And so they came at last deep into the glen; and there stood a sheer wall of rock, and in the wall the Dark Door gaped before them like the mouth of night. Signs and figures were carved above its wide arch too dim to read, and fear flowed from it like a grey vapour.\n\nThe Company halted, and there was not a heart among them that did not quail, unless it were the heart of Legolas of the Elves, for whom the ghosts of Men have no terror." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"This is an evil door,\" said Halbarad, \"and my death lies beyond it. I will dare to pass it nonetheless; but no horse will enter.\"\n\n\"But we must go in, and therefore the horses must go too,\" said Aragorn. \"For if ever we come through this darkness, many leagues lie beyond, and every hour that is lost there will bring the triumph of Sauron nearer. Follow me!\"\n\nThen Aragorn led the way, and such was the strength of his will in that hour that all the Dúnedain and their horses followed him. And indeed the love that the horses of the Rangers bore for their riders was so great that they were willing to face even the terror of the Door, if their masters' hearts were steady as they walked beside them. But Arod, the horse of Rohan, refused the way, and he stood sweating and trembling in a fear that was grievous to see. Then Legolas laid his hands on his eyes and sang some words that went soft in the gloom, until he suffered himself to be led, and Legolas passed in. And there stood Gimli the Dwarf left all alone.\n\nHis knees shook, and he was wroth with himself. \"Here is a thing unheard of!\" he said. \"An Elf will go underground and a Dwarf dare not!\" With that he plunged in. But it seemed to him that he dragged his feet like lead over the threshold; and at once a blindness came upon him, even upon Gimli Glóin's son who had walked unafraid in many deep places of the world.\n\nAragorn had brought torches from Dunharrow, and now he went ahead bearing one aloft; and Elladan with another went at the rear, and Gimli, stumbling behind, strove to overtake him. He could see nothing but the dim flame of the torches; but if the Company halted, there seemed an endless whisper of voices all about him, a murmur of words in no tongue that he had ever heard before." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Nothing assailed the Company nor withstood their passage, and yet steadily fear grew on the Dwarf as he went on: most of all because he knew now that there could be no turning back; all the paths behind were thronged by an unseen host that followed in the dark.\n\nSo time unreckoned passed, until Gimli saw a sight that he was ever afterwards loth to recall. The road was wide, as far as he could judge, but now the Company came suddenly into a great empty space, and there were no longer any walls upon either side. The dread was so heavy on him that he could hardly walk. Away to the left something glittered in the gloom as Aragorn's torch drew near. Then Aragorn halted and went to look what it might be.\n\n\"Does he feel no fear?\" muttered the Dwarf. \"In any other cave Gimli Glóin's son would have been the first to run to the gleam of gold. But not here! Let it lie! '\n\nNonetheless he drew near, and saw Aragorn kneeling, while Elladan held aloft both torches. Before him were the bones of a mighty man. He had been clad in mail, and still his harness lay there whole; for the cavern's air was as dry as dust, and his hauberk was gilded. His belt was of gold and garnets, and rich with gold was the helm upon his bony head face downward on the floor. He had fallen near the far wall of the cave, as now could be seen, and before him stood a stony door closed fast: his finger-bones were still clawing at the cracks. A notched and broken sword lay by him, as if he had hewn at the rock in his last despair.\n\nAragorn did not touch him, but after gazing silently fora while he rose and sighed. \"Hither shall the flowers of simbelmynë come never unto world's end, \"he murmured.\"Nine mounds and seven there are now green with grass, and through all the long years he has lain at the door that he could not unlock. Whither does it lead? Why would he pass? None shall ever know!" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"For that is not my errand!\" he cried, turning back and speaking to the whispering darkness behind. \"Keep your hoards and your secrets hidden in the Accursed Years! Speed only we ask. Let us pass, and then come! I summon you to the Stone of Erech!\"\n\nThere was no answer, unless it were an utter silence more dreadful than the whispers before; and then a chill blast came in which the torches flickered and went out, and could not be rekindled. Of the time that followed, one hour or many, Gimli remembered little. The others pressed on, but he was ever hindmost, pursued by a groping horror that seemed always just about to seize him; and a rumour came after him like the shadow-sound of many feet. He stumbled on until he was crawling like a beast on the ground and felt that he could endure no more: he must either find an ending and escape or run back in madness to meet the following fear.\n\nSuddenly he heard the tinkle of water, a sound hard and clear as a stone falling into a dream of dark shadow. Light grew, and lo! the Company passed through another gateway, high-arched and broad, and a rill ran out beside them; and beyond, going steeply down, was a road between sheer cliffs, knife-edged against the sky far above. So deep and narrow was that chasm that the sky was dark, and in it small stars glinted. Yet as Gimli after learned it was still two hours ere sunset of the day on which they had set out from Dunharrow; though for all that he could then tell it might have been twilight in some later year, or in some other world.\n\nThe Company now mounted again, and Gimli returned to Legolas. They rode in file, and evening came on and a deep blue dusk; and still fear pursued them. Legolas turning to speak to Gimli looked back and the Dwarf saw before his face the glitter in the Elf's bright eyes. Behind them rode Elladan, last of the Company, but not the last of those that took the downward road." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Helping with the plot, keep the story going.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, war\nAuthor: J.R.R. Tolkien\nTitle: The Return of the King\nChapter: 21" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"For that is not my errand!\" he cried, turning back and speaking to the whispering darkness behind. \"Keep your hoards and your secrets hidden in the Accursed Years! Speed only we ask. Let us pass, and then come! I summon you to the Stone of Erech!\"\n\nThere was no answer, unless it were an utter silence more dreadful than the whispers before; and then a chill blast came in which the torches flickered and went out, and could not be rekindled. Of the time that followed, one hour or many, Gimli remembered little. The others pressed on, but he was ever hindmost, pursued by a groping horror that seemed always just about to seize him; and a rumour came after him like the shadow-sound of many feet. He stumbled on until he was crawling like a beast on the ground and felt that he could endure no more: he must either find an ending and escape or run back in madness to meet the following fear.\n\nSuddenly he heard the tinkle of water, a sound hard and clear as a stone falling into a dream of dark shadow. Light grew, and lo! the Company passed through another gateway, high-arched and broad, and a rill ran out beside them; and beyond, going steeply down, was a road between sheer cliffs, knife-edged against the sky far above. So deep and narrow was that chasm that the sky was dark, and in it small stars glinted. Yet as Gimli after learned it was still two hours ere sunset of the day on which they had set out from Dunharrow; though for all that he could then tell it might have been twilight in some later year, or in some other world.\n\nThe Company now mounted again, and Gimli returned to Legolas. They rode in file, and evening came on and a deep blue dusk; and still fear pursued them. Legolas turning to speak to Gimli looked back and the Dwarf saw before his face the glitter in the Elf's bright eyes. Behind them rode Elladan, last of the Company, but not the last of those that took the downward road." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"The Dead are following,\" said Legolas." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I see shapes of Men and of horses, and pale banners like shreds of cloud, and spears like winter-thickets on a misty night. The Dead are following.\"\n\n\"Yes, the Dead ride behind. They have been summoned,\" said Elladan.\n\nThe Company came at last out of the ravine, as suddenly as if they had issued from a crack in a wall; and there lay the uplands of a great vale before them, and the stream beside them went down with a cold voice over many falls.\n\n\"Where in Middle-earth are we?\" said Gimli; and Elladan answered: \"We have descended from the uprising of the Morthond, the long chill river that flows at last to the sea that washes the walls of Dol Amroth. You will not need to ask hereafter how comes its name: Blackroot men call it.\"\n\nThe Morthond Vale made a great bay that beat up against the sheer southern faces of the mountains. Its steep slopes were grass-grown; but all was grey in that hour, for the sun had gone, and far below lights twinkled in the homes of Men. The vale was rich and many folk dwelt there.\n\nThen without turning Aragorn cried aloud so that all could hear: \"Friends, forget your weariness! Ride now, ride! We must come to the Stone of Erech ere this day passes, and long still is the way.\" So without looking back they rode the mountain-fields, until they came to abridge over the growing torrent and found a road that went down into the land.\n\nLights went out in house and hamlet as they came, and doors were shut, and folk that were afield cried in terror and ran wild like hunted deer. Ever there rose the same cry in the gathering night: \"The King of the Dead! The King of the Dead is come upon us!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Bells were ringing far below, and all men fled before the face of Aragorn; but the Grey Company in their haste rode like hunters, until their horses were stumbling with weariness. And thus, just ere midnight, and in a darkness as black as the caverns in the mountains, they came at last to the Hill of Erech.\n\nLong had the terror of the Dead lain upon that hill and upon the empty fields about it. For upon the top stood a black stone, round as a great globe, the height of a man, though its half was buried in the ground. Unearthly it looked, as though it had fallen from the sky, as some believed; but those who remembered still the lore of Westernesse told that it had been brought out of the ruin of Númenor and there set by Isildur at his landing. None of the people of the valley dared to approach it, nor would they dwell near; for they said that it was a trysting-place of the Shadow-men and there they would gather in times of fear, thronging round the Stone and whispering.\n\nTo that Stone the Company came and halted in the dead of night. Then Elrohir gave to Aragorn a silver horn, and he blew upon it; and it seemed to those that stood near that they heard a sound of answering horns, as if it was an echo in deep caves faraway. No other sound they heard, and yet they were aware of a great host gathered all about the hill on which they stood; and a chill wind like the breath of ghosts came down from the mountains. But Aragorn dismounted, and standing by the Stone he cried in a great voice:\n\n\"Oathbreakers, why have ye come?\"\n\nAnd a voice was heard out of the night that answered him, as if from faraway:" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"To fulfil our oath and have peace.\"\n\nThen Aragorn said: \"The houris come at last. Now I go to Pelargir upon Anduin, and ye shall come after me. And when all this land is clean of the servants of Sauron, I will hold the oath fulfilled, and ye shall have peace and depart forever. For I am Elessar, Isildur's heir of Gondor. '\n\nAnd with that he bade Halbarad unfurl the great standard which he had brought; and behold! it was black, and if there was any device upon it, it was hidden in the darkness. Then there was silence, and not a whisper nor a sigh was heard again all the long night. The Company camped beside the Stone, but they slept little, because of the dread of the Shadows that hedged them round.\n\nBut when the dawn came, cold and pale, Aragorn rose at once, and he led the Company forth upon the journey of greatest haste and weariness that any among them had known, save he alone, and only his will held them to goon. No other mortal Men could have endured it, none but the Dúnedain of the North, and with them Gimli the Dwarf and Legolas of the Elves.\n\nThey passed Tarlang's Neck and came into Lamedon; and the Shadow Host pressed behind and fear went on before them, until they came to Calembel upon Ciril, and the sun went down like blood behind Pinnath Gelin away in the West behind them. The township and the fords of Ciril they found deserted, for many men had gone away to war, and all that were left fled to the hills at the rumour of the coming of the King of the Dead. But the next day there came no dawn, and the Grey Company passed on into the darkness of the Storm of Mordor and were lost to mortal sight; but the Dead followed them." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Now all roads were running together to the East to meet the coming of war and the onset of the Shadow. And even as Pippin stood at the Great Gate of the City and saw the Prince of Dol Amroth ride in with his banners, the King of Rohan came down out of the hills.\n\nDay was waning. In the last rays of the sun the Riders cast long pointed shadows that went on before them. Darkness had already crept beneath the murmuring fir-woods that clothed the steep mountain-sides. The king rode now slowly at the end of the day. Presently the path turned round a huge bare shoulder of rock and plunged into the gloom of soft-sighing trees. Down, down they went in along winding file. When at last they came to the bottom of the gorge they found that evening had fallen in the deep places. The sun was gone. Twilight lay upon the waterfalls.\n\nAll day far below them a leaping stream had rundown from the high pass behind, cleaving its narrow way between pine-clad walls; and now through a stony gate it flowed out and passed into a wider vale. The Riders followed it, and suddenly Harrowdale lay before them, loud with the noise of waters in the evening. There the white Snowbourn, joined by the lesser stream, went rushing, fuming on the stones, down to Edoras and the green hills and the plains. Away to the right at the head of the great dale the mighty Starkhorn loomed up above its vast buttresses swathed in cloud; but its jagged peak, clothed in everlasting snow, gleamed far above the world, blue-shadowed upon the East, red-stained by the sunset in the West.\n\nMerry looked out in wonder upon this strange country, of which he had heard many tales upon their long road. It was a skyless world, in which his eye, through dim gulfs of shadowy air, saw only ever-mounting slopes, great walls of stone behind great walls, and frowning precipices wreathed with mist. He sat fora moment half dreaming, listening to the noise of water, the whisper of dark trees, the crack of stone, and the vast waiting silence that brooded behind all sound. He loved mountains, or he had loved the thought of them marching on the edge of stories brought from faraway; but now he was borne down by the insupportable weight of Middle-earth. He longed to shutout the immensity in a quiet room by afire." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He was very tired, for though they had ridden slowly, they had ridden with very little rest. Hour after hour for nearly three weary days he had jogged up and down, overpasses, and through long dales, and across many streams. Sometimes where the way was broader he had ridden at the king's side, not noticing that many of the Riders smiled to seethe two together: the hobbit on his little shaggy grey pony, and the Lord of Rohan on his great white horse. Then he had talked to Théoden, telling him about his home and the doings of the Shire-folk, or listening in turn to tales of the Mark and its mighty men of old. But most of the time, especially on this last day, Merry had ridden by himself just behind the king, saying nothing, and trying to understand the slow sonorous speech of Rohan that he heard the men behind him using. It was a language in which there seemed to be many words that he knew, though spoken more richly and strongly than in the Shire, yet he could not piece the words together. At times some Rider would lift up his clear voice in stirring song, and Merry felt his heart leap, though he did not know what it was about.\n\nAll the same he had been lonely, and nevermore so than now at the day's end. He wondered wherein all this strange world Pippin had got to; and what would become of Aragorn and Legolas and Gimli. Then suddenly like a cold touch on his heart he thought of Frodo and Sam.\"I am forgetting them! \"he said to himself reproachfully.\"And yet they are more important than all the rest of us. And I came to help them; but now they must be hundreds of miles away, if they are still alive. ' He shivered." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Harrowdale at last!\" said Éomer. \"Our journey is almost at an end.\" They halted. The paths out of the narrow gorge fell steeply. Only a glimpse, as through a tall window, could be seen of the great valley in the gloaming below. A single small light could be seen twinkling by the river.\n\n\"This journey is over, maybe,\" said Théoden, \"but I have far yet to go. Two nights ago the moon was full, and in the morning I shall ride to Edoras to the gathering of the Mark.\"\n\n\"But if you would take my counsel,\" said Éomer in a low voice, \"you would then return hither, until the war is over, lost or won.\"\n\nThéoden smiled. \"Nay, my son, for so I will call you, speak not the soft words of Wormtongue in my old ears!\" He drew himself up and looked back at the long line of his men fading into the dusk behind. \"Long years in the space of days it seems since I rode west; but never will I lean on a staff again. If the war is lost, what goodwill be my hiding in the hills? And if it is won, what grief will it be, even if I fall, spending my last strength? But we will leave this now. Tonight I will lie in the Hold of Dunharrow. One evening of peace at least is left us. Let us ride on!\"\n\nIn the deepening dusk they came down into the valley. Here the Snowbourn flowed near to the western walls of the dale, and soon the path led them to a ford where the shallow waters murmured loudly on the stones. The ford was guarded. As the king approached many men sprang up out of the shadow of the rocks; and when they saw the king they cried with glad voices: \"Théoden King! Théoden King! The King of the Mark returns!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Then one blew along call on a horn." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It echoed in the valley. Other horns answered it, and lights shone out across the river.\n\nAnd suddenly there rose a great chorus of trumpets from high above, sounding from some hollow place, as it seemed, that gathered their notes into one voice and sent it rolling and beating on the walls of stone.\n\nSo the King of the Mark came back victorious out of the West to Dunharrow beneath the feet of the White Mountains. There he found the remaining strength of his people already assembled; for as soon as his coming was known captains rode to meet him at the ford, bearing messages from Gandalf. Dúnhere, chieftain of the folk of Harrowdale, was at their head.\n\n\"At dawn three days ago, lord,\" he said, \"Shadowfax came like a wind out of the West to Edoras, and Gandalf brought tidings of your victory to gladden our hearts. But he brought also word from you to hasten the gathering of the Riders. And then came the winged Shadow.\"\n\n\"The winged Shadow?\" said Théoden. \"We saw it also, but that was in the dead of night before Gandalf left us.\"\n\n\"Maybe, lord,\" said Dúnhere. \"Yet the same, or another like to it, a flying darkness in the shape of a monstrous bird, passed over Edoras that morning, and all men were shaken with fear. For it stooped upon Meduseld, and as it came low, almost to the gable, there came a cry that stopped our hearts. Then it was that Gandalf counselled us not to assemble in the fields, but to meet you herein the valley under the mountains. And he bade us to kindle no more lights or fires than barest need asked. So it has been done. Gandalf spoke with great authority. We trust that it is as you would wish. Naught has been seen in Harrowdale of these evil things.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It is well,\" said Théoden. \"I will ride now to the Hold, and there before I go to rest I will meet the marshals and captains. Let them come tome as soon as maybe!\"\n\nThe road now led eastward straight across the valley, which was at that point little more than half a mile in width. Flats and meads of rough grass, grey now in the falling night, lay all about, but in front on the far side of the dale Merry saw a frowning wall, a last outlier of the great roots of the Starkhorn, cloven by the river in ages past.\n\nOn all the level spaces there was great concourse of men. Some thronged to the roadside, hailing the king and the riders from the West with glad cries; but stretching away into the distance behind there were ordered rows of tents and booths, and lines of picketed horses, and great store of arms, and piled spears bristling like thickets of new-planted trees. Now all the great assembly was falling into shadow, and yet, though the night-chill blew cold from the heights, no lanterns glowed, no fires were lit. Watchmen heavily cloaked paced to and fro.\n\nMerry wondered how many Riders there were. He could not guess their number in the gathering gloom, but it looked to him like a great army, many thousands strong. While he was peering from side to side the king's party came up under the looming cliff on the eastern side of the valley; and there suddenly the path began to climb, and Merry looked up in amazement. He was on a road the like of which he had never seen before, a great work of men's hands in years beyond the reach of song. Upwards it wound, coiling like a snake, boring its way across the sheer slope of rock. Steep as a stair, it looped backwards and forwards as it climbed. Up it horses could walk, and wains could be slowly hauled; but no enemy could come that way, except out of the air, if it was defended from above. At each turn of the road there were great standing stones that had been carved in the likeness of men, huge and clumsy-limbed, squatting cross-legged with their stumpy arms folded on fat bellies. Some in the wearing of the years had lost all features save the dark holes of their eyes that still stared sadly at the passers-by. The Riders hardly glanced at them. The Púkel-men they called them, and heeded them little: no power or terror was left in them; but Merry gazed at them with wonder and a feeling almost of pity, as they loomed up mournfully in the dusk." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "After awhile he looked back and found that he had already climbed some hundreds of feet above the valley, but still far below he could dimly see a winding line of Riders crossing the ford and filing along the road towards the camp prepared for them. Only the king and his guard were going up into the Hold.\n\nAt last the king's company came to a sharp brink, and the climbing road passed into a cutting between walls of rock, and so went up a short slope and out onto a wide upland. The Firienfeld men called it, a green mountain-field of grass and heath, high above the deep-delved courses of the Snowbourn, laid upon the lap of the great mountains behind: the Starkhorn southwards, and northwards the saw-toothed mass of Írensaga, between which there faced the riders, the grim black wall of the Dwimorberg, the Haunted Mountain rising out of steep slopes of sombre pines. Dividing the upland into two there marched a double line of unshaped standing stones that dwindled into the dusk and vanished in the trees. Those who dared to follow that road came soon to the black Dimholt under Dwimorberg, and the menace of the pillar of stone, and the yawning shadow of the forbidden door.\n\nSuch was the dark Dunharrow, the work of long-forgotten men. Their name was lost and no song or legend remembered it. For what purpose they had made this place, as a town or secret temple or a tomb of kings, none in Rohan could say. Here they laboured in the Dark Years, before ever a ship came to the western shores, or Gondor of the Dúnedain was built; and now they had vanished, and only the old Púkel-men were left, still sitting at the turnings of the road." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Merry stared at the lines of marching stones: they were worn and black; some were leaning, some were fallen, some cracked or broken; they looked like rows of old and hungry teeth. He wondered what they could be, and he hoped that the king was not going to follow them into the darkness beyond. Then he saw that there were clusters of tents and booths on either side of the stony way; but these were not set near the trees, and seemed rather to huddle away from them towards the brink of the cliff. The greater number were on the right, where the Firienfeld was wider; and on the left there was a smaller camp, in the midst of which stood a tall pavilion.\n\nFrom this side a rider now came out to meet them, and they turned from the road.\n\nAs they drew near Merry saw that the rider was a woman with long braided hair gleaming in the twilight, yet she wore a helm and was clad to the waist like a warrior and girded with a sword.\n\n\"Hail, Lord of the Mark!\" she cried. \"My heart is glad at your returning.\"\n\n\"And you, Éowyn,\" said Théoden, \"is all well with you?\"\n\n\"All is well,\" she answered; yet it seemed to Merry that her voice belied her, and he would have thought that she had been weeping, if that could be believed of one so stern of face. \"All is well. It was a weary road for the people to take, torn suddenly from their homes. There were hard words, for it is long since war has driven us from the green fields; but there have been no evil deeds. All is now ordered, as you see. And your lodging is prepared for you; for I have had full tidings of you and knew the hour of your coming.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"So Aragorn has come then,\" said Éomer." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Is he still here?\"\n\n\"No, he is gone,\" said Éowyn turning away and looking at the mountains dark against the East and South.\n\n\"Whither did he go?\" asked Éomer.\n\n\"I do not know,\" she answered. \"He came at night, and rode away yestermorn, ere the Sun had climbed over the mountain-tops. He is gone.\"\n\n\"You are grieved, daughter,\" said Théoden. \"What has happened? Tell me, did he speak of that road?\" He pointed away along the darkening lines of stones towards the Dwimorberg. \"Of the Paths of the Dead?\"\n\n\"Yes, lord,\" said Éowyn. \"And he has passed into the shadow from which none have returned. I could not dissuade him. He is gone.\"\n\n\"Then our paths are sundered,\" said Éomer. \"He is lost. We must ride without him, and our hope dwindles.\"\n\nSlowly they passed through the short heath and upland grass, speaking no more, until they came to the king's pavilion. There Merry found that everything was made ready, and that he himself was not forgotten. A little tent had been pitched for him beside the king's lodging; and there he sat alone, while men passed to and fro, going into the king and taking counsel with him. Night came on and the half-seen heads of the mountains westward were crowned with stars, but the East was dark and blank. The marching stones faded slowly from sight, but still beyond them, blacker than the gloom, brooded the vast crouching shadow of the Dwimorberg.\n\n\"The Paths of the Dead,\" he muttered to himself. \"The Paths of the Dead? What does all this mean? They have all left me now. They have all gone to some doom: Gandalf and Pippin to war in the East; and Sam and Frodo to Mordor; and Strider and Legolas and Gimli to the Paths of the Dead. But my turn will come soon enough, I suppose. I wonder what they are all talking about, and what the king means to do. For I must go where he goes now.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "In the midst of these gloomy thoughts he suddenly remembered that he was very hungry, and he got up to go and see if anyone else in this strange camp felt the same. But at that very momenta trumpet sounded, and a man came summoning him, the king's esquire, to wait at the king's board.\n\nIn the inner part of the pavilion was a small space, curtained off with broidered hangings, and strewn with skins; and thereat a small table sat Théoden with Éomer and Éowyn, and Dúnhere, lord of Harrowdale. Merry stood beside the king's stool and waited on him, till presently the old man, coming out of deep thought, turned to him and smiled.\n\n\"Come, Master Meriadoc!\" he said. \"You shall not stand. You shall sit beside me, as long as I remain in my own lands, and lighten my heart with tales.\"\n\nRoom was made for the hobbit at the king's left hand, but no one called for any tale. There was indeed little speech, and they ate and drank for the most part in silence, until at last, plucking up courage, Merry asked the question that was tormenting him.\n\n\"Twice now, lord, I have heard of the Paths of the Dead,\" he said. \"What are they? And where has Strider, I mean the Lord Aragorn, where has he gone?\"\n\nThe king sighed, but no one answered, until at last Éomer spoke. \"We do not know, and our hearts are heavy,\" he said. \"But as for the Paths of the Dead, you have yourself walked on their first steps. Nay, I speak no words of ill omen! The road that we have climbed is the approach to the Door, yonder in the Dimholt. But what lies beyond no man knows.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No man knows,\" said Théoden: 'yet ancient legend, now seldom spoken, has somewhat to report. If these old tales speak true that have comedown from father to son in the House of Eorl, then the Door under Dwimorberg leads to a secret way that goes beneath the mountain to some forgotten end. But none have ever ventured into search its secrets, since Baldor, son of Brego, passed the Door and was never seen among men again. A rash vow he spoke, as he drained the horn at that feast which Brego made to hallow new-built Meduseld, and he came never to the high seat of which he was the heir.\n\n\"Folk say that Dead Men out of the Dark Years guard the way and will suffer no living man to come to their hidden halls; but at whiles they may themselves be seen passing out of the door like shadows and down the stony road. Then the people of Harrowdale shut fast their doors and shroud their windows and are afraid. But the Dead come seldom forth and only at times of great unquiet and coming death.\"\n\n\"Yet it is said in Harrowdale,\" said Éowyn in a low voice, \"that in the moonless nights but little while ago a great host in strange array passed by. Whence they came none knew, but they went up the stony road and vanished into the hill, as if they went to keep a tryst.\"\n\n\"Then why has Aragorn gone that way?\" asked Merry. \"Don't you know anything that would explain it? '\n\n\"Unless he has spoken words to you as his friend that we have not heard,\" said Éomer, \"none now in the land of the living can tell his purpose.\"\n\n\"Greatly changed he seemed tome since I saw him first in the king's house, \"said Éowyn:\"grimmer, older. Fey I thought him, and like one whom the Dead call. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Maybe he was called,\" said Théoden; 'and my heart tells me that I shall not see him again. Yet he is a kingly man of high destiny. And take comfort in this, daughter, since comfort you seem to need in your grief for this guest. It is said that when the Eorlingas came out of the North and passed at length up the Snowbourn, seeking strong places of refuge in time of need, Brego and his son Baldor climbed the Stair of the Hold and so came before the Door. On the threshold sat an old man, aged beyond guess of years; tall and kingly he had been, but now he was withered as an old stone. Indeed for stone they took him, for he moved not, and he said no word, until they sought to pass him by and enter. And then a voice came out of him, as it were out of the ground, and to their amaze it spoke in the western tongue: The way is shut.\n\n'Then they halted and looked at him and saw that he lived still; but he did not look at them. The way is shut, his voice said again. It was made by those who are Dead, and the Dead keep it, until the time comes. The way is shut.\n\n\"And when will that time be? said Baldor. But no answer did he ever get. For the old man died in that hour and fell upon his face; and no other tidings of the ancient dwellers in the mountains have our folk ever learned. Yet maybe at last the time foretold has come, and Aragorn may pass.\"\n\n\"But how shall a man discover whether that time become or no, save by daring the Door?\" said Éomer. \"And that way I would not go though all the hosts of Mordor stood before me, and I were alone and had no other refuge. Alas that a fey mood should fall on a man so greathearted in this hour of need! Are there not evil things enough abroad without seeking them under the earth? War is at hand.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He paused, for at that moment there was a noise outside, a man's voice crying the name of Théoden, and the challenge of the guard.\n\nPresently the captain of the Guard thrust aside the curtain. \"A man is here, lord,\" he said, \"an errand-rider of Gondor. He wishes to come before you at once.\"\n\n\"Let him come!\" said Théoden.\n\nA tall man entered, and Merry choked back a cry; fora moment it seemed to him that Boromir was alive again and had returned. Then he saw that it was not so; the man was a stranger, though as like to Boromir as if he were one of his kin, tall and grey-eyed and proud. He was clad as a rider with a cloak of dark green over a coat of fine mail; on the front of his helm was wrought a small silver star. In his hand he bore a single arrow, black-feathered and barbed with steel, but the point was painted red.\n\nHe sank on one knee and presented the arrow to Théoden. \"Hail, Lord of the Rohirrim, friend of Gondor!\" he said. \"Hirgon I am, errand-rider of Denethor, who bring you this token of war. Gondor is in great need. Often the Rohirrim have aided us, but now the Lord Denethor asks for all your strength and all your speed, lest Gondor fall at last.\"\n\n\"The Red Arrow!\" said Théoden, holding it, as one who receives a summons long expected and yet dreadful when it comes. His hand trembled. \"The Red Arrow has not been seen in the Mark in all my years! Has it indeed come to that? And what does the Lord Denethor reckon that all my strength and all my speed maybe?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"That is best known to yourself, lord,\" said Hirgon. \"But erelong it may well come to pass that Minas Tirith is surrounded, and unless you have the strength to break a siege of many powers, the Lord Denethor bids me say that he judges that the strong arms of the Rohirrim would be better within his walls than without.\"\n\n\"But he knows that we area people who fight rather upon horseback and in the open, and that we are also a scattered people and time is needed for the gathering of our Riders. Is it not true, Hirgon, that the Lord of Minas Tirith knows more than he sets in his message? For we are already at war, as you may have seen, and you do not find us all unprepared. Gandalf the Grey has been among us, and even now we are mustering for battle in the East.\"\n\n\"What the Lord Denethor may know or guess of all these things I cannot say,\" answered Hirgon. \"But indeed our case is desperate. My lord does not issue any command to you, he begs you only to remember old friendship and oaths long spoken, and for your own good to do all that you may. It is reported to us that many kings have ridden in from the East to the service of Mordor. From the North to the field of Dagorlad there is skirmish and rumour of war. In the South the Haradrim are moving, and fear has fallen on all our coastlands, so that little help will come to us thence. Make haste! For it is before the walls of Minas Tirith that the doom of our time will be decided, and if the tide be not stemmed there, then it will flow overall the fair fields of Rohan, and even in this Hold among the hills there shall be no refuge.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Dark tidings,\" said Théoden, 'yet not all unguessed. But say to Denethor that even if Rohan itself felt no peril, still we would come to his aid. But we have suffered much loss in our battles with Saruman the traitor, and we must still think of our frontier to the north and east, as his own tidings make clear. So great a power as the Dark Lord seems now to wield might well contain us in battle before the City and yet strike with great force across the River away beyond the Gate of Kings.\n\n\"But we will speak no longer counsels of prudence. We will come. The weapontake was set for the morrow. When all is ordered we will set out. Ten thousand spears I might have sent riding over the plain to the dismay of your foes. It will be less now, I fear; for I will not leave my strongholds all unguarded. Yet six thousands at the least shall ride behind me. For say to Denethor that in this hour the King of the Mark himself will comedown to the land of Gondor, though maybe he will not ride back. But it is along road, and man and beast must reach the end with strength to fight. A week it maybe from tomorrow's morn ere you hear the cry of the Sons of Eorl coming from the North. '\n\n\"A week!\" said Hirgon. \"If it must be so, it must. But you are like to find only ruined walls in seven days from now, unless other help unlooked-for comes. Still, you may at the least disturb the Orcs and Swarthy Men from their feasting in the White Tower.\"\n\n\"At the least we will do that,\" said Théoden. \"But I myself am new-come from battle and long journey, and I will now go to rest. Tarry here this night. Then you shall look on the muster of Rohan and ride away the gladder for the sight, and the swifter for the rest. In the morning counsels are best, and night changes many thoughts.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "With that the king stood up, and they all rose. \"Go now each to your rest,\" he said, \"and sleep well. And you, Master Meriadoc, I need no more tonight. But be ready to my callas soon as the Sun is risen.\"\n\n\"I will be ready,\" said Merry, \"even if you bid me ride with you on the Paths of the Dead.\"\n\n\"Speak not words of omen!\" said the king. \"For there maybe more roads than one that could bear that name. But I did not say that I would bid you ride with me on any road. Goodnight!\"\n\n\"I won't be left behind, to be called for on return! \"said Merry.\"I won't be left, I won't. ' And repeating this over and over again to himself he fell asleep at last in his tent.\n\nHe was wakened by a man shaking him. \"Wake up, wake up, Master Holbytla!\" he cried; and at length Merry came out of deep dreams and sat up with a start. It still seemed very dark, he thought.\n\n\"What is the matter?\" he asked.\n\n\"The king calls for you.\"\n\n\"But the Sun has not risen, yet,\" said Merry.\n\n\"No, and will not rise today, Master Holbytla. Nor ever again, one would think under this cloud. But time does not standstill, though the Sun be lost. Make haste!\"\n\nFlinging on some clothes, Merry looked outside. The world was darkling. The very air seemed brown, and all things about were black and grey and shadowless; there was a great stillness. No shape of cloud could be seen, unless it were faraway westward, where the furthest groping fingers of the great gloom still crawled onwards and a little light leaked through them. Overhead there hung a heavy roof, sombre and featureless, and light seemed rather to be failing than growing." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Merry saw many folk standing, looking up and muttering; all their faces were grey and sad, and some were afraid. With a sinking heart he made his way to the king. Hirgon the rider of Gondor was there before him, and beside him stood now another man, like him and dressed alike, but shorter and broader. As Merry entered he was speaking to the king.\n\n\"It comes from Mordor, lord,\" he said. \"It began last night at sunset. From the hills in the Eastfold of your realm I saw it rise and creep across the sky, and all night as I rode it came behind eating up the stars. Now the great cloud hangs overall the land between here and the Mountains of Shadow; and it is deepening. War has already begun.\"\n\nFora while the king sat silent. At last he spoke. \"So we come to it in the end,\" he said: \"the great battle of our time, in which many things shall pass away. But at least there is no longer need for hiding. We will ride the straightway and the open road and with all our speed. The muster shall begin at once, and wait for none that tarry. Have you good store in Minas Tirith? For if we must ride now in all haste, then we must ride light, with but meal and water enough to last us into battle.\"\n\n\"We have very great store long prepared,\" answered Hirgon. \"Ride now as light and as swift as you may!\"\n\n\"Then call the heralds, Éomer,\" said Théoden. \"Let the Riders be marshalled!\"\n\nÉomer went out, and presently the trumpets rang in the Hold and were answered by many others from below; but their voices no longer sounded clear and brave as they had seemed to Merry the night before. Dull they seemed and harsh in the heavy air, braying ominously." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The king turned to Merry. \"I am going to war, Master Meriadoc,\" he said. \"In a little while I shall take the road. I release you from my service, but not from my friendship. You shall abide here, and if you will, you shall serve the Lady Éowyn, who will govern the folk in my stead.\"\n\n\"But, but, lord,\" Merry stammered, \"I offered you my sword. I do not want to be parted from you like this, Théoden King. And as all my friends have gone to the battle, I should be ashamed to stay behind.\"\n\n\"But we ride on horses tall and swift,\" said Théoden; \"and great though your heart be, you cannot ride on such beasts.\"\n\n\"Then tie me onto the back of one, or let me hang on a stirrup, or something,\" said Merry. \"It is along way to run; but run I shall, if I cannot ride, even if I wear my feet off and arrive weeks too late.\"\n\nThéoden smiled. \"Rather than that I would bear you with me on Snowmane,\" he said. \"But at the least you shall ride with me to Edoras and look on Meduseld; for that way I shall go. So far Stybba can bear you: the great race will not begin till we reach the plains.\"\n\nThen Éowyn rose up. \"Come now, Meriadoc!\" she said. \"I will show you the gear that I have prepared for you.\" They went out together. \"This request only did Aragorn make tome,\" said Éowyn, as they passed among the tents, \"that you should be armed for battle. I have granted it, as I could. For my heart tells me that you will need such gear ere the end.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Now she led Merry to a booth among the lodges of the king's guard; and there an armourer brought out to her a small helm, and around shield, and other gear.\n\n\"No mail have we to fit you,\" said Éowyn, \"nor anytime for the forging of such a hauberk; but here is also a stout jerkin of leather, a belt, and a knife. A sword you have.\"\n\nMerry bowed, and the lady showed him the shield, which was like the shield that had been given to Gimli, and it bore on it the device of the white horse. \"Take all these things,\" she said, \"and bear them to good fortune! Farewell now, Master Meriadoc! Yet maybe we shall meet again, you and I.\"\n\nSo it was that amid a gathering gloom the King of the Mark made ready to lead all his Riders on the eastward road. Hearts were heavy and many quailed in the shadow. But they were astern people, loyal to their lord, and little weeping or murmuring was heard, even in the camp in the Hold where the exiles from Edoras were housed, women and children and old men. Doom hungover them, but they faced it silently.\n\nTwo swift hours passed, and now the king sat upon his white horse, glimmering in the half-light. Proud and tall he seemed, though the hair that flowed beneath his high helm was like snow; and many marvelled at him and took heart to see him unbent and unafraid.\n\nThereon the wide flats beside the noisy river were marshalled in many companies well nigh five and fifty hundreds of Riders fully armed, and many hundreds of other men with spare horses lightly burdened. A single trumpet sounded. The king raised his hand, and then silently the host of the Mark began to move. Foremost went twelve of the king's household-men, Riders of renown. Then the king followed with Éomer on his right. He had said farewell to Éowyn above in the Hold, and the memory was grievous; but now he turned his mind to the road that lay ahead. Behind him Merry rode on Stybba with the errand riders of Gondor, and behind them again twelve more of the king's household. They passed down the long ranks of waiting men with stern and unmoved faces. But when they had come almost to the end of the line one looked up glancing keenly at the hobbit. A young man, Merry thought as he returned the glance, less in height and girth than most. He caught the glint of clear grey eyes; and then he shivered, for it came suddenly to him that it was the face of one without hope who goes in search of death." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "On down the grey road they went beside the Snowbourn rushing on its stones; through the hamlets of Underharrow and Upbourn, where many sad faces of women looked out from dark doors; and so without horn or harp or music of men's voices the great ride into the East began with which the songs of Rohan were busy for many long lives of men thereafter.\n\nFrom dark Dunharrow in the dim morning\n\nwith thane and captain rode Thengel's son:\n\nto Edoras he came, the ancient halls\n\nof the Mark-wardens mist-enshrouded;\n\ngolden timbers were in gloom mantled.\n\nFarewell he bade to his free people,\n\nhearth and high-seat, and the hallowed places,\n\nwhere long he had feasted ere the light faded.\n\nForth rode the king, fear behind him,\n\nfate before him. Fealty kept he;\n\noaths he had taken, all fulfilled them.\n\nForth rode Théoden. Five nights and days\n\neast and onward rode the Eorlingas\n\nthrough Folde and Fenmarch and the Firienwood,\n\nsix thousand spears to Sunlending,\n\nMundburg the mighty under Mindolluin,\n\nSea-kings' city in the South-kingdom\n\nfoe-beleaguered, fire-encircled.\n\nDoom drove them on. Darkness took them,\n\nhorse and horseman; hoofbeats afar\n\nsank into silence: so the songs tell us.\n\nIt was indeed in deepening gloom that the king came to Edoras, although it was then but noon by the hour. There he halted only a short while and strengthened his host by some threescore of Riders that came late to the weapontake. Now having eaten he made ready to set out again, and he wished his esquire a kindly farewell. But Merry begged for the last time not to be parted from him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"This is no journey for such steeds as Stybba, as I have told you,\" said Théoden. \"And in such a battle as we think to make on the fields of Gondor what would you do, Master Meriadoc, swordthain though you be, and greater of heart than of stature?\"\n\n\"As for that, who can tell?\" answered Merry. \"But why, lord, did you receive meas swordthain, if not to stay by your side? And I would not have it said of me in song only that I was always left behind!\"\n\n\"I received you for your safe-keeping,\" answered Théoden; \"and also to do as I might bid. None of my Riders can bear you as burden. If the battle were before my gates, maybe your deeds would be remembered by the minstrels; but it is a hundred leagues and two to Mundburg where Denethor is lord. I will say no more.\"\n\nMerry bowed and went away unhappily, and stared at the lines of horsemen. Already the companies were preparing to start: men were tightening girths, looking to saddles, caressing their horses; some gazed uneasily at the lowering sky. Unnoticed a Rider came up and spoke softly in the hobbit's ear.\n\n\"Where will wants not, away opens, so we say,\" he whispered; \"and so I have found myself.\" Merry looked up and saw that it was the young Rider whom he had noticed in the morning. \"You wish to go whither the Lord of the Mark goes: I see it in your face.\"\n\n\"I do,\" said Merry.\n\n\"Then you shall go with me,\" said the Rider. \"I will bear you before me, under my cloak until we are far afield, and this darkness is yet darker. Such goodwill should not be denied. Say no more to any man, but come!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Thank you indeed!\" said Merry. \"Thank you, sir, though I do not know your name.\"\n\n\"Do you not?\" said the Rider softly. \"Then call me Dernhelm.\"\n\nThus it came to pass that when the king set out, before Dernhelm sat Meriadoc the hobbit, and the great grey steed Windfola made little of the burden; for Dernhelm was less in weight than many men, though lithe and well-knit in frame.\n\nOn into the shadow they rode. In the willow-thickets where Snowbourn flowed into Entwash, twelve leagues east of Edoras, they camped that night. And then on again through the Folde; and through the Fenmarch, whereto their right great oakwoods climbed on the skirts of the hills under the shades of dark Halifirien by the borders of Gondor; but away to their left the mists lay on the marshes fed by the mouths of Entwash. And as they rode rumour came of war in the North. Lone men, riding wild, brought word of foes assailing their east-borders, of orc-hosts marching in the Wold of Rohan.\n\n\"Ride on! Ride on!\" cried Éomer. \"Too late now to turn aside. The fens of Entwash must guard our flank. Haste now we need. Ride on!\"\n\nAnd so King Théoden departed from his own realm, and mile by mile the long road wound away, and the beacon hills marched past: Calenhad, Min-Rimmon, Erelas, Nardol. But their fires were quenched. All the lands were grey and still; and ever the shadow deepened before them, and hope waned in every heart." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Pippin was roused by Gandalf. Candles were lit in their chamber, for only a dim twilight came through the windows; the air was heavy as with approaching thunder.\n\n\"What is the time?\" said Pippin yawning.\n\n\"Past the second hour,\" said Gandalf. \"Time to getup and make yourself presentable. You are summoned to the Lord of the City to learn your new duties.\"\n\n\"And will he provide breakfast?\"\n\n\"No! I have provided it: all that you will get till noon. Food is now doled out by order.\"\n\nPippin looked ruefully at the small loaf and (he thought) very inadequate pat of butter which was set out for him, beside a cup of thin milk. \"Why did you bring me here?\" he said.\n\n\"You know quite well,\" said Gandalf. \"To keep you out of mischief; and if you do not like being here, you can remember that you brought it on yourself.\" Pippin said no more.\n\nBefore long he was walking with Gandalf once more down the cold corridor to the door of the Tower Hall. There Denethor satin a grey gloom, like an old patient spider, Pippin thought; he did not seem to have moved since the day before. He beckoned Gandalf to a seat, but Pippin was left fora while standing unheeded. Presently the old man turned to him:\n\n\"Well, Master Peregrin, I hope that you used yesterday to your profit, and to your liking? Though I fear that the board is barer in this city than you could wish.\"\n\nPippin had an uncomfortable feeling that most of what he had said or done was somehow known to the Lord of the City, and much was guessed of what he thought as well. He did not answer." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What would you do in my service?\"\n\n\"I thought, sir, that you would tell me my duties.\"\n\n\"I will, when I learn what you are fit for,\" said Denethor. \"But that I shall learn soonest, maybe, if I keep you beside me. The esquire of my chamber has begged leave to go to the out-garrison, so you shall take his place fora while. You shall wait on me, bear errands, and talk tome, if war and council leave meany leisure. Can you sing?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Pippin. \"Well, yes, well enough for my own people. But we have no songs fit for great halls and evil times, lord. We seldom sing of anything more terrible than wind or rain. And most of my songs are about things that make us laugh; or about food and drink, of course.\"\n\n\"And why should such songs be unfit for my halls, or for such hours as these? We who have lived long under the Shadow may surely listen to echoes from a land untroubled by it? Then we may feel that our vigil was not fruitless, though it may have been thankless.\"\n\nPippin's heart sank. He did not relish the idea of singing any song of the Shire to the Lord of Minas Tirith, certainly not the comic ones that he knew best; they were too, well, rustic for such an occasion. He was however spared the ordeal for the present. He was not commanded to sing. Denethor turned to Gandalf, asking questions about the Rohirrim and their policies, and the position of Éomer, the king's nephew. Pippin marvelled at the amount that the Lord seemed to know about a people that lived faraway, though it must, he thought, be many years since Denethor himself had ridden abroad." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Presently Denethor waved to Pippin and dismissed him again fora while. \"Go to the armouries of the Citadel,\" he said, \"and get you there the livery and gear of the Tower. It will be ready. It was commanded yesterday. Return when you are clad!\"\n\nIt was as he said; and Pippin soon found himself arrayed in strange garments, all of black and silver. He had a small hauberk, its rings forged of steel, maybe, yet black as jet; and a high-crowned helm with small raven-wings on either side, set with a silver star in the centre of the circlet. Above the mail was a short surcoat of black, but broidered on the breast in silver with the token of the Tree. His old clothes were folded and put away, but he was permitted to keep the grey cloak of Lórien, though not to wear it when on duty. He looked now, had he known it, verily Ernil i Pheriannath, the Prince of the Halflings, that folk had called him; but he felt uncomfortable. And the gloom began to weigh on his spirits.\n\nIt was dark and dim all day. From the sunless dawn until evening the heavy shadow had deepened, and all hearts in the City were oppressed. Far above a great cloud streamed slowly westward from the Black Land, devouring light, borne upon a wind of war; but below the air was still and breathless, as if all the Vale of Anduin waited for the onset of a ruinous storm.\n\nAbout the eleventh hour, released at last fora while from service, Pippin came out and went in search of food and drink to cheer his heavy heart and make his task of waiting more supportable. In the messes he met Beregond again, who had just come from an errand over the Pelennor out to the Guard-towers upon the Causeway. Together they strolled out to the walls; for Pippin felt imprisoned indoors, and stifled even in the lofty citadel. Now they sat side by side again in the embrasure looking eastward, where they had eaten and talked the day before." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was the sunset-hour, but the great pall had now stretched far into the West, and only as it sank at last into the Sea did the Sun escape to send out a brief farewell gleam before the night, even as Frodo saw it at the Cross-roads touching the head of the fallen king. But to the fields of the Pelennor, under the shadow of Mindolluin, there came no gleam: they were brown and drear.\n\nAlready it seemed years to Pippin since he had sat there before, in some half-forgotten time when he had still been a hobbit, alight-hearted wanderer touched little by the perils he had passed through. Now he was one small soldier in a city preparing fora great assault, clad in the proud but sombre manner of the Tower of Guard.\n\nIn some other time and place Pippin might have been pleased with his new array, but he knew now that he was taking part in no play; he was in deadly earnest the servant of a grim master in the greatest peril. The hauberk was burdensome, and the helm weighed upon his head. His cloak he had cast aside upon the seat. He turned his tired gaze away from the darkling fields below and yawned, and then he sighed.\n\n\"You are weary of this day?\" said Beregond.\n\n\"Yes,\" said Pippin, \"very: tired outwith idleness and waiting. I have kicked my heels at the door of my master's chamber for many slow hours, while he has debated with Gandalf and the Prince and other great persons. And I'm not used, Master Beregond, to waiting hungry on others while they eat. It is a sore trial fora hobbit, that. No doubt you will think I should feel the honour more deeply. But what is the good of such honour? Indeed what is the good even of food and drink under this creeping shadow? What does it mean? The very air seems thick and brown! Do you often have such glooms when the wind is in the East?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Nay,\" said Beregond, \"this is no weather of the world. This is some device of his malice; some broil of fume from the Mountain of Fire that he sends to darken hearts and counsel. And so it doth indeed. I wish the Lord Faramir would return. He would not be dismayed. But now, who knows if he will ever comeback across the River out of the Darkness?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Pippin, \"Gandalf, too, is anxious. He was disappointed, I think, not to find Faramir here. And where has he got to himself? He left the Lord's council before the noon-meal, and in no good mood either, I thought. Perhaps he has some foreboding of bad news. '\n\nSuddenly as they talked they were stricken dumb, frozen as it were to listening stones. Pippin cowered down with his hands pressed to his ears; but Beregond, who had been looking out from the battlement as he spoke of Faramir, remained there, stiffened, staring outwith starting eyes. Pippin knew the shuddering cry that he had heard: it was the same that he had heard long ago in the Marish of the Shire, but now it was grown in power and hatred, piercing the heart with a poisonous despair.\n\nAt last Beregond spoke with an effort. \"They have come!\" he said. \"Take courage and look! There are fell things below.\"\n\nReluctantly Pippin climbed onto the seat and looked out over the wall. The Pelennor lay dim beneath him, fading away to the scarce guessed line of the Great River. But now wheeling swiftly across it, like shadows of untimely night, he saw in the middle airs below him five birdlike forms, horrible as carrion-fowl yet greater than eagles, cruel as death. Now they swooped near, venturing almost within bowshot of the walls, now they circled away." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Black Riders!\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "muttered Pippin. \"Black Riders of the air! But see, Beregond!\" he cried. \"They are looking for something, surely? See how they wheel and swoop, always down to that point over there! And can you see something moving on the ground? Dark little things. Yes, men on horses: four or five. Ah! I cannot stand it! Gandalf! Gandalf save us!\"\n\nAnother long screech rose and fell, and he threw himself back again from the wall, panting like a hunted animal. Faint and seemingly remote through that shuddering cry he heard winding up from below the sound of a trumpet ending on along high note.\n\n\"Faramir! The Lord Faramir! It is his call!\" cried Beregond. \"Brave heart! But how can he win to the Gate, if these foul hell-hawks have other weapons than fear? But look! They hold on. They will make the Gate. No! the horses are running mad. Look! the men are thrown; they are running on foot. No, one is still up, but he rides back to the others. That will be the Captain: he can master both beasts and men. Ah! there one of the foul things is stooping on him. Help! help! Will no one go out to him? Faramir!\"\n\nWith that Beregond sprang away and ran off into the gloom. Ashamed of his terror, while Beregond of the Guard thought first of the captain whom he loved, Pippin got up and peered out. At that moment he caught a flash of white and silver coming from the North, like a small star down on the dusky fields. It moved with the speed of an arrow and grew as it came, converging swiftly with the flight of the four men towards the Gate. It seemed to Pippin that a pale light was spread about it and the heavy shadows gave way before it; and then as it drew near he thought that he heard, like an echo in the walls, a great voice calling." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Gandalf!\" he cried. \"Gandalf! He always turns up when things are darkest. Goon! Goon, White Rider! Gandalf, Gandalf!\" he shouted wildly, like an onlooker at a great race urging on a runner who is far beyond encouragement.\n\nBut now the dark swooping shadows were aware of the newcomer. One wheeled towards him; but it seemed to Pippin that he raised his hand, and from it a shaft of white light stabbed upwards. The Nazgûl gave along wailing cry and swerved away; and with that the four others wavered, and then rising in swift spirals they passed away eastward vanishing into the lowering cloud above; and down on the Pelennor it seemed fora while less dark.\n\nPippin watched, and he saw the horseman and the White Rider meet and halt, waiting for those on foot. Men now hurried out to them from the City; and soon they all passed from sight under the outer walls, and he knew that they were entering the Gate. Guessing that they would come at once to the Tower and the Steward, he hurried to the entrance of the citadel. There he was joined by many others who had watched the race and the rescue from the high walls.\n\nIt was not long before a clamour was heard in the streets leading up from the outer circles, and there was much cheering and crying of the names of Faramir and Mithrandir. Presently Pippin saw torches, and followed by a press of people two horsemen riding slowly: one was in white but shining no longer, pale in the twilight as if his fire was spent or veiled; the other was dark and his head was bowed. They dismounted, and as grooms took Shadowfax and the other horse, they walked forward to the sentinel at the gate: Gandalf steadily, his grey cloak flung back, and afire still smouldering in his eyes; the other, clad all in green, slowly, swaying a little as a weary or a wounded man." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Pippin pressed forward as they passed under the lamp beneath the gate-arch, and when he saw the paleface of Faramir he caught his breath. It was the face of one who has been assailed by a great fear or anguish, but has mastered it and now is quiet. Proud and grave he stood fora moment as he spoke to the guard, and Pippin gazing at him saw how closely he resembled his brother Boromir– whom Pippin had liked from the first, admiring the great man's lordly but kindly manner. Yet suddenly for Faramir his heart was strangely moved with a feeling that he had not known before. Here was one with an air of high nobility such as Aragorn at times revealed, less high perhaps, yet also less incalculable and remote: one of the Kings of Men born into a later time, but touched with the wisdom and sadness of the Elder Race. He knew now why Beregond spoke his name with love. He was a captain that men would follow, that he would follow, even under the shadow of the black wings.\n\n\"Faramir!\" he cried aloud with the others. \"Faramir!\" And Faramir, catching his strange voice among the clamour of the men of the City, turned and looked down at him and was amazed.\n\n\"Whence come you?\" he said. \"A halfling, and in the livery of the Tower! Whence...?\"\n\nBut with that Gandalf stepped to his side and spoke. \"He came with me from the land of the Halflings,\" he said. \"He came with me. But let us not tarry here. There is much to say and to do, and you are weary. He shall come with us. Indeed he must, for if he does not forget his new duties more easily than I do, he must attend on his lord again within this hour. Come, Pippin, follow us!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "So at length they came to the private chamber of the Lord of the City." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There deep seats were set about a brazier of charcoal; and wine was brought; and there Pippin, hardly noticed, stood behind the chair of Denethor and felt his weariness little, so eagerly did he listen to all that was said.\n\nWhen Faramir had taken white bread and drunk a draught of wine, he sat upon a low chair at his father's left hand. Removed a little upon the other side sat Gandalf in a chair of carven wood; and he seemed at first to be asleep. For at the beginning Faramir spoke only of the errand upon which he had been sent out ten days before, and he brought tidings of Ithilien and of movements of the Enemy and his allies; and he told of the fight on the road when the men of Harad and their great beast were overthrown: a captain reporting to his master such matters as had often been heard before, small things of border-war that now seemed useless and petty, shorn of their renown.\n\nThen suddenly Faramir looked at Pippin. \"But now we come to strange matters,\" he said. \"For this is not the first halfling that I have seen walking out of northern legends into the Southlands.\"\n\nAt that Gandalf sat up and gripped the arms of his chair; but he said nothing, and with a look stopped the exclamation on Pippin's lips. Denethor looked at their faces and nodded his head, as though in sign that he had read much there before it was spoken. Slowly, while the others sat silent and still, Faramir told his tale, with his eyes for the most part on Gandalf, though now and again his glance strayed to Pippin, as if to refresh his memory of others that he had seen.\n\nAs his story was unfolded of his meeting with Frodo and his servant and of the events at Henneth Annûn, Pippin became aware that Gandalf's hands were trembling as they clutched the carven wood. White they seemed now and very old, and as he looked at them, suddenly with a thrill of fear Pippin knew that Gandalf, Gandalf himself, was troubled, even afraid. The air of the room was close and still. At last when Faramir spoke of his parting with the travellers, and of their resolve to go to Cirith Ungol, his voice fell, and he shook his head and sighed. Then Gandalf sprang up." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Cirith Ungol? Morgul Vale?\" he said. \"The time, Faramir, the time? When did you part with them? When would they reach that accursed valley?\"\n\n\"I parted with them in the morning two days ago,\" said Faramir. \"It is fifteen leagues thence to the vale of the Morgulduin, if they went straight south; and then they would be still five leagues westward of the accursed Tower. At swiftest they could not come there before today, and maybe they have not come there yet. Indeed I see what you fear. But the darkness is not due to their venture. It began yestereve, and all Ithilien was under shadow last night. It is clear tome that the Enemy has long planned an assault onus, and its hour had already been determined before ever the travellers left my keeping.\"\n\nGandalf paced the floor. \"The morning of two days ago, nigh on three days of journey! How far is the place where you parted?\"\n\n\"Some twenty-five leagues as a bird flies,\" answered Faramir. \"But I could not come more swiftly. Yestereve I lay at Cair Andros, the long isle in the River northward which we hold in defence; and horses are kept on the hither bank. As the dark drew on I knew that haste was needed, so I rode thence with three others that could also be horsed. The rest of my company I sent south to strengthen the garrison at the fords of Osgiliath. I hope that I have not done ill?\" He looked at his father.\n\n\"Ill?\" cried Denethor, and his eyes flashed suddenly. 'Why do you ask? The men were under your command. Or do you ask for my judgement on all your deeds? Your bearing is lowly in my presence, yet it is long now since you turned from your own way at my counsel. See, you have spoken skilfully, as ever; but I, have I not seen your eye fixed on Mithrandir, seeking whether you said well or too much? He has long had your heart in his keeping." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"My son, your father is old but not yet dotard. I can see and hear, as was my wont; and little of what you have half said or left unsaid is now hidden from me. I know the answer to many riddles. Alas, alas for Boromir!\"\n\n\"If what I have done displeases you, my father,\" said Faramir quietly, \"I wish I had known your counsel before the burden of so weighty a judgement was thrust on me.\"\n\n\"Would that have availed to change your judgement?\" said Denethor. \"You would still have done just so, I deem. I know you well. Ever your desire is to appear lordly and generous as a king of old, gracious, gentle. That may well befit one of high race, if he sits in power and peace. But in desperate hours gentleness maybe repaid with death.\"\n\n\"So be it,\" said Faramir.\n\n\"So be it!\" cried Denethor. \"But not with your death only, Lord Faramir: with the death also of your father, and of all your people, whom it is your part to protect now that Boromir is gone.\"\n\n\"Do you wish then,\" said Faramir, \"that our places had been exchanged?\"\n\n\"Yes, I wish that indeed,\" said Denethor. \"For Boromir was loyal tome and no wizard's pupil. He would have remembered his father's need, and would not have squandered what fortune gave. He would have brought me a mighty gift.\"\n\nFora moment Faramir's restraint gave way.\"I would ask you, my father, to remember why it was that I, not he, was in Ithilien. On one occasion at least your counsel has prevailed, not long ago. It was the Lord of the City that gave the errand to him. '" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Partner with the author and carry on with the tale.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, war\nAuthor: J.R.R. Tolkien\nTitle: The Return of the King\nChapter: 23" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"My son, your father is old but not yet dotard. I can see and hear, as was my wont; and little of what you have half said or left unsaid is now hidden from me. I know the answer to many riddles. Alas, alas for Boromir!\"\n\n\"If what I have done displeases you, my father,\" said Faramir quietly, \"I wish I had known your counsel before the burden of so weighty a judgement was thrust on me.\"\n\n\"Would that have availed to change your judgement?\" said Denethor. \"You would still have done just so, I deem. I know you well. Ever your desire is to appear lordly and generous as a king of old, gracious, gentle. That may well befit one of high race, if he sits in power and peace. But in desperate hours gentleness maybe repaid with death.\"\n\n\"So be it,\" said Faramir.\n\n\"So be it!\" cried Denethor. \"But not with your death only, Lord Faramir: with the death also of your father, and of all your people, whom it is your part to protect now that Boromir is gone.\"\n\n\"Do you wish then,\" said Faramir, \"that our places had been exchanged?\"\n\n\"Yes, I wish that indeed,\" said Denethor. \"For Boromir was loyal tome and no wizard's pupil. He would have remembered his father's need, and would not have squandered what fortune gave. He would have brought me a mighty gift.\"\n\nFora moment Faramir's restraint gave way.\"I would ask you, my father, to remember why it was that I, not he, was in Ithilien. On one occasion at least your counsel has prevailed, not long ago. It was the Lord of the City that gave the errand to him. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Stir not the bitterness in the cup that I mixed for myself,\" said Denethor. \"Have I not tasted it now many nights upon my tongue, foreboding that worse yet lay in the dregs? As now indeed I find. Would it were not so! Would that this thing had come tome!\"\n\n\"Comfort yourself!\" said Gandalf. \"In no case would Boromir have brought it to you. He is dead, and died well; may he sleep in peace! Yet you deceive yourself. He would have stretched out his hand to this thing, and taking it he would have fallen. He would have kept it for his own, and when he returned you would not have known your son.\"\n\nThe face of Denethor set hard and cold. \"You found Boromir less apt to your hand, did you not?\" he said softly. \"But I who was his father say that he would have brought it tome. You are wise, maybe, Mithrandir, yet with all your subtleties you have not all wisdom. Counsels maybe found that are neither the webs of wizards nor the haste of fools. I have in this matter more lore and wisdom than you deem.\"\n\n\"What then is your wisdom?\" said Gandalf.\n\n\"Enough to perceive that there are two follies to avoid. To use this thing is perilous. At this hour, to send it in the hands of a witless halfling into the land of the Enemy himself, as you have done, and this son of mine, that is madness.\"\n\n\"And the Lord Denethor what would he have done?\"\n\n\"Neither. But most surely not for any argument would he have set this thing at a hazard beyond all but a fool's hope, risking our utter ruin, if the Enemy should recover what he lost. Nay, it should have been kept, hidden, hidden dark and deep. Not used, I say, unless at the uttermost end of need, but set beyond his grasp, save by a victory so final that what then befell would not trouble us, being dead. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"You think, as is your wont, my lord, of Gondor only,\" said Gandalf." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Yet there are other men and other lives, and time still to be. And for me, I pity even his slaves.\"\n\n\"And where will other men look for help, if Gondor falls?\" answered Denethor. \"If I had this thing now in the deep vaults of this citadel, we should not then shake with dread under this gloom, fearing the worst, and our counsels would be undisturbed. If you do not trust me to endure the test, you do not know me yet.\"\n\n\"Nonetheless I do not trust you,\" said Gandalf. \"Had I done so, I could have sent this thing hitherto your keeping and spared myself and others much anguish. And now hearing you speak I trust you less, no more than Boromir. Nay, stay your wrath! I do not trust myself in this, and I refused this thing, even as a freely given gift. You are strong and can still in some matters govern yourself, Denethor; yet if you had received this thing, it would have overthrown you. Were it buried beneath the roots of Mindolluin, still it would burn your mind away, as the darkness grows, and the yet worse things follow that soon shall come upon us.\"\n\nFora moment the eyes of Denethor glowed again as he faced Gandalf, and Pippin felt once more the strain between their wills; but now almost it seemed as if their glances were like blades from eye to eye, flickering as they fenced. Pippin trembled fearing some dreadful stroke. But suddenly Denethor relaxed and grew cold again. He shrugged his shoulders.\n\n\"If I had! If you had!\" he said. \"Such words and ifs are vain. It has gone into the Shadow, and only time will show what doom awaits it, and us. The time will not belong. In what is left, let all who fight the Enemy in their fashion beat one, and keep hope while they may, and after hope still the hardihood to die free.\" He turned to Faramir. \"What think you of the garrison at Osgiliath?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It is not strong,\" said Faramir. \"I have sent the company of Ithilien to strengthen it, as I have said.\"\n\n\"Not enough, I deem,\" said Denethor. \"It is there that the first blow will fall. They will have need of some stout captain there.\"\n\n\"There and elsewhere in many places,\" said Faramir, and sighed. \"Alas for my brother, whom I too loved!\" He rose. \"May I have your leave, father?\" And then he swayed and leaned upon his father's chair.\n\n\"You are weary, I see,\" said Denethor. \"You have ridden fast and far, and under shadows of evil in the air, I am told.\"\n\n\"Let us not speak of that!\" said Faramir.\n\n\"Then we will not,\" said Denethor. \"Go now and rest as you may. Tomorrow's need will be sterner. '\n\nAll now took leave of the Lord of the City and went to rest while they still could. Outside there was a starless blackness as Gandalf, with Pippin beside him bearing a small torch, made his way to their lodging. They did not speak until they were behind closed doors. Then at last Pippin took Gandalf's hand.\n\n\"Tell me,\" he said, \"is there any hope? For Frodo, I mean; or at least mostly for Frodo.\"\n\nGandalf put his hand on Pippin's head.\"There never was much hope, \"he answered.\"Just a fool's hope, as I have been told. And when I heard of Cirith Ungol--\" He broke off and strode to the window, as if his eyes could pierce the night in the East. \"Cirith Ungol!\" he muttered. \"Why that way, I wonder?\" He turned. \"Just now, Pippin, my heart almost failed me, hearing that name. And yet in truth I believe that the news that Faramir brings has some hope in it. For it seems clear that our Enemy has opened his war at last and made the first move while Frodo was still free. So now for many days he will have his eye turned this way and that, away from his own land. And yet, Pippin, I feel from afar his haste and fear. He has begun sooner than he would. Something has happened to stir him.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gandalf stood fora moment in thought. \"Maybe,\" he muttered. \"Maybe even your foolishness helped, my lad. Let me see: some five days ago now he would discover that we had thrown down Saruman, and had taken the Stone. Still what of that? We could not use it to much purpose, or without his knowing. Ah! I wonder. Aragorn? His time draws near. And he is strong and stern underneath, Pippin; bold, determined, able to take his own counsel and dare great risks at need. That maybe it. He may have used the Stone and shown himself to the Enemy, challenging him, for this very purpose. I wonder. Well, we shall not know the answer till the Riders of Rohan come, if they do not come too late. There are evil days ahead. To sleep while we may!\"\n\n\"But,\" said Pippin.\n\n\"But what?\" said Gandalf. \"Only one but will I allow tonight.\"\n\n\"Gollum,\" said Pippin. \"How on earth could they be going about with him, even following him? And I could see that Faramir did not like the place he was taking them to anymore than you do. What is wrong?\"\n\n\"I cannot answer that now,\" said Gandalf. \"Yet my heart guessed that Frodo and Gollum would meet before the end. For good, or for evil. But of Cirith Ungol I will not speak tonight. Treachery, treachery I fear; treachery of that miserable creature. But so it must be. Let us remember that a traitor may betray himself and do good that he does not intend. It can be so, sometimes. Goodnight!\"\n\nThe next day came with a morning like a brown dusk, and the hearts of men, lifted fora while by the return of Faramir, sank low again. The winged Shadows were not seen again that day, yet ever and anon, high above the city, a faint cry would come, and many who heard it would stand stricken with a passing dread, while the less stout-hearted quailed and wept." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And now Faramir was gone again. \"They give him no rest,\" some murmured. \"The Lord drives his son too hard, and now he must do the duty of two, for himself and for the one that will not return.\" And ever men looked northward, asking: \"Where are the Riders of Rohan?\"\n\nIn truth Faramir did not go by his own choosing. But the Lord of the City was master of his Council, and he was in no mood that day to bow to others. Early in the morning the Council had been summoned. There all the captains judged that because of the threat in the South their force was too weak to make any stroke of war on their own part, unless perchance the Riders of Rohan yet should come. Meanwhile they must man the walls and wait.\n\n\"Yet,\" said Denethor, \"we should not lightly abandon the outer defences, the Rammas made with so great a labour. And the Enemy must pay dearly for the crossing of the River. That he cannot do, in force to assail the City, either north of Cair Andros because of the marshes, or southwards towards Lebennin because of the breadth of the River, that needs many boats. It is at Osgiliath that he will put his weight, as before when Boromir denied him the passage.\"\n\n\"That was but atrial,\" said Faramir. \"Today we may make the Enemy pay ten times our loss at the passage and yet rue the exchange. For he can afford to lose a host better than we to lose a company. And the retreat of those that we putout far afield will be perilous, if he wins across in force.\"\n\n\"And what of Cair Andros?\" said the Prince. \"That, too, must beheld, if Osgiliath is defended. Let us not forget the danger on our left. The Rohirrim may come, and they may not. But Faramir has told us of great strength drawing ever to the Black Gate. More than one host may issue from it, and strike for more than one passage.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Much must be risked in war,\" said Denethor. \"Cair Andros is manned, and no more can be sent so far. But I will not yield the River and the Pelennor unfought– not if there is a captain here who has still the courage to do his lord's will. '\n\nThen all were silent. But at length Faramir said: \"I do not oppose your will, sire. Since you are robbed of Boromir, I will go and do what I can in his stead– if you command it.\"\n\n\"I do so,\" said Denethor.\n\n\"Then farewell!\" said Faramir. \"But if I should return, think better of me!\"\n\n\"That depends on the manner of your return,\" said Denethor.\n\nGandalf it was that last spoke to Faramir ere he rode east. \"Do not throw your life away rashly or in bitterness,\" he said. \"You will be needed here, for other things than war. Your father loves you, Faramir, and will remember it ere the end. Farewell!\"\n\nSo now the Lord Faramir had gone forth again, and had taken with him such strength of men as were willing to go or could be spared. On the walls some gazed through the gloom towards the ruined city, and they wondered what chanced there, for nothing could be seen. And others, as ever, looked north and counted the leagues to Théoden in Rohan. \"Will he come? Will he remember our old alliance?\" they said.\n\n\"Yes, he will come,\" said Gandalf, \"even if he comes too late. But think! At best the Red Arrow cannot have reached him more than two days ago, and the miles are long from Edoras.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was night again ere news came. A man rode in haste from the fords, saying that a host had issued from Minas Morgul and was already drawing nigh to Osgiliath; and it had been joined by regiments from the South, Haradrim, cruel and tall. \"And we have learned,\" said the messenger, \"that the Black Captain leads them once again, and the fear of him has passed before him over the River.\"\n\nWith those ill-boding words the third day closed since Pippin came to Minas Tirith. Few went to rest, for small hope had any now that even Faramir could hold the fords for long.\n\nThe next day, though the darkness had reached its full and grew no deeper, it weighed heavier on men's hearts, and a great dread was on them. Ill news came soon again. The passage of Anduin was won by the Enemy. Faramir was retreating to the wall of the Pelennor, rallying his men to the Causeway Forts; but he was ten times outnumbered.\n\n\"If he wins back at all across the Pelennor, his enemies will be on his heels,\" said the messenger. \"They have paid dear for the crossing, but less dearly than we hoped. The plan has been well laid. It is now seen that in secret they have long been building floats and barges in great number in East Osgiliath. They swarmed across like beetles. But it is the Black Captain that defeats us. Few will stand and abide even the rumour of his coming. His own folk quail at him, and they would slay themselves at his bidding.\"\n\n\"Then I am needed there more than here,\" said Gandalf, and rode off at once, and the glimmer of him faded soon from sight. And all that night Pippin alone and sleepless stood upon the wall and gazed eastward." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The bells of day had scarcely rung out again, a mockery in the unlightened dark, when faraway he saw fires spring up, across in the dim spaces where the walls of the Pelennor stood. The watchmen cried aloud, and all men in the City stood to arms. Now ever and anon there was a red flash, and slowly through the heavy air dull rumbles could be heard.\n\n\"They have taken the wall!\" men cried. \"They are blasting breaches in it. They are coming!\"\n\n\"Where is Faramir?\" cried Beregond in dismay. \"Say not that he has fallen!\"\n\nIt was Gandalf that brought the first tidings. With a handful of horsemen he came in the middle morning, riding as escort to a line of wains. They were filled with wounded men, all that could be saved from the wreck of the Causeway Forts. At once he went to Denethor. The Lord of the City sat now in a high chamber above the Hall of the White Tower with Pippin at his side; and through the dim windows, north and south and east, he bent his dark eyes, as if to pierce the shadows of doom that ringed him round. Most to the North he looked, and would pause at whiles to listen as if by some ancient art his ears might hear the thunder of hoofs on the plains faraway.\n\n\"Is Faramir come?\" he asked.\n\n\"No,\" said Gandalf. \"But he still lived when I left him. Yet he is resolved to stay with the rearguard, lest the retreat over the Pelennor become a rout. He may, perhaps, hold his men together long enough, but I doubt it. He is pitted against a foe too great. For one has come that I feared.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Not– the Dark Lord?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "cried Pippin, forgetting his place in his terror.\n\nDenethor laughed bitterly. \"Nay, not yet, Master Peregrin! He will not come save only to triumph over me when all is won. He uses others as his weapons. So do all great lords, if they are wise, Master Halfling. Or why should I sit herein my tower and think, and watch, and wait, spending even my sons? For I can still wield a brand.\"\n\nHe stood up and cast open his long black cloak, and behold! he was clad in mail beneath, and girt with along sword, great-hilted in a sheath of black and silver. \"Thus have I walked, and thus now for many years have I slept,\" he said, \"lest with age the body should grow soft and timid.\"\n\n\"Yet now under the Lord of Barad-dûr the most fell of all his captains is already master of your outer walls,\" said Gandalf. \"King of Angmar long ago, Sorcerer, Ringwraith, Lord of the Nazgûl, a spear of terror in the hand of Sauron, shadow of despair.\"\n\n\"Then, Mithrandir, you had a foe to match you,\" said Denethor. \"For myself, I have long known who is the chief captain of the hosts of the Dark Tower. Is this all that you have returned to say? Or can it be that you have withdrawn because you are overmatched?\"\n\nPippin trembled, fearing that Gandalf would be stung to sudden wrath, but his fear was needless. \"It might be so,\" Gandalf answered softly. 'But our trial of strength is not yet come. And if words spoken of old be true, not by the hand of man shall he fall, and hidden from the Wise is the doom that awaits him. However that maybe, the Captain of Despair does not press forward, yet. He rules rather according to the wisdom that you have just spoken, from the rear, driving his slaves in madness on before." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Nay, I came rather to guard the hurt men that can yet be healed; for the Rammas is breached far and wide, and soon the host of Morgul will enter in at many points. And I came chiefly to say this. Soon there will be battle on the fields. A sortie must be made ready. Let it be of mounted men. In them lies our brief hope, for in one thing only is the enemy still poorly provided: he has few horsemen.\"\n\n\"And we also have few. Now would the coming of Rohan be in the nick of time,\" said Denethor.\n\n\"We are likely to see other newcomers first,\" said Gandalf. \"Fugitives from Cair Andros have already reached us. The isle has fallen. Another army is come from the Black Gate, crossing from the north-east.\"\n\n\"Some have accused you, Mithrandir, of delighting to bear ill news,\" said Denethor, \"but tome this is no longer news: it was known tome ere nightfall yesterday. As for the sortie, I had already given thought to it. Let us go down.\"\n\nTime passed. At length watchers on the walls could seethe retreat of the out-companies. Small bands of weary and often wounded men came first with little order; some were running wildly as if pursued. Away to the eastward the distant fires flickered, and now it seemed that here and there they crept across the plain. Houses and barns were burning. Then from many points little rivers of red flame came hurrying on, winding through the gloom, converging towards the line of the broad road that led from the City-gate to Osgiliath.\n\n\"The enemy,\" men murmured. \"The dike is down. Here they come pouring through the breaches! And they carry torches, it seems. Where are our own folk?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It drew now to evening by the hour, and the light was so dim that even far-sighted men upon the Citadel could discern little clearly out upon the fields, save only the burnings that ever multiplied, and the lines of fire that grew in length and speed. At last, less than a mile from the City, a more ordered mass of men came into view, marching not running, still holding together.\n\nThe watchers held their breath. \"Faramir must be there,\" they said. \"He can govern man and beast. He will make it yet.\"\n\nNow the main retreat was scarcely two furlongs distant. Out of the gloom behind a small company of horsemen galloped, all that was left of the rearguard. Once again they turned at bay, facing the oncoming lines of fire. Then suddenly there was a tumult of fierce cries. Horsemen of the enemy swept up. The lines of fire became flowing torrents, file upon file of Orcs bearing flames, and wild Southron men with red banners, shouting with harsh tongues, surging up, overtaking the retreat. And with a piercing cry out of the dim sky fell the winged shadows, the Nazgûl stooping to the kill.\n\nThe retreat became a rout. Already men were breaking away, flying wild and witless here and there, flinging away their weapons, crying out in fear, falling to the ground.\n\nAnd then a trumpet rang from the Citadel, and Denethor at last released the sortie. Drawn up within the shadow of the Gate and under the looming walls outside they had waited for his signal: all the mounted men that were left in the City. Now they sprang forward, formed, quickened to a gallop, and charged with a great shout. And from the walls an answering shout went up; for foremost on the field rode the swan-knights of Dol Amroth with their Prince and his blue banner at their head." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Amroth for Gondor!\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "they cried. \"Amroth to Faramir!\"\n\nLike thunder they broke upon the enemy on either flank of the retreat; but one rider outran them all, swift as the wind in the grass: Shadowfax bore him, shining, unveiled once more, alight starting from his upraised hand.\n\nThe Nazgûl screeched and swept away, for their Captain was not yet come to challenge the white fire of his foe. The hosts of Morgul intent on their prey, taken at unawares in wild career, broke, scattering like sparks in a gale. The out-companies with a great cheer turned and smote their pursuers. Hunters became the hunted. The retreat became an onslaught. The field was strewn with stricken orcs and men, and a reek arose of torches castaway, sputtering out in swirling smoke. The cavalry rode on.\n\nBut Denethor did not permit them to go far. Though the enemy was checked, and for the moment driven back, great forces were flowing in from the East. Again the trumpet rang, sounding the retreat. The cavalry of Gondor halted. Behind their screen the out-companies re-formed. Now steadily they came marching back. They reached the Gate of the City and entered, stepping proudly; and proudly the people of the City looked on them and cried their praise, and yet they were troubled in heart. For the companies were grievously reduced. Faramir had lost a third of his men. And where was he?\n\nLast of all he came. His men passed in. The mounted knights returned, and at their rear the banner of Dol Amroth, and the Prince. And in his arms before him on his horse he bore the body of his kinsman, Faramir son of Denethor, found upon the stricken field." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Faramir! Faramir!\" men cried, weeping in the streets. But he did not answer, and they bore him away up the winding road to the Citadel and his father. Even as the Nazgûl had swerved aside from the onset of the White Rider, there came flying a deadly dart, and Faramir, as he held at bay amounted champion of Harad, had fallen to the earth. Only the charge of Dol Amroth had saved him from the red southland swords that would have hewed him as he lay.\n\nThe Prince Imrahil brought Faramir to the White Tower, and he said: \"Your son has returned, lord, after great deeds,\" and he told all that he had seen. But Denethor rose and looked on the face of his son and was silent. Then he bade them make abed in the chamber and lay Faramir upon it and depart. But he himself went up alone into the secret room under the summit of the Tower; and many who looked up thither at that time saw a pale light that gleamed and flickered from the narrow windows fora while, and then flashed and went out. And when Denethor descended again he went to Faramir and sat beside him without speaking, but the face of the Lord was grey, more deathlike than his son's.\n\nSo now at last the City was besieged, enclosed in a ring of foes. The Rammas was broken, and all the Pelennor abandoned to the Enemy. The last word to come from outside the walls was brought by men flying down the northward road ere the Gate was shut. They were the remnant of the guard that was kept at that point where the way from Anórien and Rohan ran into the townlands. Ingold led them, the same who had admitted Gandalf and Pippin less than five days before, while the sun still rose and there was hope in the morning." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"There is no news of the Rohirrim,\" he said. \"Rohan will not come now. Or if they come, it will not avail us. The new host that we had tidings of has come first, from over the River byway of Andros, it is said. They are strong: battalions of Orcs of the Eye, and countless companies of Men of anew sort that we have not met before. Not tall, but broad and grim, bearded like dwarves, wielding great axes. Out of some savage land in the wide East they come, we deem. They hold the northward road; and many have passed on into Anórien. The Rohirrim cannot come.\"\n\nThe Gate was shut. All nightwatchmen on the walls heard the rumour of the enemy that roamed outside, burning field and tree, and hewing any man that they found abroad, living or dead. The numbers that had already passed over the River could not be guessed in the darkness, but when morning, or its dim shadow, stole over the plain, it was seen that even fear by night had scarcely over-counted them. The plain was dark with their marching companies, and as far as eyes could strain in the mirk there sprouted, like afoul fungus-growth, all about the beleaguered city great camps of tents, black or sombre red.\n\nBusy as ants hurrying orcs were digging, digging lines of deep trenches in a huge ring, just out of bowshot from the walls; and as the trenches were made each was filled with fire, though how it was kindled or fed, by art or devilry, none could see. All day the labour went forward, while the men of Minas Tirith looked on, unable to hinder it. And as each length of trench was completed, they could see great wains approaching; and soon yet more companies of the enemy were swiftly setting up, each behind the cover of a trench, great engines for the casting of missiles. There were none upon the City walls large enough to reach so far or to stay the work." }, { "from": "human", "value": "At first men laughed and did not greatly fear such devices." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "For the main wall of the City was of great height and marvellous thickness, built ere the power and craft of Númenor waned in exile; and its outward face was like to the Tower of Orthanc, hard and dark and smooth, unconquerable by steel or fire, unbreakable except by some convulsion that would rend the very earth on which it stood.\n\n\"Nay,\" they said, \"not if the Nameless One himself should come, not even he could enter here while we yet live.\" But some answered: \"While we yet live? How long? He has a weapon that has brought low many strong places since the world began. Hunger. The roads are cut. Rohan will not come.\"\n\nBut the engines did not waste shot upon the indomitable wall. It was no brigand or orc-chieftain that ordered the assault upon the Lord of Mordor's greatest foe. A power and mind of malice guided it. As soon as the great catapults were set, with many yells and the creaking of rope and winch, they began to throw missiles marvellously high, so that they passed right above the battlement and fell thudding within the first circle of the City; and many of them by some secret art burst into flame as they came toppling down.\n\nSoon there was great peril of fire behind the wall, and all who could be spared were busy quelling the flames that sprang up in many places. Then among the greater casts there fell another hail, less ruinous but more horrible. All about the streets and lanes behind the Gate it tumbled down, small round shot that did not burn. But when men ran to learn what it might be, they cried aloud or wept. For the enemy was flinging into the City all the heads of those who had fallen fighting at Osgiliath, or on the Rammas, or in the fields. They were grim to look on; for though some were crushed and shapeless, and some had been cruelly hewn, yet many had features that could be told, and it seemed that they had died in pain; and all were branded with the foul token of the Lidless Eye. But marred and dishonoured as they were, it often chanced that thus a man would see again the face of someone that he had known, who had walked proudly once in arms, or tilled the fields, or ridden in upon a holiday from the green vales in the hills." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "In vain men shook their fists at the pitiless foes that swarmed before the Gate. Curses they heeded not, nor understood the tongues of western men, crying with harsh voices like beasts and carrion-birds. But soon there were few left in Minas Tirith who had the heart to stand up and defy the hosts of Mordor. For yet another weapon, swifter than hunger, the Lord of the Dark Tower had: dread and despair.\n\nThe Nazgûl came again, and as their Dark Lord now grew and put forth his strength, so their voices, which uttered only his will and his malice, were filled with evil and horror. Ever they circled above the City, like vultures that expect their fill of doomed men's flesh. Out of sight and shot they flew, and yet were ever present, and their deadly voices rent the air. More unbearable they became, not less, at each new cry. At length even the stout-hearted would fling themselves to the ground as the hidden menace passed over them, or they would stand, letting their weapons fall from nerveless hands while into their minds a blackness came, and they thought no more of war; but only of hiding and of crawling, and of death.\n\nDuring all this black day Faramir lay upon his bed in the chamber of the White Tower, wandering in a desperate fever; dying someone said, and soon \"dying\" all men were saying upon the walls and in the streets. And by him his father sat, and said nothing, but watched, and gave no longer any heed to the defence.\n\nNo hours so dark had Pippin known, not even in the clutches of the Uruk-hai. It was his duty to wait upon the Lord, and wait he did, forgotten it seemed, standing by the door of the unlit chamber, mastering his own fears as best he could. And as he watched, it seemed to him that Denethor grew old before his eyes, as if something had snapped in his proud will, and his stern mind was overthrown. Grief maybe had wrought it, and remorse. He saw tears on that once tearless face, more unbearable than wrath." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Do not weep, lord,\" he stammered. \"Perhaps he will get well. Have you asked Gandalf?\"\n\n\"Comfort me not with wizards!\" said Denethor. \"The fool's hope has failed. The Enemy has found it, and now his power waxes; he sees our very thoughts, and all we do is ruinous.\n\n\"I sent my son forth, unthanked, unblessed, out into needless peril, and here he lies with poison in his veins. Nay, nay, whatever may now betide in war, my line too is ending, even the House of the Stewards has failed. Mean folk shall rule the last remnant of the Kings of Men, lurking in the hills until all are hounded out.\"\n\nMen came to the door crying for the Lord of the City. \"Nay, I will not comedown,\" he said. \"I must stay beside my son. He might still speak before the end. But that is near. Follow whom you will, even the Grey Fool, though his hope has failed. Here I stay.\"\n\nSo it was that Gandalf took command of the last defence of the City of Gondor. Wherever he came men's hearts would lift again, and the winged shadows pass from memory. Tirelessly he strode from Citadel to Gate, from north to south about the wall; and with him went the Prince of Dol Amroth in his shining mail. For he and his knights still held themselves like lords in whom the race of Númenor ran true. Men that saw them whispered saying:\"Belike the old tales speak well; there is Elvish blood in the veins of that folk, for the people of Nimrodel dwelt in that land once long ago. ' And then one would sing amid the gloom some staves of the Lay of Nimrodel, or other songs of the Vale of Anduin out of vanished years." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And yet– when they had gone, the shadows closed on men again, and their hearts went cold, and the valour of Gondor withered into ash. And so slowly they passed out of a dim day of fears into the darkness of a desperate night. Fires now raged unchecked in the first circle of the City, and the garrison upon the outer wall was already in many places cutoff from retreat. But the faithful who remained thereat their posts were few; most had fled beyond the second gate.\n\nFar behind the battle the River had been swiftly bridged, and all day more force and gear of war had poured across. Now at last in the middle night the assault was loosed. The vanguard passed through the trenches of fire by many devious paths that had been left between them. On they came, reckless of their loss as they approached, still bunched and herded, within the range of bowmen on the wall. But indeed there were too few now left thereto do them great damage, though the light of the fires showed up many a mark for archers of such skill as Gondor once had boasted. Then perceiving that the valour of the City was already beaten down, the hidden Captain put forth his strength. Slowly the great siege-towers builtin Osgiliath rolled forward through the dark.\n\nMessengers came again to the chamber in the White Tower, and Pippin let them enter, for they were urgent. Denethor turned his head slowly from Faramir's face, and looked at them silently.\n\n\"The first circle of the City is burning, lord,\" they said. \"What are your commands? You are still the Lord and Steward. Not all will follow Mithrandir. Men are flying from the walls and leaving them unmanned.\"\n\n\"Why? Why do the fools fly?\" said Denethor. \"Better to burn sooner than late, for burn we must. Go back to your bonfire! And I? I will go now to my pyre. To my pyre! No tomb for Denethor and Faramir. No tomb! No long slow sleep of death embalmed. We will burn like heathen kings before ever a ship sailed hither from the West. The West has failed. Go back and burn!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The messengers without bow or answer turned and fled.\n\nNow Denethor stood up and released the fevered hand of Faramir that he had held. \"He is burning, already burning,\" he said sadly. \"The house of his spirit crumbles.\" Then stepping softly towards Pippin he looked down at him.\n\n\"Farewell!\" he said. \"Farewell, Peregrin son of Paladin! Your service has been short, and now it is drawing to an end. I release you from the little that remains. Go now, and die in what way seems best to you. And with whom you will, even that friend whose folly brought you to this death. Send for my servants and then go. Farewell!\"\n\n\"I will not say farewell, my lord,\" said Pippin kneeling. And then suddenly hobbit-like once more, he stood up and looked the old man in the eyes. \"I will take your leave, sir,\" he said; \"for I want to see Gandalf very much indeed. But he is no fool; and I will not think of dying until he despairs of life. But from my word and your service I do not wish to be released while you live. And if they come at last to the Citadel, I hope to be here and stand beside you and earn perhaps the arms that you have given me.\"\n\n\"Do as you will, Master Halfling,\" said Denethor. \"But my life is broken. Send for my servants!\" He turned back to Faramir.\n\nPippin left him and called for the servants, and they came: six men of the household, strong and fair; yet they trembled at the summons. But in a quiet voice Denethor bade them lay warm coverlets on Faramir's bed and take it up. And they did so, and lifting up the bed they bore it from the chamber. Slowly they paced to trouble the fevered man as little as might be, and Denethor, now bending on a staff, followed them; and last came Pippin." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Out from the White Tower they walked, as if to a funeral, out into the darkness, where the overhanging cloud was lit beneath with flickers of dull red." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Softly they paced the great courtyard, and at a word from Denethor halted beside the Withered Tree.\n\nAll was silent, save for the rumour of war in the City down below, and they heard the water dripping sadly from the dead branches into the dark pool. Then they went on through the Citadel gate, where the sentinel stared at them in wonder and dismay as they passed by. Turning westward they came at length to a door in the rearward wall of the sixth circle. Fen Hollen it was called, for it was kept ever shut save at times of funeral, and only the Lord of the City might use that way, or those who bore the token of the tombs and tended the houses of the dead. Beyond it went a winding road that descended in many curves down to the narrow land under the shadow of Mindolluin's precipice where stood the mansions of the dead Kings and of their Stewards.\n\nA porter satin a little house beside the way, and with fear in his eyes he came forth bearing a lantern in his hand. At the Lord's command he unlocked the door, and silently it swung back; and they passed through, taking the lantern from his hand. It was dark on the climbing road between ancient walls and many-pillared balusters looming in the swaying lantern-beam. Their slow feet echoed as they walked down, down, until at last they came to the Silent Street, Rath Dínen, between pale domes and empty halls and images of men long dead; and they entered into the House of the Stewards and set down their burden.\n\nThere Pippin, staring uneasily about him, saw that he was in a wide vaulted chamber, draped as it were with the great shadows that the little lantern threw upon its shrouded walls. And dimly to be seen were many rows of tables, carved of marble; and upon each table lay a sleeping form, hands folded, head pillowed upon stone. But one table near at hand stood broad and bare. Upon it at a sign from Denethor they laid Faramir and his father side by side, and covered them with one covering, and stood then with bowed heads as mourners beside abed of death. Then Denethor spoke in a low voice." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Here we will wait,\" he said. \"But send not for the embalmers. Bring us wood quick to burn, and lay it all about us, and beneath; and pour oil upon it. And when Ibid you thrust in a torch. Do this and speak no more tome. Farewell!\"\n\n\"By your leave, lord!\" said Pippin and turned and fled in terror from the deathly house. \"Poor Faramir!\" he thought. \"I must find Gandalf. Poor Faramir! Quite likely he needs medicine more than tears. Oh, where can I find Gandalf? In the thick of things, I suppose; and he will have no time to spare for dying men or madmen.\"\n\nAt the door he turned to one of the servants who had remained on guard there. \"Your master is not himself,\" he said. \"Go slow! Bring no fire to this place while Faramir lives! Do nothing until Gandalf comes!\"\n\n\"Who is the master of Minas Tirith?\" the man answered. \"The Lord Denethor or the Grey Wanderer?\"\n\n\"The Grey Wanderer or no one, it would seem,\" said Pippin, and he sped back and up the winding way as swiftly as his feet would carry him, past the astonished porter, out through the door, and on, till he came near the gate of the Citadel. The sentinel hailed him as he went by, and he recognized the voice of Beregond.\n\n\"Whither do you run, Master Peregrin?\" he cried.\n\n\"To find Mithrandir,\" Pippin answered.\n\n\"The Lord's errands are urgent and should not be hindered by me, \"said Beregond;\"but tell me quickly, if you may: what goes forward? Whither has my Lord gone? I have just come on duty, but I heard that he passed towards the Closed Door, and men were bearing Faramir before him. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Yes,\" said Pippin, \"to the Silent Street.\"\n\nBeregond bowed his head to hide his tears. \"They said that he was dying,\" he sighed, \"and now he is dead.\"\n\n\"No,\" said Pippin, \"not yet. And even now his death might be prevented, I think. But the Lord of the City, Beregond, has fallen before his city is taken. He is fey and dangerous.\" Quickly he told of Denethor's strange words and deeds.\"I must find Gandalf at once. '\n\n\"Then you must go down to the battle.\"\n\n\"I know. The Lord has given me leave. But, Beregond, if you can, do something to stop any dreadful thing happening.\"\n\n\"The Lord does not permit those who wear the black and silver to leave their post for any cause, save at his own command.\"\n\n\"Well, you must choose between orders and the life of Faramir,\" said Pippin. \"And as for orders, I think you have a madman to deal with, not a lord. I must run. I will return if I can.\"\n\nHe ran on, down, down towards the outer city. Men flying back from the burning passed him, and some seeing his livery turned and shouted, but he paid no heed. At last he was through the Second Gate, beyond which great fires leaped up between the walls. Yet it seemed strangely silent. No noise or shouts of battle or din of arms could be heard. Then suddenly there was a dreadful cry and a great shock, and a deep echoing boom. Forcing himself on against a gust of fear and horror that shook him almost to his knees, Pippin turned a corner opening on the wide place behind the City Gate. He stopped dead. He had found Gandalf; but he shrank back, cowering into a shadow." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Ever since the middle night the great assault had gone on. The drums rolled. To the north and to the south company upon company of the enemy pressed to the walls. There came great beasts, like moving houses in the red and fitful light, the mûmakil of the Harad dragging through the lanes amid the fires huge towers and engines. Yet their Captain cared not greatly what they did or how many might be slain: their purpose was only to test the strength of the defence and to keep the men of Gondor busy in many places. It was against the Gate that he would throw his heaviest weight. Very strong it might be, wrought of steel andiron, and guarded with towers and bastions of indomitable stone, yet it was the key, the weakest point in all that high and impenetrable wall.\n\nThe drums rolled louder. Fires leaped up. Great engines crawled across the field; and in the midst was a huge ram, great as a forest-tree a hundred feet in length, swinging on mighty chains. Long had it been forging in the dark smithies of Mordor, and its hideous head, founded of black steel, was shaped in the likeness of a ravening wolf; on it spells of ruin lay. Grond they named it, in memory of the Hammer of the Underworld of old. Great beasts drew it, orcs surrounded it, and behind walked mountain-trolls to wield it.\n\nBut about the Gate resistance still was stout, and there the knights of Dol Amroth and the hardiest of the garrison stood at bay. Shot and dart fell thick; siege-towers crashed or blazed suddenly like torches. All before the walls on either side of the Gate the ground was choked with wreck and with bodies of the slain; yet still driven as by a madness more and more came up." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Grond crawled on. Upon its housing no fire would catch; and though now and again some great beast that hauled it would go mad and spread stamping ruin among the orcs innumerable that guarded it, their bodies were cast aside from its path and others took their place.\n\nGrond crawled on. The drums rolled wildly. Over the hills of slain a hideous shape appeared: a horseman, tall, hooded, cloaked in black. Slowly, trampling the fallen, he rode forth, heeding no longer any dart. He halted and held up along pale sword. And as he did so a great fear fell on all, defender and foe alike; and the hands of men drooped to their sides, and no bow sang. Fora moment all was still.\n\nThe drums rolled and rattled. With avast rush Grond was hurled forward by huge hands. It reached the Gate. It swung. A deep boom rumbled through the City like thunder running in the clouds. But the doors of iron and posts of steel withstood the stroke.\n\nThen the Black Captain rose in his stirrups and cried aloud in a dreadful voice, speaking in some forgotten tongue words of power and terror to rend both heart and stone.\n\nThrice he cried. Thrice the great ram boomed. And suddenly upon the last stroke the Gate of Gondor broke. As if stricken by some blasting spell it burst asunder: there was a flash of searing lightning, and the doors tumbled in riven fragments to the ground.\n\nIn rode the Lord of the Nazgûl. A great black shape against the fires beyond he loomed up, grown to avast menace of despair. In rode the Lord of the Nazgûl, under the archway that no enemy ever yet had passed, and all fled before his face." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "All save one. There waiting, silent and still in the space before the Gate, sat Gandalf upon Shadowfax: Shadowfax who alone among the free horses of the earth endured the terror, unmoving, steadfast as a graven image in Rath Dínen.\n\n\"You cannot enter here,\" said Gandalf, and the huge shadow halted. \"Go back to the abyss prepared for you! Go back! Fall into the nothingness that awaits you and your Master. Go!\"\n\nThe Black Rider flung back his hood, and behold! he had a kingly crown; and yet upon no head visible was it set. The red fires shone between it and the mantled shoulders vast and dark. From a mouth unseen there came a deadly laughter.\n\n\"Old fool!\" he said. \"Old fool! This is my hour. Do you not know Death when you see it? Die now and curse in vain!\" And with that he lifted high his sword and flames ran down the blade.\n\nGandalf did not move. And in that very moment, away behind in some courtyard of the City, a cock crowed. Shrill and clear he crowed, recking nothing of wizardry or war, welcoming only the morning that in the sky far above the shadows of death was coming with the dawn.\n\nAnd as if in answer there came from faraway another note. Horns, horns, horns. In dark Mindolluin's sides they dimly echoed. Great horns of the North wildly blowing. Rohan had come at last." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was dark and Merry could see nothing as he lay on the ground rolled in a blanket; yet though the night was airless and windless, all about him hidden trees were sighing softly. He lifted his head. Then he heard it again: a sound like faint drums in the wooded hills and mountain-steps. The throb would cease suddenly and then betaken up again at some other point, now nearer, now further off. He wondered if the watchmen had heard it.\n\nHe could not see them, but he knew that all round him were the companies of the Rohirrim. He could smell the horses in the dark, and could hear their shiftings and their soft stamping on the needle-covered ground. The host was bivouacked in the pine-woods that clustered about Eilenach Beacon, a tall hill standing up from the long ridges of the Drúadan Forest that lay beside the great road in East Anórien.\n\nTired as he was Merry could not sleep. He had ridden now for four days on end, and the ever-deepening gloom had slowly weighed down his heart. He began to wonder why he had been so eager to come, when he had been given every excuse, even his lord's command, to stay behind. He wondered, too, if the old King knew that he had been disobeyed and was angry. Perhaps not. There seemed to be some understanding between Dernhelm and Elfhelm, the Marshal who commanded the éored in which they were riding. He and all his men ignored Merry and pretended not to hear if he spoke. He might have been just another bag that Dernhelm was carrying. Dernhelm was no comfort: he never spoke to anyone. Merry felt small, unwanted, and lonely. Now the time was anxious, and the host was in peril. They were less than a day's ride from the out-walls of Minas Tirith that encircled the townlands. Scouts had been sent ahead. Some had not returned. Others hastening back had reported that the road was held in force against them. A host of the enemy was encamped upon it, three miles west of Amon Dîn, and some strength of men was already thrusting along the road and was no more than three leagues away. Orcs were roving in the hills and woods along the roadside. The king and Éomer held council in the watches of the night." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Merry wanted somebody to talk to, and he thought of Pippin." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But that only increased his restlessness. Poor Pippin, shut up in the great city of stone, lonely and afraid. Merry wished he was a tall Rider like Éomer and could blow a horn or something and go galloping to his rescue. He sat up, listening to the drums that were beating again, now nearer at hand. Presently he heard voices speaking low, and he saw dim half-shrouded lanterns passing through the trees. Men nearby began to move uncertainly in the dark.\n\nA tall figure loomed up and stumbled over him, cursing the tree-roots. He recognized the voice of Elfhelm the Marshal.\n\n\"I am not a tree-root, Sir,\" he said, \"nor a bag, but a bruised hobbit. The least you can do in amends is to tell me what is afoot.\"\n\n\"Anything that can keep so in this devil's mirk, \"answered Elfhelm.\"But my lord sends word that we must set ourselves in readiness: orders may come fora sudden move. '\n\n\"Is the enemy coming then?\" asked Merry anxiously. \"Are those their drums? I began to think I was imagining them, as no one else seemed to take any notice of them.\"\n\n\"Nay, nay,\" said Elfhelm, \"the enemy is on the road not in the hills. You hear the Woses, the Wild Men of the Woods: thus they talk together from afar. They still haunt Drúadan Forest, it is said. Remnants of an older time they be, living few and secretly, wild and wary as the beasts. They go not to war with Gondor or the Mark; but now they are troubled by the darkness and the coming of the orcs: they fear lest the Dark Years be returning, as seems likely enough. Let us be thankful that they are not hunting us: for they use poisoned arrows, it is said, and they are woodcrafty beyond compare. But they have offered their services to Théoden. Even now one of their headmen is being taken to the king. Yonder go the lights. So much I have heard but no more. And now I must busy myself with my lord's commands. Pack yourself up, Master Bag! ' He vanished into the shadows." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Merry did not like this talk of wild men and poisoned darts, but quite apart from that a great weight of dread was on him. Waiting was unbearable. He longed to know what was going to happen. He got up and soon was walking warily in pursuit of the last lantern before it disappeared among the trees.\n\nPresently he came to an open space where a small tent had been setup for the king under a great tree. A large lantern, covered above, was hanging from a bough and cast a pale circle of light below. There sat Théoden and Éomer, and before them on the ground sat a strange squat shape of a man, gnarled as an old stone, and the hairs of his scanty beard straggled on his lumpy chin like dry moss. He was short-legged and fat-armed, thick and stumpy, and clad only with grass about his waist. Merry felt that he had seen him before somewhere, and suddenly he remembered the Púkel-men of Dunharrow. Here was one of those old images brought to life, or maybe a creature descended in true line through endless years from the models used by the forgotten craftsmen long ago.\n\nThere was a silence as Merry crept nearer, and then the Wild Man began to speak, in answer to some question, it seemed. His voice was deep and guttural, yet to Merry's surprise he spoke the Common Speech, though in a halting fashion, and uncouth words were mingled with it.\n\n\"No, father of Horse-men,\" he said, \"we fight not. Hunt only. Kill gorgûn in woods, hate orc-folk. You hate gorgûn too. We help as we can. Wild Men have long ears and long eyes; know all paths. Wild Men live here before Stone-houses; before Tall Men come up out of Water.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"But our need is for aid in battle,\" said Éomer. \"How will you and your folk help us?\"\n\n\"Bring news,\" said the Wild Man. \"We lookout from hills. We climb big mountain and look down. Stone-city is shut. Fire burns there outside; now inside too. You wish to come there? Then you must be quick. But gorgûn and men out of far-away,\" he waved a short gnarled arm eastward, \"sit on horse-road. Very many, more than Horse-men.\"\n\n\"How do you know that?\" said Éomer.\n\nThe old man's flat face and dark eyes showed nothing, but his voice was sullen with displeasure.\"Wild Men are wild, free, but not children, \"he answered.\"I am great headman, Ghân-buri-Ghân. I count many things: stars in sky, leaves on trees, men in the dark. You have a score of scores counted ten times and five. They have more. Big fight, and who will win? And many more walk round walls of Stone-houses. '\n\n\"Alas! he speaks all too shrewdly,\" said Théoden. \"And our scouts say that they have cast trenches and stakes across the road. We cannot sweep them away in sudden onset.\"\n\n\"And yet we need great haste,\" said Éomer. \"Mundburg is on fire!\"\n\n\"Let Ghân-buri-Ghân finish!\" said the Wild Man. \"More than one road he knows. He will lead you byroad where no pits are, no gorgûn walk, only Wild Men and beasts. Many paths were made when Stonehouse-folk were stronger. They carved hills as hunters carve beast-flesh. Wild Men think they ate stone for food. They went through Drúadan to Rimmon with great wains. They go no longer. Road is forgotten, but not by Wild Men. Over hill and behind hill it lies still under grass and tree, there behind Rimmon and down to Dîn, and back at the end to Horse-men's road. Wild Men will show you that road. Then you will kill gorgûn and drive away bad dark with bright iron, and Wild Men can go back to sleep in the wild woods. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Éomer and the king spoke together in their own tongue. At length Théoden turned to the Wild Man. \"We will receive your offer,\" he said. \"For though we leave a host of foes behind, what matter? If the Stone-city falls, then we shall have no returning. If it is saved, then the orc-host itself will be cutoff. If you are faithful, Ghân-buri-Ghân, then we will give you rich reward, and you shall have the friendship of the Mark forever.\"\n\n\"Dead men are not friends to living men, and give them no gifts,\" said the Wild Man. \"But if you live after the Darkness, then leave Wild Men alone in the woods and do not hunt them like beasts anymore. Ghân-buri-Ghân will not lead you into trap. He will go himself with father of Horse-men, and if he leads you wrong, you will kill him.\"\n\n\"So be it!\" said Théoden.\n\n\"How long will it take to pass by the enemy and comeback to the road?\" asked Éomer. \"We must goat foot-pace, if you guide us; and I doubt not the way is narrow.\"\n\n\"Wild Men go quick on feet,\" said Ghân. \"Way is wide for four horses in Stonewain Valley yonder,\" he waved his hand southwards; \"but narrow at beginning and at end. Wild Man could walk from hereto Dîn between sunrise and noon.\"\n\n\"Then we must allow at least seven hours for the leaders,\" said Éomer; \"but we must reckon rather on some ten hours for all. Things unforeseen may hinder us, and if our host is all strung out, it will belong ere it can beset in order when we issue from the hills. What is the hour now?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Who knows?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "said Théoden. \"All is night now.\"\n\n\"It is all dark, but it is not all night,\" said Ghân. \"When Sun comes we feel her, even when she is hidden. Already she climbs over East-mountains. It is the opening of day in the sky-fields.\"\n\n\"Then we must set out as soon as maybe,\" said Éomer. \"Even so we cannot hope to come to Gondor's aid today. '\n\nMerry waited to hear no more, but slipped away to get ready for the summons to the march. This was the last stage before the battle. It did not seem likely to him that many of them would survive it. But he thought of Pippin and the flames in Minas Tirith and thrust down his own dread.\n\nAll went well that day, and no sight or sound had they of the enemy waiting to waylay them. The Wild Men had putout a screen of wary hunters, so that no orc or roving spy should learn of the movements in the hills. The light was more dim than ever as they drew nearer to the beleaguered city, and the Riders passed in long files like dark shadows of men and horses. Each company was guided by a wild woodman; but old Ghân walked beside the king. The start had been slower than was hoped, for it had taken time for the Riders, walking and leading their horses, to find paths over the thickly wooded ridges behind their camp and down into the hidden Stonewain Valley. It was late in the afternoon when the leaders came to wide grey thickets stretching beyond the eastward side of Amon Dîn, and masking a great gap in the line of hills that from Nardol to Dîn ran east and west. Through the gap the forgotten wain-road long ago had rundown, back into the main horse-way from the City through Anórien; but now for many lives of men trees had had their way with it, and it had vanished, broken and buried under the leaves of uncounted years. But the thickets offered to the Riders their last hope of cover before they went into open battle; for beyond them lay the road and the plains of Anduin, while east and southwards the slopes were bare and rocky, as the writhen hills gathered themselves together and climbed up, bastion upon bastion, into the great mass and shoulders of Mindolluin." }, { "from": "human", "value": "The leading company was halted, and as those behind filed up out of the trough of the Stonewain Valley they spread out and passed to camping-places under the grey trees." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The king summoned the captains to council. Éomer sent out scouts to spy upon the road; but old Ghân shook his head.\n\n\"No good to send Horse-men,\" he said. \"Wild Men have already seen all that can be seen in the bad air. They will come soon and speak tome here.\"\n\nThe captains came; and then out of the trees crept warily other púkel-shapes so like old Ghân that Merry could hardly tell them apart. They spoke to Ghân in a strange throaty language.\n\nPresently Ghân turned to the king. \"Wild Men say many things,\" he said. \"First, be wary! Still many men in camp beyond Dîn, an hour's walk yonder, \"he waved his arm west towards the black beacon.\"But none to see between here and Stone-folk's new walls. Many busy there. Walls stand up no longer: gorgûn knock them down with earth-thunder and with clubs of black iron. They are unwary and do not look about them. They think their friends watch all roads!\" At that old Ghân made a curious gurgling noise, and it seemed that he was laughing.\n\n\"Good tidings!\" cried Éomer. \"Even in this gloom hope gleams again. Our Enemy's devices oft serve us in his despite. The accursed darkness itself has been a cloak to us. And now, lusting to destroy Gondor and throw it down stone from stone, his orcs have taken away my greatest fear. The out-wall could have been held long against us. Now we can sweep through– if once we win so far. '\n\n\"Once again I thank you, Ghân-buri-Ghân of the woods,\" said Théoden. \"Good fortune go with you for tidings and for guidance!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Kill gorgûn! Kill orc-folk! No other words please Wild Men,\" answered Ghân. \"Drive away bad air and darkness with bright iron!\"\n\n\"To do these things we have ridden far,\" said the king, \"and we shall attempt them. But what we shall achieve only tomorrow will show.\"\n\nGhân-buri-Ghân squatted down and touched the earth with his horny brow in token of farewell. Then he got up as if to depart. But suddenly he stood looking up like some startled woodland animal snuffling a strange air. Alight came in his eyes.\n\n\"Wind is changing!\" he cried, and with that, in a twinkling as it seemed, he and his fellows had vanished into the glooms, never to be seen by any Rider of Rohan again. Not long after faraway eastward the faint drums throbbed again. Yet to no heart in all the host came any fear that the Wild Men were unfaithful, strange and unlovely though they might appear.\n\n\"We need no further guidance,\" said Elfhelm; \"for there are riders in the host who have ridden down to Mundburg in days of peace. I for one. When we come to the road it will veer south, and there will lie before us still seven leagues ere we reach the wall of the townlands. Along most of that way there is much grass on either side of the road. On that stretch the errand-riders of Gondor reckoned to make their greatest speed. We may ride it swiftly and without great rumour.\"\n\n\"Then since we must look for fell deeds and the need of all our strength,\" said Éomer, \"I counsel that we rest now, and set out hence by night, and so time our going that we come upon the fields when tomorrow is as light as it will be, or when our lord gives the signal.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "To this the king assented, and the captains departed." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But soon Elfhelm returned. \"The scouts have found naught to report beyond the Grey Wood, lord,\" he said, \"save two men only: two dead men and two dead horses.\"\n\n\"Well?\" said Éomer. \"What of it?\"\n\n\"This, lord: they were errand-riders of Gondor; Hirgon was one maybe. At least his hand still clasped the Red Arrow, but his head was hewn off. And this also: it would seem by the signs that they were fleeing westward when they fell. As I read it, they found the enemy already on the out-wall, or assailing it, when they returned– and that would be two nights ago, if they used fresh horses from the posts, as is their wont. They could not reach the City and turned back.\"\n\n\"Alas!\" said Théoden. \"Then Denethor has heard no news of our riding and will despair of our coming.\"\n\n\"Need brooks no delay, yet late is better than never,\" said Éomer. \"And mayhap in this time shall the old saw be proved truer than ever before since men spoke with mouth.\"\n\nIt was night. On either side of the road the host of Rohan was moving silently. Now the road passing about the skirts of Mindolluin turned southward. Faraway and almost straight ahead there was a red glow under the black sky and the sides of the great mountain loomed dark against it. They were drawing near the Rammas of the Pelennor; but the day was not yet come.\n\nThe king rode in the midst of the leading company, his household-men about him. Elfhelm's éored came next; and now Merry noticed that Dernhelm had left his place and in the darkness was moving steadily forward, until at last he was riding just in rear of the king's guard. There came a check. Merry heard voices in front speaking softly. Out-riders had comeback who had ventured forward almost to the wall. They came to the king." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "As the writer's tale assistant, advance the plot.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, war\nAuthor: J.R.R. Tolkien\nTitle: The Return of the King\nChapter: 24" }, { "from": "human", "value": "To this the king assented, and the captains departed." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But soon Elfhelm returned. \"The scouts have found naught to report beyond the Grey Wood, lord,\" he said, \"save two men only: two dead men and two dead horses.\"\n\n\"Well?\" said Éomer. \"What of it?\"\n\n\"This, lord: they were errand-riders of Gondor; Hirgon was one maybe. At least his hand still clasped the Red Arrow, but his head was hewn off. And this also: it would seem by the signs that they were fleeing westward when they fell. As I read it, they found the enemy already on the out-wall, or assailing it, when they returned– and that would be two nights ago, if they used fresh horses from the posts, as is their wont. They could not reach the City and turned back.\"\n\n\"Alas!\" said Théoden. \"Then Denethor has heard no news of our riding and will despair of our coming.\"\n\n\"Need brooks no delay, yet late is better than never,\" said Éomer. \"And mayhap in this time shall the old saw be proved truer than ever before since men spoke with mouth.\"\n\nIt was night. On either side of the road the host of Rohan was moving silently. Now the road passing about the skirts of Mindolluin turned southward. Faraway and almost straight ahead there was a red glow under the black sky and the sides of the great mountain loomed dark against it. They were drawing near the Rammas of the Pelennor; but the day was not yet come.\n\nThe king rode in the midst of the leading company, his household-men about him. Elfhelm's éored came next; and now Merry noticed that Dernhelm had left his place and in the darkness was moving steadily forward, until at last he was riding just in rear of the king's guard. There came a check. Merry heard voices in front speaking softly. Out-riders had comeback who had ventured forward almost to the wall. They came to the king." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"There are great fires, lord,\" said one. \"The City is all set about with flame, and the field is full of foes. But all seem drawn off to the assault. As well as we could guess, there are few left upon the out-wall, and they are heedless, busy in destruction.\"\n\n\"Do you remember the Wild Man's words, lord? \"said another.\"I live upon the open Wold in days of peace; Wídfara is my name, and tome also the air brings messages. Already the wind is turning. There comes a breath out of the South; there is a sea-tang in it, faint though it be. The morning will bring new things. Above the reek it will be dawn when you pass the wall. '\n\n\"If you speak truly, Wídfara, then may you live beyond this day in years of blessedness!\" said Théoden. He turned to the men of his household who were near, and he spoke now in a clear voice so that many also of the riders of the first éored heard him:\n\n\"Now is the hour come, Riders of the Mark, sons of Eorl! Foes and fire are before you, and your homes far behind. Yet, though you fight upon an alien field, the glory that you reap there shall be your own forever. Oaths ye have taken: now fulfil them all, to lord and land and league of friendship!\"\n\nMen clashed spear upon shield.\n\n\"Éomer, my son! You lead the first éored,\" said Théoden; \"and it shall go behind the king's banner in the centre. Elfhelm, lead your company to the right when we pass the wall. And Grimbold shall lead his towards the left. Let the other companies behind follow these three that lead, as they have chance. Strike wherever the enemy gathers. Other plans we cannot make, for we know not yet how things stand upon the field. Forth now, and fear no darkness! '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The leading company rode off as swiftly as they could, for it was still deep dark, whatever change Wídfara might forebode. Merry was riding behind Dernhelm, clutching with the left hand while with the other he tried to loosen his sword in its sheath. He felt now bitterly the truth of the old king's words: in such a battle what would you do, Meriadoc? Just this,\" he thought: \"encumber a rider, and hope at best to stay in my seat and not be pounded to death by galloping hoofs!\"\n\nIt was no more than a league to where the out-walls had stood. They soon reached them; too soon for Merry. Wild cries broke out, and there was some clash of arms, but it was brief. The orcs busy about the walls were few and amazed, and they were quickly slain or driven off. Before the ruin of the north-gate in the Rammas the king halted again. The first éored drew up behind him and about him on either side. Dernhelm kept close to the king, though Elfhelm's company was away on the right. Grimbold's men turned aside and passed round to a great gap in the wall further eastward.\n\nMerry peered from behind Dernhelm's back. Faraway, maybe ten miles or more, there was a great burning, but between it and the Riders lines of fire blazed in avast crescent, at the nearest pointless than a league distant. He could make out little more on the dark plain, and as yet he neither saw any hope of morning, nor felt any wind, changed or unchanged.\n\nNow silently the host of Rohan moved forward into the field of Gondor, pouring in slowly but steadily, like the rising tide through breaches in a dike that men have thought secure. But the mind and will of the Black Captain were bent wholly on the falling city, and as yet no tidings came to him warning that his designs held any flaw." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "After awhile the king led his men away somewhat eastward, to come between the fires of the siege and the outer fields. Still they were unchallenged, and still Théoden gave no signal. At last he halted once again. The City was now nearer. A smell of burning was in the air and a very shadow of death. The horses were uneasy. But the king sat upon Snowmane, motionless, gazing upon the agony of Minas Tirith, as if stricken suddenly by anguish, or by dread. He seemed to shrink down, cowed by age. Merry himself felt as if a great weight of horror and doubt had settled on him. His heartbeat slowly. Time seemed poised in uncertainty. They were too late! Too late was worse than never! Perhaps Théoden would quail, bow his old head, turn, slink away to hide in the hills.\n\nThen suddenly Merry felt it at last, beyond doubt: a change. Wind was in his face! Light was glimmering. Far, faraway, in the South the clouds could be dimly seen as remote grey shapes, rolling up, drifting: morning lay beyond them.\n\nBut at that same moment there was a flash, as if lightning had sprung from the earth beneath the City. Fora searing second it stood dazzling far off in black and white, its topmost tower like a glittering needle; and then as the darkness closed again there came rolling over the fields a great boom.\n\nAt that sound the bent shape of the king sprang suddenly erect. Tall and proud he seemed again; and rising in his stirrups he cried in aloud voice, more clear than any there had ever heard a mortal man achieve before:\n\nArise, arise, Riders of Théoden!\n\nFell deeds awake: fire and slaughter!" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "spear shall be shaken, shield be splintered,\n\na sword-day, a red day, ere the sunrises!\n\nRide now, ride now! Ride to Gondor!\n\nWith that he seized a great horn from Guthláf his banner-bearer, and he blew such a blast upon it that it burst asunder. And straightway all the horns in the host were lifted up in music, and the blowing of the horns of Rohan in that hour was like a storm upon the plain and a thunder in the mountains.\n\nRide now, ride now! Ride to Gondor!\n\nSuddenly the king cried to Snowmane and the horse sprang away. Behind him his banner blew in the wind, white horse upon afield of green, but he outpaced it. After him thundered the knights of his house, but he was ever before them. Éomer rode there, the white horsetail on his helm floating in his speed, and the front of the first éored roared like a breaker foaming to the shore, but Théoden could not be overtaken. Fey he seemed, or the battle-fury of his fathers ran like new fire in his veins, and he was borne upon Snowmane like a god of old, even as Oromë the Great in the battle of the Valar when the world was young. His golden shield was uncovered, and lo! it shone like an image of the Sun, and the grass flamed into green about the white feet of his steed. For morning came, morning and a wind from the sea; and darkness was removed, and the hosts of Mordor wailed, and terror took them, and they fled, and died, and the hoofs of wrath rode over them. And then all the host of Rohan burst into song, and they sang as they slew, for the joy of battle was on them, and the sound of their singing that was fair and terrible came even to the City." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But it was no orc-chieftain or brigand that led the assault upon Gondor. The darkness was breaking too soon, before the date that his Master had set for it: fortune had betrayed him for the moment, and the world had turned against him; victory was slipping from his grasp even as he stretched out his hand to seize it. But his arm was long. He was still in command, wielding great powers. King, Ringwraith, Lord of the Nazgûl, he had many weapons. He left the Gate and vanished.\n\nThéoden King of the Mark had reached the road from the Gate to the River, and he turned towards the City that was now less than a mile distant. He slackened his speed a little, seeking new foes, and his knights came about him, and Dernhelm was with them. Ahead nearer the walls Elfhelm's men were among the siege-engines, hewing, slaying, driving their foes into the fire-pits. Well nigh all the northern half of the Pelennor was overrun, and there camps were blazing, orcs were flying towards the River like herds before the hunters; and the Rohirrim went hither and thither at their will. But they had not yet overthrown the siege, nor won the Gate. Many foes stood before it, and on the further half of the plain were other hosts still unfought. Southward beyond the road lay the main force of the Haradrim, and there their horsemen were gathered about the standard of their chieftain. And he looked out, and in the growing light he saw the banner of the king, and that it was far ahead of the battle with few men about it. Then he was filled with a red wrath and shouted aloud, and displaying his standard, black serpent upon scarlet, he came against the white horse and the green with great press of men; and the drawing of the scimitars of the Southrons was like aglitter of stars." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Then Théoden was aware of him, and would not wait for his onset, but crying to Snowmane he charged headlong to greet him. Great was the clash of their meeting. But the white fury of the Northmen burned the hotter, and more skilled was their knighthood with long spears and bitter. Fewer were they but they clove through the Southrons like afire-bolt in a forest. Right through the press drove Théoden Thengel's son, and his spear was shivered as he threw down their chieftain. Out swept his sword, and he spurred to the standard, hewed staff and bearer; and the black serpent foundered. Then all that was left unslain of their cavalry turned and fled faraway.\n\nBut lo! suddenly in the midst of the glory of the king his golden shield was dimmed. The new morning was blotted from the sky. Dark fell about him. Horses reared and screamed. Men cast from the saddle lay grovelling on the ground.\n\n\"To me! Tome!\" cried Théoden. \"Up Eorlingas! Fear no darkness!\" But Snowmane wild with terror stood upon high, fighting with the air, and then with a great scream he crashed upon his side: a black dart had pierced him. The king fell beneath him.\n\nThe great shadow descended like a falling cloud. And behold! it was a winged creature: if bird, then greater than all other birds, and it was naked, and neither quill nor feather did it bear, and its vast pinions were as webs of hide between horned fingers; and it stank. A creature of an older world maybe it was, whose kind, lingering in forgotten mountains cold beneath the Moon, outstayed their day, and in hideous eyrie bred this last untimely brood, apt to evil. And the Dark Lord took it, and nursed it with fell meats, until it grew beyond the measure of all other things that fly; and he gave it to his servant to be his steed. Down, down it came, and then, folding its fingered webs, it gave a croaking cry, and settled upon the body of Snowmane, digging in its claws, stooping its long naked neck." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Upon it sat a shape, black-mantled, huge and threatening." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A crown of steel he bore, but between rim and robe naught was thereto see, save only a deadly gleam of eyes: the Lord of the Nazgûl. To the air he had returned, summoning his steed ere the darkness failed, and now he was come again, bringing ruin, turning hope to despair, and victory to death. A great black mace he wielded.\n\nBut Théoden was not utterly forsaken. The knights of his house lay slain about him, or else mastered by the madness of their steeds were borne faraway. Yet one stood there still: Dernhelm the young, faithful beyond fear; and he wept, for he had loved his lord as a father. Right through the charge Merry had been borne unharmed behind him, until the Shadow came; and then Windfola had thrown them in his terror, and now ran wild upon the plain. Merry crawled on all fours like a dazed beast, and such a horror was on him that he was blind and sick.\n\n\"King's man! King's man!\" his heart cried within him. \"You must stay by him. As a father you shall be tome, you said.\" But his will made no answer, and his body shook. He dared not open his eyes or lookup.\n\nThen out of the blackness in his mind he thought that he heard Dernhelm speaking; yet now the voice seemed strange, recalling some other voice that he had known.\n\n\"Begone, foul dwimmerlaik, lord of carrion! Leave the dead in peace!\"\n\nA cold voice answered: \"Come not between the Nazgûl and his prey! Or he will not slay thee in thy turn. He will bear thee away to the houses of lamentation, beyond all darkness, where thy flesh shall be devoured, and thy shrivelled mind be left naked to the Lidless Eye.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A sword rang as it was drawn. \"Do what you will; but I will hinder it, if I may.\"\n\n\"Hinder me? Thou fool. No living man may hinder me!\"\n\nThen Merry heard of all sounds in that hour the strangest. It seemed that Dernhelm laughed, and the clear voice was like the ring of steel. \"But no living man am I! You look upon a woman. Éowyn I am, Éomund's daughter. You stand between me and my lord and kin. Begone, if you be not deathless! For living or dark undead, I will smite you, if you touch him. '\n\nThe winged creature screamed at her, but the Ringwraith made no answer, and was silent, as if in sudden doubt. Very amazement fora moment conquered Merry's fear. He opened his eyes and the blackness was lifted from them. There some paces from him sat the great beast, and all seemed dark about it, and above it loomed the Nazgûl Lord like a shadow of despair. A little to the left facing them stood she whom he had called Dernhelm. But the helm of her secrecy had fallen from her, and her bright hair, released from its bonds, gleamed with pale gold upon her shoulders. Her eyes grey as the sea were hard and fell, and yet tears were on her cheek. A sword was in her hand, and she raised her shield against the horror of her enemy's eyes.\n\nÉowyn it was, and Dernhelm also. For into Merry's mind flashed the memory of the face that he saw at the riding from Dunharrow: the face of one that goes seeking death, having no hope. Pity filled his heart and great wonder, and suddenly the slow-kindled courage of his race awoke. He clenched his hand. She should not die, so fair, so desperate! At least she should not die alone, unaided." }, { "from": "human", "value": "The face of their enemy was not turned towards him, but still he hardly dared to move, dreading lest the deadly eyes should fall on him." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Slowly, slowly he began to crawl aside; but the Black Captain, in doubt and malice intent upon the woman before him, heeded him no more than a worm in the mud.\n\nSuddenly the great beast beat its hideous wings, and the wind of them was foul. Again it leaped into the air, and then swiftly fell down upon Éowyn, shrieking, striking with beak and claw.\n\nStill she did not blench: maiden of the Rohirrim, child of kings, slender but as a steel-blade, fair yet terrible. A swift stroke she dealt, skilled and deadly. The outstretched neck she clove asunder, and the hewn head fell like a stone. Backward she sprang as the huge shape crashed to ruin, vast wings outspread, crumpled on the earth; and with its fall the shadow passed away. Alight fell about her, and her hair shone in the sunrise.\n\nOut of the wreck rose the Black Rider, tall and threatening, towering above her. With a cry of hatred that stung the very ears like venom he let fall his mace. Her shield was shivered in many pieces, and her arm was broken; she stumbled to her knees. He bent over her like a cloud, and his eyes glittered; he raised his mace to kill.\n\nBut suddenly he too stumbled forward with a cry of bitter pain, and his stroke went wide, driving into the ground. Merry's sword had stabbed him from behind, shearing through the black mantle, and passing up beneath the hauberk had pierced the sinew behind his mighty knee.\n\n\"Éowyn! Éowyn!\" cried Merry. Then tottering, struggling up, with her last strength she drove her sword between crown and mantle, as the great shoulders bowed before her. The sword broke sparkling into many shards. The crown rolled away with a clang. Éowyn fell forward upon her fallen foe. But lo! the mantle and hauberk were empty. Shapeless they lay now on the ground, torn and tumbled; and a cry went up into the shuddering air, and faded to a shrill wailing, passing with the wind, a voice bodiless and thin that died, and was swallowed up, and was never heard again in that age of this world." }, { "from": "human", "value": "And there stood Meriadoc the hobbit in the midst of the slain, blinking like an owl in the daylight, for tears blinded him; and through a mist he looked on Éowyn's fair head, as she lay and did not move; and he looked on the face of the king, fallen in the midst of his glory." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "For Snowmane in his agony had rolled away from him again; yet he was the bane of his master.\n\nThen Merry stooped and lifted his hand to kiss it, and lo! Théoden opened his eyes, and they were clear, and he spoke in a quiet voice though laboured.\n\n\"Farewell, Master Holbytla!\" he said. \"My body is broken. I go to my fathers. And even in their mighty company I shall not now be ashamed. I felled the black serpent. A grim morn, and a glad day, and a golden sunset!\"\n\nMerry could not speak, but wept anew. \"Forgive me, lord,\" he said at last, \"if I broke your command, and yet have done no more in your service than to weep at our parting.\"\n\nThe old king smiled. \"Grieve not! It is forgiven. Great heart will not be denied. Live now in blessedness; and when you sit in peace with your pipe, think of me! For never now shall I sit with you in Meduseld, as I promised, or listen to your herb-lore.\" He closed his eyes, and Merry bowed beside him. Presently he spoke again. \"Where is Éomer? For my eyes darken, and I would see him ere I go. He must be king after me. And I would send word to Éowyn. She, she would not have me leave her, and now I shall not see her again, dearer than daughter.\"\n\n\"Lord, lord,\" began Merry brokenly, \"she is--\" ; but at that moment there was a great clamour, and all about them horns and trumpets were blowing. Merry looked round: he had forgotten the war, and all the world beside, and many hours it seemed since the king rode to his fall, though in truth it was only a little while. But now he saw that they were in danger of being caught in the very midst of the great battle that would soon be joined." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "New forces of the enemy were hastening up the road from the River; and from under the walls came the legions of Morgul; and from the southward fields came footmen of Harad with horsemen before them, and behind them rose the huge backs of the mûmakil with war-towers upon them. But northward the white crest of Éomer led the great front of the Rohirrim which he had again gathered and marshalled; and out of the City came all the strength of men that was in it, and the silver swan of Dol Amroth was borne in the van, driving the enemy from the Gate.\n\nFora moment the thought flitted through Merry's mind:\"Where is Gandalf? Is he not here? Could he not have saved the king and Éowyn? \"But thereupon Éomer rode up in haste, and with him came the knights of the household that still lived and had now mastered their horses. They looked in wonder at the carcase of the fell beast that lay there; and their steeds would not go near. But Éomer leaped from the saddle, and grief and dismay fell upon him as he came to the king's side and stood therein silence.\n\nThen one of the knights took the king's banner from the hand of Guthláf the banner-bearer who lay dead, and he lifted it up. Slowly Théoden opened his eyes. Seeing the banner he made a sign that it should be given to Éomer.\n\n\"Hail, King of the Mark!\" he said. \"Ride now to victory! Bid Éowyn farewell!\" And so he died, and knew not that Éowyn lay near him. And those who stood by wept, crying: \"Théoden King! Théoden King!\"\n\nBut Éomer said to them:" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Mourn not overmuch!" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Mighty was the fallen,\n\nmeet was his ending. When his mound is raised,\n\nwomen then shall weep. War now calls us!\n\nYet he himself wept as he spoke. \"Let his knights remain here,\" he said, \"and bear his body in honour from the field, lest the battle ride over it! Yea, and all these other of the king's men that lie here. ' And he looked at the slain, recalling their names. Then suddenly he beheld his sister Éowyn as she lay, and he knew her. He stood a moment as a man who is pierced in the midst of a cry by an arrow through the heart; and then his face went deathly white, and a cold fury rose in him, so that all speech failed him fora while. A fey mood took him.\n\n\"Éowyn, Éowyn!\" he cried at last. \"Éowyn, how come you here? What madness or devilry is this? Death, death, death! Death take us all!\"\n\nThen without taking counselor waiting for the approach of the men of the City, he spurred headlong back to the front of the great host, and blew a horn, and cried aloud for the onset. Over the field rang his clear voice calling: \"Death! Ride, ride to ruin and the world's ending! '\n\nAnd with that the host began to move. But the Rohirrim sang no more. Death they cried with one voice loud and terrible, and gathering speed like a great tide their battle swept about their fallen king and passed, roaring away southwards.\n\nAnd still Meriadoc the hobbit stood there blinking through his tears, and no one spoke to him, indeed none seemed to heed him. He brushed away the tears, and stooped to pickup the green shield that Éowyn had given him, and he slung it at his back. Then he looked for his sword that he had let fall; for even as he struck his blow his arm was numbed, and now he could only use his left hand. And behold! there lay his weapon, but the blade was smoking like a dry branch that has been thrust in afire; and as he watched it, it writhed and withered and was consumed." }, { "from": "human", "value": "So passed the sword of the Barrow-downs, work of Westernesse." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But glad would he have been to know its fate who wrought it slowly long ago in the North-kingdom when the Dúnedain were young, and chief among their foes was the dread realm of Angmar and its sorcerer king. No other blade, not though mightier hands had wielded it, would have dealt that foe a wound so bitter, cleaving the undead flesh, breaking the spell that knit his unseen sinews to his will.\n\nMen now raised the king, and laying cloaks upon spear-truncheons they made shift to bear him away towards the City; and others lifted Éowyn gently up and bore her after him. But the men of the king's household they could not yet bring from the field; for seven of the king's knights had fallen there, and Déorwine their chief was among them. So they laid them apart from their foes and the fell beast and set spears about them. And afterwards when all was over men returned and made afire there and burned the carcase of the beast; but for Snowmane they dug a grave and setup a stone upon which was carved in the tongues of Gondor and the Mark:\n\nFaithful servant yet master's bane,\n\nLightfoot's foal, swift Snowmane.\n\nGreen and long grew the grass on Snowmane's Howe, but ever black and bare was the ground where the beast was burned.\n\nNow slowly and sadly Merry walked beside the bearers, and he gave no more heed to the battle. He was weary and full of pain, and his limbs trembled as with a chill. A great rain came out of the Sea, and it seemed that all things wept for Théoden and Éowyn, quenching the fires in the City with grey tears. It was through a mist that presently he saw the van of the men of Gondor approaching. Imrahil, Prince of Dol Amroth, rode up and drew rein before them." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What burden do you bear, Men of Rohan?\" he cried.\n\n\"Théoden King,\" they answered. \"He is dead. But Éomer King now rides in the battle: he with the white crest in the wind.\"\n\nThen the prince went from his horse, and knelt by the bier in honour of the king and his great onset; and he wept. And rising he looked then on Éowyn and was amazed. \"Surely, here is a woman?\" he said. \"Have even the women of the Rohirrim come to war in our need?\"\n\n\"Nay! One only,\" they answered. \"The Lady Éowyn is she, sister of Éomer; and we knew naught of her riding until this hour, and greatly we rue it.\"\n\nThen the prince seeing her beauty, though her face was pale and cold, touched her hand as he bent to look more closely on her. \"Men of Rohan!\" he cried. \"Are there no leeches among you? She is hurt, to the death maybe, but I deem that she yet lives.\" And he held the bright-burnished vambrace that was upon his arm before her cold lips, and behold! a little mist was laid on it hardly to be seen.\n\n\"Haste now is needed,\" he said, and he sent one riding back swiftly to the City to bring aid. But he bowing low to the fallen, bade them farewell, and mounting rode away into battle.\n\nAnd now the fighting waxed furious on the fields of the Pelennor; and the din of arms rose upon high, with the crying of men and the neighing of horses. Horns were blown and trumpets were braying, and the mûmakil were bellowing as they were goaded to war. Under the south walls of the City the footmen of Gondor now drove against the legions of Morgul that were still gathered therein strength. But the horsemen rode eastward to the succour of Éomer: Húrin the Tall, Warden of the Keys, and the Lord of Lossarnach, and Hirluin of the Green Hills, and Prince Imrahil the fair with his knights all about him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Not too soon came their aid to the Rohirrim; for fortune had turned against Éomer, and his fury had betrayed him. The great wrath of his onset had utterly overthrown the front of his enemies, and great wedges of his Riders had passed clear through the ranks of the Southrons, discomfiting their horsemen and riding their footmen to ruin. But wherever the mûmakil came there the horses would not go, but blenched and swerved away; and the great monsters were unfought, and stood like towers of defence, and the Haradrim rallied about them. And if the Rohirrim at their onset were thrice outnumbered by the Haradrim alone, soon their case became worse; for new strength came now streaming to the field out of Osgiliath. There they had been mustered for the sack of the City and the rape of Gondor, waiting on the call of their Captain. He now was destroyed; but Gothmog the lieutenant of Morgul had flung them into the fray; Easterlings with axes, and Variags of Khand, Southrons in scarlet, and out of Far Harad black men like half-trolls with white eyes and red tongues. Some now hastened up behind the Rohirrim, others held westward to hold off the forces of Gondor and prevent their joining with Rohan.\n\nIt was even as the day thus began to turn against Gondor and their hope wavered that anew cry went up in the City, it being then mid-morning, and a great wind blowing, and the rain flying north, and the sun shining. In that clear air watchmen on the walls saw afar anew sight of fear, and their last hope left them.\n\nFor Anduin, from the bend at the Harlond, so flowed that from the City men could look down it lengthwise for some leagues, and the far-sighted could see any ships that approached. And looking thither they cried in dismay; for black against the glittering stream they beheld a fleet borne upon the wind: dromunds, and ships of great draught with many oars, and with black sails bellying in the breeze." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The Corsairs of Umbar!\" men shouted. \"The Corsairs of Umbar! Look! The Corsairs of Umbar are coming! So Belfalas is taken, and the Ethir, and Lebennin is gone. The Corsairs are upon us! It is the last stroke of doom!\"\n\nAnd some without order, for none could be found to command them in the City, ran to the bells and tolled the alarm; and some blew the trumpets sounding the retreat. \"Back to the walls!\" they cried. \"Back to the walls! Comeback to the City before all are overwhelmed!\" But the wind that sped the ships blew all their clamour away.\n\nThe Rohirrim indeed had no need of news or alarm. All too well they could see for themselves the black sails. For Éomer was now scarcely a mile from the Harlond, and a great press of his first foes was between him and the haven there, while new foes came swirling behind, cutting him off from the Prince. Now he looked to the River, and hope died in his heart, and the wind that he had blessed he now called accursed. But the hosts of Mordor were enheartened, and filled with anew lust and fury they came yelling to the onset.\n\nStern now was Éomer's mood, and his mind clear again. He let blow the horns to rally all men to his banner that could come thither; for he thought to make a great shield-wall at the last, and stand, and fight thereon foot till all fell, and do deeds of song on the fields of Pelennor, though no man should be left in the West to remember the last King of the Mark. So he rode to a green hillock and there set his banner, and the White Horse ran rippling in the wind." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Out of doubt, out of dark to the day's rising\n\nI came singing in the sun, sword unsheathing.\n\nTo hope's end I rode and to heart's breaking:\n\nNow for wrath, now for ruin and a red nightfall!\n\nThese staves he spoke, yet he laughed as he said them. For once more lust of battle was on him; and he was still unscathed, and he was young, and he was king: the lord of a fell people. And lo! even as he laughed at despair he looked out again on the black ships, and he lifted up his sword to defy them.\n\nAnd then wonder took him, and a great joy; and he cast his sword up in the sunlight and sang as he caught it. And all eyes followed his gaze, and behold! upon the foremost ship a great standard broke, and the wind displayed it as she turned towards the Harlond. There flowered a White Tree, and that was for Gondor; but Seven Stars were about it, and a high crown above it, the signs of Elendil that no lord had borne for years beyond count. And the stars flamed in the sunlight, for they were wrought of gems by Arwen daughter of Elrond; and the crown was bright in the morning, for it was wrought of mithril and gold.\n\nThus came Aragorn son of Arathorn, Elessar, Isildur's heir, out of the Paths of the Dead, borne upon a wind from the Sea to the kingdom of Gondor; and the mirth of the Rohirrim was a torrent of laughter and a flashing of swords, and the joy and wonder of the City was a music of trumpets and a ringing of bells. But the hosts of Mordor were seized with bewilderment, and a great wizardry it seemed to them that their own ships should be filled with their foes; and a black dread fell on them, knowing that the tides of fate had turned against them and their doom was at hand." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "East rode the knights of Dol Amroth driving the enemy before them: troll-men and Variags and orcs that hated the sunlight. South strode Éomer and men fled before his face, and they were caught between the hammer and the anvil. For now men leaped from the ships to the quays of the Harlond and swept north like a storm. There came Legolas, and Gimli wielding his axe, and Halbarad with the standard, and Elladan and Elrohir with stars on their brow, and the dour-handed Dúnedain, Rangers of the North, leading a great valour of the folk of Lebennin and Lamedon and the fiefs of the South. But before all went Aragorn with the Flame of the West, Andúril like anew fire kindled, Narsil re-forged as deadly as of old; and upon his brow was the Star of Elendil.\n\nAnd so at length Éomer and Aragorn met in the midst of the battle, and they leaned on their swords and looked on one another and were glad.\n\n\"Thus we meet again, though all the hosts of Mordor lay between us,\" said Aragorn. \"Did I not say so at the Hornburg?\"\n\n\"So you spoke,\" said Éomer, \"but hope oft deceives, and I knew not then that you were a man foresighted. Yet twice blessed is help unlooked for, and never was a meeting of friends more joyful.\" And they clasped hand in hand. \"Nor indeed more timely,\" said Éomer. \"You come none too soon, my friend. Much loss and sorrow has befallen us.\"\n\n\"Then let us avenge it, ere we speak of it!\" said Aragorn, and they rode back to battle together." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Hard fighting and long labour they had still; for the Southrons were bold men and grim, and fierce in despair; and the Easterlings were strong and war-hardened and asked for no quarter. And so in this place and that, by burned homestead or barn, upon hillock or mound, under wall or on field, still they gathered and rallied and fought until the day wore away.\n\nThen the Sun went at last behind Mindolluin and filled all the sky with a great burning, so that the hills and the mountains were dyed as with blood; fire glowed in the River, and the grass of the Pelennor lay red in the nightfall. And in that hour the great Battle of the field of Gondor was over; and not one living foe was left within the circuit of the Rammas. All were slain save those who fled to die, or to drown in the red foam of the River. Few ever came eastward to Morgul or Mordor; and to the land of the Haradrim came only a tale from far off: a rumour of the wrath and terror of Gondor.\n\nAragorn and Éomer and Imrahil rode back towards the Gate of the City, and they were now weary beyond joy or sorrow. These three were unscathed, for such was their fortune and the skill and might of their arms, and few indeed had dared to abide them or look on their faces in the hour of their wrath. But many others were hurt or maimed or dead upon the field. The axes hewed Forlong as he fought alone and unhorsed; and both Duilin of Morthond and his brother were trampled to death when they assailed the mûmakil, leading their bowmen close to shoot at the eyes of the monsters. Neither Hirluin the fair would return to Pinnath Gelin, nor Grimbold to Grimslade, nor Halbarad to the Northlands, dour-handed Ranger. No few had fallen, renowned or nameless, captain or soldier; for it was a great battle and the full count of it no tale has told. So long afterward a maker in Rohan said in his song of the Mounds of Mundburg:" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "We heard of the horns in the hills ringing,\n\nthe swords shining in the South-kingdom.\n\nSteeds went striding to the Stoningland\n\nas wind in the morning. War was kindled.\n\nThere Théoden fell, Thengling mighty,\n\nto his golden halls and green pastures\n\nin the Northern fields never returning,\n\nhigh lord of the host. Harding and Guthláf,\n\nDúnhere and Déorwine, doughty Grimbold,\n\nHerefara and Herubrand, Horn and Fastred,\n\nfought and fell therein afar country:\n\nin the Mounds of Mundburg under mould they lie\n\nwith their league-fellows, lords of Gondor.\n\nNeither Hirluin the Fair to the hills by the sea,\n\nnor Forlong the old to the flowering vales\n\never, to Arnach, to his own country\n\nreturned in triumph; nor the tall bowmen,\n\nDerufin and Duilin, to their dark waters,\n\nmeres of Morthond under mountain-shadows.\n\nDeath in the morning and at day's ending\n\nlords took and lowly. Long now they sleep\n\nunder grass in Gondor by the Great River.\n\nGrey now as tears, gleaming silver,\n\nred then it rolled, roaring water:\n\nfoam dyed with blood flamed at sunset;\n\nas beacons mountains burned at evening;\n\nred fell the dew in Rammas Echor." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "When the dark shadow at the Gate withdrew Gandalf still sat motionless. But Pippin rose to his feet, as if a great weight had been lifted from him; and he stood listening to the horns, and it seemed to him that they would break his heart with joy. And never in after years could he hear a horn blown in the distance without tears starting in his eyes. But now suddenly his errand returned to his memory, and he ran forward. At that moment Gandalf stirred and spoke to Shadowfax, and was about to ride through the Gate.\n\n\"Gandalf, Gandalf!\" cried Pippin, and Shadowfax halted.\n\n\"What are you doing here?\" said Gandalf. \"Is it not a law in the City that those who wear the black and silver must stay in the Citadel, unless their lord gives them leave?\"\n\n\"He has,\" said Pippin. \"He sent me away. But I am frightened. Something terrible may happen up there. The Lord is out of his mind, I think. I am afraid he will kill himself, and kill Faramir too. Can't you do something? '\n\nGandalf looked through the gaping Gate, and already on the fields he heard the gathering sound of battle. He clenched his hand. \"I must go,\" he said. \"The Black Rider is abroad, and he will yet bring ruin onus. I have no time.\"\n\n\"But Faramir!\" cried Pippin. \"He is not dead, and they will burn him alive, if someone does not stop them.\"\n\n\"Burn him alive?\" said Gandalf. \"What is this tale? Be quick!\"\n\n\"Denethor has gone to the Tombs,\" said Pippin, \"and he has taken Faramir, and he says we are all to burn, and he will not wait, and they are to make a pyre and burn him on it, and Faramir as well. And he has sent men to fetch wood and oil. And I have told Beregond, but I'm afraid he won't dare to leave his post: he is on guard. And what can he do anyway?\" So Pippin poured out his tale, reaching up and touching Gandalf's knee with trembling hands.\"Can't you save Faramir?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Maybe I can,\" said Gandalf; \"but if I do, then others will die, I fear. Well, I must come, since no other help can reach him. But evil and sorrow will come of this. Even in the heart of our stronghold the Enemy has power to strike us: for his will it is that is at work.\"\n\nThen having made up his mind he acted swiftly; and catching up Pippin and setting him before him, he turned Shadowfax with a word. Up the climbing streets of Minas Tirith they clattered, while the noise of war rose behind them. Everywhere men were rising from their despair and dread, seizing their weapons, crying one to another: \"Rohan has come!\" Captains were shouting, companies were mustering; many already were marching down to the Gate.\n\nThey met the Prince Imrahil, and he called to them: \"Whither now, Mithrandir? The Rohirrim are fighting on the fields of Gondor! We must gather all the strength that we can find.\"\n\n\"You will need every man and more,\" said Gandalf. \"Make all haste. I will come when I can. But I have an errand to the Lord Denethor that will not wait. Take command in the Lord's absence! '\n\nThey passed on; and as they climbed and drew near to the Citadel they felt the wind blowing in their faces, and they caught the glimmer of morning faraway, alight growing in the southern sky. But it brought little hope to them, not knowing what evil lay before them, fearing to come too late.\n\n\"Darkness is passing,\" said Gandalf, \"but it still lies heavy on this City.\"\n\nAt the gate of the Citadel they found no guard. \"Then Beregond has gone,\" said Pippin more hopefully. They turned away and hastened along the road to the Closed Door. It stood wide open, and the porter lay before it. He was slain and his key had been taken." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Work of the Enemy!\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "said Gandalf. \"Such deeds he loves: friend at war with friend; loyalty divided in confusion of hearts.\" Now he dismounted and bade Shadowfax return to his stable. \"For, my friend,\" he said, \"you and I should have ridden to the fields long ago, but other matters delay me. Yet come swiftly if I call!\"\n\nThey passed the Door and walked on down the steep winding road. Light was growing, and the tall columns and carven figures beside the way went slowly by like grey ghosts.\n\nSuddenly the silence was broken, and they heard below them cries and the ringing of swords: such sounds as had not been heard in the hallowed places since the building of the City. At last they came to Rath Dínen and hastened towards the House of the Stewards, looming in the twilight under its great dome.\n\n\"Stay! Stay!\" cried Gandalf, springing forward to the stone stair before the door. \"Stay this madness!\"\n\nFor there were the servants of Denethor with swords and torches in their hands; but alone in the porch upon the topmost step stood Beregond, clad in the black and silver of the Guard; and he held the door against them. Two of them had already fallen to his sword, staining the hallows with their blood; and the others cursed him, calling him outlaw and traitor to his master.\n\nEven as Gandalf and Pippin ran forward, they heard from within the house of the dead the voice of Denethor crying: \"Haste, haste! Do as I have bidden! Slay me this renegade! Or must I do so myself?\" Thereupon the door which Beregond held shut with his left hand was wrenched open, and there behind him stood the Lord of the City, tall and fell; alight like flame was in his eyes, and he held a drawn sword." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But Gandalf sprang up the steps, and the men fell back from him and covered their eyes; for his coming was like the incoming of a white light into a dark place, and he came with great anger. He lifted up his hand, and in the very stroke, the sword of Denethor flew up and left his grasp and fell behind him in the shadows of the house; and Denethor stepped backward before Gandalf as one amazed.\n\n\"What is this, my lord?\" said the wizard. \"The houses of the dead are no places for the living. And why do men fight herein the Hallows when there is war enough before the Gate? Or has our Enemy come even to Rath Dínen?\"\n\n\"Since when has the Lord of Gondor been answerable to thee?\" said Denethor. \"Or may I not command my own servants?\"\n\n\"You may,\" said Gandalf. \"But others may contest your will, when it is turned to madness and evil. Where is your son, Faramir?\"\n\n\"He lies within,\" said Denethor, \"burning, already burning. They have set afire in his flesh. But soon all shall be burned. The West has failed. It shall all go up in a great fire, and all shall be ended. Ash! Ash and smoke blown away on the wind!\"\n\nThen Gandalf seeing the madness that was on him feared that he had already done some evil deed, and he thrust forward, with Beregond and Pippin behind him, while Denethor gave back until he stood beside the table within. But there they found Faramir, still dreaming in his fever, lying upon the table. Wood was piled under it, and high all about it, and all was drenched with oil, even the garments of Faramir and the coverlets; but as yet no fire had been set to the fuel. Then Gandalf revealed the strength that lay hid in him, even as the light of his power was hidden under his grey mantle. He leaped upon to the faggots, and raising the sick man lightly he sprang down again, and bore him towards the door. But as he did so Faramir moaned and called on his father in his dream." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Denethor started as one waking from a trance, and the flame died in his eyes, and he wept; and he said: \"Do not take my son from me! He calls for me.\"\n\n\"He calls,\" said Gandalf, \"but you cannot come to him yet. For he must seek healing on the threshold of death, and maybe find it not. Whereas your part is to go out to the battle of your City, where maybe death awaits you. This you know in your heart.\"\n\n\"He will not wake again,\" said Denethor. \"Battle is vain. Why should we wish to live longer? Why should we not go to death side by side?\"\n\n\"Authority is not given to you, Steward of Gondor, to order the hour of your death,\" answered Gandalf. \"And only the heathen kings, under the domination of the Dark Power, did thus, slaying themselves in pride and despair, murdering their kin to ease their own death.\" Then passing through the door he took Faramir from the deadly house and laid him on the bier on which he had been brought, and which had now been set in the porch. Denethor followed him, and stood trembling, looking with longing on the face of his son. And fora moment, while all were silent and still, watching the Lord in his throes, he wavered.\n\n\"Come!\" said Gandalf. \"We are needed. There is much that you can yet do.\"\n\nThen suddenly Denethor laughed. He stood up tall and proud again, and stepping swiftly back to the table he lifted from it the pillow on which his head had lain. Then coming to the doorway he drew aside the covering, and lo! he had between his hands a palantír. And as he held it up, it seemed to those that looked on that the globe began to glow with an inner flame, so that the lean face of the Lord was lit as with a red fire, and it seemed cutout of hard stone, sharp with black shadows, noble, proud, and terrible. His eyes glittered." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Pride and despair!\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "he cried. \"Didst thou think that the eyes of the White Tower were blind? Nay, I have seen more than thou knowest, Grey Fool. For thy hope is but ignorance. Go then and labour in healing! Go forth and fight! Vanity. Fora little space you may triumph on the field, fora day. But against the Power that now arises there is no victory. To this City only the first finger of its hand has yet been stretched. All the East is moving. And even now the wind of thy hope cheats thee and wafts up Anduin a fleet with black sails. The West has failed. It is time for all to depart who would not be slaves.\"\n\n\"Such counsels will make the Enemy's victory certain indeed, ' said Gandalf.\n\n\"Hope on then!\" laughed Denethor. 'Do I not know thee, Mithrandir? Thy hope is to rule in my stead, to stand behind every throne, north, south, or west. I have read thy mind and its policies. Do I not know that this halfling was commanded by thee to keep silence? That he was brought hitherto be a spy within my very chamber? And yet in our speech together I have learned the names and purpose of all thy companions. So! With the left hand thou wouldst use me fora little while as a shield against Mordor, and with the right bring up this Ranger of the North to supplant me.\n\n\"But I say to thee, Gandalf Mithrandir, I will not be thy tool! I am Steward of the House of Anárion. I will not step down to be the dotard chamberlain of an upstart. Even were his claim proved tome, still he comes but of the line of Isildur. I will not bow to such a one, last of a ragged house long bereft of lordship and dignity.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What then would you have,\" said Gandalf, \"if your will could have its way?\"\n\n\"I would have things as they were in all the days of my life,\" answered Denethor, \"and in the days of my longfathers before me: to be the Lord of this City in peace, and leave my chair to a son after me, who would be his own master and no wizard's pupil. But if doom denies this tome, then I will have naught: neither life diminished, nor love halved, nor honour abated. '\n\n\"To me it would not seem that a Steward who faithfully surrenders his charge is diminished in love or in honour,\" said Gandalf. \"And at the least you shall not rob your son of his choice while his death is still in doubt.\"\n\nAt those words Denethor's eyes flamed again, and taking the Stone under his arm he drew a knife and strode towards the bier. But Beregond sprang forward and set himself before Faramir.\n\n\"So!\" cried Denethor. \"Thou hadst already stolen half my son's love. Now thou stealest the hearts of my knights also, so that they rob me wholly of my son at the last. But in this at least thou shalt not defy my will: to rule my own end. '\n\n\"Come hither!\" he cried to his servants. \"Come, if you are not all recreant!\" Then two of them ran up the steps to him. Swiftly he snatched a torch from the hand of one and sprang back into the house. Before Gandalf could hinder him he thrust the brand amid the fuel, and at once it crackled and roared into flame.\n\nThen Denethor leaped upon the table, and standing there wreathed in fire and smoke he took up the staff of his steward-ship that lay at his feet and broke it on his knee. Casting the pieces into the blaze he bowed and laid himself on the table, clasping the palantír with both hands upon his breast. And it was said that ever after, if any man looked in that Stone, unless he had a great strength of will to turn it to other purpose, he saw only two aged hands withering inflame." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Gandalf in grief and horror turned his face away and closed the door." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Fora while he stood in thought, silent upon the threshold, while those outside heard the greedy roaring of the fire within. And then Denethor gave a great cry, and afterwards spoke no more, nor was ever again seen by mortal men.\n\n\"So passes Denethor, son of Ecthelion,\" said Gandalf. Then he turned to Beregond and the Lord's servants that stood there aghast.\"And so pass also the days of Gondor that you have known; for good or evil they are ended. Ill deeds have been done here; but let now all enmity that lies between you be put away, for it was contrived by the Enemy and works his will. You have been caught in a net of warring duties that you did not weave. But think, you servants of the Lord, blind in your obedience, that but for the treason of Beregond Faramir, Captain of the White Tower, would now also be burned.\n\n\"Bear away from this unhappy place your comrades who have fallen. And we will bear Faramir, Steward of Gondor, to a place where he can sleep in peace, or die if that be his doom.\"\n\nThen Gandalf and Beregond taking up the bier bore it away towards the Houses of Healing, while behind them walked Pippin with downcast head. But the servants of the Lord stood gazing as stricken men at the house of the dead; and even as Gandalf came to the end of Rath Dínen there was a great noise. Looking back they saw the dome of the house crack and smokes issue forth; and then with a rush and rumble of stone it fell in a flurry of fire; but still unabated the flames danced and flickered among the ruins. Then in terror the servants fled and followed Gandalf." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "At length they came back to the Steward's Door, and Beregond looked with grief at the porter.\"This deed I shall ever rue, \"he said;\"but a madness of haste was on me, and he would not listen, but drew sword against me. \"Then taking the key that he had wrested from the slain man he closed the door and locked it.\"This should now be given to the Lord Faramir, ' he said.\n\n\"The Prince of Dol Amroth is in command in the absence of the Lord,\" said Gandalf; \"but since he is not here, I must take this on myself. Ibid you keep the key and guard it, until the City is set in order again.\"\n\nNow at last they passed into the high circles of the City, and in the light of morning they went their way towards the Houses of Healing; and these were fair houses set apart for the care of those who were grievously sick, but now they were prepared for the tending of men hurt in battle or dying. They stood not far from the Citadel-gate, in the sixth circle, nigh to its southward wall, and about them was a garden and a greensward with trees, the only such place in the City. There dwelt the few women that had been permitted to remain in Minas Tirith, since they were skilled in healing or in the service of the healers.\n\nBut even as Gandalf and his companions came carrying the bier to the main door of the Houses, they heard a great cry that went up from the field before the Gate and rising shrill and piercing into the sky passed, and died away on the wind. So terrible was the cry that fora moment all stood still, and yet when it had passed, suddenly their hearts were lifted up in such a hope as they had not known since the darkness came out of the East; and it seemed to them that the light grew clear and the sun broke through the clouds." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But Gandalf's face was grave and sad, and bidding Beregond and Pippin to take Faramir into the Houses of Healing, he went upon to the walls nearby; and there like a figure carven in white he stood in the new sun and looked out. And he beheld with the sight that was given to him all that had befallen; and when Éomer rode out from the forefront of his battle and stood beside those who lay upon the field, he sighed, and he cast his cloak about him again, and went from the walls. And Beregond and Pippin found him standing in thought before the door of the Houses when they came out.\n\nThey looked at him, and fora while he was silent. At last he spoke. \"My friends,\" he said, 'and all you people of this city and of the Western lands! Things of great sorrow and renown have come to pass. Shall we weep or be glad? Beyond hope the Captain of our foes has been destroyed, and you have heard the echo of his last despair. But he has not gone without woe and bitter loss. And that I might have averted but for the madness of Denethor. So long has the reach of our Enemy become! Alas! but now I perceive how his will was able to enter into the very heart of the City.\n\n\"Though the Stewards deemed that it was a secret kept only by themselves, long ago I guessed that herein the White Tower, one at least of the Seven Seeing Stones was preserved. In the days of his wisdom Denethor would not presume to use it to challenge Sauron, knowing the limits of his own strength. But his wisdom failed; and I fear that as the peril of his realm grew he looked in the Stone and was deceived: far too often, I guess, since Boromir departed. He was too great to be subdued to the will of the Dark Power, he saw nonetheless only those things which that Power permitted him to see. The knowledge which he obtained was, doubtless, often of service to him; yet the vision of the great might of Mordor that was shown to him fed the despair of his heart until it overthrew his mind.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Now I understand what seemed so strange tome!\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "said Pippin, shuddering at his memories as he spoke. \"The Lord went away from the room where Faramir lay; and it was only when he returned that I first thought he was changed, old and broken.\"\n\n\"It was in the very hour that Faramir was brought to the Tower that many of us saw a strange light in the topmost chamber,\" said Beregond. \"But we have seen that light before, and it has long been rumoured in the City that the Lord would at times wrestle in thought with his Enemy.\"\n\n\"Alas! then I have guessed rightly,\" said Gandalf. 'Thus the will of Sauron entered into Minas Tirith; and thus I have been delayed here. And here I shall still be forced to remain, for I shall soon have other charges, not Faramir only.\n\n\"Now I must go down to meet those who come. I have seen a sight upon the field that is very grievous to my heart, and greater sorrow may yet come to pass. Come with me, Pippin! But you, Beregond, should return to the Citadel and tell the chief of the Guard there what has befallen. It will be his duty, I fear, to withdraw you from the Guard; but say to him that, if I may give him counsel, you should be sent to the Houses of Healing, to be the guard and servant of your captain, and to beat his side when he awakes– if that shall ever be again. For by you he was saved from the fire. Go now! I shall return soon.\"\n\nWith that he turned away and went with Pippin down towards the lower city. And even as they hastened on their way the wind brought a grey rain, and all the fires sank, and there arose a great smoke before them." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A mist was in Merry's eyes of tears and weariness when they drew near the ruined Gate of Minas Tirith. He gave little heed to the wreck and slaughter that layabout all. Fire and smoke and stench was in the air; for many engines had been burned or cast into the fire-pits, and many of the slain also, while here and there lay many carcases of the great Southron monsters, half-burned, or broken by stone-cast, or shot through the eyes by the valiant archers of Morthond. The flying rain had ceased fora time, and the sun gleamed up above; but all the lower city was still wrapped in a smouldering reek.\n\nAlready men were labouring to clear away through the jetsam of battle; and now out from the Gate came some bearing litters. Gently they laid Éowyn upon soft pillows; but the king's body they covered with a great cloth of gold, and they bore torches about him, and their flames, pale in the sunlight, were fluttered by the wind.\n\nSo Théoden and Éowyn came to the City of Gondor, and all who saw them bared their heads and bowed; and they passed through the ash and fume of the burned circle, and went on and up along the streets of stone. To Merry the ascent seemed agelong, a meaningless journey in a hateful dream, going on and onto some dim ending that memory cannot seize.\n\nSlowly the lights of the torches in front of him flickered and went out, and he was walking in a darkness; and he thought: \"This is a tunnel leading to a tomb; there we shall stay forever.\" But suddenly into his dream there fella living voice.\n\n\"Well, Merry! Thank goodness I have found you!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He looked up and the mist before his eyes cleared a little. There was Pippin! They were face to face in a narrow lane, and but for themselves it was empty. He rubbed his eyes.\n\n\"Where is the king?\" he said. \"And Éowyn?\" Then he stumbled and sat down on a doorstep and began to weep again.\n\n\"They have gone up into the Citadel,\" said Pippin. \"I think you must have fallen asleep on your feet and taken the wrong turning. When we found that you were not with them, Gandalf sent me to look for you. Poor old Merry! How glad I am to see you again! But you are worn out, and I won't bother you with any talk. But tell me, are you hurt, or wounded? '\n\n\"No,\" said Merry. \"Well, no, I don't think so. But I can't use my right arm, Pippin, not since I stabbed him. And my sword burned all away like apiece of wood.\"\n\nPippin's face was anxious.\"Well, you had better come with meas quick as you can, \"he said.\"I wish I could carry you. You aren't fit to walk any further. They shouldn't have let you walk at all; but you must forgive them. So many dreadful things have happened in the City, Merry, that one poor hobbit coming in from the battle is easily overlooked. '\n\n\"It's not always a misfortune being overlooked, \"said Merry.\"I was overlooked just now by– no, no, I can't speak of it. Help me, Pippin! It's all going dark again, and my arm is so cold. '\n\n\"Lean on me, Merry lad!\" said Pippin. \"Come now! Foot by foot. It's not far. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Are you going to bury me?\" said Merry.\n\n\"No, indeed!\" said Pippin, trying to sound cheerful, though his heart was wrung with fear and pity. \"No, we are going to the Houses of Healing.\"\n\nThey turned out of the lane that ran between tall houses and the outer wall of the fourth circle, and they regained the main street climbing up to the Citadel. Step by step they went, while Merry swayed and murmured as one in sleep.\n\n\"I'll never get him there, \"thought Pippin.\"Is there no one to help me? I can't leave him here.\" Just then to his surprise a boy came running up behind, and as he passed he recognized Bergil Beregond's son.\n\n\"Hullo, Bergil!\" he called. \"Where are you going? Glad to see you again, and still alive!\"\n\n\"I am running errands for the Healers,\" said Bergil. \"I cannot stay.\"\n\n\"Don't! \"said Pippin.\"But tell them up there that I have a sick hobbit, a perian mind you, come from the battle-field. I don't think he can walk so far. If Mithrandir is there, he will be glad of the message.\" Bergil ran on.\n\n\"I'd better wait here, \"thought Pippin. So he let Merry sink gently down onto the pavement in a patch of sunlight, and then he sat down beside him, laying Merry's head in his lap. He felt his body and limbs gently, and took his friend's hands in his own. The right hand felt icy to the touch.\n\nIt was not long before Gandalf himself came in search of them. He stooped over Merry and caressed his brow; then he lifted him carefully. \"He should have been borne in honour into this city,\" he said. \"He has well repaid my trust; for if Elrond had not yielded tome, neither of you would have set out; and then far more grievous would the evils of this day have been.\" He sighed. \"And yet here is another charge on my hands, while all the time the battle hangs in the balance.\"" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Collaborate on the narrative and advance it.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, war\nAuthor: J.R.R. Tolkien\nTitle: The Return of the King\nChapter: 27" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Are you going to bury me?\" said Merry.\n\n\"No, indeed!\" said Pippin, trying to sound cheerful, though his heart was wrung with fear and pity. \"No, we are going to the Houses of Healing.\"\n\nThey turned out of the lane that ran between tall houses and the outer wall of the fourth circle, and they regained the main street climbing up to the Citadel. Step by step they went, while Merry swayed and murmured as one in sleep.\n\n\"I'll never get him there, \"thought Pippin.\"Is there no one to help me? I can't leave him here.\" Just then to his surprise a boy came running up behind, and as he passed he recognized Bergil Beregond's son.\n\n\"Hullo, Bergil!\" he called. \"Where are you going? Glad to see you again, and still alive!\"\n\n\"I am running errands for the Healers,\" said Bergil. \"I cannot stay.\"\n\n\"Don't! \"said Pippin.\"But tell them up there that I have a sick hobbit, a perian mind you, come from the battle-field. I don't think he can walk so far. If Mithrandir is there, he will be glad of the message.\" Bergil ran on.\n\n\"I'd better wait here, \"thought Pippin. So he let Merry sink gently down onto the pavement in a patch of sunlight, and then he sat down beside him, laying Merry's head in his lap. He felt his body and limbs gently, and took his friend's hands in his own. The right hand felt icy to the touch.\n\nIt was not long before Gandalf himself came in search of them. He stooped over Merry and caressed his brow; then he lifted him carefully. \"He should have been borne in honour into this city,\" he said. \"He has well repaid my trust; for if Elrond had not yielded tome, neither of you would have set out; and then far more grievous would the evils of this day have been.\" He sighed. \"And yet here is another charge on my hands, while all the time the battle hangs in the balance.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "So at last Faramir and Éowyn and Meriadoc were laid in beds in the Houses of Healing; and there they were tended well. For though all lore was in these latter days fallen from its fullness of old, the leechcraft of Gondor was still wise, and skilled in the healing of wound and hurt, and all such sickness as east of the Sea mortal men were subject to. Save old age only. For that they had found no cure; and indeed the span of their lives had now waned to little more than that of other men, and those among them who passed the tale of five score years with vigour were grown few, save in some houses of purer blood. But now their art and knowledge were baffled; for there were many sick of a malady that would not be healed; and they called it the Black Shadow, for it came from the Nazgûl. And those who were stricken with it fell slowly into an ever deeper dream, and then passed to silence and a deadly cold, and so died. And it seemed to the tenders of the sick that on the Halfling and on the Lady of Rohan this malady lay heavily. Still at whiles as the morning wore away they would speak, murmuring in their dreams; and the watchers listened to all that they said, hoping perhaps to learn something that would help them to understand their hurts. But soon they began to fall down into the darkness, and as the sun turned west a grey shadow crept over their faces. But Faramir burned with a fever that would not abate.\n\nGandalf went from one to the other full of care, and he was told all that the watchers could hear. And so the day passed, while the great battle outside went on with shifting hopes and strange tidings; and still Gandalf waited and watched and did not go forth; till at last the red sunset filled all the sky, and the light through the windows fell on the grey faces of the sick. Then it seemed to those who stood by that in the glow the faces flushed softly as with health returning, but it was only a mockery of hope." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Then an old wife, Ioreth, the eldest of the women who served in that house, looking on the fair face of Faramir, wept, for all the people loved him. And she said: \"Alas! if he should die. Would that there were kings in Gondor, as there were once upon a time, they say! For it is said in old lore: The hands of the king are the hands of a healer. And so the rightful king could ever be known.\"\n\nAnd Gandalf, who stood by, said: \"Men may long remember your words, Ioreth! For there is hope in them. Maybe a king has indeed returned to Gondor; or have you not heard the strange tidings that have come to the City?\"\n\n\"I have been too busy with this and that to heed all the crying and shouting,\" she answered. \"All I hope is that those murdering devils do not come to this House and trouble the sick.\"\n\nThen Gandalf went out in haste, and already the fire in the sky was burning out, and the smouldering hills were fading, while ash-grey evening crept over the fields.\n\nNow as the sun went down Aragorn and Éomer and Imrahil drew near the City with their captains and knights; and when they came before the Gate Aragorn said:\n\n\"Behold the Sun setting in a great fire! It is a sign of the end and fall of many things, and a change in the tides of the world. But this City and realm has rested in the charge of the Stewards for many long years, and I fear that if I enter it unbidden, then doubt and debate may arise, which should not be while this war is fought. I will not enter in, nor make any claim, until it be seen whether we or Mordor shall prevail. Men shall pitch my tents upon the field, and here I will await the welcome of the Lord of the City.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "But Éomer said: \"Already you have raised the banner of the Kings and displayed the tokens of Elendil's House." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Will you suffer these to be challenged? '\n\n\"No,\" said Aragorn. \"But I deem the time unripe; and I have no mind for strife except with our Enemy and his servants.\"\n\nAnd the Prince Imrahil said: \"Your words, lord, are wise, if one who is a kinsman of the Lord Denethor may counsel you in this matter. He is strong-willed and proud, but old; and his mood has been strange since his son was stricken down. Yet I would not have you remain like a beggar at the door.\"\n\n\"Not a beggar,\" said Aragorn. \"Say a captain of the Rangers, who are unused to cities and houses of stone.\" And he commanded that his banner should be furled; and he did off the Star of the North Kingdom and gave it to the keeping of the sons of Elrond.\n\nThen the Prince Imrahil and Éomer of Rohan left him and passed through the City and the tumult of the people, and mounted to the Citadel; and they came to the Hall of the Tower, seeking the Steward. But they found his chair empty, and before the dais lay Théoden King of the Mark upon abed of state; and twelve torches stood about it, and twelve guards, knights both of Rohan and Gondor. And the hangings of the bed were of green and white, but upon the king was laid the great cloth of gold up to his breast, and upon that his unsheathed sword, and at his feet his shield. The light of the torches shimmered in his white hairlike sun in the spray of a fountain, but his face was fair and young, save that a peace lay on it beyond the reach of youth; and it seemed that he slept.\n\nWhen they had stood silent fora time beside the king, Imrahil said: \"Where is the Steward? And where also is Mithrandir?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And one of the guards answered: \"The Steward of Gondor is in the Houses of Healing.\"\n\nBut Éomer said: \"Where is the Lady Éowyn, my sister; for surely she should belying beside the king, and in no less honour? Where have they bestowed her?\"\n\nAnd Imrahil said: \"But the Lady Éowyn was yet living when they bore her hither. Did you not know?\"\n\nThen hope unlooked-for came so suddenly to Éomer's heart, and with it the bite of care and fear renewed, that he said no more, but turned and went swiftly from the hall; and the Prince followed him. And when they came forth evening had fallen and many stars were in the sky. And there came Gandalf on foot and with him one cloaked in grey; and they met before the doors of the Houses of Healing. And they greeted Gandalf and said:\"We seek the Steward, and men say that he is in this House. Has any hurt befallen him? And the Lady Éowyn, where is she? '\n\nAnd Gandalf answered: \"She lies within and is not dead, but is near death. But the Lord Faramir was wounded by an evil dart, as you have heard, and he is now the Steward; for Denethor has departed, and his house is in ashes.\" And they were filled with grief and wonder at the tale that he told.\n\nBut Imrahil said: \"So victory is shorn of gladness, and it is bitter bought, if both Gondor and Rohan are in one day bereft of their lords. Éomer rules the Rohirrim. Who shall rule the City meanwhile? Shall we not send now for the Lord Aragorn?\"\n\nAnd the cloaked man spoke and said: \"He is come.\" And they saw as he stepped into the light of the lantern by the door that it was Aragorn, wrapped in the grey cloak of Lórien above his mail, and bearing no other token than the green stone of Galadriel. \"I have come because Gandalf begs me to do so,\" he said. \"But for the present I am but the Captain of the Dúnedain of Arnor; and the Lord of Dol Amroth shall rule the City until Faramir awakes. But it is my counsel that Gandalf should rule us all in the days that follow and in our dealings with the Enemy.\" And they agreed upon that." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Then Gandalf said: \"Let us not stay at the door, for the time is urgent. Let us enter! For it is only in the coming of Aragorn that any hope remains for the sick that lie in the House. Thus spake Ioreth, wise-woman of Gondor: The hands of the king are the hands of a healer, and so shall the rightful king be known.\"\n\nThen Aragorn entered first and the others followed. And thereat the door were two guards in the livery of the Citadel: one tall, but the other scarce the height of a boy; and when he saw them he cried aloud in surprise and joy.\n\n\"Strider! How splendid! Do you know, I guessed it was you in the black ships. But they were all shouting corsairs and wouldn't listen tome. How did you do it? '\n\nAragorn laughed, and took the hobbit by the hand. \"Well met indeed!\" he said. \"But there is not time yet for travellers\" tales. '\n\nBut Imrahil said to Éomer: \"Is it thus that we speak to our kings? Yet maybe he will wear his crown in some other name!\"\n\nAnd Aragorn hearing him, turned and said: \"Verily, for in the high tongue of old I am Elessar, the Elfstone, and Envinyatar, the Renewer\": and he lifted from his breast the green stone that lay there. \"But Strider shall be the name of my house, if that be ever established. In the high tongue it will not sound so ill, and Telcontar I will be and all the heirs of my body.\"\n\nAnd with that they passed into the House; and as they went towards the rooms where the sick were tended Gandalf told of the deeds of Éowyn and Meriadoc. \"For,\" he said, \"long have I stood by them, and at first they spoke much in their dreaming, before they sank into the deadly darkness. Also it is given tome to see many things far off.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Aragorn went first to Faramir, and then to the Lady Éowyn, and last to Merry. When he had looked on the faces of the sick and seen their hurts he sighed. \"Here I must put forth all such power and skill as is given tome,\" he said. \"Would that Elrond were here, for he is the eldest of all our race, and has the greater power.\"\n\nAnd Éomer seeing that he was both sorrowful and weary said: \"First you must rest, surely, and at the least eat a little?\"\n\nBut Aragorn answered: \"Nay, for these three, and most soon for Faramir, time is running out. All speed is needed.\"\n\nThen he called to Ioreth and he said: \"You have store in this House of the herbs of healing?\"\n\n\"Yes, lord,\" she answered; \"but not enough, I reckon, for all that will need them. But I am sure I do not know where we shall find more; for all things are amiss in these dreadful days, what with fires and burnings, and the lads that run errands so few, and all the roads blocked. Why, it is days out of count since ever a carrier came in from Lossarnach to the market! But we do our best in this House with what we have, as I am sure your lordship will know.\"\n\n\"I will judge that when I see,\" said Aragorn. \"One thing also is short, time for speech. Have you athelas?\"\n\n\"I do not know, I am sure, lord,\" she answered, \"at least not by that name. I will go and ask of the herb-master; he knows all the old names.\"\n\n\"It is also called kingsfoil,\" said Aragorn; \"and maybe you know it by that name, for so the country-folk call it in these latter days.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Oh that!\" said Ioreth. \"Well, if your lordship had named it at first I could have told you. No, we have none of it, I am sure. Why, I have never heard that it had any great virtue; and indeed I have often said to my sisters when we came upon it growing in the woods: \"kingsfoil\", I said, \"\"tis a strange name, and I wonder why \"tis called so; for if I were a king, I would have plants more bright in my garden\". Still it smells sweet when bruised, does it not? If sweet is the right word: wholesome, maybe, is nearer.\"\n\n\"Wholesome verily,\" said Aragorn. \"And now, dame, if you love the Lord Faramir, run as quick as your tongue and get me kingsfoil, if there is a leaf in the City.\"\n\n\"And if not,\" said Gandalf, \"I will ride to Lossarnach with Ioreth behind me, and she shall take me to the woods, but not to her sisters. And Shadowfax shall show her the meaning of haste.\"\n\nWhen Ioreth was gone, Aragorn bade the other women to make water hot. Then he took Faramir's hand in his, and laid the other hand upon the sick man's brow. It was drenched with sweat; but Faramir did not move or make any sign, and seemed hardly to breathe.\n\n\"He is nearly spent,\" said Aragorn turning to Gandalf. \"But this comes not from the wound. See! that is healing. Had he been smitten by some dart of the Nazgûl, as you thought, he would have died that night. This hurt was given by some Southron arrow, I would guess. Who drew it forth? Was it kept?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I drew it forth,\" said Imrahil, \"and staunched the wound. But I did not keep the arrow, for we had much to do. It was, as I remember, just such a dart as the Southrons use. Yet I believed that it came from the Shadows above, for else his fever and sickness were not to be understood; since the wound was not deep or vital. How then do you read the matter?\"\n\n\"Weariness, grief for his father's mood, a wound, and overall the Black Breath, \"said Aragorn.\"He is a man of staunch will, for already he had come close under the Shadow before ever he rode to battle on the out-walls. Slowly the dark must have crept on him, even as he fought and strove to hold his outpost. Would that I could have been here sooner! '\n\nThereupon the herb-master entered. \"Your lordship asked for kingsfoil, as the rustics name it,\" he said; \"or athelas in the noble tongue, or to those who know somewhat of the Valinorean...\"\n\n\"I do so,\" said Aragorn, \"and I care not whether you say now asëa aranion or kingsfoil, so long as you have some.\"\n\n\"Your pardon lord!\" said the man. 'I see you area lore-master, not merely a captain of war. But alas! sir, we do not keep this thing in the Houses of Healing, where only the gravely hurt or sick are tended. For it has no virtue that we know of, save perhaps to sweeten a fouled air, or to drive away some passing heaviness. Unless, of course, you give heed to rhymes of old days which women such as our good Ioreth still repeat without understanding." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "When the black breath blows\n\nand death's shadow grows\n\nand all lights pass,\n\ncome athelas! come athelas!\n\nLife to the dying\n\nIn the king's hand lying!\n\nIt is but a doggrel, I fear, garbled in the memory of old wives. Its meaning I leave to your judgement, if indeed it has any. But old folk still use an infusion of the herb for headaches. '\n\n\"Then in the name of the king, go and find some old man of less lore and more wisdom who keeps some in his house!\" cried Gandalf.\n\nNow Aragorn knelt beside Faramir, and held a hand upon his brow. And those that watched felt that some great struggle was going on. For Aragorn's face grew grey with weariness; and ever and anon he called the name of Faramir, but each time more faintly to their hearing, as if Aragorn himself was removed from them, and walked afar in some dark vale, calling for one that was lost.\n\nAnd at last Bergil came running in, and he bore six leaves in a cloth. \"It is kingsfoil, Sir,\" he said; \"but not fresh, I fear. It must have been culled two weeks ago at the least. I hope it will serve, Sir?\" Then looking at Faramir he burst into tears.\n\nBut Aragorn smiled. \"It will serve,\" he said. \"The worst is now over. Stay and be comforted!\" Then taking two leaves, he laid them on his hands and breathed on them, and then he crushed them, and straightway a living freshness filled the room, as if the air itself awoke and tingled, sparkling with joy. And then he cast the leaves into the bowls of steaming water that were brought to him, and at once all hearts were lightened. For the fragrance that came to each was like a memory of dewy mornings of unshadowed sun in some land of which the fair world in spring is itself but a fleeting memory. But Aragorn stood up as one refreshed, and his eyes smiled as he held a bowl before Faramir's dreaming face." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Well now! Who would have believed it?\" said Ioreth to a woman that stood beside her. \"The weed is better than I thought. It reminds me of the roses of Imloth Melui when I was a lass, and no king could ask for better.\"\n\nSuddenly Faramir stirred, and he opened his eyes, and he looked on Aragorn who bent over him; and alight of knowledge and love was kindled in his eyes, and he spoke softly. \"My lord, you called me. I come. What does the king command?\"\n\n\"Walk no more in the shadows, but awake!\" said Aragorn. \"You are weary. Rest awhile, and take food, and be ready when I return.\"\n\n\"I will, lord,\" said Faramir. \"For who would lie idle when the king has returned?\"\n\n\"Farewell then fora while!\" said Aragorn. \"I must go to others who need me.\" And he left the chamber with Gandalf and Imrahil; but Beregond and his son remained behind, unable to contain their joy. Ashe followed Gandalf and shut the door Pippin heard Ioreth exclaim:\n\n\"King! Did you hear that? What did I say? The hands of a healer, I said.\" And soon the word had gone out from the House that the king was indeed come among them, and after war he brought healing; and the news ran through the City.\n\nBut Aragorn came to Éowyn, and he said: 'Here there is a grievous hurt and a heavy blow. The arm that was broken has been tended with due skill, and it will mend in time, if she has the strength to live. It is the shield-arm that is maimed; but the chief evil comes through the sword-arm. In that there now seems no life, although it is unbroken." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Alas! For she was pitted against a foe beyond the strength of her mind or body. And those who will take a weapon to such an enemy must be sterner than steel, if the very shock shall not destroy them. It was an evil doom that set her in his path. For she is a fair maiden, fairest lady of a house of queens. And yet I know not how I should speak of her. When I first looked on her and perceived her unhappiness, it seemed tome that I saw a white flower standing straight and proud, shapely as a lily, and yet knew that it was hard, as if wrought by elf-wrights out of steel. Or was it, maybe, a frost that had turned its sap to ice, and so it stood, bitter-sweet, still fair to see, but stricken, soon to fall and die? Her malady begins far back before this day, does it not, Éomer?\"\n\n\"I marvel that you should ask me, lord,\" he answered. \"For I hold you blameless in this matter, as in all else; yet I knew not that Éowyn, my sister, was touched by any frost, until she first looked on you. Care and dread she had, and shared with me, in the days of Wormtongue and the king's bewitchment; and she tended the king ingrowing fear. But that did not bring her to this pass! '\n\n\"My friend,\" said Gandalf, 'you had horses, and deeds of arms, and the free fields; but she, born in the body of a maid, had a spirit and courage at least the match of yours. Yet she was doomed to wait upon an old man, whom she loved as a father, and watch him falling into a mean dishonoured dotage; and her part seemed to her more ignoble than that of the staff he leaned on." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Think you that Wormtongue had poison only for Théoden's ears? Dotard! What is the house of Eorl but a thatched barn where brigands drink in the reek, and their brats roll on the floor among their dogs? Have you not heard those words before? Saruman spoke them, the teacher of Wormtongue. Though I do not doubt that Wormtongue at home wrapped their meaning in terms more cunning. My lord, if your sister's love for you, and her will still bent to her duty, had not restrained her lips, you might have heard even such things as these escape them. But who knows what she spoke to the darkness, alone, in the bitter watches of the night, when all her life seemed shrinking, and the walls of her bower closing in about her, a hutch to trammel some wild thing in?\"\n\nThen Éomer was silent, and looked on his sister, as if pondering anew all the days of their past life together. But Aragorn said: \"I saw also what you saw, Éomer. Few other griefs amid the ill chances of this world have more bitterness and shame fora man's heart than to behold the love of a lady so fair and brave that cannot be returned. Sorrow and pity have followed me ever since I left her desperate in Dunharrow and rode to the Paths of the Dead; and no fear upon that way was so present as the fear for what might befall her. And yet, Éomer, I say to you that she loves you more truly than me; for you she loves and knows; but in me she loves only a shadow and a thought: a hope of glory and great deeds, and lands far from the fields of Rohan.\n\n\"I have, maybe, the power to heal her body, and to recall her from the dark valley. But to what she will awake: hope, or forgetfulness, or despair, I do not know. And if to despair, then she will die, unless other healing comes which I cannot bring. Alas! for her deeds have set her among the queens of great renown.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Then Aragorn stooped and looked in her face, and it was indeed white as a lily, cold as frost, and hard as graven stone. But he bent and kissed heron the brow, and called her softly, saying:\n\n\"Éowyn Éomund's daughter, awake! For your enemy has passed away! '\n\nShe did not stir, but now she began again to breathe deeply, so that her breast rose and fell beneath the white linen of the sheet. Once more Aragorn bruised two leaves of athelas and cast them into steaming water; and he laved her brow with it, and her right arm lying cold and nerveless on the coverlet.\n\nThen, whether Aragorn had indeed some forgotten power of Westernesse, or whether it was but his words of the Lady Éowyn that wrought on them, as the sweet influence of the herb stole about the chamber it seemed to those who stood by that a keen wind blew through the window, and it bore no scent, but was an air wholly fresh and clean and young, as if it had not before been breathed by any living thing and came new-made from snowy mountains high beneath a dome of stars, or from shores of silver faraway washed by seas of foam.\n\n\"Awake, Éowyn, Lady of Rohan!\" said Aragorn again, and he took her right hand in his and felt it warm with life returning. \"Awake! The shadow is gone and all darkness is washed clean!\" Then he laid her hand in Éomer's and stepped away.\"Call her! ' he said, and he passed silently from the chamber.\n\n\"Éowyn, Éowyn!\" cried Éomer amid his tears. But she opened her eyes and said: \"Éomer! What joy is this? For they said that you were slain. Nay, but that was only the dark voices in my dream. How long have I been dreaming?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Not long, my sister,\" said Éomer." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"But think no more on it!\"\n\n\"I am strangely weary,\" she said. \"I must rest a little. But tell me, what of the Lord of the Mark? Alas! Do not tell me that that was a dream; for I know that it was not. He is dead as he foresaw.\"\n\n\"He is dead,\" said Éomer, \"but he bade me say farewell to Éowyn, dearer than daughter. He lies now in great honour in the Citadel of Gondor.\"\n\n\"That is grievous,\" she said. \"And yet it is good beyond all that I dared hope in the dark days, when it seemed that the House of Eorl was sunk in honour less than any shepherd's cot. And what of the king's esquire, the Halfling? Éomer, you shall make him a knight of the Riddermark, for he is valiant!\"\n\n\"He lies nearby in this House, and I will go to him,\" said Gandalf. \"Éomer shall stay here fora while. But do not speak yet of war or woe, until you are made whole again. Great gladness it is to see you wake again to health and hope, so valiant a lady!\"\n\n\"To health?\" said Éowyn. \"It maybe so. At least while there is an empty saddle of some fallen Rider that I can fill, and there are deeds to do. But to hope? I do not know.\"\n\nGandalf and Pippin came to Merry's room, and there they found Aragorn standing by the bed.\"Poor old Merry! ' cried Pippin, and he ran to the bedside, for it seemed to him that his friend looked worse and a greyness was in his face, as if a weight of years of sorrow lay on him; and suddenly a fear seized Pippin that Merry would die." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Do not be afraid,\" said Aragorn." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I came in time, and I have called him back. He is weary now, and grieved, and he has taken a hurt like the Lady Éowyn, daring to smite that deadly thing. But these evils can be amended, so strong and gay a spirit is in him. His grief he will not forget; but it will not darken his heart, it will teach him wisdom.\"\n\nThen Aragorn laid his hand on Merry's head, and passing his hand gently through the brown curls, he touched the eyelids, and called him by name. And when the fragrance of athelas stole through the room, like the scent of orchards, and of heather in the sunshine full of bees, suddenly Merry awoke, and he said:\n\n\"I am hungry. What is the time?\"\n\n\"Past supper-time now,\" said Pippin; \"though I daresay I could bring you something, if they will let me.\"\n\n\"They will indeed,\" said Gandalf. \"And anything else that this Rider of Rohan may desire, if it can be found in Minas Tirith, where his name is in honour.\"\n\n\"Good!\" said Merry. \"Then I would like supper first, and after that a pipe.\" At that his face clouded. \"No, not a pipe. I don't think I'll smoke again.\"\n\n\"Why not?\" said Pippin.\n\n\"Well,\" answered Merry slowly. \"He is dead. It has brought it all back tome. He said he was sorry he had never had a chance of talking herb-lore with me. Almost the last thing he ever said. I shan't ever be able to smoke again without thinking of him, and that day, Pippin, when he rode up to Isengard and was so polite. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Smoke then, and think of him!\" said Aragorn. \"For he was a gentle heart and a great king and kept his oaths; and he rose out of the shadows to a last fair morning. Though your service to him was brief, it should be a memory glad and honourable to the end of your days.\"\n\nMerry smiled. \"Well then,\" he said, \"if Strider will provide what is needed, I will smoke and think. I had some of Saruman's best in my pack, but what became of it in the battle, I am sure I don't know.\"\n\n\"Master Meriadoc,\" said Aragorn, \"if you think that I have passed through the mountains and the realm of Gondor with fire and sword to bring herbs to a careless soldier who throws away his gear, you are mistaken. If your pack has not been found, then you must send for the herb-master of this House. And he will tell you that he did not know that the herb you desire had any virtues, but that it is called west-mansweed by the vulgar, and galenas by the noble, and other names in other tongues more learned, and after adding a few half-forgotten rhymes that he does not understand, he will regretfully inform you that there is none in the House, and he will leave you to reflect on the history of tongues. And so now must I. For I have not slept in such abed as this, since I rode from Dunharrow, nor eaten since the dark before dawn.\"\n\nMerry seized his hand and kissed it. \"I am frightfully sorry,\" he said. \"Go at once! Ever since that night at Bree we have been a nuisance to you. But it is the way of my people to use light words at such times and say less than they mean. We fear to say too much. It robs us of the right words when a jest is out of place.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I know that well, or I would not deal with you in the same way,\" said Aragorn. \"May the Shire live forever unwithered!\" And kissing Merry he went out, and Gandalf went with him.\n\nPippin remained behind. \"Was there ever anyone like him?\" he said. \"Except Gandalf, of course. I think they must be related. My dear ass, your pack is lying by your bed, and you had it on your back when I met you. He saw it all the time, of course. And anyway I have some stuff of my own. Come on now! Longbottom Leaf it is. Fill up while I run and see about some food. And then let's be easy fora bit. Dear me! We Tooks and Brandybucks, we can't livelong on the heights.\"\n\n\"No,\" said Merry. \"I can't. Not yet, at any rate. But at least, Pippin, we can now see them, and honour them. It is best to love first what you are fitted to love, I suppose: you must start somewhere and have some roots, and the soil of the Shire is deep. Still there are things deeper and higher; and not a gaffer could tend his garden in what he calls peace but for them, whether he knows about them or not. I am glad that I know about them, a little. But I don't know why I am talking like this. Where is that leaf? And get my pipe out of my pack, if it isn't broken. '\n\nAragorn and Gandalf went now to the Warden of the Houses of Healing, and they counselled him that Faramir and Éowyn should remain there and still be tended with care for many days.\n\n\"The Lady Éowyn,\" said Aragorn, \"will wish soon to rise and depart; but she should not be permitted to do so, if you can in anyway restrain her, until at least ten days be passed.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"As for Faramir,\" said Gandalf, \"he must soon learn that his father is dead. But the full tale of the madness of Denethor should not be told to him, until he is quite healed and has duties to do. See that Beregond and the perian who were present do not speak to him of these things yet!\"\n\n\"And the other perian, Meriadoc, who is under my care, what of him?\" said the Warden.\n\n\"It is likely that he will befit to arise tomorrow, fora short while,\" said Aragorn. \"Let him do so, if he wishes. He may walk a little in the care of his friends.\"\n\n\"They area remarkable race,\" said the Warden, nodding his head. \"Very tough in the fibre, I deem.\"\n\nAt the doors of the Houses many were already gathered to see Aragorn, and they followed after him; and when at last he had supped, men came and prayed that he would heal their kinsmen or their friends whose lives were in peril through hurt or wound, or who lay under the Black Shadow. And Aragorn arose and went out, and he sent for the sons of Elrond, and together they laboured far into the night. And word went through the City: \"The King is come again indeed.\" And they named him Elfstone, because of the green stone that he wore, and so the name which it was foretold at his birth that he should bear was chosen for him by his own people.\n\nAnd when he could labour no more, he cast his cloak about him, and slipped out of the City, and went to his tent just ere dawn and slept fora little. And in the morning the banner of Dol Amroth, a white ship like a swan upon blue water, floated from the Tower, and men looked up and wondered if the coming of the King had been but a dream." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The morning came after the day of battle, and it was fair with light clouds and the wind turning westward. Legolas and Gimli were early abroad, and they begged leave to go up into the City; for they were eager to see Merry and Pippin.\n\n\"It is good to learn that they are still alive,\" said Gimli; \"for they cost us great pains in our march over Rohan, and I would not have such pains all wasted.\"\n\nTogether the Elf and the Dwarf entered Minas Tirith, and folk that saw them pass marvelled to see such companions; for Legolas was fair of face beyond the measure of Men, and he sang an elven-song in a clear voice as he walked in the morning; but Gimli stalked beside him, stroking his beard and staring about him.\n\n\"There is some good stone-work here,\" he said as he looked at the walls; \"but also some that is less good, and the streets could be better contrived. When Aragorn comes into his own, I shall offer him the service of stonewrights of the Mountain, and we will make this a town to be proud of.\"\n\n\"They need more gardens,\" said Legolas. \"The houses are dead, and there is too little here that grows and is glad. If Aragorn comes into his own, the people of the Wood shall bring him birds that sing and trees that do not die.\"\n\nAt length they came to the Prince Imrahil, and Legolas looked at him and bowed low; for he saw that here indeed was one who had elven-blood in his veins. \"Hail, lord!\" he said. \"It is long since the people of Nimrodel left the woodlands of Lórien, and yet still one may see that not all sailed from Amroth's haven west over water. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"So it is said in the lore of my land,\" said the Prince; \"yet never has one of the fair folk been seen therefor years beyond count. And I marvel to see one here now in the midst of sorrow and war. What do you seek?\"\n\n\"I am one of the Nine Companions who set outwith Mithrandir from Imladris,\" said Legolas; \"and with this Dwarf, my friend, I came with the Lord Aragorn. But now we wish to see our friends, Meriadoc and Peregrin, who are in your keeping, we are told.\"\n\n\"You will find them in the Houses of Healing, and I will lead you thither,\" said Imrahil.\n\n\"It will be enough if you send one to guide us, lord,\" said Legolas. \"For Aragorn sends this message to you. He does not wish to enter the City again at this time. Yet there is need for the captains to hold council at once, and he prays that you and Éomer of Rohan will comedown to his tents, as soon as maybe. Mithrandir is already there.\"\n\n\"We will come,\" said Imrahil; and they parted with courteous words.\n\n\"That is a fair lord and a great captain of men,\" said Legolas. \"If Gondor has such men still in these days of fading, great must have been its glory in the days of its rising.\"\n\n\"And doubtless the good stone-work is the older and was wrought in the first building,\" said Gimli. \"It is ever so with the things that Men begin: there is a frost in Spring, or a blight in Summer, and they fail of their promise.\"\n\n\"Yet seldom do they fail of their seed,\" said Legolas. \"And that will lie in the dust and rot to spring up again in times and places unlooked-for. The deeds of Men will outlast us, Gimli.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And yet come to naught in the end but might-have-beens, I guess,\" said the Dwarf.\n\n\"To that the Elves know not the answer,\" said Legolas.\n\nWith that the servant of the Prince came and led them to the Houses of Healing; and there they found their friends in the garden, and their meeting was a merry one. Fora while they walked and talked, rejoicing fora brief space in peace and rest under the morning high up in the windy circles of the City. Then when Merry became weary, they went and sat upon the wall with the greensward of the Houses of Healing behind them; and away southward before them was the Anduin glittering in the sun, as it flowed away, out of the sight even of Legolas, into the wide flats and green haze of Lebennin and South Ithilien.\n\nAnd now Legolas fell silent, while the others talked, and he looked out against the sun, and as he gazed he saw white sea-birds beating up the River.\n\n\"Look!\" he cried. \"Gulls! They are flying far inland. A wonder they are tome and a trouble to my heart. Never in all my life had I met them, until we came to Pelargir, and there I heard them crying in the air as we rode to the battle of the ships. Then I stood still, forgetting war in Middle-earth; for their wailing voices spoke tome of the Sea. The Sea! Alas! I have not yet beheld it. But deep in the hearts of all my kindred lies the sea-longing, which it is perilous to stir. Alas! for the gulls. No peace shall I have again under beech or under elm.\"\n\n\"Say not so!\" said Gimli. \"There are countless things still to see in Middle-earth, and great works to do. But if all the fair folk take to the Havens, it will be a duller world for those who are doomed to stay.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Dull and dreary indeed!\" said Merry. \"You must not go to the Havens, Legolas. There will always be some folk, big or little, and even a few wise dwarves like Gimli, who need you. At least I hope so. Though I feel somehow that the worst of this war is still to come. How I wish it was allover, and well over!\"\n\n\"Don't be so gloomy! \"cried Pippin.\"The Sun is shining, and here we are together fora day or two at least. I want to hear more about you all. Come, Gimli! You and Legolas have mentioned your strange journey with Strider about a dozen times already this morning. But you haven't told me anything about it.\"\n\n\"The Sun may shine here,\" said Gimli, \"but there are memories of that road that I do not wish to recall out of the darkness. Had I known what was before me, I think that not for any friendship would I have taken the Paths of the Dead.\"\n\n\"The Paths of the Dead?\" said Pippin. \"I heard Aragorn say that, and I wondered what he could mean. Won't you tell us some more? '\n\n\"Not willingly,\" said Gimli. \"For upon that road I was put to shame: Gimli Glóin's son, who had deemed himself more tough than Men, and hardier under earth than any Elf. But neither did I prove; and I was held to the road only by the will of Aragorn. '\n\n\"And by the love of him also,\" said Legolas. \"For all those who come to know him come to love him after their own fashion, even the cold maiden of the Rohirrim. It was at early morn of the day ere you came there, Merry, that we left Dunharrow, and such a fear was on all the folk that none would look on our going, save the Lady Éowyn, who lies now hurt in the House below. There was grief at that parting, and I was grieved to behold it.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Alas!" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I had heart only for myself,\" said Gimli. \"Nay! I will not speak of that journey.\"\n\nHe fell silent; but Pippin and Merry were so eager for news that at last Legolas said: \"I will tell you enough for your peace; for I felt not the horror, and I feared not the shadows of Men, powerless and frail as I deemed them.\"\n\nSwiftly then he told of the haunted road under the mountains, and the dark tryst at Erech, and the great ride thence, ninety leagues and three, to Pelargir on Anduin. \"Four days and nights, and on into a fifth, we rode from the Black Stone,\" he said. 'And lo! in the darkness of Mordor my hope rose; for in that gloom the Shadow Host seemed to grow stronger and more terrible to look upon. Some I saw riding, some striding, yet all moving with the same great speed. Silent they were, but there was agleam in their eyes. In the uplands of Lamedon they overtook our horses, and swept round us, and would have passed us by, if Aragorn had not forbidden them.\n\n'At his command they fell back. \"Even the shades of Men are obedient to his will,\" I thought. \"They may serve his needs yet!\"\n\n'One day of light we rode, and then came the day without dawn, and still we rode on, and Ciril and Ringló we crossed; and on the third day we came to Linhir above the mouth of Gilrain. And there men of Lamedon contested the fords with fell folk of Umbar and Harad who had sailed up the river. But defenders and foes alike gave up the battle and fled when we came, crying out that the King of the Dead was upon them. Only Angbor, Lord of Lamedon, had the heart to abide us; and Aragorn bade him gather his folk and come behind, if they dared, when the Grey Host had passed." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "' \"At Pelargir the Heir of Isildur will have need of you,\" he said.\n\n\"Thus we crossed over Gilrain, driving the allies of Mordor in rout before us; and then we rested awhile. But soon Aragorn arose, saying: \"Lo! already Minas Tirith is assailed. I fear that it will fall ere we come to its aid.\" So we mounted again before night had passed and went on with all the speed that our horses could endure over the plains of Lebennin.\"\n\nLegolas paused and sighed, and turning his eyes southward softly he sang:\n\nSilver flow the streams from Celos to Erui\n\nIn the green fields of Lebennin!\n\nTall grows the grass there. In the wind from the Sea\n\nThe white lilies sway,\n\nAnd the golden bells are shaken of mallos and alfirin\n\nIn the green fields of Lebennin,\n\nIn the wind from the Sea!\n\n'Green are those fields in the songs of my people; but they were dark then, grey wastes in the blackness before us. And over the wide land, trampling unheeded the grass and the flowers, we hunted our foes through a day and a night, until we came at the bitter end to the Great River at last.\n\n\"Then I thought in my heart that we drew near to the Sea; for wide was the water in the darkness, and sea-birds innumerable cried on its shores. Alas for the wailing of the gulls! Did not the Lady tell me to beware of them? And now I cannot forget them.\"\n\n\"For my part I heeded them not,\" said Gimli; 'for we came then at last upon battle in earnest. Thereat Pelargir lay the main fleet of Umbar, fifty great ships and smaller vessels beyond count. Many of those that we pursued had reached the havens before us, and brought their fear with them; and some of the ships had put off, seeking to escape down the River or to reach the far shore; and many of the smaller craft were ablaze. But the Haradrim, being now driven to the brink, turned at bay, and they were fierce in despair; and they laughed when they looked onus, for they were a great army still." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "'But Aragorn halted and cried with a great voice: \"Now come! By the Black Stone I call you!\" And suddenly the Shadow Host that had hung back at the last came up like a grey tide, sweeping all away before it. Faint cries I heard, and dim horns blowing, and a murmur as of countless far voices: it was like the echo of some forgotten battle in the Dark Years long ago. Pale swords were drawn; but I know not whether their blades would still bite, for the Dead needed no longer any weapon but fear. None would withstand them.\n\n'To every ship they came that was drawn up, and then they passed over the water to those that were anchored; and all the mariners were filled with a madness of terror and leaped overboard, save the slaves chained to the oars. Reckless we rode among our fleeing foes, driving them like leaves, until we came to the shore. And then to each of the great ships that remained Aragorn sent one of the Dúnedain, and they comforted the captives that were aboard, and bade them put aside fear and be free.\n\n\"Ere that dark day ended none of the enemy were left to resist us; all were drowned, or were flying south in the hope to find their own lands upon foot. Strange and wonderful I thought it that the designs of Mordor should be overthrown by such wraiths of fear and darkness. With its own weapons was it worsted!\"\n\n\"Strange indeed,\" said Legolas. \"In that hour I looked on Aragorn and thought how great and terrible a Lord he might have become in the strength of his will, had he taken the Ring to himself. Not for naught does Mordor fear him. But nobler is his spirit than the understanding of Sauron; for is he not of the children of Lúthien? Never shall that line fail, though the years may lengthen beyond count.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Beyond the eyes of the Dwarves are such foretellings,\" said Gimli. 'But mighty indeed was Aragorn that day. Lo! all the black fleet was in his hands; and he chose the greatest ship to be his own, and he went up into it. Then he let sound a great concourse of trumpets taken from the enemy; and the Shadow Host withdrew to the shore. There they stood silent, hardly to be seen, save fora red gleam in their eyes that caught the glare of the ships that were burning. And Aragorn spoke in aloud voice to the Dead Men, crying:\n\n' \"Hear now the words of the Heir of Isildur! Your oath is fulfilled. Go back and trouble not the valleys ever again! Depart and beat rest!\"\n\n'And thereupon the King of the Dead stood out before the host and broke his spear and cast it down. Then he bowed low and turned away; and swiftly the whole grey host drew off and vanished like a mist that is driven back by a sudden wind; and it seemed tome that I awoke from a dream.\n\n'That night we rested while others laboured. For there were many captives set free, and many slaves released who had been folk of Gondor taken in raids; and soon also there was a great gathering of men out of Lebennin and the Ethir, and Angbor of Lamedon came up with all the horsemen that he could muster. Now that the fear of the Dead was removed they came to aid us and to look on the Heir of Isildur; for the rumour of that name had run like fire in the dark.\n\n'And that is near the end of our tale. For during that evening and night many ships were made ready and manned; and in the morning the fleet set forth. Long past it now seems, yet it was but the morn of the day ere yesterday, the sixth since we rode from Dunharrow. But still Aragorn was driven by fear that time was too short." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "' \"It is forty leagues and two from Pelargir to the landings at the Harlond,\" he said. \"Yet to the Harlond we must come tomorrow or fail utterly.\"\n\n'The oars were now wielded by freemen, and manfully they laboured; yet slowly we passed up the Great River, for we strove against its stream, and though that is not swift down in the South, we had no help of wind. Heavy would my heart have been, for all our victory at the havens, if Legolas had not laughed suddenly.\n\n\"\"Up with your beard, Durin's son!\" he said. \"For thus is it spoken: Oft hope is born, when all is forlorn.\" But what hope he saw from afar he would not tell. When night came it did but deepen the darkness, and our hearts were hot, for away in the North we saw a red glow under the cloud, and Aragorn said: \"Minas Tirith is burning.\"\n\n\"But at midnight hope was indeed born anew. Sea-crafty men of the Ethir gazing southward spoke of a change coming with afresh wind from the Sea. Long ere day the masted ships hoisted sail, and our speed grew, until dawn whitened the foam at our prows. And so it was, as you know, that we came in the third hour of the morning with a fair wind and the Sun unveiled, and we unfurled the great standard in battle. It was a great day and a great hour, whatever may come after.\"\n\n\"Follow what may, great deeds are not lessened in worth,\" said Legolas. \"Great deed was the riding of the Paths of the Dead, and great it shall remain, though none be left in Gondor to sing of it in the days that are to come.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And that may well befall,\" said Gimli. \"For the faces of Aragorn and Gandalf are grave. Much I wonder what counsels they are taking in the tents there below. For my part, like Merry, I wish that with our victory the war was now over. Yet whatever is still to do, I hope to have apart in it, for the honour of the folk of the Lonely Mountain.\"\n\n\"And I for the folk of the Great Wood,\" said Legolas, \"and for the love of the Lord of the White Tree.\"\n\nThen the companions fell silent, but awhile they sat therein the high place, each busy with his own thoughts, while the Captains debated.\n\nWhen the Prince Imrahil had parted from Legolas and Gimli, at once he sent for Éomer; and he went down with him from the City, and they came to the tents of Aragorn that were setup on the field not far from the place where King Théoden had fallen. And there they took counsel together with Gandalf and Aragorn and the sons of Elrond.\n\n\"My lords,\" said Gandalf, 'listen to the words of the Steward of Gondor before he died: You may triumph on the fields of the Pelennor fora day, but against the Power that has now arisen there is no victory. I do not bid you despair, as he did, but to ponder the truth in these words.\n\n'The Stones of Seeing do not lie, and not even the Lord of Barad-dûr can make them do so. He can, maybe, by his will choose what things shall be seen by weaker minds, or cause them to mistake the meaning of what they see. Nonetheless it cannot be doubted that when Denethor saw great forces arrayed against him in Mordor, and more still being gathered, he saw that which truly is." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Hardly has our strength sufficed to beat off the first great assault. The next will be greater. This war then is without final hope, as Denethor perceived. Victory cannot be achieved by arms, whether you sit hereto endure siege after siege, or march out to be overwhelmed beyond the River. You have only a choice of evils; and prudence would counsel you to strengthen such strong places as you have, and there await the onset; for so shall the time before your end be made a little longer.\"\n\n\"Then you would have us retreat to Minas Tirith, or Dol Amroth, or to Dunharrow, and there sit like children on sand-castles when the tide is flowing?\" said Imrahil.\n\n\"That would be no new counsel,\" said Gandalf. 'Have you not done this and little more in all the days of Denethor? But no! I said this would be prudent. I do not counsel prudence. I said victory could not be achieved by arms. I still hope for victory, but not by arms. For into the midst of all these policies comes the Ring of Power, the foundation of Barad-dûr, and the hope of Sauron.\n\n\"Concerning this thing, my lords, you now all know enough for the understanding of our plight, and of Sauron's. If he regains it, your valour is vain, and his victory will be swift and complete: so complete that none can foresee the end of it while this world lasts. If it is destroyed, then he will fall; and his fall will be so low that none can foresee his arising ever again. For he will lose the best part of the strength that was native to him in his beginning, and all that was made or begun with that power will crumble, and he will be maimed forever, becoming a mere spirit of malice that gnaws itself in the shadows, but cannot again grow or take shape. And so a great evil of this world will be removed." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "'Other evils there are that may come; for Sauron is himself but a servant or emissary. Yet it is not our part to master all the tides of the world, but to do what is in us for the succour of those years wherein we are set, uprooting the evil in the fields that we know, so that those who live after may have clean earth to till. What weather they shall have is not ours to rule.\n\n\"Now Sauron knows all this, and he knows that this precious thing which he lost has been found again; but he does not yet know where it is, or so we hope. And therefore he is now in great doubt. For if we have found this thing, there are some among us with strength enough to wield it. That too he knows. For do I not guess rightly, Aragorn, that you have shown yourself to him in the Stone of Orthanc?\"\n\n\"I did so ere I rode from the Hornburg,\" answered Aragorn. \"I deemed that the time was ripe, and that the Stone had come tome for just such a purpose. It was then ten days since the Ring-bearer went east from Rauros, and the Eye of Sauron, I thought, should be drawn out from his own land. Too seldom has he been challenged since he returned to his Tower. Though if I had foreseen how swift would be his onset in answer, maybe I should not have dared to show myself. Bare time was given me to come to your aid.\"\n\n\"But how is this?\" asked Éomer. \"All is vain, you say, if he has the Ring. Why should he think it not vain to assail us, if we have it?\"\n\n\"He is not yet sure,\" said Gandalf, 'and he has not built up his power by waiting until his enemies are secure, as we have done. Also we could not learn how to wield the full power all in a day. Indeed it can be used only by one master alone, not by many; and he will look fora time of strife, ere one of the great among us makes himself master and puts down the others. In that time the Ring might aid him, if he were sudden." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "'He is watching. He sees much and hears much. His Nazgûl are still abroad. They passed over this field ere the sunrise, though few of the weary and sleeping were aware of them. He studies the signs: the Sword that robbed him of his treasure re-made; the winds of fortune turning in our favour, and the defeat unlooked-for of his first assault; the fall of his great Captain.\n\n'His doubt will be growing, even as we speak here. His Eye is now straining towards us, blind almost to all else that is moving. So we must keep it. Therein lies all our hope. This, then, is my counsel. We have not the Ring. In wisdom or great folly it has been sent away to be destroyed, lest it destroy us. Without it we cannot by force defeat his force. But we must at all costs keep his Eye from his true peril. We cannot achieve victory by arms, but by arms we can give the Ring-bearer his only chance, frail though it be.\n\n'As Aragorn has begun, so we must goon. We must push Sauron to his last throw. We must call out his hidden strength, so that he shall empty his land. We must march out to meet him at once. We must make ourselves the bait, though his jaws should close onus. He will take that bait, in hope and in greed, for he will think that in such rashness he sees the pride of the new Ringlord: and he will say: \"So! he pushes out his neck too soon and too far. Let him come on, and behold I will have him in a trap from which he cannot escape. There I will crush him, and what he has taken in his insolence shall be mine again forever.\"\n\n\"We must walk open-eyed into that trap, with courage, but small hope for ourselves. For, my lords, it may well prove that we ourselves shall perish utterly in a black battle far from the living lands; so that even if Barad-dûr be thrown down, we shall not live to see anew age. But this, I deem, is our duty. And better so than to perish nonetheless– as we surely shall, if we sit here– and know as we die that no new age shall be.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They were silent fora while. At length Aragorn spoke. \"As I have begun, so I will goon. We come now to the very brink, where hope and despair are akin. To waver is to fall. Let none now reject the counsels of Gandalf, whose long labours against Sauron come at last to their test. But for him all would long ago have been lost. Nonetheless I do not yet claim to command any man. Let others choose as they will.\"\n\nThen said Elrohir: \"From the North we came with this purpose, and from Elrond our father we brought this very counsel. We will not turn back.\"\n\n\"As for myself,\" said Éomer, \"I have little knowledge of these deep matters; but I need it not. This I know, and it is enough, that as my friend Aragorn succoured me and my people, so I will aid him when he calls. I will go.\"\n\n\"As for me,\" said Imrahil, \"the Lord Aragorn I hold to be my liege-lord, whether he claim it or no. His wish is tome a command. I will go also. Yet fora while I stand in the place of the Steward of Gondor, and it is mine to think first of its people. To prudence some heed must still be given. For we must prepare against all chances, good as well as evil. Now, it maybe that we shall triumph, and while there is any hope of this, Gondor must be protected. I would not have us return with victory to a City in ruins and a land ravaged behind us. And yet we learn from the Rohirrim that there is an army still unfought upon our northern flank.\"\n\n\"That is true,\" said Gandalf. \"I do not counsel you to leave the City all unmanned. Indeed the force that we lead east need not be great enough for any assault in earnest upon Mordor, so long as it be great enough to challenge battle. And it must move soon. Therefore I ask the Captains: what force could we muster and lead out in two days\" time at the latest? And they must be hardy men that go willingly, knowing their peril. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"All are weary, and very many have wounds light or grievous,\" said Éomer, \"and we have suffered much loss of our horses, and that is ill to bear." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "If we must ride soon, then I cannot hope to lead even two thousands, and yet leave as many for the defence of the City.\"\n\n\"We have not only to reckon with those who fought on this field,\" said Aragorn. \"New strength is on the way from the southern fiefs, now that the coasts have been rid. Four thousands I sent marching from Pelargir through Lossarnach two days ago; and Angbor the fearless rides before them. If we set out in two days more, they will draw nigh ere we depart. Moreover many were bidden to follow me up the River in any craft they could gather; and with this wind they will soon beat hand, indeed several ships have already come to the Harlond. I judge that we could lead out seven thousands of horse and foot, and yet leave the City in better defence than it was when the assault began.\"\n\n\"The Gate is destroyed,\" said Imrahil, \"and where now is the skill to rebuild it and set it up anew?\"\n\n\"In Erebor in the Kingdom of Dáin there is such skill,\" said Aragorn; \"and if all our hopes do not perish, then in time I will send Gimli Glóin's son to ask for wrights of the Mountain. But men are better than gates, and no gate will endure against our Enemy if men desert it. '\n\nThis then was the end of the debate of the lords: that they should set forth on the second morning from that day with seven thousands, if these might be found; and the great part of this force should be on foot, because of the evil lands into which they would go. Aragorn should find some two thousands of those that he had gathered to him in the South; but Imrahil should find three and a half thousands; and Éomer five hundreds of the Rohirrim who were unhorsed but themselves warworthy, and he himself should lead five hundreds of his best Riders on horse; and another company of five hundred horse there should be, among which should ride the sons of Elrond with the Dúnedain and the knights of Dol Amroth: all told six thousand foot and a thousand horse. But the main strength of the Rohirrim that remained horsed and able to fight, some three thousand under the command of Elfhelm, should waylay the West Road against the enemy that was in Anórien. And at once swift riders were sent out to gather what news they could northwards; and eastwards from Osgiliath and the road to Minas Morgul." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And when they had reckoned up all their strength and taken thought for the journeys they should make and the roads they should choose, Imrahil suddenly laughed aloud.\n\n\"Surely,\" he cried, \"this is the greatest jest in all the history of Gondor: that we should ride with seven thousands, scarce as many as the vanguard of its army in the days of its power, to assail the mountains and the impenetrable gate of the Black Land! So might a child threaten a mail-clad knight with a bow of string and green willow! If the Dark Lord knows so much as you say, Mithrandir, will he not rather smile than fear, and with his little finger crush us like a fly that tries to sting him?\"\n\n\"No, he will try to trap the fly and take the sting,\" said Gandalf. \"And there are names among us that are worth more than a thousand mail-clad knights apiece. No, he will not smile.\"\n\n\"Neither shall we,\" said Aragorn. \"If this be jest, then it is too bitter for laughter. Nay, it is the last move in a great jeopardy, and for one side or the other it will bring the end of the game.\" Then he drew Andúril and held it up glittering in the sun. \"You shall not be sheathed again until the last battle is fought,\" he said." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Partner with the author and carry on with the tale.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, war\nAuthor: Michael J. Sullivan\nTitle: Rise of Empire\nChapter: 11" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What makes you say that?\"\n\nThe wizard let the amulet and the chain fall into his palm. \"You're here alone.\"\n\nRoyce nodded. \"Hadrian's been moody lately. If I tell him, he'll want to fulfill his destiny-go find this long-lost heir and be his whipping boy. He won't even question it, because he'll want it to be true, but I don't think it is. I think Esrahaddon is up to something. I don't want either of us to be pawns in his effort to bring his choice for emperor to the throne.\"\n\n\"You think Esrahaddon is lying? That he conjured false images to manipulate you?\"\n\n\"That's what I came hereto find out. Is it even possible to make enchanted amulets? If so, is it possible to locate the wearers by magic? And you knew Hadrian's father. Did he ever say anything to you about being the guardian to the Heir of Novron?\"\n\nArcadius turned the amulet over in his hand. \"I don't have the Art to enchant objects to resist magic, nor can I use magic to seek people, but a lot was lost when the Old Empire crumbled. Preserving him in that prison for nearly a thousand years makes Esrahaddon unique in his knowledge, so I can't intelligently say what he is or isn't capable of. As for Danbury Blackwater, I don't recall him ever telling me he was the Guardian of the Heir. That isn't the kind of thing I would likely forget.\"\n\n\"So I'm right. This is all a lie.\"\n\n\"It may not be a lie, per se. You realize it's possible-even likely-that Danbury could have the amulet and not be anyone special. Nine hundred years is along time to expect an heirloom to stay in the possession of one family. The odds are weighed heavily against it. Personal effects are lost everyday. This is made of silver, and a poor man, in a moment of desperation and convinced any story he was told is just a myth, could be tempted to sell it for food. Moreover, what should happen if the owner died-killed in an accident-and this medallion was taken from the dead body and sold? This has likely passed through hundreds of hands before ever reaching Danbury. If what you say is true, Esrahaddon's incantation merely revealed the wearer of the amulet and not the identity of the original owner's descendants. So it's possible Esrahaddon maybe sincere and still be wrong." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Even if Danbury was the descendant of the last Teshlor, he might not have known anymore than Hadrian does." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "His father, or his father before him, could have failed to mention it because it didn't matter anymore. The line of the heir may have died out, or the two became separated centuries ago.\"\n\n\"Is that what you think?\"\n\nArcadius took off his glasses and wiped them.\n\n\"For centuries people have searched for the descendants of Emperor Nareion and no one has ever found them. The empire itself searched for Nareion's son, Nevrik, with all the power of great wizards and questing knights at a time when they could identify him by sight. They failed-unless you accept the recent declaration that they found the heir in the form of this farm girl from Dahlgren.\"\n\n\"Thrace is not the heir,\" Royce said simply. \"The church orchestrated that whole incident as theatrics to anoint their choice for ruler. They botched the job and she accidently caught the prize.\"\n\nThe wizard nodded. \"So I think commonsense decrees that an heir no longer exists... if he ever existed to begin with. Unless...\" He trailed off.\n\n\"Unless what?\"\n\n\"Nothing.\" Arcadius shook his head.\n\nRoyce intensified his stare until the wizard relented.\n\n\"Just supposition, really, but, well... it just seems too romantic that the heir and a bodyguard could have lived all alone on the run for so long, managing to hide while the entire world hunted them.\"\n\n\"What are you suggesting?\" Royce asked.\n\n\"After the emperor's death, when Nevrik fled with his bodyguard, the Teshlor Jerish, wouldn't they have had friends? Wouldn't there have been hundreds of people loyal to the emperor's son willing to help conceal him? Support him? Organize an attempt to put him back on the throne? Of course this organization would have to act in secrecy, given that the bulk of the dying empire was in control of the church.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Are you saying such a group exists?\" Royce asked.\n\nArcadius shrugged. \"I'm only speculating here.\"\n\n\"You're doing more than just speculating. What do you know?\"\n\n\"Well, I've come across some odd references in various texts to a group known only as the Theorem Eldership. I first discovered them in a bit of historical text from 2465, about the time of the Steward's Reign of Glenmorgan the Second. Some priest made a brief notation about a sect by that name. Of course, at that time, anyone who opposed the church was considered heretical, so I didn't give it much thought. Then I spotted another reference to the same group in a very old letter sent from Lord Darius Seret to Patriarch Venlin dating back to within the first twenty years after the death of Emperor Nareion.\"\n\n\"Lord Seret?\" Royce asked. \"As in, Seret Knights?\"\n\n\"Indeed,\" Arcadius said. \"The duke was commanded by the Patriarch to locate the whereabouts of Nevrik, Emperor Nareion's missing son. He formed an elite band of knights who swore an oath to find the heir. A hundred years after the death of Darius the knights adopted their official name, the Order of Seret Knights, which was later shortened out of convenience. Quite ironic, actually, as their responsibilities and influence broadened dramatically. You would hardly know it, as the seret work mostly in secret-hidden so they can perform their duties invisibly. They still report directly to the Patriarch. It's really just a matter of perceptive logic. Given that there is a pseudo-invisible order of knights seeking to hunt down the heir, doesn't it seem sensible to conclude that there is another unseen group to protect him?\"\n\nArcadius stood up and, with no trouble navigating his way through the room's debris, reached the far wall. There a slate hung and with a bit of chalk he wrote:" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Theorem Eldership\n\nThen he crossed out each letter and underneath wrote:\n\nShield the Emperor\n\nHe returned to his desk and sat back down.\n\n\"If you decide to search for the heir,\" Arcadius told Royce in a grave tone, \"be very careful. This is not some bit of jewelry you seek and he maybe protected and hunted by men who will sacrifice their lives and use any means against you. If any of this is true, then I fear you'll be entering into a world of shadows and lies where a silent, secret war has been waging for nearly a thousand years. There will be no honor and no quarter given. It's a place where people disappear without a trace and martyrs thrive. No price will be too great, no sacrifice too awful. What's at stake in this struggle-at least in their eyes-is the very future of Elan.\"\n\nThe number of students at Sheridan always diminished in summer, so Arcadius arranged for them to sleep in the vacated top floor, known as Glen's Attic. The fourth-floor dormitory in Glen Hall lacked even a single window and was oven hot in summer. Home to the sons of affluent farmers, the upper dorm was deserted this time of year, as students returned home to tend crops. This left the entire loft to them, a single long room with a slanted ceiling so low even Arista had to watch her head or risk hitting a rafter. Cots jutted out from the wall where the ceiling met the floor, each nothing more than a straw mattress on simple wooden frames. Personal belongings were absent, but every inch of wood was etched with a mosaic of names, phrases, or drawings-seven centuries of student memoirs.\n\nArista and Hadrian worked at drying their wet gear. They laid everything made of cloth across the floor, and damp stains spread across the ancient timbers. Everything was soaked, and smelled of horse." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I'll get a drying lineup,\" Hadrian told her. \"We can use the blankets to create a bit of privacy for you at the same time.\" He gave her a quizzical look.\n\n\"What?\"\n\nHe shook his head. \"I've just never seen a soaking-wet princess before. You sure you want to do this? It's not too late. We can still head back to Medford and-\"\n\n\"I'll be fine.\" She headed for the stairs.\n\n\"Where are you going?\"\n\n\"To bring up the rest of the bags.\"\n\n\"It's probably still raining and I can get those just as soon-\"\n\nArista interrupted him. \"You have ropes to tie and, as you pointed out, I'm already soaked.\" She descended the steps. Her shoes squished and her wet dress hung with added weight.\n\nNo one thinks I can handle this.\n\nArista knew she had led a pampered life. She was no fool, but neither was she made of porcelain.\n\nHow much fortitude does it take to live like a peasant?\n\nShe was the Princess of Melengar and daughter of King Amrath Essendon-she could rise to any occasion. They all had her so well defined, but she was not like Lenare Pickering. She did not sit all day considering which dress went best with her golden locks. Arista stroked her still dripping head and felt her flat tangled hair. Lenare would have fainted by now.\n\nOutside, the rain had stopped, which left the air filled with the earthy smell of grass, mud, and worms. Everything glistened, and breezes touched off showers beneath trees. Arista had forgotten her cloak. It lay four flights up. She was going only a short distance and would be quick, but by the time she reached the carriage house, she regretted her decision. Three gown-draped students stood in the shadows, talking about the new horses." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"They're from Melengar,\" the tallest said with the confident, superior tone of a young noble speaking to lesser men. \"You can tell by the Medford brand on that one.\"\n\n\"So, Lane, you think Melengar has fallen already?\" the shortest of them asked.\n\n\"Of course. I'll wager Breckton took it last night or maybe early this morning. That's why the owners of these horses are here. They're probably refugees, cowards fleeing like rats from a sinking ship.\"\n\n\"Deserters?\"\n\n\"Maybe,\" Lane replied.\n\n\"If Melengar really did fall last night, it might have been the king himself who fled,\" the short one speculated.\n\n\"Don't be a rube!\" the second tallest told him. \"A king would never ride on nags like these.\"\n\n\"Don't be too sure about that.\" Lane came to the little one's defense. \"Alric isn't much of areal king. They say he and his witch sister killed their father and stole the throne just as he was about to name Percy Braga his successor. I even heard that Alric has taken his sister as his mistress, and there's talk of her becoming queen.\"\n\n\"That's disgusting!\"\n\n\"The church would never allow that,\" said the other.\n\n\"Alric kicked the church out of Melengar months ago because he knew it would try to stop him,\" Lane explained. \"You have to understand that the Melengarians aren't civilized people. They're still mostly barbarians and slip further back into their tribal roots every year. Without the church to watch over them, they'll be drinking the blood of virgins and praying to Uberlin before the year is out. They allow elves to run free in their cities, for Maribor's sake. Did you know that?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Arista could not see their faces as she stood beyond the doorway, carefully keeping herself hidden.\n\n\"So perhaps this is the nag the king of Melengar escaped on. He could be staying in one of the dorm rooms right now, plotting his next move.\"\n\n\"Do you think Chancellor Lambert knows?\"\n\n\"I doubt it,\" Lane replied. \"I don't think a good manlike Lambert would allow a menace like Alric to stay here.\"\n\n\"Should we tell him?\"\n\n\"Why don't you tell him, Hinkle?\" Lane said to the short fellow.\n\n\"Why me? You should do it. After all, you're the one that noticed them.\"\n\n\"Me? I don't have time. Lady Chastelin sent me another letter today and I need to work on my reply lest she drives a dagger into her chest for fear I've forgotten her.\"\n\n\"Don't look at me,\" said the remaining one. \"I'll admit it-Lambert scares me.\"\n\nThe others laughed.\n\n\"No, I'm serious. He scares the wax out of me. I was sent to his office last semester because of that rabid rat stunt Jason pulled. I'd rather he'd just cane me.\"\n\nTogether they walked off, continuing their chatter, which drifted to Lady Chastelin and doubts of her devotion to Lane.\n\nArista waited a moment until she was certain they were gone, then found the bags near the saddles and stuffed one under her arm. She grabbed the other two and quickly, but carefully, returned across the commons and slipped backup the stairs of Glen Hall.\n\nHadrian was not in the loft when she returned, but he had the lines up and blankets hanging from them to divide the room. She slipped through the makeshift curtain and began the miserable task of stringing out her wet things. She changed into her nightgown and robe. They had been near the center of her bag and only slightly damp. Then she began throwing the rest of her clothes over the lines. Hadrian returned with a bucket of water and paused when he spotted Arista brazenly hanging her petticoats and corset. She felt her face flush as she imagined what he was thinking. Not only did she travel unescorted with two men, but she was bedding down in the same room-albeit a large and segmented hall-and now she hung her undergarments for them to see. She was surprised they had not questioned her more intently. She knew the unusual circumstances she traveled under would eventually come up. Royce was not the type to miss something as suspicious as a maiden princess traveling alone in the company of two rogues, no matter how highly esteemed by the crown. As for her clothes, there was no other way or place to dry them safely, so it was this or wear them wet in the morning. There was no sense being prissy about it." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Royce entered the dorm as she finished her work." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He was wearing his cloak with the hood up. It dripped a puddle on the floor.\n\n\"We'll be leaving well before dawn,\" he pronounced.\n\n\"Is something wrong?\" Hadrian asked.\n\n\"I found a few students snooping around the carriage house when I made my rounds.\"\n\n\"He does that,\" Hadrian explained to Arista. \"Sort of an obsession he has. Can't sleep otherwise.\"\n\n\"You were there?\" she asked.\n\nRoyce nodded. \"They won't be troubling us anymore.\"\n\nArista felt the blood drain from her face. \"You... you killed them?\" she asked in a whisper. As she said it, she felt sick. A few minutes earlier, listening to their horrible discussion, she had found herself wishing them harm, but she had not meant it. They were little more than children. She knew, however, that Royce might not see it that way. She had come to realize that for him, a threat was a threat no matter the package.\n\n\"I considered it.\" No tone of sarcasm tempered his words. \"If they had turned left toward the chancellor's residence, instead of right toward the dormitories... But they didn't. They went straight to their rooms. Nevertheless, we'll not be waiting until morning. We'll be leaving in a few hours. That way even if they do start a rumor about horses from Melengar, we'll belong gone by the time it reaches the right ears. The empire's spies will assume we're heading to Trent to beg their aid. We'll need to get you anew mount, though, before heading to Colnora.\"\n\n\"If we're leaving as soon as that, I should go see Arcadius about that meal he promised,\" Hadrian said." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No!\" Arista told him hastily. They looked at her, surprised. She smiled, embarrassed by her outburst. \"I'll go. It will give you two a chance to change out of your wet things without me here.\" Before they could say anything, she slipped out and down the hallway to the stairs.\n\nIt had been nearly a year since that morning on the bank of the Nidwalden River when Esrahaddon had put a question in her head. The wizard had admitted using her to orchestrate the murder of her father to facilitate his escape, but he had also suggested there was more to the story. This could be her only chance to speak with Arcadius. She took aright at the bottom of the stairs and hurried to his study.\n\nArcadius sat on a stool at a small wooden desk on the far side of the room, studying a page of a massive tome. Beside him was a brazier of hot coals and an odd contraption she had never seen before-a brown liquid hung suspended above the heat of the brazier in a glass vial as a steady stream of bubbles rose from a small stone immersed in the liquid. The steamy vapors rose through a series of glass tubes and passed through another glass container, filled with salt crystals. From the end of that tube, a clear fluid slowly dripped into a small flask. A yellow liquid also hung suspended above the flask, and through a valve one yellow drop fell for each clear one. As these two liquids mixed, white smoke silently rose into the air. Occasionally he adjusted a valve, added salt, or pumped bellows, causing the charcoal to glow red hot. At her entrance, Arcadius looked up.\n\nHe removed his glasses, wiped them with a rag from the desk, and put them back on. He peered at her through squinting eyes." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Ah, my dear, come in.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Then, as if remembering something important, he hastily twisted one of the valves. A large puff of smoke billowed up, causing several of the animals in the room to chatter. The stone fell to the bottom of the vial, where it lay quietly. The animals calmed down, and the elderly master of lore turned and smiled at Arista, motioning for her to join him.\n\nThis was no easy feat. Arista searched for open floor to step on and, finding little, grabbed the hem of her robe and opted to step on the sturdiest-looking objects in the shortest path to the desk.\n\nThe wizard waited patiently with a cheery smile, his high rosy cheeks causing the edges of his eyes to wrinkle like a bedsheet held in a fist.\n\n\"You know,\" he began as she made the perilous crossing, \"I always find it interesting what paths my students take to reach me. Some are direct, while others take more of a roundabout approach. Some end up getting lost in the clutter and others find the journey too much trouble and give up altogether without even reaching me.\"\n\nArista was certain he implied more than he said, but she had neither the time nor the inclination to explore it further. Instead, she replied, \"Perhaps if you straightened up a bit, you wouldn't lose so many students.\"\n\nThe wizard tilted his head. \"I suppose you're right, but where would be the fun in that?\"\n\nArista stepped over the rabbit cage, around the large pestle and mortar, and stood before the desk on a closed cover of a book no less than three feet in height and two in width.\n\nThe lore master looked down at her feet, pursed his lips, and nodded his approval. \"That's Glenmorgan the Second's biography, easily seven hundred years old.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Arista looked alarmed.\n\n\"Not to worry, not to worry,\" he told her, chuckling to himself. \"It's a terrible book written by church propagandists. The perfect platform for you to stand on, don't you think?\"\n\nArista opened her mouth, thought about what she was going to say, and then closed it again.\n\nThe wizard chuckled once more. \"Ah yes, they've gone and made an ambassador out of you, haven't they? You've learned to think before you speak. I suppose that's good. Now tell me, what brings you to my office at this hour? If it's about dinner, I apologize for the delay, but the stoves were out and I needed to fetch a boy to get them fired again. I also had to drag the cook away from a card game, which he wasn't at all pleased about. But a meal is being prepared as we speak and I'll have it brought up the moment it is finished.\"\n\n\"It's not that, Master-\"\n\nHe put up a hand to stop her. \"You are no longer a student here. You area princess and Ambassador of Melengar. If you call me Arcadius, I won't call you Your Highness, agreed?\" The grin of his was just too infectious to fight. She nodded and smiled in return.\n\n\"Arcadius,\" she began again, \"I've had something on my mind and I've been meaning to visit you for sometime, but so much has been happening. First there was Fanen's funeral. Then, of course, Tomas arrived in Melengar.\"\n\n\"Oh yes, the Wandering Deacon of Dahlgren. He came here as well, preaching that a young girl named Thrace is the Heir of Novron. He sounded very sincere. Even I was inclined to believe him.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"A lot of people did and that's part of the reason Melengar's fate is so precarious now.\"\n\nArista stopped. There was someone at the door-a pretty girl, perhaps six years old. Long dark hair spilled over her shoulders, and her hands were clasped together, holding a length of thin rope that she played with, spinning it in circles.\n\n\"Ah, there you are. Good,\" the wizard told the girl, who stared apprehensively at Arista. \"I was hoping you'd turn up soon. He's starting to cause a fuss. It's as if he can tell time.\" Arcadius glanced at Arista. \"Oh, forgive me. I neglected to introduce you. Arista, this is Mercy.\"\n\n\"How do you do?\" Arista asked.\n\nThe little girl said nothing.\n\n\"You must forgive her. She's a bit shy with strangers.\"\n\n\"A bit young for Sheridan, isn't she?\"\n\nArcadius smiled. \"Mercy is my ward. Her mother asked me to watch over her fora while until her situation improved. Until then I try my best to educate her, but as I learned with you, young ladies can be most willful.\" He turned to the girl. \"Go right ahead, dear. Take Mr. Rings outside with you before he rips up his cage again.\"\n\nThe girl moved across the room's debris as nimbly as a cat and removed a thin raccoon from his cage. He was a baby by the look of it, and she carried him out the door, giggling as Mr. Rings sniffed her ear.\n\n\"She's cute,\" Arista said.\n\n\"Indeed she is. Now, you said you had something on your mind?\"\n\nArista nodded and considered her words. The question Esrahaddon had planted she now presented to her old teacher. \"Arcadius, who approved my entrance into Sheridan?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The lore master raised a bristled eyebrow. \"Ah,\" he said. \"You know, I always wondered why you never asked before. You are perhaps the only female to attend Sheridan University in its seven-hundred-year history, and certainly the only one to study the arcane arts at all, but you never questioned it once.\"\n\nArista's posture tightened. \"I'm questioning it now.\"\n\n\"Indeed... indeed,\" the wizard replied. He sat back, removed his glasses, and rubbed his nose briefly. \"I was visited by Chancellor Ignatius Lambert, and asked if I would be willing to accept a gifted young lady into my instructions on arcane theory. This surprised me. You see, I didn't teach a class on arcane theory. I had wanted to, and I requested to have it added to the curriculum on many occasions, but I was always turned down by the school's patrons. It seemed they didn't feel that teaching magic was a respectable pursuit. Magic uses power not connected to a spiritual devotion to Maribor and Novron. At best, it was subversive and possibly outright evil in their minds. The fact that I practiced the arcane arts at all has always been an embarrassment.\"\n\n\"Why haven't they replaced you?\"\n\n\"It could be that my reputation as the most learned wizard in Avryn lends such prestige to this school that they allow me my hobbies. Or it maybe that anyone who has tried to force my resignation has been turned into the various toads, squirrels, and rabbits you see about you.\"\n\nHe appeared so serious that Arista looked around the room at the various cages and aquariums, at which point the wizard began to chuckle.\n\nShe scowled at him-which only made him laugh harder.\n\n\"As I was saying,\" Arcadius went on once he regained control of himself, \"Ignatius was in one sentence offering me my desire to teach magic if I was willing to accept you as a student. Perhaps he thought I would refuse. Little did he know that unlike the rest of them, I harbor no prejudices concerning women. Knowledge is knowledge, and the chance to instruct and enlighten a princess-a potential leader-with the power to help shape the world around us was not a deterrent at all. On the contrary, I saw it as a bonus.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"So you're saying I was allowed entrance because of a plan of the school's headmaster that backfired?\"\n\n\"Not at all. That is merely how it happened, not why. Why is a much more important question. You see, School Chancellor Ignatius Lambert was not alone in my office that morning. With him was another man. He remained silent and stood over there, just behind and to the left of you, where the birdcage is now. The cage wasn't there then, of course. Instead, he chose to stand on a discarded old coat and a dagger. As I mentioned, it's always interesting to seethe paths people take when they enter this office, and where they choose to stand.\"\n\n\"Who was he?\"\n\n\"Percy Braga, the Archduke of Melengar.\"\n\n\"So it was Uncle Percy.\"\n\n\"He certainly was involved, but even an archduke of Melengar wasn't likely to have influence over those running Sheridan University, especially on a matter as volatile as teaching magic to young noble ladies. Sheridan is in the ecclesiastical realm of Ghent, where secular lords have no sway. There was, however, another man with them. He never entered my office but stood in the doorway, in the shadows.\"\n\n\"Could you tell who it was?\"\n\n\"Oh yes.\" Arcadius smiled. \"These are reading glasses, my dear. I can see long distances just fine, but then, I can see that is a common mistake people make.\"\n\n\"Who was it, then?\"\n\n\"A close friend of your family, I believe. Bishop Maurice Saldur of Medford's Mares Cathedral, but you probably already knew that, didn't you?\"\n\nGood to his word, Arcadius sent steaming meat pies and red wine. Arista recalled the pies from her days as a student. They were never very good, even when fresh. Usually they were made from the worst cuts of pork, because the school saved lamb for the holidays. The pies were heavy on onions and carrots and thin on gravy and meat. Students actually gambled on how many paltry shreds of pork they would find in their pies-a mere five stood as the record. Despite their complaints, the other students wolfed down their meals, but she never had. Most of the other students' indignation she guessed was only bluster-they likely ate no better at home. Arista, however, was accustomed to three or four different meats roasted on the bone, several varieties of cheese, freshly baked breads, and whatever fruits were in season. To get her through the week, she had servants bring deliveries from home, which she had kept in her room." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You could have mentioned that you knew Arcadius,\" Arista told them as they sat down together at the common table, an old bit of furniture defaced like everything else. It wobbled enough to make her glad the wine was in a jug with cups instead of a bottle and stemmed glasses.\n\n\"And ruin the fun?\" Hadrian replied with a handsome grin. \"So Arcadius was your professor?\"\n\n\"One of them. The curriculum requires you to take several classes, learning different subjects from the various teachers. Master Arcadius was my favorite. He was the only one to teach magic.\"\n\n\"So you learned magic from Arcadius as well as Esrahaddon?\" Royce asked, digging into his pie.\n\nArista nodded, poking her pie with a knife and letting the steam out.\n\n\"That must have been interesting. I'm guessing their teaching styles were a bit different.\"\n\n\"Like night and day.\" She took a sip of wine. \"Arcadius was formalin his lessons. He followed a structured course, using books and lecturing very professorially, like you saw this evening. His style made the lessons seem right and proper, despite the stigma associated with them. Esrahaddon was haphazard, and he seemed to teach whatever came to his mind. Oftentimes he had trouble explaining things. Arcadius is clearly the better teacher, but...\" She paused.\n\n\"But?\" Royce asked.\n\n\"Well, don't tell Arcadius,\" she said conspiratorially, \"but Esrahaddon seems to be the more skilled and knowledgeable. Arcadius is the expert on the history of magic, but Esrahaddon is the history, if you follow me.\"\n\nShe took a bite of pie and got a mouthful of onions and burnt crust." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Having learned from both, doesn't that make you the third most skilled mage in Avryn?\"\n\nArista smirked bitterly and washed the mouthful down with more wine. While she suspected Royce was correct, she had cast only two spells since leaving their tutelage.\n\n\"Arcadius taught me many important lessons. Yet his classes concerned themselves with using knowledge as a means to broaden his students'understanding of their world. It's his way of getting us to think in new directions, to perceive what is around us in terms that are more sensible. Of course, this didn't make his students happy. We all wanted the secrets to power, the tools to reshape the world to our liking. Arcadius doesn't really give answers, but rather forces his students to ask questions.\n\n\"For instance, he once asked us what makes noble blood different from a commoner's blood. We pricked our fingers and ran tests, and as it turns out, there is no detectable difference. This led to a fight on the commons between a wealthy merchant's son and the son of a low-ranking baron. Master Arcadius was reprimanded and the merchant's son was whipped.\"\n\nHadrian finished eating, and Royce was more than halfway through his pie, but he had left his wine untouched after grimacing with the first sip. Arista chanced another bite and caught a mushy carrot, still more onions, and a soggy bit of crust. She swallowed with a sour look.\n\n\"Not a fan of meat pie?\" Hadrian asked.\n\nShe shook her head. \"You can have it if you like.\" She slid it over.\n\n\"So how was studying with Esrahaddon?\"\n\n\"He was a completely different story,\" she went on after another mouthful of wine. \" When I couldn't get what I wanted from Arcadius, I went to him. You see, all of Arcadius's teachings involved elaborate preparations, alchemic recipes that are used to trigger the release of nature's powers and incantations to focus it. He also stressed observation and experimentation to tap the power of the natural world. Arcadius relied on manual techniques to derive power from the elements, but Esrahaddon explained how the same energy could be summoned through more subtle enticement, using only motion, harmonic sound, and the power of the mind." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The problem was Esrahaddon's technique relied on hand movements, which explains why the church cut his off. He tried to talk me through the motions, but without the ability to demonstrate, it was very frustrating. Subtle differences can separate success from failure, so learning from him was hopeless. All I ever managed to do was make a man sneeze. Oh, and once I cursed Countess Amril with boils.\" Hadrian poured the last of the wine into his and Arista's cups after Royce waved him off. \" Arcadius was angry when he found out about the curse and lectured me for hours. He was always against using magic for personal gain or for the betterment of just a few. He often said, \"Don't waste energy to treat a single plague victim; instead, search to eliminate the illness and save thousands. '\n\n\"So yes, you're right. I'm likely the most tutored mage in all of Avryn, but that's really not saying much. I would be hard-pressed to do much more than tickle someone's nose.\"\n\n\"And you can do that just with hand movements?\" Royce asked skeptically.\n\n\"Would you like a demonstration?\"\n\n\"Sure, try it on Hadrian.\"\n\n\"Ah no, let's not,\" Hadrian protested. \"I don't want to be accidently turned into a toad or rabbit or something. Didn't you learn anything else?\"\n\n\"Well, he tried to teach me how to boil water, but I never got it to work. I would get close, but there was always something missing. He used to...\" She trailed off.\n\n\"What?\" Hadrian asked.\n\nShe shrugged. \"I don't know. It's just that I was practicing gestures on the ride here and I-\" She squinted in concentration as she ran through the sequence in her mind. They should be similar. Both the rain and the boiling spell used the same element-water. The same motion should be found in each. Just thinking about it made her heart quicken." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "That is it, isn't it? That is the missing piece. If I have the rest of the spell correct, then all I need to do is...\n\nLooking around for the bucket that Hadrian had brought up, she closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. Boiling water, while harder than making a person sneeze, took a short, simple incantation, one she had attempted without success hundreds of times. She cleared her mind, relaxed, then reached out, sensing the room-the light and heat emanating from the candles, the force of the wind blowing above the roof, the dripping of water from their wet clothes. She opened her eyes and focused on the bucket and the water inside. Lukewarm, it lay quiet, sleeping. She felt its place in the world, part of the whole, waiting fora change, wanting to please.\n\nArista began to hum, letting the sounds follow the rhythm that spoke to the water. She sensed its attention. Her voice rose, speaking the few short words in a melody of a song. She raised a single hand and made the motions, only this time she added a simple sweep of her thumb. It felt perfect-the hole that evaded her in the past. She closed her hand into a fist and squeezed. The moment she did, she could feel the heat, and across the room steam rose.\n\nHadrian stood up, took two steps, and then stopped. \"It's bubbling,\" he said, his voice expressing his amazement.\n\n\"Yeah, and so are our clothes.\" Royce pointed to the pieces of wet clothing hanging on the line, which were beginning to hiss as steam rose from them.\n\n\"Oops.\" Arista opened her hand abruptly. The wash water stopped boiling and the clothes quieted.\n\n\"By Mar, that's unbelievable.\" Hadrian stood grinning. \"You really did it.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Royce remained silent, staring at the steaming clothes.\n\n\"I know. Can you believe it?\" she said.\n\n\"What else can you do?\"\n\n\"Let's not find out,\" Royce interrupted. \"It's getting late and we'll be leaving in a few hours, so we should get to sleep.\"\n\n\"Killjoy,\" Hadrian replied. \"But he's probably right. Let's turn in.\"\n\nArista nodded, walked behind the wall of blankets, and only then allowed herself a smile.\n\nIt worked! It really worked.\n\nLying on the little cot without bothering with a blanket, she stared at the ceiling and listened to the thieves moving about.\n\n\"You have to admit that was impressive,\" she heard Hadrian say.\n\nIf Royce made a reply, she did not hear it. She had frightened him. The expression on his face had said more than words ever could. Lying there, looking up at the rafters, she realized she had seen that look before-the day Arcadius had reprimanded her. She had been leaving his office when he had stopped her. \"I never taught curses in this class, boils or otherwise. Did you cause them by mixing a draft that she drank?\"\n\n\"No,\" she recalled saying. \"It was a verbal curse.\"\n\nHis eyes widened and his mouth gaped, but he said nothing more. At the time, she had thought his look was one of amazement and pride in a student exceeding expectations. Looking back, Arista realized she had seen only what she had wanted to see." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As Amilia watched, the playful flicker of candlelight caught the attention of the empress, which briefly replaced her blank stare.\n\nIs that a sign?\n\nAmilia often played this game with herself, looking for any improvement. A month had passed since Saldur had summoned her to his office to explain her duties. She knew she could never do half of what he wanted, but his main concern was the empress's health, and Amilia was doing well in that regard. Even in this faint light, she could seethe change. Modina's cheeks were no longer hollow, her skin no longer stretched. The empress was now eating some vegetables and even bits of meat hidden in the soup. Still, Amilia feared the progress would not be good enough.\n\nModina still had not said a word-at least, not while awake. Often when the empress slept, she mumbled, moaned, and tossed about restlessly. Upon awakening, the girl cried, tears running down her cheeks. Amilia held her, stroked her hair, and tried to keep her warm, but the empress did not seem to notice her presence.\n\nTo pass the time, Amilia continued to tell Modina stories, hoping it might prompt her into speaking, perhaps to ask a question. After telling her everything she could think of about her family, she moved onto fairy tales from her childhood. There was Gronbach, the evil dwarf who kidnapped a milkmaid and imprisoned her in his subterranean lair. The maiden solved the riddle of the three boxes, snipped off his beard, and escaped.\n\nShe even recounted scary stories told by her brothers in the dark of the carriage workshop. She knew they had been purposefully trying to frighten her, and even now the tales gave Amilia chills. But anything was worth a try to snap Modina back to the land of the living. The most disturbing of these were about elves, who put their victims to sleep with music before eating them." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "When she ran out of fairy tales, she turned to stories she remembered from church, like the epic tale of how, in their hour of greatest need, Maribor sent the divine Novron to save mankind. Wielding the wondrous Rhelacan, he defeated the elves.\n\nThinking Modina would like the similarities to her own life, Amilia told the romantic account of the farmer's daughter Persephone, whom Novron took to be his queen. When she refused to leave her simple village, he built the great imperial capital right there and named the city Percepliquis after her.\n\n\"So what story shall we have this evening?\" Amilia asked as the two girls lay across from each other, bathed in the light of the candles. \" How about Kile and the White Feather? Our monsignor used it from time to time when he wanted to make a point about penance and redemption. Have you heard that one? Do you like it? I do.\n\n\"Well, you see, the father of the gods, Erebus, had three sons: Ferrol, Drome, and Maribor; the gods of elves, dwarves, and men. He also had a daughter, Muriel, who was the loveliest being ever created, and she held dominion overall the plants and animals. Well, one night Erebus became drunk and raped his own daughter. In anger, her brothers attacked their father and tried to kill him, but of course, gods can't die.\"\n\nAmilia saw the candles flicker from a draft. It was always colder at night, and she got up and brought them each another blanket.\n\n\"So, where was I?\"\n\nModina merely blinked.\n\n\"Oh, I remember, racked with guilt and grief, Erebus returned to Muriel and begged for her forgiveness. She was moved by her father's remorse but still could not look at him. He pleaded for her to name a punishment. Muriel needed time to let the fear and pain pass, so she told him,\"Go to Elan to live. Not as a god, but as a man, to learn humility. \"To repent for his misdeeds, she charged him to do good works. Erebus did as she requested and took the name of Kile. It's said that he walks the world of men to this day, working miracles. For each act that pleases her, she bestows a white feather to him from her magnificent robe, which he places in a pouch kept forever by his side. On the day when all the feathers have been awarded, Muriel promised to call her father home and forgive him. The legend says that when the gods are reunited, all will be made right, and the world will transform into a paradise.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "This really was one of Amilia's favorite stories and she told it hoping for miraculous results. Perhaps the father of the gods would hear her and come to their aid. Amilia waited. Nothing happened. The walls were the same cold stone, the flickering flames the only light. She sighed. \"Well, maybe we'll just have to make our own miracles,\" she told Modina as she blew out all but a single candle, then closed her eyes to sleep.\n\nAmilia woke with a newfound purpose. She resolved to free Modina from her room, if only fora short while. The cell reeked of the scent of urine and mildew, which lingered even after scrubbing and fresh straw. She wanted to take Modina outside but knew that would be asking too much. Amilia tried to convince herself that Lady Constance had been dragged away because of Modina's failing health, and not because she had taken her to the kitchen. But even so, no matter the consequences, Amilia had to try.\n\nAmilia changed both herself and Modina into their day clothing and, taking her gently by the hand, led her to the door and knocked. When it opened, she faced the guard straight and tall and announced, \"I'm taking the empress to the kitchen for her meal. I was appointed the imperial secretary by Regent Saldur himself, and I'm responsible for her care. She can't remain in this filthy cell. It's killing her.\"\n\nShe waited.\n\nHe would refuse and she would argue. She tried to organize her rebuttals: noxious vapors, the healing power of fresh air, the fact that they would kill her if the empress did not show improvement. Why that last one would persuade him she had not worked out, but it was one of the thoughts pressing on her mind." }, { "from": "human", "value": "The guard looked from Amilia to Modina and back to Amilia again." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She was shocked when he nodded and stepped aside. Amilia hesitated; she had not considered the possibility he would relent. She led the empress up the steps while the soldier followed.\n\nShe made no announcement like Lady Constance. She simply walked in with the empress in tow, bringing the kitchen once more to a halt. Everyone stared. No one said a word.\n\n\"The empress would like her meal,\" Amilia told Ibis, who nodded. \"Could you please put some extra bread at the bottom of the bowl, and could she get some fruit today?\"\n\n\"Aye, aye,\" the big man acknowledged. \"Leif, get on it. Nipper, go to the storage and bring up some of those berries. The rest of you, back to work. Nothing to see here.\"\n\nNipper bolted outside, leaving the door open. Red, one of the huntsman's old dogs, wandered in. Modina dropped Amilia's hand.\n\n\"Leif, get that animal out of here,\" Ibis ordered.\n\n\"Wait,\" Amilia said. Everyone watched as the empress knelt down next to the elkhound. The dog, in turn, nuzzled her.\n\nRed was old, and his muzzle had gone gray, and his eyes clouded with blindness. Why the huntsman kept him was a mystery, as all he did was sleep in the courtyard and beg for handouts from the kitchen. Few took notice of his familiar presence, but he commanded the empress's attention. She scratched behind his ears and stroked his fur.\n\n\"I guess Red gets to stay.\" Ibis chuckled. \"Dog's got important friends.\"\n\nEdith Mon entered the kitchen, halting abruptly at the sight of Amilia and the empress. She pursed her lips, narrowed her eyes, and without a word pivoted and exited the way she had come." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Amidst the sound of pounding hammers, Regent Maurice Saldur strode through the palace reception hall, where artisans were busy at work." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A year ago this had been King Ethelred's castle, the stark stone fortress of Avryn's most powerful monarch. Since the coronation of the empress, it had become the imperial palace of the Nyphron Empire and the home of the Daughter of Maribor. Saldur had insisted on the renovations: a grand new foyer, complete with the crown seal etched in white marble on the floor; several massive chandeliers to lighten the dark interior; a wider ornate balcony from which Her Eminence could wave to her adoring people; and of course, a complete rework of the throne room.\n\nEthelred and the chancellor had balked at the expense. The new throne cost almost as much as a warship, but they did not understand the importance of impressions the way Saldur did. He had an illiterate, nearly comatose child for an empress, and the only thing preventing disaster was that no one knew. Saldur's edict restricting servants from leaving the castle had been issued to contain most of the gossip. Brute-force opulence would further the misdirection.\n\nHow much silk, gold, and marble does it take to blind the world?\n\nMore than he had access to, he was certain, but he would do what he could.\n\nThese past few weeks, Saldur had felt as if he had been balancing teacups on his head while standing on a stool, strapped to the back of a runaway horse. The New Empire had manifested itself in just a matter of weeks. Centuries of planning had finally coalesced, but as with everything, there were mistakes and circumstances for which they could not possibly account.\n\nThe whole fiasco in Dahlgren had been only the start. The moment they had declared the establishment of the New Empire, Glouston had gone into open revolt. Alburn had decided to haggle over terms, and of course, there was Melengar. The humiliation was beyond words. Every other Avryn kingdom had fallen instep as planned, all except his. He had been the bishop of Melengar and close personal advisor to the king, as well as the king's son, and yet Melengar remained independent. Saldur's clever solution to the Dahlgren problem had kept him from fading into obscurity. He had drawn victory from ashes, and for that the Patriarch had appointed him the church's representative, making him co-regent alongside Ethelred." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The old king of Warric maintained the existing systems, but Saldur was the architect of the new world order. His vision would define the lives of thousands for centuries to come. Although it was a tremendous opportunity, Saldur felt as if he were rolling a massive boulder up a hill. If he should trip or stumble, the rock would rollback and crush him and everything else with it.\n\nWhen Saldur reached his office, he found Luis Guy waiting. The church sentinel had just arrived, hopefully with good news. The Knight of Nyphron waited near the window, as straight and impeccable as ever. He stood looking out at some distant point with his hands clasped behind his back. As usual, he wore the black and scarlet of his order, each line clean, his beard neatly trimmed.\n\n\"I assume you've heard,\" Saldur said, closing the door behind him and ignoring any greeting. Guy was not the type to bother with pleasantries-something Saldur appreciated about the man. Over the past several months, he had seen little of Guy, whom the Patriarch kept occupied searching for the real Heir of Novron and the wizard Esrahaddon. This was also to his liking, as Guy, who was one of only two men in the world with direct access to the Patriarch, could be a formidable rival. Strangely, Guy appeared to have little interest in carving out a place for himself in the New Empire-something else to be grateful for.\n\n\"About the Nationalists? Of course,\" Guy responded, turning away from the window.\n\n\"And?\"\n\n\"And what?\"\n\n\"And I would like to know what-\" Saldur halted when he noticed another man in the room.\n\nThe office was comfortable in size, large enough to accommodate a desk, bookshelves, and a table with a chessboard between two soft chairs, where the stranger sat." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Oh yes.\" Guy motioned to the man. \"This is Merrick Marius. Merrick, meet Bishop-forgive me-Regent Saldur.\"\n\n\"So this is him,\" Saldur muttered, annoyed that the man did not rise.\n\nHe remained sitting comfortably, leaning back with casual indifference, staring in a manner too direct, too brazen. Merrick wore a thigh-length coat of dark red suede-an awful shade, Saldur thought-the color of dried blood. His hair was short, his face pale, and aside from his coat, his attire was simple and unadorned.\n\n\"Not very impressive, are you?\" Saldur observed.\n\nThe man smiled at this. \"Do you play chess, Your Grace?\"\n\nSaldur's eyebrows rose and he glanced at Guy. This was his man, after all. Guy had been the one who dug him up, unearthing him from the fetid streets, and praised his talents. The sentinel said nothing and showed no outward sign of outrage or discontent with his pet.\n\n\"I'm running an empire, young man,\" Saldur replied dismissively. \"I don't have time for games.\"\n\n\"How strange,\" Merrick said. \" I've never thought of chess as a game. Tome it's really more of a religion. Every aspect of life, distilled into sixteen pieces within sixty-four black and white squares, which from a distance actually appear gray. Of course, there are more than a mere sixty-four squares. The smaller squares taken in even numbers form larger ones, creating a total of two hundred and four. Most people miss that. They see only the obvious. Few have the intelligence to look deeper to seethe patterns hidden within patterns. That's part of the beauty of chess-it is much more than it first appears, more complicated, more complex. The world at your fingertips, so manageable, so defined. It has such simple rules, a near infinite number of possible paths, but only three outcomes." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I've heard some clergy base sermons on the game, explaining the hierarchy of pieces and how they represent the classes of society. They correlate the rules of movement to the duties that each man performs in his service to Maribor. Have you ever done that, Your Grace?\" Merrick asked, but he did not wait for an answer. \"Amazing idea, isn't it?\" He leaned over the board, his eyes searching the field of black and white.\n\n\"The bishop is an interesting piece.\" He plucked one off the board and held it in his hand, rolling the polished stone figure back and forth across his open palm. \"It's not a very well-designed piece, not as pretty perhaps as, say, the knight. It's often overlooked, hiding in the corners, appearing so innocent, so disarming. But it's able to sweep the length of the board at sharp, unexpected angles, often with devastating results. I've always thought that bishops were underutilized through alack of appreciation for their talents. I suppose I'm unusual in this respect, but then, I'm not the type of person to judge the value of apiece based on how it looks.\"\n\n\"You think you're a very clever fellow, don't you?\" Saldur challenged.\n\n\"No, Your Grace,\" Merrick replied. \"Clever is the man who makes a fortune selling dried-up cows, explaining how it saves the farmers the trouble of getting up every morning to milk them. I'm not clever-I'm a genius.\"\n\nAt this, Guy interjected, \"Regent, at our last meeting I mentioned a solution to the Nationalist problem. He sits before you. Mr. Marius has everything worked out. He merely needs approval from the regents.\"\n\n\"And certain assurances of payment,\" Merrick added.\n\n\"You can't be serious.\" Saldur whirled on Guy. \"The Nationalists are sweeping north on a rampage. They've taken Kilnar. They're only miles from Ratibor. They will be marching on this palace by Wintertide. What I need are ideas, alternatives, solutions-not some irreverent popinjay!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You have some interesting ideas, Your Grace,\" Merrick told Saldur, his voice calm and casual, as if he had not heard a word. \"I like your views on a central government. The benefits of standardizations in trade, laws, farming, even the widths of roads are excellent. It shows clarity of thought that I would not expect from an elderly church bishop.\"\n\n\"How do you know anything of my-\"\n\nMerrick raised his hand to halt the regent. \"I should explain right away that how I obtain information is confidential and not open for discussion. The fact is, I know it. What's more-I like it. I can seethe potential in this New Empire you're struggling to erect. It may well be exactly what the world needs to get beyond the petty warfare that weakens our nations and mires the common man in hopeless poverty. At present, however, this is still a dream. That is where I come in. I only wish you came tome earlier. I could have saved you that embarrassing and now burdensome problem of Her Eminence.\"\n\n\"That was the result of an unfortunate error on the part of my predecessor, the archbishop. Something he paid for with his life. I was the one who salvaged the situation.\"\n\n\"Yes, I know. Some idiot named Rufus was supposed to slay the mythical beast and thereby prove he was the fabled Heir of Novron, the descendant of the god Maribor himself. Only instead, Rufus was devoured and the beast laid waste to everything in the vicinity. Everything except a young girl, who somehow managed to slay it, and in front of a church deacon, no less-oops. But you're right. That wasn't your fault. You were the smart one with the brilliant idea to use her as a puppet-a girl so bereft from losing everything and everyone that she went mad. Your solution is to hide her in the depths of the palace and hope no one notices. In the meantime, you and Ethelred run a military campaign to takeover all of Avryn, sending your best troops north to invade Melengar just as the Nationalists invade from the south. Brilliant. I must say, with things so well in hand it's a wonder I was contacted at all.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I'm not amused,\" Saldur told him.\n\n\"Nor should you be, for at this moment King Alric of Melengar is setting into motion plans to form an alliance with the Nationalists, trapping you in a two-front war, and bringing Trent into the conflict on their side.\"\n\n\"You know this?\"\n\n\"It is what I would do. And with the wealth of Delgos and the might of Trent, your fledgling empire, with its insane empress, will crumble as quickly as it rose.\"\n\n\"More impressed now?\" Guy asked.\n\n\"And what would you have us do to stave off this impending cataclysm?\"\n\nMerrick smiled. \"Pay me.\"\n\nThe grand, exalted empress Modina Novronian, ruler of Avryn and high priestess of the Church of Nyphron, sat sprawled on the floor, feeding her bowl of soup to Red, who expressed his gratitude by drooling on her dress. He rested his head on her lap and slapped his tail against the stone, his tongue sliding lazily in and out. The empress curled up beside the dog and laid her head on the animal's side. Amilia smiled. She was encouraged by seeing Modina interact with something, anything.\n\n\"Get that disgusting animal out of here and get her off the floor!\"\n\nAmilia jumped and looked up, horrified. Regent Saldur entered the kitchen with Edith Mon, wearing a sinister smile. Amilia could not move. Several scullery maids rushed to the empress's side and gently pulled her to her feet.\n\n\"The very idea.\" He continued to shout as the maids busied themselves with smoothing out Modina's dress. \"You,\" the regent growled, pointing at Amilia, \"this is your doing. I should have known. What was I expecting when I put a common street urchin in charge of... of...\" He trailed off, looking at Modina with an exasperated expression. \"At least your predecessors didn't have her groveling with animals!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Your Grace, Amilia was-\" Ibis Thinly began.\n\n\"Shut up, you oaf!\" Saldur snapped at the stocky cook, and then returned his attention to Amilia. \"Your service to the empress has ended, as well as your employment at this palace.\"\n\nSaldur motioned to the empress's guard and then said, \"Take her out of my sight.\"\n\nThe guard approached Amilia, unable to meet her eyes.\n\nAmilia breathed in short, stifled gasps and realized she was trembling as the soldier approached. Not normally given to crying, Amilia could not help it, and tears began streaming down her cheeks.\n\n\"No,\" Modina said.\n\nSpoken with no force, barely above a whisper, the single word cast a spell on the room. One of the cooking staff dropped a metal pot, which rang loudly on the stone floor. They all stared. The regent turned in surprise and then began to circle the empress, studying her with interest. The girl had a focused, challenging look as she glared at Saldur. The regent glanced from Amilia to Modina several times. He cocked his head from side to side, as if trying to workout a puzzle. The guard stood by awkwardly.\n\nAt length, Saldur put him at ease. \"As the empress commands,\" Saldur said without taking his eyes off Modina. \"It seems that I may have been a bit premature in my assessment of...\" Saldur glanced at Amilia, annoyed. \"What's your name?\"\n\n\"A-Amilia.\"\n\nHe nodded as if approving the correct answer. \"Your techniques are unusual, but certainly one can't argue with results.\"\n\nSaldur looked back at Modina as she stood within the circle of maids, who parted at his approach. \"She does look better, doesn't she? Color's improved. There's\"-he motioned toward her face-\"a fullness to her cheeks.\" He was nodding. He crossed his arms and with a final nod of approval said, \"Very well, you can keep the position, as it seems to please Her Eminence.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The regent turned and headed out of the scullery. He paused at the doorway to look over his shoulder, saying, \"You know, I was really starting to believe she was mute.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A rista had always thought of herself as an experienced equestrian. Most ladies had never even satin a saddle, but she had ridden since childhood. The nobles mocked, and her father scolded, but nothing could dissuade her. She loved the freedom of the wind in her hair and her heart pounding with the beat of the hooves. Before setting out, she had looked forward to impressing the thieves with her vast knowledge of horsemanship. She knew they would be awed by her skill.\n\nShe was wrong.\n\nIn Sheridan, Royce had found her a spirited bay mare to replace her exquisite palfrey. Since setting out, he had forced them over rough ground, fording streams, jumping logs, and dodging low branches-often at a trot. Clutching white-knuckled to the saddle, she had used all her skills and strength just to remain on the horse's back. Gone were her illusions of being praised as a skilled rider, and all that remained was the hope of making it through the day without the humiliation-not to mention the physical pain-of falling.\n\nThey rode south after leaving the university, following trails only Royce could find. Before dawn, they crossed the narrow headwaters of the Galewyr and proceeded up the embankment on the far side. Briars and thickets lashed at them. Unseen dips caught the horses by surprise, and Arista cried out once when her mount made an unexpected lunge across a washed-out gap. Their silence added to her humiliation. If she had been a man, they would have commented.\n\nThey climbed steadily, reaching such a steep angle that their mounts panted for air in loud snorts and on occasion uttered deep grunts as they struggled to scramble up the dewy slope. At last, they crested the hill, and Arista found herself greeting a chilly dawn atop the windswept Senon Uplands." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Senon was a high, barren plateau of exposed rock and scrub bushes with expansive views on all sides. The horses' hooves clacked loudly on the barefaced granite until Royce brought them to a stop. His cloak fluttered with the morning breeze. To the east, the sunrise peered at them over the mist-covered forests of Dunmore. From this height, the vast wood looked like a hazy blue lake as it fell away below them, racing toward the dazzling sun. Arista knew that beyond it lay the Nidwalden River, the Parthaloren Falls, and the tower of Avempartha. Royce stared east for several minutes, and she wondered if his elven eyes could see that tiny pinnacle of his people in the distance.\n\nIn front of them and to the southwest lay the Warric province of Chadwick. Like everything else west of the ridge, it remained submerged in darkness. Down in the deep rolling valley, the predawn sky would only now be separating from the dark horizon. It would have appeared peaceful, a world tucked in bed before the first cock's crow, except for the hundreds of lights flickering like tiny fireflies.\n\n\"Breckton's camp,\" Hadrian said. \"The Northern Imperial Army is not making very good time, it seems.\"\n\n\"We'll descend before Amber Heights and rejoin the road well past Breckton,\" Royce explained. \"How long do you figure before they reach Colnora?\"\n\nHadrian rubbed the growing stubble of his beard. \"Another three, maybe four, days. An army that size moves at a snail's pace, and I'm guessing Breckton isn't pleased with his orders. He's likely dragging his feet, hoping they'll be rescinded.\"\n\n\"You sound as if you know him,\" Arista said." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I never met the man, but I fought under his father's banner. I've also fought against him, when I served in the ranks of King Armand's army in Alburn.\"\n\n\"How many armies have you served in?\"\n\nHadrian shrugged. \"Too many.\"\n\nThey pushed on, traversing the crest into the face of a fierce wind, which tugged at her clothes and caused her eyes to water. Arista kept her head down and watched her horse's hooves pick a path across the cracked slabs of lichen-covered rock. She clutched her cloak tight about her neck as the damp of the previous day's rain and sweat conspired with the wind to make her shiver. When they plunged back into the trees, the slow descent began. Once more the animals struggled. This time Arista bent backward, nearly to her horse's flanks, to keep her balance.\n\nAlthough it was mercifully cooler than the day before, the pace was faster and more challenging. Finally, several hours after midday, they stopped on the bank of a small stream, where the horses gorged themselves on cool water and river grass. Royce and Hadrian grabbed packs and gathered wood. Exhausted, Arista as much fellas sat down. Her legs and backside ached. There were insects and twigs in her hair and a dusting of dirt covering her gown. Her eyes stared at nothing, losing their focus as her mind stalled, numb from fatigue.\n\nWhat have I gotten myself into? Am I up to this?\n\nThey were below the Galewyr, in imperial territory. She had thrown herself into the fire, perhaps foolishly. Alric would be furious when he found her missing, and she could just imagine what Ecton would say. If they caught her-She stopped herself." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "This is not helping.\n\nShe turned her attention to her escorts.\n\nAs during the hours on horseback, Royce and Hadrian remained quiet. Hadrian unsaddled the horses and gave them alight brushing while Royce setup a small cook fire. Watching the two of them was entertaining. Without a word, they would toss tools and bags back and forth. Hadrian blindly threw a hatchet over his shoulder and Royce caught it just in time to begin breaking up branches for the fire. Just as Royce finished the fire, Hadrian had a pot of water ready to place on it. For Arista, who had lived her life in public, among squabbling nobles and chattering castle staff, such silence was strange.\n\nHadrian chopped carrots and dropped them into the dented, blackened pot on the coals. \"Are you ready to eat the best meal you've ever had, Highness?\"\n\nShe wanted to laugh but did not have the strength. Instead, she said, \"There are three chefs and eighteen cooks back at Essendon Castle that would take exception to that remark. They spend their whole lives perfecting elaborate dishes. You would be amazed at the feasts I've attended, filled with everything from exotic spices to ice sculptures. I highly doubt you'll be able to surpass them.\"\n\nHadrian smirked. \"That might be,\" he replied, struggling to cut chunks of dry brine-encrusted pork into bite-sized cubes, \"but I guarantee this meal will put them all to shame.\"\n\nArista removed the pearl-handled hairbrush from a pouch that hung at her side, and she tried in vain to untangle her hair. Eventually giving up, she sat and watched Hadrian drop wretched-looking meat into the bubbling pot. Ash and bits of twigs thrown up by the crackling fire landed in the mix." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Master chef, debris is getting in your pot.\"\n\nHadrian grinned. \"Always happens. Can't help it. Just be careful not to bite down too hard on anything or you might crack a tooth.\"\n\n\"Wonderful,\" she told him, then turned her attention to Royce, who was busy checking the horses'hooves. \"We've come along way today, haven't we? I don't think I've ever traveled so far so quickly. You keep a cruel pace.\"\n\n\"That first part was over rough ground,\" Royce mentioned. \"We'll cover a lot more miles after we eat.\"\n\n\"After we eat?\" Arista felt her heart sink. \"We aren't stopping for the day?\"\n\nRoyce glanced up at the sky. \"It's hours until nightfall.\"\n\nThey mean for me to get back into the saddle?\n\nShe did not know if she could stand, much less ride. Virtually every muscle in her body was in pain. They could entertain any thoughts they wished, but she would not travel any farther that day. There was no reason to move this fast, or over such rough ground. Why Royce was taking such a difficult course, she did not understand.\n\nShe watched as Hadrian dished the disgusting soup he had concocted into a tin cup and held it out to her. There was an oily film across the top, through which green meat bobbed, everything seasoned with bits of dirt and tree bark. Most assuredly, it was the worst thing anyone had ever presented her to eat. Arista held the hot cup between her hands, grimacing and wishing she had eaten more of the meat pie back at Sheridan.\n\n\"Is this a... stew?\" she asked.\n\nRoyce laughed quietly. \"He likes to call it that.\"" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "As the writer's helper, keep the story going.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, war\nAuthor: Michael J. Sullivan\nTitle: Rise of Empire\nChapter: 18" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Polish smiled at him. \"You are quite right. The people rarely see me, and when they do, I'm thought of as a despicable brigand-imagine that.\"\n\n\"That's why we need Emery,\" Arista said.\n\n\"The kid dying in the square?\"\n\n\"You saw the way the people listened,\" she said earnestly. \"They believe in him.\"\n\n\"Right up until they were flogged at his side,\" Royce put in.\n\nArista stood straighter and spoke in a louder voice. \"And even when they were, did you seethe look in the faces of those people? In The Laughing Gnome, they already saw him as something of a hero-standing up for them against the Imperialists. When they flogged him, when he faced death and yet stood by his convictions, it solidified their feelings for him and his ideals. The Imperialists left Emery to die today. When they did, they made him a martyr. Just imagine how the people will feel if he survives! If he slipped out of the Imperialists' grasp just as everyone felt certain he was dead, it could be the spark that can ignite their hopes.\"\n\n\"He's probably already dead,\" Quartz said indifferently as she cleaned her nails with a dagger.\n\nArista ignored her. \"We'll steal Emery from the post, spread the news that he's alive and that he asks everyone to stand up with him and fight-to fight for the freedom he promised them.\"\n\nRoyce scoffed but Hadrian considered the idea. He wanted to believe. He wanted to be swept along with her passion, but his practical side, which had waged dozens of battles, told him there was little chance for success. \"It won't work,\" he finally stated. \"Even if you managed to take the city, the imperial army will just take it back. A few hundred civilians could overwhelm the city garrison, but they aren't going to stop an army.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"That's why we have to coordinate our attack with the Nationalists\". Remember Emery's plan? We'll shut the gates and lock them out. Then the Nationalists can crush them.\"\n\n\"And if you don't manage to close the gates in time? If the battle against the garrison doesn't go perfectly to plan?\" Royce asked.\n\n\"It still won't matter,\" Arista said. \"If the Nationalists attack the imperial army at the same time that we launch our rebellion, they won't be able to bother with us.\"\n\n\"Except the Nats won't attack without Gaunt,\" Polish said. \"That's the reason they're still out there. Well, that and the three hundred heavy cavalry Lord Dermont commands along with the rest of his army. The Nats haven't ever faced an organized force. Without Gaunt, they have no one to lead them. They aren't disciplined troops. Just townsfolk and farmers Gaunt picked up along the way here. They'll run the moment they see armored knights.\"\n\n\"Who's in charge of Gaunt's army?\" Hadrian asked. He had to admit Arista's plans were at least thought out.\n\n\"Some fat chap who goes by the name of Parker. Rumor has it he was a bookkeeper fora textile business. He used to be the Nats'quartermaster before Gaunt promoted him,\" Quartz said. \"Not the brightest coin in the purse, if you understand me. Without Gaunt planning and leading the attack, the Nats don't stand a chance.\"\n\n\"You could do it,\" Arista said, looking squarely at Hadrian. \"You've commanded men in battle before. You got a medal.\"\n\nHadrian rolled his eyes. \"It wasn't as impressive as it sounds. They were only small regiments. Grendel's army was, well, in a word, pathetic. They refused to even wear helms, because they didn't like the way their voices echoed in their heads.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"But you led them in battle?\"\n\n\"Yes, but-\"\n\n\"And did you win or lose?\"\n\n\"We won but-\"\n\n\"Against a larger or smaller force?\"\n\nHadrian stood silent, a beaten look on his face.\n\nRoyce turned toward him. \"Tell me you aren't considering this nonsense.\"\n\nAm I? But three hundred heavy cavalry!\n\nDesperation slipped into Arista's voice. \" Breckton's Northern Imperial Army is marching here. If the Nationalists don't attack now, the combined imperial forces will decimate them. That's what Lord Dermont is waiting for-that's his plan. If he sits and waits, then he will win. But if the Nationalists attack first, if he has no support, and nowhere to run... This maybe our only chance. It's now or all will be lost.\n\n\"If the Nationalists are destroyed, nothing will stop the empire. They'll retake and punish all of Rhenydd for its disobedience, and that will include Hintindar.\" She paused, letting him consider this. \" Then they will take Melengar. After that, nothing will stop them from conquering Delgos, Trent, and Calis. The empire will rule the world once more, but not like it once did. Instead of an enlightened rule uniting the people, it will be one of cruelty dividing them, headed not by a noble, benevolent emperor, but by a handful of greedy, power-hungry men who pull strings while hiding behind the shield of an innocent girl.\n\n\"And what about you, Royce?\" She turned toward him. \" Have you forgotten the wagons? What do you think the fate of those and others like them will be when the New Empire rules all?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Don't you see?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She addressed the entire room. \"We either fight here and win, or die trying, because there won't be anything left if we fail. This is the moment. This is the crucial point where the future of yet unborn generations will be decided either by our action or inaction. For centuries to come, people will look back at this time and rejoice at our courage or curse our weakness.\" She looked directly at Royce now. \"For we have the power. Here. Now. In this place. We have the power to alter the course of history and we will be forever damned should we not so much as try!\"\n\nShe stopped talking, exhausted and out of breath.\n\nThe room was silent.\n\nTo Hadrian's surprise, it was Royce who spoke first. \"Making Emery disappear isn't the hard part. Keeping him hidden is the problem.\"\n\n\"They'll tear the city apart looking, that's certain,\" Polish said.\n\n\"Can we bring him here?\" Arista asked.\n\nPolish shook his head. \"The Imps know about us. They leave us alone because we don't cause much trouble and they enjoy the black market we provide. No, they'll most certainly comedown here looking. Besides, without orders from the Jewel or the First Officer, I couldn't expose our operation to that much risk.\"\n\n\"We need a safe house where the Imps won't dare look,\" Royce said. \"Someplace they won't even want to look. Is the city physician an Imperialist or a Royalist?\"\n\n\"He's a friend of Emery, if that's any indication,\" Quartz explained.\n\n\"Perfect. By the way, Princess, conquering Ratibor wasn't in our contract. This will most certainly cost you extra,\" Royce said." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Just keep a tally,\" she replied, unable to suppress her smile.\n\n\"If this keeps up, we're going to own Melengar,\" Hadrian mentioned.\n\n\"What's this we stuff?\" Royce asked. \"You're retired, remember?\"\n\n\"Oh? So you'll be leading the Nationalist advance, will you?\"\n\n\"Sixty-forty?\" Royce proposed.\n\nDespite the recent rain, the public stable on Lords Row caught fire just after dark. More than two dozen horses ran through the streets. The city's inhabitants responded with a bucket brigade. Those unable to find a place inline stood in awe as the vast wooden building burned with flames reaching high into the night's sky.\n\nWith no chance of saving the stable, the town fought to save the butcher's shop next door. Men climbed on the roof and, braving the rain of sparks, soaked the shake shingles. Bucket after bucket doused the little shop as the butcher's wife watched from the street, terrified. Her face glowed in the horrific light. The townsfolk, and even some imperial guards, fought the fire for hours, until, at last, deprived of the shop next door, it burned itself out. The stable was gone. All that remained of it was charred and smoking rubble, but the butcher's shop survived with one blackened wall to mark its brush with disaster. The townsfolk, covered in soot and ash, congratulated themselves on a job well done. The Gnome filled with patrons toasting their success. They clapped their neighbors on the back and told jokes and stories of near death.\n\nNo one noticed Emery Dorn was missing.\n\nThe next morning, the city bell rang with the news. A stuffed dummy hung in his place. Guards swore they had not left their stations, but had no explanation. Sheriff Vigan, the judge, and various other city officials were furious. They stood in Central Square, shouting and pointing fingers at the guards, then at each other. Even Viceroy Androus interrupted his busy schedule to emerge from City Hall and personally witness the scene." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "By midmorning, the Gnome filled with gossipers and happy customers, as if the town had declared a holiday, and Ayers was happily working up a sweat filling drinks.\n\n\"He was still breathing at sunset!\" the cooper declared.\n\n\"He's definitely alive. Why free him if he was dead?\" the grocer put forth.\n\n\"Who did it?\"\n\n\"What makes you think anyone did it? That boy likely got away himself. Emery is a sly one, he is. We shoulda known the Imps couldn't kill the likes of him.\"\n\n\"He's likely down in the sewers.\"\n\n\"Naw, he's left the city. Nothing for him here now.\"\n\n\"Knowing Emery, he's in the viceroy's house right now, drinking the old man's brandy!\"\n\nThis brought laughter to go with the round of ales Ayers dispensed. Ayers had his own thoughts on the matter-he guessed the guards had freed him. Emery was a great talker. Ayers had heard him giving speeches in the Gnome dozens of times, and the lad had always won over the crowd. He could easily imagine the boy talking all night to the men who were charged to watch him and convincing them to let him go. He wanted to mention his idea, but the keg was nearly empty and he was running low on mugs. He did not care much for the Imps personally, but they were great for business.\n\nAloud banging at the tavern's entrance killed the laughter and people turned sharply. Ayers nearly dropped the keg he was lifting, certain the sheriff was leading another raid, but it was only Dr. Gerand. He stood at the open door, hammering the frame with his shoe to get their attention. Everyone breathed again." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Come in, Doctor!\" Ayers shouted. \"I'll have another keg brought up.\"\n\n\"Can't,\" he replied. \"Need to be keeping my distance from everyone fora while. Just want to let people know to stay clear of the Dunlaps\" house. They've got a case of pox there.\"\n\n\"Is it bad?\" the grocer asked.\n\n\"Bad enough,\" the physician said.\n\n\"All these new immigrants from down south are bringing all kinds of sickness with them,\" Ayers complained.\n\n\"Aye, that's probably what did it,\" Dr. Gerand said. \"Mrs. Dunlap took in a boarder a few days back, a refugee from Vernes. It was that fella who first comedown with the pox. So don't be going near the Dunlaps'place until you hear it's safe from me. In fact, I'd steer clear of Benning Street altogether. I'm gonna see if I can get the sheriff to put up some signs and maybe a fence or something to let people know to keep out. Anyway, I'm just going around telling folks, and I would appreciate it if you helped me spread the word before this gets out of hand.\"\n\nBy noon, the city guard was turning all the townsfolk out of their houses and shops, searching for the escaped traitor, and the very first place they looked was the Dunlaps'home. The five guards on duty the night Emery had disappeared were forced to draw lots, and one lone soldier went in. He came out after finding nothing but a couple of sick people, neither of whom was Emery. After making his report from a distance, he returned to the Dunlaps\" to remain under quarantine.\n\nThe soldiers then tore through The Laughing Gnome, the marketplace, the old church, and even the scribe's office, leaving them all a mess. Squads of soldiers entered the sewers and came up soaked. They did not find the escaped traitor, but they did find a couple of chests that some said were filled with stolen silver." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There was no sign of Emery Dorn.\n\nBy nightfall, a makeshift wooden fence stood across Benning Street and a large whitewashed sign read\n\nKEEP OUT!\n\nQuarantined by order of the Viceroy!\n\nTwo days later, the soldier who had searched the Dunlaps' house died. He was seen covered with puss-filled boils in the yard. The doctor dug a hole while people watched from a distance. After that, no one went near Benning Street.\n\nThe city officials and those at the Gnome concluded Emery had left town or died-and was secretly buried somewhere.\n\nArista, Hadrian, and Royce waited silently just outside the entrance to the bedroom until the doctor finished. \"I've taken the bandages off him,\" Dr. Gerand said. He was an elderly man with white hair, a hooknose, and bushy eyebrows that managed to look sad even when he smiled. \"He's much better today. A whipping like he took...\" He paused, unsure how to explain. \"Well, you saw what it did to the poor lady that hung alongside him. He should have died, but he's young. He'll bounce back once he wakes up and starts eating. Of course, his back will be scarred for life and he'll never be as strong as he was-too much damage. The only concern I have is noxious humors causing an imbalance in his body, but honestly, that doesn't look like it'll be a problem. Like I said, the boy is young and strong. Let him continue to rest and he should be fine.\"\n\nThey followed the doctor downstairs, escorting him to the front door of the Dunlaps' home, where he bid them goodnight.\n\nPausing in the doorway, he looked back. \"Emery is a good lad. He was my son's best friend. James was taken into the imperial army and died in some battle up north.\" He glanced at the floor. \"Watching Emery on that post was like losing him allover again. Whatever happens now, I just wanted to say thank you.\" With that, the doctor left." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Arista had seen the insides of more commoners'homes over the past week than she had in her entire life. After visiting with the Bakers of Hintindar, she had assumed all families lived in identical houses, but the Dunlaps\" home was nothing like the Bakers\". This one was two stories tall, with a solid wooden floor on both levels. The upper story created a thick-beamed ceiling to the lower one. While still modest and a bit cramped, it showed touches of care and a dash of prosperity, which Hintindar lacked. The walls were painted and decorated with pretty designs of stars and flowers, and the wood surfaces were buffed and stained. Knickknacks of glazed pottery and woodcarvings lined shelves above the fireplace. Unlike Dunstan and Arbor's sparse home, the Dunlaps' house had a lot of furniture. Wooden chairs with straw seats circled the table. Another pair bookended a spinning wheel surrounded by several wicker baskets. Little tables held vases of flowers, and on the wall hung a cabinet with small doors and knobs. Kept neat, clean, and orderly, it was a house loved by a woman whose husband had been a good provider, but had rarely been home.\n\n\"Are you sure you don't want anything else?\" Mrs. Dunlap asked while clearing the dinner plates. She was an old, plump woman who always wore an apron and a matching white scarf and had a habit of wringing her wrinkled hands.\n\n\"We're fine,\" Arista told her. \"And thank you again for letting us use your home.\"\n\nThe old woman smiled. \"It's not so much a risk as you might think. My husband has been dead six years now. He proudly served as His Majesty Urith's coachman. Did you know that?\" Her eyes sparkled as she looked off as if seeing him once more. \"He was a handsome man in his driver's coat and hat with that red plume and gold broach. Yes, sir, a mighty fine-looking man, proud to serve the king, and had for thirty years.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Was he killed with the king?\"\n\n\"Oh no.\" She shook her head. \"But he died soon after, of heartbreak, I think. He was very close to the royal family. Drove them everywhere they went. They gave him gifts and called him by his given name. Once, during a storm, he even brought the princes hereto spend the night. The little boys talked about it for weeks. We never had children of our own, you see, and I think Paul-that's my husband-I think he thought of the royals as his own boys. It devastated him when they died in that fire-that horrible fire. Emery's father died in it too, did you know that? He was one of the king's bodyguards. There was so much death that terrible, terrible night.\"\n\n\"Urith was a good king?\" Hadrian asked.\n\nShe shrugged. \"I'm just an old woman, what do I know? People complained about him all the time when he was alive. They complained about the high taxes, and some of the laws, and how he would live in a castle with sixty servants, dining on deer, boar, and beef all at the same meal while people in the city were starving. I don't know that there is such a thing as a good king. Perhaps there are just kings that are good enough.\" She looked at Arista and winked. \"Perhaps what we need is less kings and more womenfolk running things.\"\n\nMrs. Dunlap went back to the work of straightening as they sat at the round dining table.\n\n\"Well,\" Royce began, looking at Arista, \"step one of your rebellion is complete. So now what?\"\n\nShe thought a moment, then said, \"We'll need to circulate the story of Emery leading the coming attack. Play him up as a hero, a ghost that the empire can't kill.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I've heard talk like that around town already,\" Royce said. \"You were right about that, at least.\"\n\nArista smiled. Such a compliment from Royce was high praise.\n\n\"We need to use word of mouth,\" she continued, \"to get the momentum for the revolt started. I want everyone to know it's coming. I want them to think of it as inevitable as the coming of dawn. I want them to believe it can't fail. I'll need leaders as well. Hadrian, keep an eye out for reliable men who can help lead the battle. Men others listen to and respect. I'll also need you to devise a battle plan to take the armory and the garrison for me. Unlike my brother, I never studied the art of war. They made me learn needlepoint instead. Do you know how often I've used needlepoint?\"\n\nHadrian chuckled.\n\n\"It's also imperative that we get word to Alric to start the invasion from the north. Even if we take the city, Breckton can wait us out unless Melengar applies pressure. I would suggest asking the Diamond to send the message, but given how reliable they were last time and how utterly important this is-Royce, I need to ask you to carry the message for me. If anyone can get through and bring back help, it's you.\"\n\nRoyce pursed his lips, thinking, and then nodded. \"I'll talk to Polish just the same and see if I can get him to part with one or two of his men to accompany me. You should write three messages to Alric. Each of us will carry one and split up if there's trouble. Three people will increase the odds that at least one will make it. And don't neglect to write an additional letter explaining how this trip south was all your idea. I don't want to bear the brunt of his anger when he finds out where you went. Oh, and, of course, an explanation of the fees to be paid,\" he said with a wink." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Arista sighed. \"He'll want to kill me.\"\n\n\"Not if you succeed in taking the city,\" Hadrian said encouragingly.\n\n\"Speaking of which, after you complete the battle plan for the garrison, you'll need to see about reaching Gaunt's army and taking command of it. I'm not exactly sure how you're going to do that, but I'll write you a decree and declare you general-ambassador in proxy, granting you the power to speak on my behalf. I'll give you the rank of auxiliary marshal and the title of lord. That might just impress them and at least give you the legal right to negotiate and the credentials to command.\"\n\n\"I doubt royal titles will impress Nationalists much,\" Hadrian said.\n\n\"Maybe not, but the threat of the Northern Imperial Army should give you a good deal of leverage. Desperate men might be willing to cling to an impressive title in the absence of anything else.\"\n\nHadrian chuckled again.\n\n\"What?\" she asked.\n\n\"Oh, nothing,\" he said. \"I was just thinking that for an ambassador, you're a very capable general.\"\n\n\"No you weren't,\" she told him bluntly. \"You're thinking that I'm capable fora woman.\"\n\n\"That too.\"\n\nArista smiled. \"Well, it's lucky that I am, because so far I'm pretty lousy at being a woman. I honestly can't stand needlepoint.\"\n\n\"I suppose I should set out tonight for Melengar,\" Royce said. \"Unless there's something else you need before I go?\"\n\nArista shook her head.\n\n\"How about you?\" he asked Hadrian. \"Assuming you survive this stunt, what are you going to do now that you know the heir is dead?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Hang on, are you sure the heir is dead?\" Arista broke in.\n\n\"You were there. You heard what Bartholomew said,\" Hadrian replied. \"I don't think he was lying.\"\n\n\"I'm not saying that he was... It's just that... well, Esrahaddon seemed pretty convinced the heir was still alive when he left Avempartha. And then there's the church. They're after Esra, expecting him to lead them to the real heir. They so much as told me that when I was at Ervanon last year. So why is everyone looking if he's dead?\"\n\n\"There's no telling what Esrahaddon is up to. As for the church, they pretended to look for the heir just as they're pretending they found her,\" Royce said.\n\n\"Perhaps, but there's still the image that we saw in the tower. He seemed like a living, breathing person tome.\"\n\nRoyce nodded. \"Good point.\"\n\nHadrian shook his head. \"There couldn't have been another child. My father would have known and searched for him... or her. No, Danbury knew the line ended or he wouldn't have stayed in Hintindar.\"\n\nHe glanced at Royce, then lowered his eyes. \"In any case, if I survive, I won't be returning to Riyria.\"\n\nRoyce nodded. \"You'll probably get killed, anyway. But... I suppose you're okay with that-as happy as a dog with a bone.\"\n\n\"How's that?\"\n\n\"Nothing.\"\n\nThere was a pause, then Hadrian said, \"It's not completely hopeless. It's just that damn cavalry. They'll cut down the Nationalists in a heartbeat. If only it would rain again.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Rain?\" Arista asked.\n\n\"Charging horses carrying heavy armored knights need solid ground. After the last few days, the ground has already dried. If I could engage them over tilled rain-drenched farmland, the horses will mire themselves and Dermont would lose his best advantage. But the weather doesn't look like it's gonna cooperate.\"\n\n\"So you would prefer it to rain nonstop between now and the battle?\" Arista asked.\n\n\"That would be one sweet miracle, but I don't expect we'll have that kind of luck.\"\n\n\"Perhaps luck isn't what we need.\" Arista smiled at him.\n\nThe Dunlap household was dark except for the single candle Arista carried up the steps to the second floor. She had said her goodbyes to Royce and Hadrian. Mrs. Dunlap had gone to bed hours earlier and the house was quiet. This was the first time in ages she found herself alone.\n\nHow can this plan possibly work? Am I crazy?\n\nShe knew what her old handmaid, Bernice, would say. Then the old woman would offer her a gingerbread cookie as a consolation prize.\n\nWhat will Alric say when Royce reaches him?\n\nEven if she succeeded, he would be furious that she had disobeyed him and gone off without telling anyone. She pushed those thoughts away, deciding to worry about all that later. They could hang her for treason if they wished, so long as Melengar was safe.\n\nAll estimates indicated Breckton would arrive in less than four days. She would have to control the city by then. She planned to launch the revolt in two days and hoped she would have at least a few days to recover, pull in supplies from the surrounding farms, and setup some defenses." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Royce would get through with the message. If he could get to Alric quickly, and if her brother moved fast, Alric could attack across the Galewyr in just a few days, and it would take only two or three days for word to reach Aquesta and new orders to be sent to Sir Breckton. She would need to hold him off at least that long. All this assumed they successfully took the city and defeated Lord Dermont's knights to the south.\n\nTwo days. How long does it normally take to plan a successful revolution?\n\nLonger than two days, she was certain.\n\n\"Excuse me. Hello?\"\n\nArista stopped as she passed the open door of Emery's bedroom. They had put him in the small room at the top of the stairs, in the same bed where the princes of Rhenydd had once slept on a stormy night. Emery had remained unconscious since they had stolen him from the post. She was surprised to see his eyes open and looking back at her. His hair was pressed from sleep, and a puzzled look was on his face.\n\n\"How are you feeling?\" she asked softly.\n\n\"Terrible,\" he replied. \"Who are you? And where am I?\"\n\n\"My name is Arista and you're at the Dunlaps\" on Benning Street.\" She set the candle on the nightstand and sat on the edge of the bed.\n\n\"But I should be dead,\" he told her.\n\n\"Awfully sorry to disappoint, but I thought you would be more helpful alive.\" She smiled at him.\n\nHis brow furrowed. \"Helpful with what?\"\n\n\"Don't worry about that now. You need to sleep.\"\n\n\"No! Tell me. I won't be a party to the Imperialists, I tell you!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Well, of course you won't. We need your help to take the city back from them.\"\n\nEmery looked at her, stunned. His eyes shifted from side to side. \"I don't understand.\"\n\n\"I heard your speech at The Laughing Gnome. It's a good plan, and we're going to do it in two days, so you need to rest and get your strength back.\"\n\n\"Who are \"we\"? Who are you? How did you manage this?\"\n\nArista smiled. \"Practice, I guess.\"\n\n\"Practice?\"\n\n\"Let's just say this isn't the first time I've had to save a kingdom from a traitorous murderer out to steal the throne. It's okay. Just go back to sleep. It will-\"\n\n\"Wait! You said your name is Arista?\"\n\nShe nodded.\n\n\"You're the Princess of Melengar!\"\n\nShe nodded again. \"Yes.\"\n\n\"But... but how... Why?\" He started to push upon the bed with his hands and winced.\n\n\"Calm down,\" she told him firmly. \"You need to rest. I mean it.\"\n\n\"I shouldn't belying down in your presence!\"\n\n\"You will if I tell you to, and I'm telling you to.\"\n\n\"I-I just can't believe... Why... why would you come here?\"\n\n\"I'm hereto help.\"\n\n\"You're amazing.\"\n\n\"And you're suffering from a flogging that would have killed any man with the good sense to know he should be dead. Now you need to go back to sleep this instant, and that's an order. Do you understand?\"\n\n\"Yes, Your Majesty.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She smiled. \"I'm not a ruling queen, Emery, just a princess. My brother is the king.\"\n\nEmery looked embarrassed. \"Your Highness, then.\"\n\n\"I would prefer it if you just called me Arista.\"\n\nEmery looked shocked.\n\n\"Go ahead, give it a try.\"\n\n\"It's not proper.\"\n\n\"And is it proper that you should deny a princess's request? Particularly one who saved your life?\"\n\nHe shook his head slowly. \"Arista,\" he said shyly.\n\nShe smiled at him and, on an impulse, leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. \"Goodnight, Emery,\" she said, and stepped back out of the room.\n\nShe walked back down the steps through the dark house and out the front door. The night was still. Just as Hadrian had mentioned, the sky was clear, showing a bountiful banquet of stars spilling across the vast blackness. Benning Street, a short lane that dead-ended at the Dunlaps' carriage house, was empty.\n\nIt was unusual for Arista to be completely alone outdoors. Hilfred had always been her ever-present shadow. She missed him and yet it felt good to be on her own facing the night. It had been only a few days since she had ridden out of Medford, but she knew she was not the same person who had left. She had always feared her life would be no more than that of a woman of privilege, helpless and confined. She had escaped that fate and entered into the more prestigious, but equally restricted, role of ambassador, which was nothing more than a glorified messenger. Now, however, she felt for the first time she was finding her true calling.\n\nShe began to hum softly to herself. The spell she had cast on the Seret Knights had worked, yet no one had taught her how to do it. She had invented the spell, drawing from a similar idea and her general knowledge of the Art and altering the incantation to focus on the blood of their bodies." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "That's what makes it an art.\n\nThere was indeed a gap in her education, but it was because what was missing could not be taught. Esrahaddon had not held back anything. The gap was the reality of magic. Instructors could teach the basic techniques and methods, but a mastery of mechanical knowledge could never make a person an artist. No one could teach creativity or invention. A spark needed to come from within. It must be something unique, something discovered by the individual, a leap of understanding, a burst of insight, the combining of common elements in an unexpected way.\n\nArista knew it to be true. She had known it since killing the knights. The knowledge both excited and terrified her. The horrible deaths of the seret had only compounded that terrible realization. Now, however, standing alone in the yard under the blanket of stars and in the stillness of the warm summer night, she embraced her understanding and it was thrilling. There was danger, of course, both intoxicating and alluring, and she struggled to contain her emotions. Recalling the death cries of the knights and the ghastly looks on their faces helped ground her. She did not want to get lost in that power. In her mind's eye, the Art was a great beast, a dragon of limitless potential that yearned to beset free, but a mindless beast let loose upon the world would be a terrible thing. She understood the wisdom of Arcadius and the need to restrain the passion she now touched.\n\nArista set the candle down before her and cleared her mind to focus.\n\nShe reached out and pressed her fingers in the air as if gently touching the surface of an invisible object. Power vibrated like the strings of a harp as her humming became a chant. They were not the words that Esrahaddon had taught her. Nor was it an incantation from Arcadius. The words were her own. The fabric of the universe was at her fingertips, and she fought to control her excitement. She plucked the strings on her invisible harp. She could play individual notes or chords, melodies, rhythms, and a multitude of combinations of each. The possibilities of creation were astonishing, and so numerous were the choices that she was equally overwhelmed. It would clearly take a lifetime, or more, to begin to grasp the potential she now felt. That night, however, her path was simple and clear. A flick of her wrist and a sweep of her fingers, almost as if she were motioning farewell, and at that moment the candle blew out." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A wind gusted. The dry soil of the street whirled into a dust devil. Old leaves and bits of grass were buffeted about. The stars faded as thick, full clouds crept across the sky. She heard the sound ring off the tin roof. It sang on the metal, the chorus of her song, and then she felt the splatter of rain on her upturned and laughing face." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The ceiling of the grand imperial throne room was a dome painted robin's egg blue interspersed with white puffy clouds mimicking the sky on a gentle summer's day. The painting was heavy and uninspired, but Modina thought it was beautiful. She could not remember the last time she had seen the real sky.\n\nHer life since Dahlgren had been a nightmare of vague unpleasant people and places she could not, and did not care to, remember. She had no idea how much time had passed since the death of her father. It did not matter. Nothing did. Time was a concern of the living, and if she knew anything, it was that she was dead. A ghost drifting dreamlike, pushed along by unseen hands, hearing disembodied voices-but something had changed.\n\nAmilia had come, and with her, the haze and fog that Modina had been lost in for so long had begun to lift. She started to become aware of the world around her.\n\n\"Keep your head up, and do not look at them,\" Nimbus was telling her. \"You are the empress and they are beneath you, contemptible and not worthy of even the slightest glance from your imperial eyes. Back straight. Back straight.\"\n\nModina, dressed in a formal gown of gold and white, stood on the imperial dais before an immense and gaudy throne. She scratched it once and discovered the gold was a thin veneer over dull metal. The dais itself was five feet from the ground, with sheer sides except for where the half-moon stairs provided access. The stairs were removable, allowing her to beset on display, the perfect unapproachable symbol of the New Empire.\n\nNimbus shook his head miserably. \"It is not going to work. She is not listening.\"\n\n\"She's just not used to standing straight all the time,\" Amilia told him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Perhaps a stiff board sewn into her corset and laced tight?\" a steward proposed timidly.\n\n\"Actually, that's not a bad idea,\" Amilia replied. She looked at Nimbus. \"What do you think?\"\n\n\"Better make it a very stiff board,\" Nimbus replied sardonically.\n\nThey waved over the royal tailor and seamstress and an informal meeting ensued. They droned on about seams, stays, and ties while Modina looked down from above.\n\nCan they seethe pain in my face?\n\nShe did not think so. There was no sympathy in their eyes, just awe-awe and admiration. They simultaneously marveled and quaked when in her presence. She had heard them whispering about the beast she had slain, and how she was the daughter of a god. To thousands of soldiers, knights, and commoners, she was something to worship.\n\nUntil recently, Modina had been oblivious to it all, her mind shut in a dark hole where any attempt to think caused such anguish she recoiled back into the dull safety of the abyss. Time dulled the pain, and slowly the words of nearby conversations seeped in. She began to understand. According to what she had overheard, she and her father were descendants of some legendary lost king. This was why only they could harm the beast. She had been anointed empress, but she was not certain what that meant. So far, it had meant pain and isolation.\n\nModina stared at those around her without emotion. She was no longer capable of feeling. There was no fear, anger, or hate, nor was there love or happiness. She was a ghost haunting her own body, watching the world with detached interest. Nothing that transpired around her held any importance-except Amilia." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Previously the people hovering around her were vague gray faces. They had spoken to her of ridiculous notions, the vast majority she could not begin to comprehend even if she wanted to. Amilia was different. She had said things to Modina that she could understand. Amilia had told stories of her own family and reminded Modina of another girl-a girl named Thrace-who had died and was just a ghost now. It was a painful memory, but Amilia managed to remind her about times before the darkness, before the pain, when there had been someone in the world who loved her.\n\nWhen Saldur had threatened to send Amilia away, Modina had seen the terrible fear in the girl's eyes. She had recognized that fear. Saldur's voice was the screech of the beast, and at that moment, she had awoken from her long dream. Her eyes had focused, seeing clearly for the first time since that night. She would not allow the beast to win again.\n\nSomewhere in the chamber, out of sight of the dais, a door slammed. The sound echoed around the marbled hall. Loud footsteps followed with an even louder conversation.\n\n\"I don't understand why I can't launch an attack against Alric on my own.\" The voice came from an agitated well-dressed man.\n\n\"Breckton's army will dispatch the Nationalists in no time. Then he can return to Melengar, and you can have your prize, Archie,\" replied the voice of an older man. \"Melengar isn't going anywhere, and it's not worth the risk.\"\n\nThe younger voice she did not recognize, but the older one she had heard many times before. They called him Regent Ethelred. The pair of nobles and their retinue came into view. Ethelred was dressed as she usually had seen him-in red velvet and gold silk. His thick mustache and beard betrayed his age, as both were steadily going gray." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The younger man walking beside him dressed in a stylish scarlet silk tunic with a high-ruffed collar, an elegant cape, and an extravagant plumed hat that matched the rest of his attire perfectly. He was taller than the regent, and his long auburn hair trailed down his back in a ponytail. They walked at the head of a group of six others: personal servants, stewards, and court officials. Four of the six Modina recognized, as she had seen the little parade before.\n\nThere was the court scribe, who went everywhere carrying a ledger. He was a plump man with long red cheeks and a balding head, and he always had a feathered quill behind each ear, making him look like a strange bird. His staunchly straight posture and odd strut reminded her of a quail parading through afield, and because she did not know the scribe's name, in her mind she dubbed him simply The Quail.\n\nThere was also Ethelred's valet, whom she labeled The White Mouse, as he was a thin, pale man with stark white hair, and his fastidious pampering seemed rodent-like. She never heard him speak except to say, \"Of course, my lord.\" He continuously flicked lint from Ethelred's clothes and was always on hand to take a cloak or change the regent's footwear.\n\nThen there was The Candle, so named because he was a tall, thin man with wild red curly hair and a drooping mouth that sagged like tallow wax.\n\nThe last of the entourage was a soldier of some standing. He wore a uniform that had dozens of brightly colored ribbons pinned to it.\n\n\"I would appreciate you using a formal address when we are in public,\" Archie pointed out." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Ethelred turned as if surprised to see they were not alone in the hall.\n\n\"Oh,\" he said, quickly masking a smile. Then, in atone heavy with sarcasm, he proclaimed, \"Forgive me, Earl of Chadwick. I didn't notice them. They're more like furniture tome. My point was, however, that we only suspect the extent of Melengar's weakness. Attacking them would introduce more headaches than it is worth. As it is, there is no chance Alric will attack us. He's a boy, but not so foolhardy as to provoke the destruction of his little kingdom.\"\n\n\"Is that...\" Archibald stared up at Modina and stopped walking so that Ethelred lost track of him fora moment.\n\n\"The empress? Yes,\" Ethelred replied, his tone revealing a bit of his own irritation that the earl had apparently not heard what he had just said.\n\n\"She's... she's... beautiful.\"\n\n\"Hmm? Yes, I suppose she is,\" Ethelred responded without looking. Instead, he turned to Amilia, who, along with everyone else, was standing straight, her eyes looking at the floor. \"Saldur tells me you're our little miracle worker. You got her eating, speaking, and generally cooperating. I'm pleased to hear it.\"\n\nAmilia curtsied in silence.\n\n\"She'll be ready in time, correct? We can ill afford another fiasco like the one we had at the coronation. She couldn't even make an appearance. You'll see to that, won't you?\"\n\n\"Yes, my lord.\" Amilia curtsied again.\n\nThe Earl of Chadwick's eyes remained focused on Modina, and she found his expression surprising. She did not seethe awe-inspired look of the palace staff, nor the cold, callous countenance of her handlers. His face bore abroad smile." }, { "from": "human", "value": "A soldier entered the hall, walking briskly toward them." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The one with the pretty ribbons left the entourage and strode forward to intercept him. They spoke in whispers fora brief moment and then the other soldier handed over some parchments. Ribbon Man opened them and read them silently to himself before returning to Ethelred's side.\n\n\"What is it?\"\n\n\"Your Lordship, Admiral Gafton's blockade fleet succeeded in capturing the Ellis Far, a small sloop, off the coast of Melengar. Onboard, they found parchments signed by King Alric granting the courier permission to negotiate with the full power of the Melengar crown. The courier and ship's captain were unfortunately killed in the action. The coxswain, however, was taken and persuaded to reveal the destination of the vessel as Tur Del Fur.\"\n\nEthelred nodded his understanding. \"Trying to linkup with the Nationalists, but that was expected. So the sloop sailed from Roe?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"You're sure no other ship slipped past?\"\n\n\"The reports indicate it was the only one.\"\n\nWhile Ethelred and the soldier spoke and the rest of the hall remained still as statues, the Earl of Chadwick stared at the empress. Modina did not return his gaze, and it made her uncomfortable the way he watched her.\n\nHe ascended the steps and knelt. \"Your Eminence,\" he said, gently taking her hand and kissing the ring she wore. \"I am Archibald Ballentyne, twelfth Earl of Chadwick.\"\n\nModina said nothing.\n\n\"Archibald?\" Ethelred's voice once more.\n\n\"Forgive my rude approach,\" the earl continued, \"but I find I can't help myself. How strange it is that we haven't met before. I've been to Aquesta many times but never had the pleasure. Bad luck, I suppose. I'm certain you're very busy, and as I command a substantial army, I'm busy as well. Recent events have seen fit to bring my command here. It's not something I was pleased with. That is, until now. You see, I was doing very well conquering new lands for your growing empire, and having to stop I considered unfortunate. But my regret has turned to genuine delight as I've been blessed to behold your splendor.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Archie!\" Ethelred had been calling out to him for sometime, but it was not until he used that name that the well-dressed man's attention finally left her. \"Stop with that foolishness, will you? We need to get to the meeting.\"\n\nThe earl frowned in irritation.\n\n\"Please forgive me, Your Eminence, but duty calls.\"\n\nThe moment the practice had ended, they changed Modina back into her simple dress and she had been escorted to her cell. She thought there had been a time when two palace soldiers had walked with her everywhere, but now there was only one. His name was Gerald. That was all she knew about him, which was strange, because she saw him everyday. Gerald escorted her wherever she went and stood guard outside her cell door. She assumed he took breaks, most likely late at night, but in the mornings, when she and Amilia went to breakfast, he was always there. She never heard him speak. They were quite a quiet pair.\n\nWhen she reached the cell door, it was open, the dark interior waiting. He never forced her in. He never touched her. He merely stood patiently, taking up his post at the entrance. She hesitated before the threshold, and when she looked at Gerald, he stared at the floor.\n\n\"Wait.\" Amilia trotted up the corridor toward them. \"Her Eminence is moving today.\"\n\nBoth Gerald and Modina looked puzzled.\n\n\"I've given up talking to the chamberlain,\" Amilia declared. She was speaking quickly and seemed to address them both at once. \"Nimbus is right-I'm the secretary to the empress, after all.\" She focused on Gerald. \"Please escort Her Eminence to her new bedroom on the east wing's fifth floor.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "The order was weak, not at all in the voice of a noblewoman." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It lacked the tenor of confidence, the power of arrogance. There was a space of time, a beat of uncertainty, when no one moved and no one spoke. Committed now, Amilia remained awkwardly stiff, facing Gerald. For the first time, Modina noticed the largeness of the man, the sword at his side, and the castle guard uniform. He was meticulous, every line straight, every bit of metal polished.\n\nGerald nodded and moved aside.\n\n\"This way, Your Eminence,\" Amilia said, letting out a breath.\n\nThe three of them walked to the central stairs as Amilia continued to speak. \"I got her eating, I got her to talk-I just want a better place for her to sleep. How can they argue? No one is even on the fifth floor.\"\n\nAs they reached the main hall, they passed several surprised servants. One young woman stopped, stunned.\n\n\"Anna.\" Amilia caught her attention. \"It is Anna, isn't it?\"\n\nThe woman nodded, unable to take her eyes off Modina.\n\n\"The empress is moving to a bedroom on the fifth floor. Run and get linens and pillows.\"\n\n\"Ah-but Edith told me to scrub the-\"\n\n\"Forget Edith.\"\n\n\"She'll beat me.\"\n\n\"No, she won't,\" Amilia said, and thought fora moment. With sudden authority, she continued. \"From now on, you're working for the empress-her personal chambermaid. From now on, you report directly tome. Do you understand?\"\n\nAnna looked shocked.\n\n\"What do you want to do?\" Amilia asked. \"Defy Edith Mon or refuse the empress? Now get those linens and get the best room on the fifth floor in order.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Yes, Your Eminence,\" she said, addressing Modina, \"right away.\"\n\nThey climbed the stairs, moving quickly by the fourth floor. In the east wing, the fifth floor was a single long hall with five doors. Light entered from a narrow slit at the far end, revealing a dust-covered corridor.\n\nAmilia looked at the doors fora moment. Shrugging, she opened one and motioned for them to wait as she entered. When she returned, she grimaced and said, \"Let's wait for Anna.\"\n\nThey did not have to wait long. The chambermaid, chased by two young boys with rags, a broom, a mop, and a bucket, returned with an armload of linens. Anna panted for breath and her brow glistened. The chambermaid traversed the corridor and selected the door at the far end. She and the boys rushed in. Amilia joined them. Before long, the boys raced back out and returned hauling various items: pillows, a blanket, more water, brushes. Modina and Gerald waited in the hallway, listening to the grunts and bumps and scrapes. Before long, Anna exited covered in dirt and dust, dragging armloads of dirty rags. Then Amilia reappeared and motioned for Modina to enter.\n\nSunlight. She spotted the brilliant shaft spilling in, slicing across the floor, along a tapestry-covered wall, and over a massive bed covered in satin sheets and a host of fluffy pillows. There was even a thick carpet on the floor. A mirror and a washbasin sat on a small stand. A little writing desk stood next to a fireplace, and on the far wall was the open window.\n\nModina walked forward and looked out at the sky. Breathing in the fresh air, she fell to her knees. The window was narrow, but Modina could peer down into the courtyard below or lookup directly into the blue of the sky-the real sky. She rested her head on the sill, reveling in the sunshine like a drought victim might douse herself with water. Until that moment, she had not noticed how starved she had been for fresh air and sunlight. Amilia might have spoken to her, but she was too busy looking at the sky to notice." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Smells were a treat. A cool breeze blew in, tainted by the stables below. For her, this was a friendly, familiar scent, hearty and comforting. Birds flew past. A pair of swallows darted and dove in aerial acrobatics as they chased each other. They had a nest in a crevice above one of the other windows that dotted the exterior wall.\n\nShe did not know how long she had knelt there. At some point, she realized she was alone. The door behind her had been closed and a blanket had been draped over her shoulders. Eventually she heard voices drifting up from below.\n\n\"We've spent more than enough time on the subject, Archibald. The case is closed.\" It was Ethelred's voice, coming from one of the windows just below hers.\n\n\"I know you're disappointed.\" She recognized the fatherly tone of Regent Saldur. \"Still, you have to be mindful of the big picture. This isn't just some wild landgrab. This is an empire we are building.\"\n\n\"Two months at the head of an army and he acts as if he were a war-hardened general!\" Ethelred laughed.\n\nAnother voice spoke, too softly or too distant from the window for her to hear. Then she heard the earl once again. \"I've taken Glouston and the Rilan Valley through force of arms and thereby secured the whole northern rim of Warric. I think I've proved my skill.\"\n\n\"Skill? You let Marquis Lanaklin escape to Melengar and you failed to secure the wheat fields in Rilan, which burned. Those crops would have fed the entire imperial army for the next year, but now they're lost because you were preoccupied with taking an empty castle.\"\n\n\"It wasn't empty...\" There was more said but the voices were too faint to hear." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The marquis was gone. The reason for taking it went with him,\" the bellowing voice of Ethelred thundered. The regent must be standing very near the window, as she could hear him the best.\n\n\"Gentlemen,\" Saldur said, intervening, \"water under the bridge. What's past is past. What we need to concern ourselves with is the present and the future, and at the moment both go by the same name-Gaunt.\"\n\nAgain, there were other voices speaking too faintly, their sounds fading to silence. All Modina could hear was the hoeing of servants weeding the vegetable garden below.\n\n\"I agree,\" Ethelred suddenly said. \"We should have killed that bastard years ago.\"\n\n\"Calm yourself, Lanis,\" Saldur's voice boomed. Modina wasn't certain if he was using Ethelred's first name or addressing someone else whose voice was too distant for her to catch. \"Everything has its season. We all knew the Nationalists wouldn't give up their freedom without a fight. Granted, we had no idea Gaunt would be their general or that he would prove to be such a fine military commander. We had assumed he was nothing more than an annoying anarchist, alone voice in the wilderness, like our very own Deacon Tomas. His transformation into a skilled general was-I will admit-a bit unexpected. Nevertheless, his successes are not beyond our control.\"\n\n\"And what does that mean?\" someone asked.\n\n\"Luis Guy had the foresight to bring us a man who could effectively deal with the problems of Delgos and Gaunt and I present him to you today. Gentlemen, let me introduce Merrick Marius.\" His voice began to grow faint. \"He's quite a remarkable man... been working for us these... on a...\" Saldur's voice drifted off, too far from the window." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There was along silence, and then Ethelred spoke again. \"Let him finish. You'll see.\"\n\nAgain, the words were too quiet for her to hear.\n\nModina listened to the wind as it rose and rustled distant leaves. The swallows returned and played again, looping in the air. From the courtyard below came the harsh shouts of soldiers in the process of changing guards. She had nearly forgotten about the conversation from below when she heard an abrupt communal gasp.\n\n\"Tur Del Fur? You're not serious?\" an unknown voice asked in a stunned tone.\n\nMore quiet murmurings.\n\n\"... and as I said, it would mark the end of Degan Gaunt and the Nationalists forever.\" Saldur's voice returned.\n\n\"But at what cost, Sauly?\" another voice floated in. Normally too far, it was now loud and clear.\n\n\"We have no other choice,\" Ethelred put in. \"The Nationalists are marching north toward Ratibor. They must be stopped.\"\n\n\"This is insane. I can't believe you're even contemplating it!\"\n\n\"We've done much more than contemplate. Nearly everything is in place. Isn't that so?\" Saldur asked.\n\nModina strained to hear, but the voice that replied was too faint.\n\n\"We'll send it by ship after we receive word that all is set,\" Saldur explained. There was another pause, and then he spoke again. \"I think we all understand that.\"\n\n\"I see no reason to hesitate any longer,\" Ethelred said. \"Then we're all in agreement?\"\n\nA number of voices spoke their acknowledgment.\n\n\"Excellent. Marius, you should leave immediately...\"\n\n\"There's just one more thing...\" She had not heard this voice before and it faded, probably because the man speaking was walking away from the window." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Saldur's voice returned. \"You have? Where? Tell us at once!\"\n\nMore muffled conversation.\n\n\"Blast, man! I can assure you that you'll get paid,\" Ethelred said.\n\n\"If he's led you to the heir, he's no longer of any use. That's right, isn't it, Sauly? You and Guy have a greater interest in this, but unless you have an objection, I say be done with him at your earliest convenience.\"\n\nAnother long pause.\n\n\"I think the Nyphron Empire is good for it, don't you?\" Saldur said.\n\n\"You're quite the magician, aren't you, Marius?\" said Ethelred. \"We should have hired your services earlier. I'm not a fan of Luis Guy or any of the Patriarch's sentinels, but it seems his decision to employ you was certainly a good one.\"\n\nThe voices drifted off, growing fainter until it was quiet.\n\nMost of what she had heard held no interest for Modina-too many unknown names and places. She had only the vaguest notions of the terms Nationalist, Royalist, and Imperialist. Tur Del Fur was a famous city-someplace south-that she had heard of before, but Degan Gaunt was only a name. She was glad the talking was over. She preferred the quiet sounds of the wind, the trees, and the birds. They took her back to an earlier time, a different place. As she sat looking out at her sliver of the world, she found herself wishing she could still cry." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gill had a hard time seeing anything clearly in the pouring rain, but he was certain that a man was walking right at him. He felt for the horn hanging at his side and regretted trapping it underneath his rain smock that morning. During thirty watches, he had never needed it. He peered through the gray curtain-no army, just the one guy.\n\nHe was dressed in a cloak that hung like a soaked rag, his hood cast back, his hair slicked flat. No armor or shield, but two swords hung from his belt, and Gill spotted the two-handed pommel of a great sword on his back. The man walked steadily through the muddy field. He seemed to be alone and could hardly pose a threat to the nearly one thousand men bivouacked on the hill. If Gill sounded the alarm without cause, he would never hear the end of it. He was confident he could handle one guy.\n\n\"Halt!\" Gill shouted over the drumming rain as he pulled his sword from its sheath and brandished it at the stranger. \"Who are you, and what do you want?\"\n\n\"I'm hereto see Commander Parker,\" the man said, not showing any signs of slowing. \"Take me to him at once.\"\n\nGill laughed. \"Oh, aren't you the bold one?\" he said, extending the sword. The stranger walked right up to the tip, as if he meant to impale himself. \"Stop or I'll run-\"\n\nBefore Gill could finish, the man hit the flat face of the sword. The vibration ran down the blade, breaking Gill's grip. A second later, the man had the weapon and was pointing it at him.\n\n\"I gave you an order, picket,\" the stranger snapped. \"I'm not accustomed to repeating myself to my troops. Look sharp or I'll have you flogged.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Then the man returned his sword, which only made matters worse.\n\n\"What's your name, picket?\"\n\n\"Gill, ah, sir,\" he said, adding the sir in case this man was an officer.\n\n\"Gill, in the future when standing watch, arm yourself with a crossbow and never let even one man approach to within one hundred feet without putting a hole through him, do you understand?\" The man did not wait for an answer. He walked past him and continued striding up the hill through the tall wet grass.\n\n\"Umm, yes, sir, but I don't have a crossbow, sir,\" Gill said as he jogged behind him.\n\n\"Then you had best get one, isn't that right?\" the man called over his shoulder.\n\n\"Yes, sir.\" Gill nodded even though the man was ahead of him.\n\nThe man walked past scores of tents, heading toward the middle of the camp. Everyone was inside, away from the rain, and no one saw him pass. The tents were a haphazard array of rope and stick-propped canvas. No two were alike, as the soldiers had scrounged supplies as they moved. Most were cut from ship sails grabbed at the port in Vernes and again in Kilnar. Others made do with nothing but old bed linens, and in a few rare cases, actual tents were used.\n\nThe stranger paused at the top of the hill. When Gill caught up, he asked, \"Which of these tents belongs to Parker?\"\n\n\"Parker? He's not in a tent, sir. He's in the farmhouse down that way,\" Gill said, pointing.\n\n\"Gill, why are you off your post?\" Sergeant Milford growled at him as he came out of his tent, blinking as the rain stung his eyes. He was wrapped in a cloak, his pale bare feet showing beneath it." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Well, I-\" Gill began, but the stranger interrupted.\n\n\"Who is this now?\" The stranger walked right up to Milford and, scowling, stood with his hands on his hips.\n\n\"This here is Sergeant Milford, sir,\" Gill answered, and the sergeant looked confused.\n\nThe stranger inspected him and shook his head. \"Sergeant, wherein Maribor's name is your sword?\"\n\n\"In my tent, but-\"\n\n\"You don't think it necessary to wear your sword when an enemy army stands less than a mile away and could attack at any minute?\"\n\n\"I was sleeping, sir!\"\n\n\"Lookup, sergeant!\" the man said.\n\nThe sergeant tilted his head up, wincing as rain hit his face.\n\n\"As you can see, it's nearly morning.\"\n\n\"Ah-yes, sir. Sorry, sir.\"\n\n\"Now get dressed and get anew picket on Gill's post at once, do you understand?\"\n\n\"Yes, sir. Right away, sir!\"\n\n\"Gill!\"\n\n\"Yes, sir!\" Gill jumped.\n\n\"Let's get moving. I'm late as it is.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir!\" Gill set off following once more, offering the sergeant a flummoxed shrug as he passed.\n\nThe main body camped on what everyone called Bingham Hill, apparently after farmer Bingham, who grew barley and rye in the fields below. Gill heard there had been quite the hullabaloo when Commander Gaunt had informed Bingham the army would be using his farm and Gaunt would take his house fora headquarters. The pastoral home with a thatched roof and wooden beams found itself surrounded by a sea of congested camps. Flowers that had once lined the walkway had been crushed beneath a hundred boots. The barn housed the officers and the stable provided storage and was also used as a dispensary and tavern for those with rank. There were tents everywhere and a hundred campfires burned rings into the ground." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Inform Commander Parker I'm here,\" the stranger told one of the guards on the porch.\n\n\"And who are you?\"\n\n\"Marshal Lord Blackwater.\"\n\nThe sentry hesitated only a moment, then disappeared inside. He reemerged quickly and held the door open.\n\n\"Thank you, Gill. That will be all,\" the stranger said as he stepped inside.\n\n\"You're Commander Parker?\" Hadrian asked the portly man before him, who was sloppily dressed in a short black vest and dirty white britches. An upturned nose satin the middle of his soft face, which rested on a large wobbly neck.\n\nHe was seated before a rough wooden table littered with candles, maps, dispatches, and a steaming plate of eggs and ham. He stood up, pulling a napkin from his neck, and wiped his mouth. \"I am, and you are Marshal Blackwater? I wasn't informed of-\"\n\n\"Marshal Lord Blackwater,\" he said, correcting the man with a friendly smile, and handed over his letter of reference.\n\nParker took the letter, roughly unfolding it, and began reading.\n\nWavy wooden beams edged and divided the pale yellowing walls. Along these hung pots, sacks, cooking tools, and what Hadrian guessed to be Commander Parker's sword and cloak. Baskets, pails, and jugs huddled in corners, stacked out of the way on the floor, which listed downhill toward the fireplace.\n\nAfter reading the letter, Parker returned to his seat and tucked his napkin back into his collar. \"You're not really a lord, are you?\"\n\nHadrian hesitated briefly. \"Well, technically I am, at least for the moment.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What are you when you're not a lord?\"\n\n\"I suppose you could call me a mercenary. I've done a lot of things over the years.\"\n\n\"Why would the Princess of Melengar send a mercenary tome?\"\n\n\"Because I can win this battle for you.\"\n\n\"What makes you think I can't win it?\"\n\n\"The fact that you're still in this farmhouse instead of the city. You're very likely a good manager and quartermaster, and I'm certain a wonderful bookkeeper, but war is more than numbers in ledgers. With Gaunt gone, you might be a bit unsure of what to do next. That's where I can help you. As it happens, I have a great deal of combat experience.\"\n\n\"So you know about Gaunt's disappearance.\"\n\nHadrian did not like the tone in his voice. There was something there, something coy and threatening. Aggression was still his best approach. \"This army has been camped here for days, and you've not launched a single foray at the enemy.\"\n\n\"It's raining,\" Parker replied. \"The field is a muddy mess.\"\n\n\"Exactly,\" Hadrian said. \"That's why you should be attacking. The rain will give you the upper hand. Call in your captains and I can explain how we can turn the weather to our advantage, but we must act quickly-\"\n\n\"You'd like that, wouldn't you?\" There was that tone again, this time more ominous. \"I have a better idea. How about you explain tome why Arista Essendon would betray Degan?\"\n\n\"She didn't. You don't understand. She's-\"\n\n\"Oh, she most certainly did!\" Parker rose to his feet and threw his napkin to the floor as if it were a gauntlet of challenge. \"And you needn't lie any further. I know why. She did it to save her miserable little kingdom.\" He took a step forward and bumped the table. \"By destroying Degan, she hopes to curry favor for Melengar. So what are your real orders?\" He advanced, pointing an accusatory finger. \"To gain our confidence? To lead this army into an ambush like you did with Gaunt? Was it you? Were you there? Were you one of the ones that grabbed him?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Parker glanced at Hadrian's swords. \"Or is it to get close enough to kill me?\" he said, staggering backward. The commander knocked his head on a low-hanging pot, which fell with a brassy clang. The noise made Parker jump. \"Simms! Fall!\" he cried, and the two sentries rushed in.\n\n\"Sir!\" they said in unison.\n\n\"Take his swords. Shackle him to a stake. Get him out of-\"\n\n\"You don't understand. Arista isn't your enemy,\" Hadrian interrupted.\n\n\"Oh, I understand perfectly.\"\n\n\"She was setup by the empire, just as Gaunt was.\"\n\n\"So she's missing too?\"\n\n\"No, she's in Ratibor right now planning a rebellion to aid your attack.\"\n\nParker laughed aloud at that. \"Oh please, sir! You do need lessons in lying. A princess of Melengar organizing an uprising in Ratibor? Get him out of here.\"\n\nOne of the soldiers drew his sword. \"Remove your weapons-now!\"\n\nHadrian considered his options. He could run, but he would never get another opportunity to persuade them. Taking Parker prisoner would require killing Simms and Fall and destroy any hope of gaining their trust. With no other choice, he sighed and unbuckled his belt.\n\n\"Exactly how confident are you that Hadrian will succeed in persuading the Nationalists to attack tomorrow morning?\" Polish asked Arista as they sat at the Dunlaps' table. Outside, it continued to storm.\n\n\"I have the same level of confidence in his success as I do in ours,\" Arista replied.\n\nPolish smirked. \"I keep forgetting you're a diplomat.\"\n\nEight other people sat around the little table, where the city lay mapped outwith knickknacks borrowed from Mrs. Dunlap's shelves. Those present had been handpicked by Hadrian, Dr. Gerand, Polish, or Emery, who was back on his feet and eating everything Mrs. Dunlap put under his nose." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Carry on with the narrative as the plot partner.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, war\nAuthor: Michael J. Sullivan\nTitle: Rise of Empire\nChapter: 53" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Who's she marrying?\" Royce asked.\n\n\"Lard Ethelred,\" Mince said.\n\nElbright lowered his voice. \"Shut it, Mince.\"\n\n\"He's a snake.\"\n\nElbright growled and cuffed him on the ear. \"Talk like that will get you dead.\" Turning back to Royce and Hadrian, he said, \"Mince has a bit of a crush on the empress. He's not too pleased with the old king, on account of him marrying her and all.\"\n\n\"She's like a goddess, she is,\" Mince declared, misty-eyed. \"I seen her once. I climbed to that roof fora better view when she gave a speech last summer. She shimmered like a star, she did. By Mar, she's beautiful. Ya can tell she's the daughter of Novron. I've never seen anyone so pretty.\"\n\n\"See what I mean? Mince is a bit crazy when it comes to the empress,\" Elbright apologized. \"He's got to get used to Regent Ethelred running things again. Not that he ever really stopped, on account of the empress being sick and all.\"\n\n\"She was hurt by the beast she killed up north,\" Mince explained. \"Empress Modina was dying from the poison, and healers came from allover, but no one could help. Then Regent Saldur prayed for seven days and nights without food or water. Maribor showed him that the pure heart of a servant girl named Amilia from Tarin Vale had the power to heal the empress. And she did. Lady Amilia has been nursing the empress back to health and doing a fine job.\" He took a breath, his eyes brightened, and a smile grew across his face." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Mince, enough,\" Elbright said.\n\n\"What's all this about?\" Royce asked, pointing at bleachers that were being builtin the center of the square. \"They aren't holding the wedding out here, are they?\"\n\n\"No, the wedding will beat the cathedral. Those are for folks to watch the execution. They're gonna kill the rebel leader.\"\n\n\"Yeah, that piece of news we heard about,\" Hadrian said softly.\n\n\"Oh, so you came for the execution?\"\n\n\"More or less.\"\n\n\"I've got our spots all picked out,\" Elbright said. \"I'm gonna have Mince go up the night before and save us a good seat.\"\n\n\"Hey, why do I have to go?\" Mince asked.\n\n\"Brand and I have to carryall the stuff. You're too small to help and Kine's still sick, so you need to-\"\n\n\"But you have the cloak and it's gonna be cold just sitting up there.\"\n\nThe two boys went on arguing, but Royce could tell Hadrian was no longer listening. His friend's eyes scanned the palace gates, walls, and front entrance. Hadrian was counting guards.\n\nRooms at the Bailey were the same as at every inn-small and drab, with worn wooden floors and musty odors. A small pile of firewood was stacked next to the hearth in each room but never enough for the whole night. Patrons were forced to buy more at exorbitant prices if they wanted to stay warm. Royce made his usual rounds, circling the block, watching for faces that appeared too many times. He returned to their room confident that no one had noticed their arrival-at least, no one who mattered.\n\n\"Room eight. Been here almost a week,\" Royce said." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"A week? Why so early?\" Hadrian asked.\n\n\"If you were living in a monastery for ten months a year, wouldn't you show up early for Wintertide?\"\n\nHadrian grabbed his swords and the two moved down the hall. Royce picked the lock of a weathered door and slid it open. On the far side of the room, two candles burned on a small table set with plates, glasses, and a bottle of wine. A man, dressed in velvet and silk, stood before a wall mirror, checking the tie that held back his blond hair and adjusting the high collar of his coat.\n\n\"Looks like he was expecting us,\" Hadrian said.\n\n\"Looks like he was expecting someone,\" Royce clarified.\n\n\"What the-\" Startled, Albert Winslow spun around. \"Would it hurt to knock?\"\n\n\"What can I say?\" Royce flopped on the bed. \"We're scoundrels and thieves.\"\n\n\"Scoundrels certainly,\" Albert said, \"but thieves? When was the last time you two stole anything?\"\n\n\"Do I detect dissatisfaction?\"\n\n\"I'm a viscount. I have a reputation to uphold, which takes a certain amount of income-money that I don't receive when you two are idle.\"\n\nHadrian took a seat at the table. \"He's not dissatisfied. He's outright scolding us.\"\n\n\"Is that why you're here so early?\" Royce asked. \"Scouting for work?\"\n\n\"Partially. I also needed to getaway from the Winds Abbey. I'm becoming a laughingstock. When I contacted Lord Daref, he couldn't layoff the Viscount Monk jokes. On the other hand, Lady Mae does find my pious reclusion appealing.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And is she the one who...\" Hadrian swirled a finger at the neatly arranged table.\n\n\"Yes. I was about to fetch her. I'm going to have to cancel, aren't I?\" He looked from one to the other and sighed.\n\n\"Sorry.\"\n\n\"I hope this job pays well. This is anew doublet and I still owe the tailor.\" Blowing out the candles, he took a seat across from Hadrian.\n\n\"How are things up north?\" Royce asked.\n\nAlbert pursed his lips, thinking. \"I'm guessing you know about Medford being taken? Imperial troops hold it and most of the provincial castles except for Drondil Fields.\"\n\nRoyce sat up. \"No, we didn't know. How's Gwen?\"\n\n\"I have no idea. I was here when I heard.\"\n\n\"So Alric and Arista are at Drondil Fields?\" Hadrian asked.\n\n\"King Alric is but I don't think the princess was in Medford. I believe she's running Ratibor. They appointed her mayor, or so I've heard.\"\n\n\"No,\" Hadrian said. \"We just came through there. She was governing after the battle but left months ago in the middle of the night. No one knows why. I just assumed she went home.\"\n\nAlbert shrugged. \"Maybe, but I never heard anything about her going back. Probably better for her if she didn't. The Imps have Drondil Fields surrounded. Nothing is going in or out. It's only a matter of time before Alric will have to surrender.\"\n\n\"What about the abbey? Has the empire come knocking?\" Royce asked.\n\nAlbert shook his head. \"Not that I know of. But like I said, I was already here when the Imperialists crossed the Galewyr.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Royce got up and began to pace.\n\n\"Anything else?\" Hadrian asked.\n\n\"Rumor has it that Tur Del Fur was invaded by goblins. But that's only a rumor, as far as I can tell.\"\n\n\"Not a rumor,\" Hadrian said.\n\n\"Oh?\"\n\n\"We were there. Actually, we were responsible.\"\n\n\"Sounds... interesting,\" Albert said.\n\nRoyce stopped his pacing. \"Don't get him started.\"\n\n\"Okay, so what brings you to Aquesta?\" Albert asked. \"I'm guessing it's not to celebrate Wintertide.\"\n\n\"We're going to break Degan Gaunt out of the palace dungeon, and we'll need you for the usual inside work,\" Royce said.\n\n\"Really? You do know he's going to be executed on Wintertide, don't you?\"\n\n\"Yeah, that's why we need to get moving. It would be bad if we were late,\" Hadrian added.\n\n\"Are you crazy? The palace? At Wintertide? You've heard about this little wedding that's going on? Security might be a tad tighter than usual. Everyday I see a line of men in the courtyard, signing up to join the guard.\"\n\n\"Your point?\" Hadrian asked.\n\n\"We should be able to use the wedding to our advantage,\" Royce said. \"Anyone we know in town yet?\"\n\n\"Genny and Leo arrived recently, I think.\"\n\n\"Really? That's perfect. Get in touch. They'll have rooms in the palace for sure. See if they can get you in. Then find out all you can, especially about where they're keeping Gaunt.\"\n\n\"I'm going to need money. I was only planning to attend a few local balls and maybe one of the feasts. If you want me inside the palace, I'll have to get better clothes. By Mar, look at my shoes. Just look at them! I can't meet the empress in these.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Borrow from Genny and Leo for now,\" Royce said." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I'm going to leave for Medford tonight and return with funds to cover our expenses.\"\n\n\"You're going back? Tonight?\" Albert asked. \"You just got here, didn't you?\"\n\nThe thief nodded.\n\n\"She's okay,\" Hadrian assured Royce. \"I'm sure she got out.\"\n\n\"We've got nearly a month to Wintertide,\" Royce said. \"I should be back in a week or so. In the meantime, learn what you can, and we'll formulate a plan when I return.\"\n\n\"Well,\" Albert grumbled, \"at least Wintertide won't be boring.\"" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Extende the story in collaboration with the author.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, demons\nAuthor: John Gwynne\nTitle: Ruin\nChapter: 7" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Havoc and spoil and ruin are my gain.\"\n\nJohn Milton, Paradise Lost" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Ulfilas touched his heels to his horse's side, urging her up the incline before him, a slope of grey rock and gravel littered with the remains of long-dead trees. Beside him King Jael kept pace, his face set in rigid lines. A dozen paces ahead of them rode Jael's huntsman, Dag.\n\nJael should not be here, Ulfilas thought, a knot of worry shifting in his gut. The King of Isiltir, wandering in the northern wilderness on a fool's errand. It was not that Ulfilas felt any great sense of loyalty to Jael; he didn't even like the man. It was more that after all they had been through, to die now on a journey like this, which he considered a waste of time, would feel foolish.\n\nUlfilas was aware that times were changing, there was war on the horizon, and the power in Isiltir needed consolidating. He had been Jael's shieldman since he'd sat his Long Night, and despite his dislike of Jael's character and practices, Ulfilas was also a pragmatic man. I'm a warrior. Got to fight for someone. Recent events had proven his choice well made. King Romar was dead. Kastell, Jael's cousin, was dead. Gerda, estranged wife of Romar, was dead. Her young son, Haelan, technically speaking still heir to the throne of Isiltir, was missing. Running. He knew that Jael felt little to no loyalty towards the men who followed him, that the new self-proclaimed King of Isiltir was scheming, vain and power hungry and would do whatever it took to keep his newly won crown. But he was a man on the rise. And so Ulfilas had stuck with him, when a voice in his mind had been telling him to walkaway and find another, more worthy, lord to serve." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A conscience? he wondered. Hah, a conscience doesn't put food on my plate or keep my head from a spike.\n\n\"How much longer?\" Jael called ahead.\n\n\"Not much longer, my lord,\" the huntsman Dag called back. \"We'll be with them before sunset. '\n\nClose to the top of the incline Ulfilas reined in his horse and looked back.\n\nA column of warriors wound up the slope behind him, surrounding a wain pulled by two hulking auroch. Beyond them the land stretched grey and desolate, further south the fringes of Forn Forest were a green blur. A river in the distance sparkled under the dipping sun, marking the border of this northern wasteland with the realm beyond.\n\nIsiltir. Home. Ulfilas looked away, backup the slope towards his King, and spurred his horse after him.\n\nThey travelled ever northwards as the sun sank lower, shadows stretching about them, their path winding through empty plains and steep-sided ravines. Once they crossed a stone bridge that spanned a deep abyss; Ulfilas looked down into the darkness. His stomach shifted as his horse stumbled on loose stone, the thought of falling into the unknown making him snatch at his reins. He let out along breath when they reached the far side, the sharp rush of fear receding as quickly as it had appeared.\n\nThey rode into a series of barren foothills, eventually cresting another slope to find Dag silently waiting for them. Ulfilas and his King drew level with the huntsman and pulled their mounts to a standstill at the sight before them.\n\nA flat plain unfolded into the distance, the tips of mountains jagged on the horizon. Just below the travellers lay their destination: a great crater, as if Elyon the Maker had punched a fist into the fabric of the earth, barren of life and no breeze or sound of wildlife to disturb it." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The starstone crater,\" Jael whispered.\n\nUlfilas had thought it more tale than truth, the rumoured site of the starstone that had fallen from the sky.\n\nHow many thousands of years ago was it supposed to have crashed to the earth? And from it the Seven Treasures were said to have been forged, over which past wars had changed the face of the Banished Lands, not least of all here, where the stories told how Elyon's Scourging had broken the land, scorching it black.\n\nUlfilas stared up at the sky, slate-grey and swollen with clouds, and imagined fora moment that they were filled with the white-feathered Ben-Elim and Asroth's demon horde. He could almost hear their battle-cries echoing about him, hear the clash of weapons, the death-screams.\n\nElyon and Asroth, Maker and Destroyer, their angels and demons fighting for supremacy over these Banished Lands. I thought it all a faery tale. And now I am told it is happening again.\n\nRiding through these lands now Ulfilas found himself believing what, only a year ago, he had thought to be bedtime stories for bairns. He thought of the time he had spent at Haldis, the burial ground of the Hunen giants hidden deep in Forn Forest. He had witnessed a king betrayed and slain over a black axe said to be one of the Seven Treasures carved from the starstone; he had seen white wyrms, and earth magic where solid ground turned into a swamp, suffocating the life from his sword-brothers. He was a man of action– of deeds. Monsters made real were not something he'd found easy to accept. Fear churned in his gut at just the memory of it." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Fear keeps you sharp.\n\nFurther down the slope and built on the lip of the crater was the carcass of an ancient fortress, walls and towers broken and crumbling. Figures moved amongst the ruins, mere pinpricks in the distance.\n\n\"The Jotun,\" said Jael.\n\nThe giants of the north. Rumoured to be strongest and fiercest of the surviving giant clans. Not for the first time Ulfilas questioned the wisdom of this journey.\n\n\"No sudden movements,\" Dag said, \"and keep your wits about you.\"\n\nSome of the Jotun's number filtered out of the ruins, gathering on the road that cut through the derelict walls, their spear-tips and mail catching the sinking sun. A handful were mounted on shaggy, lumbering creatures.\n\n\"Are they riding bears?\" Ulfilas asked.\n\n\"We've all heard the tales of the Jotun in the north, \"Jael said.\"It would appear some of those tales, at least, are true. '\n\nThey stopped at the first remains of a wall, the column of riders behind them rippling to a halt. Warriors spread from the path, curling about Jael like a protective hand. Ten score of Jael's best shieldmen. Ulfilas could feel the tension amongst them, saw the way hands gripped spear shafts and sword hilts.\n\nGiants appeared from the ruins, moving with surprising grace despite their bulk. Some sat on the path ahead of them upon the backs of dark-furred and yellow-clawed bears. Ulfilas knew Jael was right to be wary, they'd seen first-hand at the Battle of Haldis how deadly an attacking force of giants could be. If it hadn't been for the men of Tenebral forming their wall of shields and stopping the Hunen giants' attack that had been tearing the warbands of Isiltir and Helveth apart, then Ulfilas knew none of them would be here today." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Too late to learn the shield wall now, but I swear, if I make it home...\n\nOne of the bear-riders moved ahead of the others, a tremor passing through the ground with the bear's every footfall. It halted before Jael, looming over him.\n\nThe giant slid from a tall-backed saddle and strode forward, blond hair and moustache bound in thick braids. A cloak of dark fur wrapped his wide frame, the glint of iron beneath it. In his hand he held a thick-shafted spear, a war-hammer was left strapped to his saddle. His bear watched them with small, intelligent eyes. It curled a lip, showing a line of sharp teeth.\n\n\"Welcome to the Desolation, Jael, King of Isiltir,\" the giant said. His voice sounded like gravel sliding over stone.\n\n\"Greetings, Ildaer, warlord of the Jotun,\" Jael replied. He beckoned behind him, his warriors parted to allow the wain forward. One of the shaggy auroch that pulled it snorted and dug at the ground with a hoof.\n\nIt doesn't like the smell of bear anymore than I do.\n\nJael pulled back a cloth that covered the wain's contents.\"It is as my envoys promised you. A tribute. Weapons of your ancestors, hoarded at Dun Kellen, \"he said, reaching in and with difficulty pulling out a huge battle-axe.\"My gift to you. '\n\nIldaer gestured and another giant moved to the wain, a broadsword slung across his back. He stood as tall as Jael did upon his horse. The giant took the axe, turning it in his hands, then peered into the wain. He could not hide the look of joy that swept his face." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"They are the weapons of our kin,\" he said with a nod to Ildaer.\n\n\"I return them to you, as a token of my goodwill, and part payment of a task that I need your aid in.\"\n\nThe giant gripped the aurochs' harness and led them forward, Ildaer peering in as the wain passed him. Giants pressed close about it.\n\n\"And what is to stop me from killing you and your men, and giving your carcasses to my bears?\"\n\n\"I am of more value to you alive. You area man of intellect, I have been told. Not a savage.\"\n\nIldaer looked at Jael, his eyes narrowing beneath his jutting brow. He glanced back over his shoulder at the wain full of weapons.\n\n\"And besides, who is to say that we would not kill you and all of your warband?\" Jael said.\n\nThe giants behind Ildaer all glowered at Jael.\n\nA bear growled.\n\nUlfilas felt the familiar spike of fear– the precursor to sudden violence. His fingers twitched upon his sword hilt.\n\n\"Hah,\" Ildaer laughed. \"I think I like you, southlander.\"\n\nUlfilas felt the moment pass, the tension ebbing. Southlander? Isiltir is not one of the southlands. But then, we are in the northlands now. They call anything south of here the southlands.\n\nIldaer looked back at the wain again. \"That is of great worth to my people,\" he admitted.\n\n\"It is nothing compared to what I am prepared to give, if you can help me.\" Jael told him.\n\n\"What is it that you want?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I want you to find a runaway boy for me.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Corban woke with his heart pounding. The remnants of a dream, dispersed with wakefulness, just a hint of black eyes and immeasurable hatred remaining fora moment. Then that too was gone.\n\nIt was cold darkness all around.\n\nHe heard Storm growl and he sat up, one hand feeling for his sword hilt. Something's wrong.\n\nHe felt Storm's bulk beside him, reached out and felt her hackles standing rigid.\n\n\"What is it, girl?\" he whispered.\n\nThe camp was silent. To his left the fire-pit glimmered, but he avoided looking at it, knowing it would destroy any night vision he possessed. He made out the dense shadow of a guard standing on the incline of the dell they were camped within. The moon emerged, revealing another figure close by, tall and dark-haired. Meical. He was standing perfectly still, his attention fixed on the dell's rim. Behind Corban a horse whinnied.\n\nThere was a flapping up above and then a croaking bird's screech.\" WAKE, WARE THE ENEMY, WAKE. WAKE. WAKE. '\n\nCraf or Fech. Corban leaped to his feet, all around him other shapes doing the same, the rasp of swords pulled from scabbards. Shapes appeared at the dell's edge, figures outlined fora moment in the moon's glow before they swarmed down the incline. There was a crunch, a collision, a scream.\n\n\"Kadoshim,\" Meical shouted, then all was chaos. Bodies were swirling, solid shadows blurred with starlight, then an explosion of sparks burst from the fire as it blazed brightly, scattering light. Corban caught a glimpse of Brina calling out incantations beside the fire, making it burn higher and directing tongues of it towards their enemy." }, { "from": "human", "value": "The new light revealed a dozen attackers amongst them, dressed like the Jehar but moving differently, with none of their fluid grace, as if their bodies held too much power to contain within the confines of flesh and bone." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They carved their way through the camp, sending those that attacked them hurtling away. Corban remembered how the Kadoshim had fought in Murias, just after they'd been raised from the cauldron, tearing limbs from bodies with a savage, inhuman ferocity. A wave of fear suddenly swept him, pinning his feet to the ground. He heard a strange language screamed in defiance and looked to see Balur One-Eye the giant, his kin gathered behind him, hurling defiance at the Kadoshim, who paused fora moment, then surged towards Balur.\n\nThey have come for the axe.\n\nAshe watched them charge together, Corban remembered his mam, their attack on her, how he had tried to stop the blood flowing as he'd held her, how the light had dimmed from her eyes. Hatred for these creatures swept him, burning away the fear that had frozen him moments before, and then he was moving forwards, running faster with each step, Storm at his side.\n\nThey saw him before he reached them, or perhaps it was Storm that marked him out. Either way, the Kadoshim obviously recognized him, and who he was supposed to be: the Seren Disglair– Bright Star and Elyon's avatar made flesh. Some of them broke from the main bulk that was now locked in combat with Balur and his giant kin. Tukul and his Jehar swirled around their edges, slicing, cutting.\n\nStorm lengthened her stride and forged ahead of him. Corban glimpsed the muscles in her legs bunching as she gathered to leap, then she was airborne, colliding with one of the Kadoshim in amass of fur and flesh, her jaws tearing at its throat.\n\nInstinct took Corban as he reached them; gripping his sword two-handed he raised it high, slashing diagonally, shifting his weight to sweep around his target. He felt his sword bite through leather and mail, shattering bone and carving through flesh. It should have been a killing blow. The Kadoshim staggered, one hand gripping Corban's blade. It stared at him, black eyes boring into him, then it grinned, blood as dark as ink welling from its mouth. These were no longer the human Jehar whose bodies they'd possessed upon emerging from the cauldron, but something far stronger." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Corban yanked his sword away, saw severed fingers fall as the Kadoshim tried to keep its grip. Its other hand shot out, grabbing Corban around the throat, lifting him from the ground. Impossibly strong fingers began to squeeze. He kicked his legs, tried to bring his sword round, but could put no strength in his blows. Stars appeared at the edges of his vision, a darkness drawing in. The pounding of his heart grew in volume, drowning all else out. Panic swept him and he found new strength, bringing the wolven hilt of his sword down on the Kadoshim's head. He felt the skull crack, but still it gripped him.\n\nIt regarded Corban calmly, head cocked to one side.\n\n\"So you are Meical's puppet, ' it growled, startling Corban. Its voice was unsteady, a basal rumble that seemed too deep for the throat it issued from.\n\nCorban tried to raise his sword, but it was suddenly so heavy. Too heavy. It slipped from his fingers. The strength was fading from his limbs, leaking from him, a great lethargy seeping through him.\n\nSo much for everyone's hopes of me being the Bright Star. Is this what dying feels like? At least I'll get to see Mam again.\n\nThere was an impact, a crunch that he felt shudder through his body and he saw sharp teeth sink into the Kadoshim's neck and shoulder.\n\nStorm, he realized, distantly.\n\nThe Kadoshim was spun around as Storm tried to drag it off Corban, but it would not release its grip on Corban's throat. Then there was another impact– this one accompanied by what sounded like wet wood being split as an axe-blade hacked through the Kadoshim's wrist, severing it completely." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Corban crashed to the ground, his weak legs folding beneath him." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He looked up to see Tukul wrestling with the Kadoshim, Storm tearing at the creature's leg. Then someone else was there, sword a blur, and the Kadoshim's head was spiralling through the air.\n\nIts body sank to the ground, feet drumming on the turf as a black vapour in the shape of great wings poured from it, eyes like glowing coals regarding them with insatiable malice fora moment before a breeze tugged it apart. A wail of anguish lingered in the air.\n\nGar stood over Corban, reaching to pull him upright.\n\n\"You have to take their heads,\" Gar said.\n\n\"I remember now,\" Corban croaked.\n\n\"Remember earlier next time.\"\n\nCorban nodded, massaging his throat. He touched his warrior torc, felt a bend in the metal.\n\nThis must have stopped it from crushing my throat.\n\nThe battle was all but done. The grey of first dawn had crept over them as they fought, and by it Corban saw a handful of giants pinning the last Kadoshim to the ground, Balur standing over the creature. His axe swung and then the mist-figure was forming in the air, screeching its rage as it departed the world of flesh.\n\nThere was the silent, relief-filled moment that comes at the end of battle. Corban paused, just glad to still be alive, the fear and tension of combat draining from him. He could see it in those around him, the shift and relaxing of muscle in bodies, a change on their faces, a gratitude shared. Then they were moving again.\n\nAs dawn rose they gathered their dead, laying them out along the stream bank next to the cairn they'd finished building just yesterday. Corban stood and stared at the pile of rocks they'd dragged from the stream." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "My mam is in there, beneath those rocks.\n\nA tear rolled down Corban's cheek as grief and exhaustion welled in his belly, swelling into his chest, taking his breath away. He heard a whine: Storm, pressing her muzzle into his hand. It was crusted with dried blood.\n\nA cold breeze made his skin tingle as he stood before his mam's cairn. How can she begone? He felt her absence like a physical thing, as if a limb had been severed. The events of yesterday seemed like a dream. A nightmare. His mam's death, so many others, men and giants and great wyrms. And he had seen the cauldron: one of the Seven Treasures, remnant from an age of faery tales. He had seen a bubbling wave of demon-spirits from the Otherworld pouring from it, Asroth's Kadoshim, filling the bodies of transfixed Jehar warriors like empty vessels. He knew the group who had attacked them had only been a small part of those remaining a dozen leagues to the north; Nathair and his demon-warriors camped within the walls of Murias.\n\nWhat are we going to do?\n\nHe watched as the rest of his followers started to break camp. He searched for Meical but could not see him. Brina stood close to the fire-pit, Craf and Fech fluttering about her. He glimpsed Coralen moving quietly to the camp's fringe, checking on the paddocked horses. Her wolven claws were slung across her shoulders. Corban remembered their words before the battle at Murias, when they had heard of Domhain's fall, of her father King Eremon's death. She'd fled into the trees and he'd followed her, wanted to comfort her but not known how. They'd shared a handful of words and fora moment he'd seen through the cold hard walls she'd set about her. He wished he could go back to that moment and say more to her. He saw her head turn, her gaze touching him fora moment, then turning sharply away. Beyond her, a huddle of figures stood– the giants who had fled Murias, clustered together like an outcrop of rock. Closer by, the Jehar were gathering beside the stream, making ready to begin their sword dance. He felt the pull of habit drawing him to join them. Without thinking he approached them, seeking comfort in the act of something familiar amidst the whirl of fear, death and grief that threatened to consume him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They were gathered about their leader, Tukul, Gar beside him; a few score stood further behind the old warrior– the ones who had saved Corban in Rhin's fortress. Others were grouped before Tukul, at least twice their number. As Corban approached Tukul raised his voice, saying something in a language Corban did not recognize. The mass of Jehar before him dropped to their knees and bowed their heads. There was one who did not– Corban recognized him as one of the Jehar who had been with Nathair before realizing they had been betrayed. It seemed he was angry about something. Gar stepped forward. From years of knowing him Corban could tell he was furious, a straightness in his back, a tension in the set of his shoulders.\n\nFora moment the two men stood staring atone another, a sense of imminent violence emanating from both of them, then Tukul snapped an order and they stepped apart, the other man stalking away.\n\nGar saw Corban and walked towards him. His eyes looked raw, red-rimmed. Corban remembered him weeping before his mam's cairn. The first time he'd seen him display such emotion.\n\nHe has always seemed so strong, so in control. Something about seeing Gar weep had made him seem more human, somehow. Corban felt a sudden surge of emotion for the man, his teacher and protector. His friend.\n\n\"What's happening? ' Corban asked him.\n\n\"The Jehar that followed Sumur and Nathair,\" Gar said with a nod towards the Jehar, who had risen and all started forming the lines for the sword dance practice. \"They have recognized my father as their captain.\"\n\n\"Good. And him?\" Corban said, looking at the one who had spoken with Tukul." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Akar. He was Sumur's captain. He is ashamed that they followed the Black Sun, that they were fooled by Nathair. That he was fooled. And he is proud. It is making him say foolish things. ' Gar shrugged, the emotion of a few moments ago gone or well hidden.\n\n\"He looked like he wanted to fight you.\"\n\n\"It may come to that.\" Gar looked at the warrior, mingling now in the line of the sword dance. \"And we have a history.\"\n\nCorban waited but Gar said nothing more.\n\n\"Where's Meical? 'Corban asked.\n\n\"Scouting. He set off soon after the attack– took a giant and a few of my sword-brothers and left.\"\n\n\"Shouldn't we go and find him? '\n\n\"I think Meical can look after himself. He'll be back soon. Best use our time. ' Gar ushered him forward amongst the ranks of Jehar warriors. Corban drew his sword and slipped into the first position of the dance, his mind sinking into the rhythm of it, muscle memory automatically taking over from conscious thought. Time passed, merging into a fusion of contraction and extension, of focus and sweat, of pumping blood and his beating heart and the weight of his sword. Then he was finished, Tukul stepping from the line and ordering the Jehar to break camp.\n\nCorban stood there a moment, savouring the ache in his wrists and shoulders, clinging to the familiarity. He looked around and saw his friends were nearby, watching him– Farrell and Coralen, standing with Dath. A figure walked towards him– Cywen, their mam's knife-belt strapped diagonally across her torso.\n\n\"Happy nameday, Ban,\" Cywen said." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What?\"\n\n\"It's your nameday. Seventeen summers. '\n\nIs it? He shook his head. It's been over a year since we fled Dun Carreg, since I last saw Cywen. A year of running and fighting, of blood and fear. But at least I have spent it amongst my kin and friends. What has shebeen through? A year by herself, surviving who knows what. And only to comeback and be reunited with us and help bury our mam. He took along look at her– thinner, grime on her cheeks highlighted by tear tracks. The bones in her face were starkly defined, and her eyes were haunted. They hadn't spoken much last night before sleeping. There'd been too much happen to all of them that day for them to relive anything else. Instead they'd sat by the fire for hours, just comfortable in each other's company, Dath teasing Cywen and trying to make her smile, Farrell quietly watching and Coralen pacing as if she couldn't quite settle.\n\nBefore he could respond to Cywen's greeting there was a drum of hooves as a handful of riders crested the dell. Meical led, with the hulking forms of giants following behind. Corban could barely believe that what had once been mankind's fiercest enemy was now their ally. Meical rode into the camp, dismounted smoothly and strode to Corban. Balur and another giant, a female, accompanied him, with Tukul following behind.\n\n\"Only one of the Kadoshim survived last night's attack. We tracked him halfway back to Murias before we gave up the chase. The land between us and the fortress is clear, for now, \"Meical said.\"My guess is that the Kadoshim will stay within the fortress walls awhile and become accustomed to their new bodies. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Fech is watching them for us,\" the female giant said. \"We will not have another surprise like the one last night.\"\n\n\"Good,\" Corban nodded, then looked at Meical. \"What next?\"\n\n\"That is what we have come to ask you,\" Tukul said, staring at Corban.\n\n\"Me?\"\n\n\"Of course you. You are the Seren Disglair. We follow you.\"\n\nCorban felt a shift around him and looked about to seethe whole camp still and silent, all watching him.\n\nHe gulped." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Uthas of the Benothi stared down at the dead. He was standing just within the great doors of Murias, the sun warming his back. The bodies of his kin were laid out before him, scores of them, the might of the Benothi laid to waste. Here and there survivors of his clan moved, a handful remaining of those who had joined him– little more than two score– pulling fallen Benothi from the mass of the dead. The whole chamber was clogged with corpses, giants, men, horses, the stench of blood and excrement underlying all else.\n\nOther figures lurked in the shadows, the Kadoshim. They moved awkwardly, not yet fully accustomed to their new bodies of flesh and bone. Uthas suppressed a shudder and looked away; the sight was unsettling now the chaos and rush of battle had passed.\n\nMost of his surviving kin were gathered around a large ink pot, dipping bone needles as they inscribed the tale of thorns on their bodies. All had killed during yesterday's battle; all would have fresh thorns to tattoo into their flesh. He saw Salach, his shieldman, bent close over Eisa as he tattooed her shoulder. Uthas\" eyes strayed back to the corpses lined at his feet, searching the faces of the dead. One that he had hoped he would find was not there. Balur. I should have known he would not have the good grace to die. He felt aflutter of fear at the knowledge that the old warrior was still alive, knew what Balur would wish to do to him. He will carry this blood-feud until the end of days. He needs to die. His gaze came to rest upon the corpse of Nemain, once his queen, now so much food for carrion.\n\nWhat have I done? Fear and doubt gnawed at him. He cursed the events that had led to this. Cursed Fech, the damn bird that had warned Nemain of his betrayal. He put a hand to his face, felt the claw marks that Fech's talons had raked into his forehead and cheeks." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Things could have been different if I'd had time to reason with Nemain..." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He gritted his teeth. No. It is done, no going back. I must salvage from this what I can, protect and rebuild my clan. I am King of the Benothi now.\n\nVoices drew his attention and he looked up to see Nathair's adviser, Calidus, emerge from a hall, the giant Alcyon looming behind him. After the battle they had set a makeshift camp in the chamber of the cauldron, deep in the belly of the mountain, but Uthas could not stand it in there; the stench of so many dead wyrms was making him retch. Besides, it was foolish to leave the great gates unguarded, the only entrance and exit to the fortress of Murias. Their enemies had seemingly fled, but who knew what they were capable of? Meical and his followers had already stormed their way into Murias once and shattered the ceremony, preventing many of the Kadoshim from passing through the cauldron into the world of flesh.\n\nCalidus saw him and strode over.\n\n\"How many of the Benothi live?\" Calidus asked. A cut across his forehead was scabbing, the skin puckering as he spoke. After the battle he had appeared weary to Uthas, face drawn, his silver hair dull. For the first time he had looked frail, like an old man. Now that was gone. He stood straight, his body alive with new energy, his yellow eyes appearing feral, radiating power.\n\n\"Forty-five, fifty maybe of those who stood with me. Others still live who fought against us, or at least, their bodies have not been found. Balur is one of them.\"\n\n\"Balur has the starstone axe. He took it from Alcyon.\" Calidus flickered a withering stare at the giant beside him who stood with head downcast, his face stained with a purple bruise. Uthas noticed Alcyon had a war-hammer slung across his back, replacing the black axe that had been there. Taken from a fallen Benothi, no doubt. That stirred anger in his belly and he scowled at Alcyon, a member of a rival giant clan, the Kurgan." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "No, he told himself, if my dream is to become reality I cannot think like that. We were one clan once, before the Sundering. It can be so again. Looking at Alcyon, though, he realized just how deep the old grudges ran.\n\n\"You have something to say?\" Alcyon growled at him, standing straighter, returning his dark look.\n\nControl your temper, build bridges, he told himself.\n\n\"I see you carry a Benothi weapon. There is much honour in that.\"\n\n\"Honour, in the Benothi?\" Alcyon sniffed.\n\n\"Aye,\" Uthas growled, anger rising. \"As there is in all of the clans. Even the Kurgan.\"\n\nAlcyon looked slowly around, his gaze lingering on the fallen Benothi. \"I see little evidence of Benothi honour here.\"\n\n\"I did what had to be done,\" Uthas snarled. \"For our future. Yours, mine, all of the clans\". If Nemain had continued to do nothing all of the clans would have faded, become a tale to frighten wayward children. '\n\n\"And instead we will slaughter ourselves to extinction.\"\n\nYou fool, you do not seethe long path, only the next step. His temper was fraying.\n\n\"You would be better served by concentrating on the task set for you.\" Uthas shrugged, feeling the spite rise in him like bile after too much wine. \"But you were unable to do that, as you could not even hold onto the starstone axe.\"\n\n\"Do not judge me, you that have betrayed your kin, your queen.\" Alcyon looked about the room, eyes resting on Nemain's broken body.\"And I lost the axe to Balur One-Eye. I feel no shame in that, when I can smell the fear in you at the mere mention of his name. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Uthas felt the words like a blow across his face. \"We have both served the same master here,\" he said.\n\n\"Aye, but you out of choice,\" Alcyon glowered.\n\n\"Enough,\" Calidus snapped. He glared at Alcyon until the giant looked away from Uthas. \"Balur is a problem. I hoped that he would have been slain in the battle.\"\n\nAs did I. \"He will do all in his power to see me dead.\" Uthas felt a stab of shame at the tremor in his voice. He gripped his spear tighter, his shame shifting to anger. \"He could be dead, slain by those that left in the night.\"\n\nThere had been a disagreement after the battle; one of the Kadoshim had argued with Calidus. It had been unsettling, hearing a voice so alien issuing from the Jehar's mouth– rasping and sibilant.\n\n\"You have failed Asroth,\" the Kadoshim had accused Calidus, arms jerking. \"We must regain the axe now, before it is too late, and reopen the pathway.\"\n\nCalidus had taken along shuddering breath, mastering himself. \"It is too great a risk, Danjal,\" Calidus had said. \"Battles are still being fought. We must secure the fortress, make sure the cauldron is safe. Would you have us abandon it?\"\n\n\"Our great master must be allowed to crossover. For that we need the starstone axe.\"\n\n\"Seven Treasures are needed to open the way for Asroth, not just the axe. It will happen, but we must wait. I seized an opportunity, and over a thousand of our brothers are now clothed in flesh. Be content with that. Asroth waits to enter this world wrapped in his own form, not filling someone else's, as you have done. And, besides, to pursue Meical now would be foolish; it would put the cauldron at risk, and many of you will lose your new skins. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Your body of flesh and bone has made you craven,\" the Kadoshim had snarled." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Asroth will reward me when he knows it was I who secured the axe and made his passage possible.\"\n\nCalidus took a step back from the Kadoshim and unsheathed his sword, the rasp of it drawing all eyes. \"Craven? I have just fought Meical, high captain of the Ben-Elim, and seen him flee. I have fought countless battles to reach this place and made abridge between the Otherworld and the world of flesh, to bring your worthless spirit here. You will not call me craven. Or would you challenge me, reckless Danjal?\"\n\nMuscles clenched and unclenched in the Kadoshim, a spasming ripple. Eventually he lowered his eyes.\n\n\"I seek our master's glory, ' he growled.\n\n\"As do I,\" Calidus said. \"Go after Meical and you will be rejoining our master in the Otherworld before you know it.\" Calidus had turned his back and walked away. The once-Jehar looked about, called for help and then ran from the chamber, a dozen or so Kadoshim surging after him.\n\n\"If you find them, try and kill Meical's puppet, his Bright Star; you may actually achieve something useful with your death that way, ' Calidus called out after them.\n\nUthas had felt a glimmer of hope. To retrieve the starstone axe they would need to slay Balur.\n\nHe wished it was so, but as yet there had been no sign of the Kadoshim that had left during the night.\n\n\"Your comrades that went after the axe, they may have killed Balur, retaken the axe.\"\n\n\"Maybe.\" Calidus shrugged. \"But I doubt it. More likely is that the Kadoshim that went after the axe are slain, their spirits returned to the Otherworld. Meical maybe foolish in somethings, but he would have set a guard, and he knows how to fight.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Uthas could not hide his disappointment as his hope flickered and died.\n\n\"It is of no matter. Danjal has always been a fool; we are better off without his rebellious nature. Do not fear Balur. I will protect you. Your future is with me, now. Your loyalty to Asroth will not be forgotten. I have the cauldron because of you, and I am grateful.\" The old man paused a moment; Uthas took strength from his words.\n\n\"How many are with Balur?\" Calidus asked him.\n\n\"A score that cannot be accounted for, his dreaming bitch of a daughter Ethlinn amongst them. And none of our young have been found– they were hidden in a higher chamber. Around the same number again.\" He shook his head, a wave of regret sweeping him. \"The Benothi are close to extinction, our numbers...\"\n\n\"Too late for remorse. You've made your choice. And a wise one– you have chosen the victorious side. The Kadoshim walk this world, and this is only the beginning. \"Calidus grinned a smile that didn't reach his cold eyes\n\nHe is right. And added to that, what other road is therefor me to follow? The Benothi's fate is entwined with the Kadoshim now.\n\nUthas took a shuddering breath. \"And what now?\" he asked Calidus. \"You have the cauldron. What would you do with it?\"\n\n\"Make it safe.\"\n\n\"It is safe enough here.\"\n\n\"Clearly not. We took it. No, it must betaken to Tenebral. There it will beat the centre of a web that has taken me many years to build. I will have Lykos and his Vin Thalun, and Nathair's eagle-guard to protect it, along with your Benothi and my Kadoshim. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Uthas frowned." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"A long journey. Much could happen.\"\n\n\"Aye, but it will have an honour guard this world has never seen before. You Benothi and over a thousand Kadoshim.\"\n\n\"And once it is in Tenebral?\"\n\n\"One thing at a time. First, to journey therewith the cauldron. I would have you and your Benothi build a wain for the cauldron to travel upon, sturdy and strong.\"\n\n\"We shall do it. To Tenebral, you say. For that you will need Nathair.\"\n\nCalidus looked thoughtful and frowned. \"Yes. The time has come for me to speak with our disillusioned King.\"\n\nCalidus had tasked Uthas with keeping a watch over Nathair. During the battle he had sat on the dais steps before the cauldron, the truth of his actions unfolding before him, settling upon him like a shroud. After having believed himself to be the Seren Disglair for so long, witnessing the events he'd set inaction had only left him questioning his true position. After the battle he had attempted to confront Calidus, who had just ignored him. It seemed that was the last straw for Nathair. He had flown into a rage and attacked Calidus, spraying spittle as he spat curses, denounced him as a traitor, but Uthas had grabbed Nathair, held him, and Calidus had struck him unconscious. He had then cut a lock of hair from Nathair's head.\n\n\"Where is Nathair?\" Calidus asked him.\n\n\"Out there,\" Uthas waved at the gates.\n\n\"Accompany me. I need Nathair's cooperation. Some persuasion will be necessary, and your example maybe helpful. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And if he does not agree?\"\n\n\"There is always this,\" Calidus said. He opened his cloak to show a crude clay figure, strands of dark hair embedded within it.\n\nDoes he have strands of my hair bound within an effigy of clay? Uthas felt a shiver of fear at that thought.\n\n\"But I'd rather it didn't come to that,\" Calidus said, dropping his cloak.\n\n\"Compassion?\"\n\n\"Don't bean idiot, \"Calidus said with a sneer.\"It would be one more thing that I have to maintain– it is hard work, conquering a world. '\n\nAs they strode towards the gate one of the Kadoshim called Calidus'name. Uthas recognized its body as Sumur, the leader of the Jehar who had followed Nathair.\"This body, \"the Kadoshim said, its voice a serpentine growl.\"It is weakening, not responding as it did. '\n\n\"Men of flesh must eat, to restore their energy,\" Calidus said. \"Ideally everyday.\"\n\n\"Eat?\"\n\n\"You must consume sustenance: fruit, meat, many things.\" Calidus waved a hand.\n\nAs Uthas watched, ripples of movement ran across once-Sumur's face. The black eyes bulged, lips pulling back in a rictus of pain as a scream burst from its lips. Fora moment the flesh of the face writhed, fingers trying to gouge their way out. With a twist of the neck and a groan the features became smooth again, calm, expressionless.\n\n\"This human objects to my presence,\" the serpentine voice said. Something passing fora smile twisted its face, a tongue licking its lips. \"It gives good sport.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Uthas was horrified. He had assumed the souls of the hosts had been displaced, were not still residing trapped within their own bodies, struggling to evict those who possessed them. He shuddered– such a thing would be a living death.\n\n\"He was a master swordsman, all of your new hosts were,\" Calidus said, raising his voice to all the Kadoshim in the great hall. \"Examine their souls, pick them apart, absorb their skills. Learn the ways of your new bodies. And eat.\"\n\nSibilant laughter echoed about the chamber as Calidus walked away. Uthas saw one Kadoshim drop to the ground, burying its face in the belly of a dead horse, the wet sound of flesh tearing.\n\n\"They are like children,\" Calidus sighed. \"I have much to teach them in little time, which is why I need Nathair to cooperate.\"\n\nThey found the King of Tenebral a short way along the road that approached Murias, the tattered bodies of Jehar warriors and their horses scattered around him, shredded to a bloody mess by the raven storm that Queen Nemain had set upon them. He was stood with his great draig, holding its reins loosely in one hand while it feasted on the corpse of a horse. It pulled its snout from a smashed ribcage to regard them with small black eyes, gore dripping from its jaws. As they drew nearer to Nathair, Uthas glimpsed amongst the fern and gorse one of his kin whom he had set to watch the King of Tenebral.\n\nNathair heard their approach and looked up. He whispered something to the draig, which went back to devouring the horse's innards. Nathair turned his back to them, looking out over the bleak landscape of moorland, gentle hills undulating into the horizon." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"He is out there,\" Nathair said quietly.\n\n\"Who do you speak of?\" Calidus asked.\n\n\"The Bright Star. For so long I have believed that title was mine.\" He turned, calm now, Uthas saw, his rage from the cauldron's chamber gone, spent. His eyes were dark-rimmed and red. A bruise mottled his jaw.\n\n\"You have deceived me, all this time.\" Nathair looked first at Calidus, then past him, to Alcyon. The giant dropped his head, not meeting Nathair's gaze.\n\n\"You would not have understood,\" Calidus said.\n\nNathair raised his eyebrows at that. \"Something we agree on. My first-sword Veradis will have your heads for this. Thankfully he is not hereto witness how far we have fallen.\"\n\n\"Time will be the judge,\" Calidus said with a shrug. \"But there is still a future for you. For us.\"\n\n\"What, this is not to be my execution, then?\" Nathair's eyes flickered to Alcyon and Uthas behind Calidus, and then further off, to the Benothi guards lurking in shadows.\n\n\"No. I came to talk.\"\n\n\"It seems tome the time for that has passed. But goon...\"\n\n\"You see things as you have been taught. Good, evil; right, wrong. But things are not always as they seem-\"\n\n\"No, they are not. You are living proof of that. Claiming to be one of the Ben Elim, yet you are the opposite: Kadoshim, a fallen angel, servant of Asroth.\"\n\n\"You speak of things about which you have no understanding,\" Calidus snapped. \"Kadoshim, Ben-Elim, they are just names given by those too ignorant to comprehend. Remember, history is written by the victors. It is not an unassailable truth, but a twisted, moulded thing, corrupted by the victor's perspective. Elyon is not good; Asroth is not evil. That is a child's view. The world is not scribed in black and white, but in shades of grey.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"So you would have me believe that Asroth is good? That Elyon is the deceiver?\"\n\n\"No, something in the middle of that, perhaps, with both parties capable of both good and evil. Like you. More human, if you like. Would that be so hard to imagine?\"\n\nUthas saw something flicker across Nathair's face. Doubt?\n\n\"Your histories tell that Asroth would destroy this world of flesh,\" Calidus continued. \"They claim that was Asroth's purpose in the War of Treasures. Ask yourself: if that were true, then why is he so desperate to come here, to become flesh? '\n\n\"I would not dare to guess after having been proved so monumentally naive,\" Nathair said with a sour twist of his lips. Something of his earlier rage returned, a vein pulsing in his temple.\n\n\"Don't be so dramatic, \"Calidus scolded,\"like a sulking child. I have come to you to speak hard truths and would hear you speak in return as the man you can be, the leader of men, the king. Not as a petulant child. \"He took a moment, waiting, letting the weight of his words subdue Nathair's anger. \"Now think on this. Asroth would come here not to destroy, but to rule. He would fashion an empire, just as you have imagined. Anew order, one defined by peace, once the dissenters were dealt with. No different from your plans. And you could still be apart of it. Our numbers are too few; we will need someone to rule the Banished Lands. Someone who could unite the realms. I believe that someone is you.\"\n\n\"And you think I would believe anything that crosses your lips, now. After this?\" Nathair gestured at the towering bulk of Murias." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Yes. I would. Put your anger, your pride and shame aside and think. War has raged in the Otherworld for aeons. It has been bloody and violent and heartbreaking. I have seen my brothers cut down, broken, destroyed. And I have returned the violence upon the Ben-Elim a hundredfold. I did what I had to do. Withholding some of the truth from you was necessary. Difficult decisions must be made in war, for the greater good. You know this.\" Calidus paused, holding Nathair with his gaze.\n\n\"There are some lines that cannot be crossed, regardless of the greater good,\" Nathair spat.\n\n\"You forget, Nathair. I know you. I know what you have done. What lines you have already crossed in the name of the greater good.\"\n\nNathair raised a hand and took a step back, as if warding a blow. His draig stopped crunching bones to cast its baleful glare upon Calidus.\n\n\"I do not say it as a criticism, but as a compliment. Once you are committed to a cause you will do whatever is necessary to see it through. Whatever it takes, regardless of the cost. A rare ability in this world of frailty and weakness. And one that we need. I respect that. So I ask you, Nathair: join us. Commit to our cause and you will gain all you desire, see your dreams come to fruition, your ambition rewarded. And if you think on it, it is not so different from all that you were striving for before the scales fell from your eyes.\"\n\nAlcyon shifted from behind Calidus. \"Someone comes,\" he said, pulling his newly acquired war-hammer from his back.\n\n\"Where?\" Calidus asked, hand on sword hilt, eyes narrowed." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Alcyon pointed south-east, into the moorland. A dark speck solidified, moving at considerable speed.\n\n\"It is one of my brothers,\" Calidus said. \"One of those that left with Danjal.\"\n\nThey stood in silence as the figure approached. It covered the ground quickly, running with a loping gait. As it drew near, Uthas saw it was weaving.\n\nAnd something is wrong with its arm.\n\nIt must have seen them standing on the road, for it veered towards them, collapsing before Calidus. Its hand was severed just above the wrist, blood still trickling from the wound. It was pale as milk, veins black within its skin. Nathair's draig gave a low rumbling growl.\n\n\"I am weak,\" the Kadoshim rasped. \"This body is failing.\"\n\n\"I warned you,\" Calidus said. \"These bodies are still mortal. Soon it will die from loss of blood.\"\n\n\"Help me,\" the Kadoshim whispered.\n\n\"Swear to obey me in all things,\" Calidus said, voice cold as winter-forged iron.\n\n\"I swear it. Please...\"\n\n\"Bind his arm,\" Calidus snapped at Alcyon, kneeling to put an arm about the injured Kadoshim. \"You must look after your new body, Bune. Like a weapon, it must be cared for. You have lost much blood, but if we treat your wound and feed you, all will be well.\"\n\n\"My thanks,\" the creature croaked. \"I would not return to the Otherworld so soon.\"\n\n\"Then no more of this foolish charging off to fight unwinnable battles. Danjal? The others?\"\n\n\"All gone, back to the Otherworld. There were too many against us, and these bodies...\" Bune held up his uninjured arm. \"It is taking me sometime to adjust to it.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It will. Come, back to our kin where we can tend you better.\" Calidus glanced at Alcyon, who finished binding the wrist and then lifted Bune in his arms. Calidus led them back towards the gates of Murias, Nathair and his draig following slowly behind. Birds circled lazily above, the remnants of Nemain's ravens lured by the stench of carrion. Uthas glared at them with something akin to hatred, thinking of Fech. As they stepped within the shadow of the fortress, Uthas saw a raven perched on a ledge in the cliff face. It stared back at him. Fora moment he was convinced it was Fech and he raised a hand involuntarily to his scarred face.\n\nSurely not. Fech is not brave or stupid enough to return here.\n\nCalidus looked back to Nathair.\n\n\"Think on my words, King of Tenebral. I would have you fight beside me in the coming war. No more deceptions.\"\n\nNathair paused before the gates and put a hand upon his draig's neck. Together the King and beast watched Calidus and his companions enter Murias.\n\n\"Watch him closely,\" Calidus whispered to Uthas. \"If he tries to leave, stop him. Whatever it takes.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Maquin ran through the undergrowth, trees thick about him. With one hand he pushed aside branches, with the other he held onto Fidele, the Queen Regent of Tenebral, recently married to Lykos, Lord of the Vin Thalun. Until she tried to murder him. I'm guessing that's the end of their happy nuptials.\n\nShe stumbled and he snatched a glance back at her, saw she was breathing heavily, her bridal gown snagged and torn, stained with blood. She needs to rest. The sounds of combat drifted behind him, faint and distant, but still too close for his liking.\n\nIt will not belong before Lykos and his Vin Thalun have put down the rioters. Then he'll be looking for his absent bride. Still, if we run much more she'll be finished anyway. With a frown he slowed, heard the sound of a stream and changed direction.\n\nMaquin caught his breath as he splashed his face and naked chest with the icy cold water, washing away the blood and grime of the fighting-pit. A hundred different cuts began to sting as the adrenalin of his escape faded, his skin goose-fleshing. He shivered. Should have grabbed a cloak as we fled. He was still dressed for the heat of the pit: boots and breeches, a curved knife in his belt, nothing on his torso except blood and dirt and scars.\n\nI'm free. He sucked in a deep breath, savouring the earthy scents of the forest, reminding him of Forn. Of another life. He closed his eyes as memories flickered through his mind. The Gadrai; his sword-brothers; of Kastell, slain by that traitorous bastard Jael; of Tahir and Orgull, the only other survivors of the betrayal in Haldis. It felt so long ago. The time-before. He looked at his hands, blood still ground into the swirls of his skin, stuck beneath his fingernails. Orgull's blood." }, { "from": "human", "value": "His friend's face filled his mind as it had been when he had cradled him– beaten, bloody, dying." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A swell of emotion bubbled up, tears blurring his eyes. He remembered Orgull's last words to him: a request to find a man named Meical and pass on a message. That I stayed true to the end, Orgull had said.\n\nSo much death, and yet still I live. More. I am a freeman. All right, a refugee, with enemies behind me, and I'm a thousand leagues from home. But I'm free. Free to hunt down Jael and put him in the ground. Even now the thought of Jael burned away all else. He could see his face, lips twisted in a mocking sneer as Maquin had been chained and led to the Vin Thalun ships. Hatred flared incandescent, a pure flame in his gut. He felt himself snarling. A tearing sound drew his attention. Fidele was standing in the stream close by. She was ripping away the lower part of her dress.\n\n\"Easier to run,\" she told him. \"Here.\" She bunched the fabric and dipped it in the stream, then began washing the filth from his back. She gasped and paused a moment as the myriad scars were revealed, telling the tale of the whip as a slave, countless other cuts and reminders from his time in the fighting-pit. She'd seen him earn some of those scars, watched him fight, kill others. Shame filled him at the things he'd done and he bowed his head.\n\n\"Where are you from?\" she asked quietly.\n\nHe blinked; fora moment he had to think about that. \"Isiltir,\" he said, pronouncing it slowly, like a forgotten friend.\n\n\"What is your name? Who are you?\"\n\nIn the pit I was called Old Wolf, the only name I've gone by fora good long while. I am a trained killer. Have become that which I hate." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"My name is Maquin,\" he said with a twist of his lips, a step towards reclaiming himself. \"I was shieldman to Kastell, nephew of King Romar.\"\n\n\"Oh,\" Fidele breathed. \"You area long way from home. How did you end up...?\"\n\n\"In the fighting-pits?\" He paused, the silence stretching, thinking back to before his enslavement, to the life he had led, the friends he had known, pulling at memories buried deep within, of the events that had preceded his life as a slave. \"Jael has usurped King Romar's throne– murdered the King, crushed the resistance in Isiltir. I fought him as part of that resistance, but Lykos and his Vin Thalun came, allied to Jael... ' He shrugged, his voice was a croak, unused to conversations of more than a few words.\n\nHer hands touched his shoulder, hovering, tracing a swirling design, sending an involuntary shiver through him.\n\n\"Lykos gave me that one,\" he said. \"Branded meas his slave, his property.\"\n\n\"Do you think he's dead? '\n\nMaquin remembered the last time he'd seen the man, fallen to one knee in the arena, a knife hilt protruding from beneath his ribs, blood pulsing. Combat had swept Maquin away, and when he had looked back Lykos was gone.\n\n\"Doubt it. He's a tough one. '\n\n\"I want him dead,\" Fidele hissed, a flash of rage contorting her face.\n\nHe looked at her along moment, taken aback by the vehemence in her. He had always thought of her as unapproachably beautiful, calm, serene. \"Bit strange to marry him, then.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "She stepped away, eyes downcast." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I was under afoul magic– he had an effigy, a small clay doll, with a lock of my hair cast within it. You crushed it when you fought him. That set me free.\"\n\nFidele shuddered, her eyes closed. Then she straightened and looked him in the eye.\n\n\"I have not thanked you, for protecting me in the riot, forgetting me away to safety.\"\n\nMaquin looked about. \"This is not exactly what I would call safe.\"\n\n\"It is safer, by far, than the arena.\"\n\n\"True enough.\"\n\nAll had been chaos back in the arena before Jerolin, and Maquin had taken advantage of it, using the mayhem and confusion to rush Fidele out of the arena. The closest cover had been woodland to the south; Maquin led Fidele in a mad dash across open meadow towards the trees, all the while his heart thudding in his head as he waited for the expected cries of pursuit. None had come as they reached the treeline and so they continued to run deeper into the woodland, Maquin's only thought to put distance between him and the Vin Thalun. Something had sparked the riot. Maquin's duel with Orgull had played apart in it, but Maquin had also seen warriors amongst the crowd, urging them on. They had been wearing the white eagle crest of Tenebral. There was some kind of resistance forming against the Vin Thalun, that was clear. But how strong was it? Had they managed to crush the Vin Thalun? To drive them from Jerolin and Tenebral? Maquin doubted it– the Vin Thalun had numbered in their thousands; it would take a lot of manpower to finish them. \"And what would you do now, my lady?\" Maquin asked her." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She frowned and sat upon a rock. \"I don't know is the short answer. I would find out if the Vin Thalun have been defeated– \"she paused, a tremor touching her lips–\"but I am scared to go back. The thought of being caught is more than I can bear. '\n\nMaquin nodded. I can understand that. For himself, he wanted to leave. To point himself north-west instead of south and aim straight for Jael. What about her, though? He could not just abandon her in the woods.\n\n\"Will you help me?\" she asked. \"I have seen that you are no friend to Lykos or the Vin Thalun. We have a common enemy.\"\n\n\"I've had enough of fighting other people's battles,\" he said. \"I've got my own to fight. I need to go home. I have something to do, \"he muttered quietly, almost to himself. He looked at her face and saw a determination of purpose there, battling with the fear of her circumstances.\"But I will see you safe first, my lady. If I can. '\n\nShe breathed a relieved sigh. \"My thanks. I will do all in my power to repay you, and to speed you on your way.\"\n\n\"First, we must survive the night and the cold.\"\n\n\"Wait here,\" Maquin whispered to Fidele.\n\nThey were crouched behind a ridge, looking out upon a wide stretch of land covered in tree stumps. On the far side was a row of timber cabins, piles of felled trunks surrounding them. It was dusk; the forest was grey and silent.\n\n\"Do not come after me for anything. Nothing, you understand?\"\n\nShe nodded and he slipped away, staying low to the ground, keeping to the outskirts of the manmade clearing, stalking within the shadows amongst the trees. Eventually he was behind the row of cabins. Gripping his knife he slipped to the front and entered. Grey light filtered through gaps in the shutters and he paused to let his eyes adjust to the gloom." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Cots lined the walls, covered by rough woollen blankets, boots, breeches, and cloaks. Along table ran down the centre of the room, cups and plates scattered upon it. Axes and great two-man saws were all about, and there were racks of water skins, gloves, other work tools. Men live here. Woodcutters. Question is, where are they now?\n\nIt came to him quickly– Jerolin and the arena. It's a big day– celebrations and games to mark Lykos being wed to Fidele.\n\nHe quickly grabbed cloaks from pegs, woollen shirts, breeches, some cheese and mutton, water skins and a roll of twine, stuffing them all into an empty bag he'd found.\n\nThere was a groan; a blanket shifted on a cot in the corner of the room. A figure sat up– a man, rubbing his eyes.\n\nIn heartbeats Maquin had crossed the room and had his knife held to the stranger's throat, his eyes drawn to the man's beard, the iron rings binding it.\n\nHe is Vin Thalun. A rage bubbled up, threatening to consume him.\n\n\"Please, no-\" the man gasped.\n\nCan't kill him here– too much blood. His friends will be onto us as soon as they return.\n\n\"Up,\" Maquin ordered.\n\nSlowly the man stood, eyes flickering to the sheathed sword hanging over the cot.\n\n\"Don't, \"Maquin grunted, kicking the back of the man's leg, sending him tumbling away from the cot. He slung the sword and belt over one shoulder.\n\n\"Why are you here? Not at the arena?\" Maquin asked as the Vin Thalun climbed to his feet." }, { "from": "human", "value": "He glowered at Maquin." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Someone has to stand guard; Lykos\" orders. I pulled the short straw. '\n\n\"Outside,\" Maquin ordered and followed his prisoner out of the door, directing him behind the cabin, into the trees. It was twilight; the world was slipping into degrees of shadow. Maquin dropped his bundle of provisions. \"On your knees, hands behind your head,\" he grunted.\n\nThe Vin Thalun lunged forwards, turning as he moved, reaching for Maquin's knife arm.\n\nMaquin was too quick for him, sidestepping, slashing at the warrior's hand, his blade coming away red. He barrelled forwards, the Vin Thalun somehow managing to grip his wrist. Maquin headbutted him, blood spurting from the Vin Thalun's nose. He staggered and dropped to the ground.\n\nTime for you to die.\n\nThe Vin Thalun must have read the thought in Maquin's eyes, and he began to plead.\n\nUndergrowth rustled and Fidele stepped out from amongst the trees.\n\n\"You're not supposed to be here, ' Maquin said.\n\n\"You've been gone along time. I was starting to worry. '\n\nThat felt strange– someone caring whether he lived or died. \"Found someone in the cabin. You should look away.\"\n\n\"I've seen the colour of blood before. And he's Vin Thalun,\" she snarled, looking at the rings in his beard. \"I'd be happy to watch you slaughter a whole nation of them. '\n\n\"All right then,\" Maquin grunted.\n\n\"I can tell you where they are,\" the warrior blurted as Maquin stepped close, knife moving.\n\n\"Where who are?\" Maquin growled; his knife blade hovered at the man's throat." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Lykos\" secret. The giantess and her whelp. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Camlin lay on a table in a ship's cabin, various pains clamouring for his attention. The broken arrow shaft still buried in his shoulder won.\n\n\"Bite on this and lie still,\" a voice said beside him. Baird, a warrior of Domhain, thrust a leather belt at him. He was one of Rath's Degad, the feared giant-killers of Domhain. He had been assigned by Rath to see Edana to safety. In Camlin's mind there was still away to goon that score, as they were stuck on a ship with only a handful of faithful men about Queen Edana; the rest of them were loyal to Roisin, the mother of Lorcan, young heir to the throne of Domhain.\n\nRunning again.\n\n\"Take it, you're going to need it, ' Baird said. He grinned at Camlin, the skin puckering around the empty eye-socket in his face.\n\n\"Don't see there's much t'be grinning about, ' Camlin said bitterly.\n\n\"It was a good fight. One to make a song about,\" Baird replied, referring to the battle fought on the beach and quayside as they had made their escape. \"And we're still breathing. Happy to be alive, me. '\n\nWith a grimace, Camlin bit down on the belt.\n\n\"You'll need to hold him, \"Baird said, and Vonn's serious face loomed over Camlin, his hands pressing on his chest.\n\n\"Still need t'breathe, lad, ' Camlin muttered.\n\n\"How can I help?\" Edana this time.\n\nHalf of Ardan is in this cabin.\n\n\"Don't think you should be inhere, my lady, \"Baird said.\"There'll be some blood, probably some cursing too.\"" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Partnering with the author, carry on with the tale.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, demons\nAuthor: John Gwynne\nTitle: Ruin\nChapter: 19" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Cywen rose to the sound of sparring, swords wrapped in leather to protect their edges and mute the noise of a few hundred Jehar warriors sparring with one another.\n\nThey were camped in the fringes of a wood nestled in a wide, steep-sided valley. Mountains surrounded them, their peaks wreathed in cloud. They marked the border between Benoth, the giants' realm, and Narvon to the south, once the realm of Owain, now ruled by Rhin– as were all the kingdoms of the west.\n\nBuddai lay beside her until he saw Storm, a shadow in the woods, and bounded after her. She smiled at them tumbling together, a flash of fur and teeth.\n\n\"They act like pups around each other,\" Brina said from behind her. Cywen looked to see Craf was perched on her shoulder and another shape fluttered out of the sky to land on a branch close by.\n\nFech.\n\n\"Some bonds can never be broken,\" Cywen told her. She turned back to watch the sparring, nearly three hundred warriors in a meadow, but her eyes picked out Gar and Corban almost immediately, the two of them moving in a blur, too fast to track individual blows. By some unspoken agreement they stopped, all those around them doing the same, then moved onto new opponents. Corban turned, and Coralen, the girl from Domhain, was standing in front of him. They shared a brief smile and set at each other. It was as fast as the combat with Gar, though with more kicking and punching, Coralen always moving close, using elbows and knees to gain any advantage. It still ended with Corban tripping her and his sword at her throat.\n\nCywen could relate to that, more often than not she had been in the same position when she had practised with Corban back at Dun Carreg. I remember that feeling. It's annoying. That was until Dath had joined them, and she had started putting him on his back. But here even Dath was sparring as if he knew what he was doing. She saw him partnered against Farrell, using his size and speed to swirl around his larger friend. And Farrell was holding his own, confident blocks merging with smooth attacks. The last time I saw him he was a clumsy auroch. What's happened to everyone? I spend the year with my hands tied together, and everyone else has become a warrior. She felt her face creasing in a scowl." }, { "from": "human", "value": "A ten-night had passed since they had escaped Murias, each day falling into a similar routine." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She had wanted to talk more with Corban, but it seemed that everyone wanted to talk to Corban. And everyone else seemed to have a role, a task that they performed in this fledgling warband. Everyone except her. She was starting to feel useless. She daren't even spar with the rest of them, although part of her was desperate to take part. I'm not good enough. Even the worst are better than me. She felt her scowl deepening.\n\n\"Careful, girl: if the wind changes, your face might stick like that,\" Brina rasped beside her.\n\nCywen smiled wryly. \"My mam used to say that tome.\"\n\n\"Have some of this.\" Brina held out a skin and Cywen sniffed it and wrinkled her nose. Brot. The giants' food. Food is too generous a term.\n\n\"YUK,\" Craf squawked, eyeing the skin disapprovingly.\n\n\"Tasty,\" Fech reproved.\n\nThe giants were gathered in the woods, just darker shadows amongst the trees. Mostly they kept themselves separate. Whilst the warband travelled they took the position of rearguard each day, always grouped together, rarely mixing with the Jehar. Sometimes the younger ones would run alongside the column, racing and tackling each other to the ground, wrestling and even laughing. The sight of it had made her smile, feeling like a taste of normality in this world gone mad.\n\n\"Just a mouthful,\" Brina said, poking Cywen with a bony finger, and Cywen swallowed some brot, figuring it was easier than trying to argue. It was like porridge, but chewier, with all the pleasure taken out. It filled her stomach like a stone, but it did its job. Cywen had consumed just a mouthful each morning and had not felt hungry until the next day." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Brina took the skin and replaced it with an empty linen bag." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Come help me,\" the old woman said. \"I saw some foxgloves and elder in the woods.\"\n\n\"Me?\" said Cywen.\n\n\"Yes, you. My old apprentice seems to have become too busy lately to help me gather plants.\"\n\nCywen followed Brina silently into the woods, frowning at Craf, who along with Fech flapped from branch to branch above them.\n\n\"Here,\" Brina said, pointing at a bush dotted with clusters of white flowers. They'd stopped in a small glade, wildflowers opening about them in response to spring's pale sun.\n\n\"That is elder,\" Brina told her. \"Too early for the berries, but the flowers are useful. Everything on an elder is useful, the bark, the roots.\" She pulled out a knife and started cutting stems of flowers, skinning some bark and gesturing impatiently for Cywen to hold her bag open.\n\n\"We're along way from Dun Carreg, ' Brina said, peering over a branch at Cywen.\n\n\"We are,\" Cywen agreed. Along way from home, all of us different people now. Changed by what's happened. She felt a moment of frustrated, helpless rage, aimed mostly at Calidus and Nathair.\n\n\"I don't just mean the distance, ' Brina said.\n\n\"I know,\" Cywen grunted. She looked up and saw Brina staring at her.\n\n\"He's still your brother. Just... '\n\n\"Busy?\" Cywen finished with a sigh.\n\nBrina grinned at that. \"Yes. Very busy. But he's a good boy. A big heart, a rare loyalty to his kin and friends. And quite a good brain inside that thick skull of his, when he bothers to use it. Don't tell him I said that,\" she added." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Your secret is safe with me,\" Cywen said.\n\n\"Safe secret,\" Craf commented from above. \"Trust.\"\n\nIt was disconcerting to have a crow joining in with the conversation. More so when it made astute observations.\n\n\"I was sad to hear about Heb.\"\n\nBrina blinked at that, sudden pain washing her face. With an obvious effort she smoothed it away.\n\n\"Corban told me how he... about the battle in the mountains of Domhain, against giants and wolven.\"\n\n\"Uthas,\" Brina said.\n\n\"Bad giant,\" Craf muttered.\n\n\"Peck out his eyes,\" Fech added, vehemently.\n\n\"What?\"\n\nSomething dark contorted Brina's features, her eyes narrowing.\"Uthas is the name of the Benothi giant that killed Heb. I've been talking to Fech.\"\n\n\"Yes, she has,\" Fech confirmed.\n\n\"I know Uthas,\" Cywen said. \"He joined Rhin and Nathair. He is in league with Rhin.\" I hate him, as I hate all of my captors. Other faces swam in her mind– Alcyon, Veradis. Faces that had shown her some measure of kindness amidst the bleak horror of it all. Maybe not all.\n\n\"He is a traitor to his kin,\" Fech muttered.\n\n\"He killed my Heb. I'm going to kill him. \"There was no humour, no kindness in Brina's voice now.\n\n\"We,\" Fech corrected.\n\n\"Sorry, we,\" Brina smiled, a cold thing.\n\n\"And then I will eat his eyes,\" Fech added." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Good,\" Cywen said fiercely. \"Heb was very brave, standing against a giant.\"\n\n\"He was a fool,\" Brina said, \"but he was my fool, and I miss him.\" Her expression softened. Craf fluttered down and landed on Brina's shoulder, began running his beak through her hair. Brina absently scratched Craf's wing. \"The only other person I've told that to is your brother. ' She smiled at Cywen. It was very out of character.\n\n\"Why are you being so nice tome?\" Cywen asked suspiciously.\n\n\"I can be nice,\" Brina snapped. \"You've been through a lot. And now you're here, back with kin and friends, and yet you feel...\"\n\n\"Out of place,\" Cywen finished for her. \"Useless.\"\n\n\"Useless, useless, useless,\" Craf repeated. Cywen shot a glare at him.\n\n\"You're not, you know. Useless, or out of place, \"Brina said to Cywen.\"You're in the only right place– around people that care for you. You just need to find your feet again.\"\n\n\"Are you feeling sorry for me?\"\n\n\"Aach, you're a proud one, and no mistake. '\n\n\"PROUD,\" Craf screeched from Brina's shoulder. She shooed him off, rubbing at her ear.\n\n\"Not sorry for you, Cywen, I'm just one of the few that care about you, that's all. And it just so happens that I need anew apprentice.\"\n\n\"What do you mean?\" Cywen asked.\n\n\"As you've pointed out, Corban is busy. He was my apprentice– I've taught him much of the art of healing. But he is busy, and that's not likely to change. I need help– my guess is there's going to be a lot of blood spilt before this is allover. Someone has to try and patch the wounded up. And I can't do it on my own. \"She shrugged.\"I'm asking you to help me, and as you've just told me that you feel useless, I'm thinking you should be saying yes to my proposition. You need something to do; I need someone to do things for me.\" She smiled, a little too sweetly for Cywen's liking." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Cywen felt as if she'd been neatly manoeuvred into this position, but as she thought about it, the idea of being Brina's apprentice did not seem so bad. Apart from one thing– or two.\n\n\"On one condition. I'll not be told what to do by two crows. '\n\n\"Raven,\" Fech corrected.\n\n\"By a raven and a crow,\" Cywen shrugged.\n\n\"You'll have to work that outwith Craf and Fech, ' Brina said.\n\n\"Craf. Orders,\" the crow cawed, then clacked his beak repeatedly.\n\n\"Is he laughing at me?\"\n\n\"Yes, I believe he is.\"\n\nHooves sounded then, growing closer.\n\n\"Uh-oh,\" Craf squawked and launched himself into the branches above them, merging with the shadows.\n\nCywen turned to see a handful of riders coming through the woods towards them. Coralen was at their head. To one side a Jehar warrior rode, a female with a thick white streak in her black hair. On Coralen's other side was Dath, his longbow strung and strapped to his saddle. He flashed a grin at Cywen as they drew up in the glade. Storm and Buddai loped up behind them, Buddai padding forward to nuzzle Cywen's hip.\n\n\"Corban was looking for you,\" Coralen said. She wore a wolven pelt fora cloak, a sword at her hip, a knife beside it. Another knife hilt jutted from her boot, and Cywen saw a gauntlet hanging from her saddle pommel, three iron claws protruding from it. Like Corban's.\"He wants you back at the camp. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"He's my brother, not my lord, \"Cywen snapped. Something about Coralen's tone irritated her.\n\n\"Camp is broken. They're ready to ride, \"Coralen said.\"All are waiting on you. '\n\n\"We'll leave when Brina is done, ' Cywen said, knowing she was being childish.\n\nCoralen shrugged, which annoyed Cywen even more.\n\n\"We are done here,\" Brina pronounced.\n\nStorm growled, Buddai as well, looking at a cluster of trees at the far end of the glade. A twig snapped. Ina heartbeat Cywen had a knife from her belt and threw it. It stuck quivering in a trunk. Dath had his bow in his hand, arrow nocked, Coralen and the Jehar had drawn their blades.\n\n\"Come out, if you know what's good for you, ' Coralen said.\n\nThere was a drawn-out moment, then a figure emerged from behind the tree. A giant, but slimmer, gangly limbs, and with no hair upon its face, not even straggly wisps of a moustache, like the other giantlings Cywen had seen.\n\nA giant bairn, a girl.\n\nShe had her hands raised, palms out, and her eyes were wide, flitting from Storm to the array of weapons lined before her.\n\n\"Mi breun chan aimhleas,\" the young giant said.\n\n\"She means no harm,\" Brina said. It took a moment for Cywen to realize that Brina had translated from giantish. She can teach me that, if she likes.\n\nThe giant looked at Cywen's knife stuck in the tree. She pulled it out, stared at the blade a moment, then ran, faster than Cywen would have thought possible." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Hey, that's my knife, ' Cywen shouted, but the giantling had already disappeared amongst the trees.\n\n\"The Benothi,\" Coralen spat, then shrugged and looked at Cywen and Brina. \"Nice throw. Now get back to camp if you don't want to be left behind. \"She looked up at the branches above them.\"Craf, I know you're hiding up there. Come with me– you've got work to do. '\n\n\"Not fair,\" Craf grumbled.\n\nFech clacked his beak, the sound like laughter.\n\n\"And I don't know why you're here,\" Coralen said to Fech. \"You're supposed to be flying rearguard. '\n\n\"Talking to Brina. Important,\" Fech squawked.\n\n\"Not as important as protecting us from Kadoshim,\" Coralen said. \"Go on with you.\" She spurred her mount on. Dath winked a goodbye and they all rode off, Storm shadowing them. Buddai whined and Cywen rested a hand on his neck. \"Stay with me, Buds.\"\n\n\"Tired,\" Craf protested.\n\n\"Busy,\" Fech complained, but they both took to flight, flapping noisily away.\n\n\"They're good birds, but lazy, \"Brina said, a half-smile twitching her lips as she watched until they'd disappeared.\n\n\"Craf's too opinionated, ' Cywen said.\n\n\"A terrible affliction, I must agree.\" Brina regarded Cywen with a raised eyebrow. Cywen had the good manners to blush.\n\n\"Come on, then,\" Brina said. \"Make sure that bag's tied properly, and be quick about it. Don't be ruining my supply of elder.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Cywen sighed and rolled her eyes. What have I let myself in for?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Camlin checked over his kit methodically. He'd put afresh coat of wax on his longbow of yew and had three hemp strings rolled in wax in a leather pouch. A quiver of thirty arrows stood wrapped in oiled doeskin– the ship they were sailing upon was a trader and had a good selection of furs and tanned skins. He emptied his bag, checked over its contents again. A copper box packed with dry tinder and kindling. A flint andiron. Fish-hooks and animal gut for the stitching of wounds. Various medicinal herbs– honey, sorrel leaves, yarrow and seed of the poppy. A roll of linen bandages. An arterial strap. An iron to heat for the cauterization of wounds. A needle and hemp thread. And a pot.\n\nI'm looking at the difference between life and death.\n\nMost of it he'd traded or won at dice during the journey from Domhain. Some of it he'd bought. He knew it would be needed, and they would reach their destination soon: Ardan, ruled by the enemy, where they would be hunted.\n\nA horn rang out above him, muted by timber, and shouts followed.\n\nLand.\n\nCamlin climbed above-decks and rolled his shoulder and lifted his arm, more out of habit than need. It had healed well. Over a ten-night had passed since Baird had pulled the shaft through his shoulder. Three days ago he'd strung and nocked his bow, tested to see if he could draw it. His muscles had protested and he'd not pushed them. He'd done the same each day, and earlier today he'd managed a full draw, a bit shaky, but nothing had snapped, so that was good enough for him.\n\nThe first person on the deck he saw was Vonn, leaning at a rail, staring at a dark line on the horizon. A coastline rose up from the horizon, dark cliffs and tangled coves. Land. Camlin grinned at the sight of it." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Ardan.\n\nAround him the ship's crew were busy, climbing in rigging, securing ropes. Doing what sailors do. There was a tension in the air now, an excitement. The end of their time at sea had arrived, and they were about to begin something new. Something more dangerous, most likely, but I don't care. Another night on this damn tub and I'll go mad.\n\nOthers were gathering on the deck now, warriors preparing to disembark. Camlin joined Vonn. \"Home,\" Vonn told him.\n\nVonn's face was a mixture of emotion– longing, fear. It'll be hard for him. His da rules there now.\n\n\"You ready for this?\" Camlin asked him.\n\nVonn looked at him fora few long moments. \"I'm ready. I've always been ready. The night Dun Carreg fell I was ready. If my oath to Edana had not kept me with her, I'd have put a sword through my da's traitorous heart.\"\n\nRight now, I believe you. But words are easier spoken than deeds are done. How would you feel if you stood before Evnis? Could see him, look him in the eye, hear his words?\n\n\"Is that really Ardan?\" a voice said behind them. Camlin turned to see Edana. Her hand rested on a sword at her hip. Our warrior Queen. Baird stood beside her. The one-eyed warrior had become her shadow, rarely leaving her side.\n\n\"Aye, it is,\" Camlin said.\n\n\"There were times when I thought I'd never return. \"Edana took a deep breath.\"Time to roll the dice. '\n\nWhy does she look at me whenever dice are mentioned?\n\nThey stood together and watched the coast grow closer, their ship angling towards a cove with steep-sided cliffs. The sail was furled and two rowing boats were lowered from the deck to the slate-grey sea. Roisin and Edana spoke to the captain, thanked him, and then the group of them were rowing towards the coast. They scraped onto a thin strip of shingle and clambered onto solid ground, Camlin grinning for the joy of it. I hate the sea. It felt strange, the ground steady beneath his feet, and he stumbled as his body still compensated for the eternal pitch and roll of a ship's deck." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Roisin stood with Lorcan, her warriors spread protectively about them, a score of men." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Most of them gazed up at the cliffs. Seamen from the rowing boats deposited a barrel onto the shingle, then with a last goodbye and a wave they rowed back to their ship.\n\n\"Smoked herring,\" Baird pronounced as he sniffed the barrel. \"Draw lots for who's carrying it? '\n\n\"I'll carry it, \"a tall and solid warrior said. He didn't seem to have a neck. Brogan, one of Roisin's. Camlin had won a fine deerskin belt from him.\n\n\"No complaints from me,\" Baird grinned.\n\n\"Vonn, with me,\" Camlin said, and without a look back he was climbing the slope, following a narrow goat track into the cove's cliffs, twisting its way upwards. He used his unstrung bow as a staff. The calling of gulls in the air was loud, the cliffs of the cove clustered with nests; here and there were stunted bushes bent by the wind.\n\nCamlin emerged onto a landscape of rolling moorland and hidden gullies. He could see for leagues and took a few moments to check for company, then he turned and waved to those gathered below, all looking up at him. They started their climb.\n\nHe turned back to study the land. To the east the undulating moors dropped and flattened, glistening as sun reflected on a marshy peninsula that continued into the horizon, patches of it darkened by woodland. Here and there pillars of smoke marked holds, farmsteads, a small village. None close enough to worry about, though. And I am supposed to lead this rag-tag band to Dun Crin, ruined fortress of the giants. Is it even out there, in those marshlands? During their voyage Edana had spoken of this with him, of how King Eremon had received word that a resistance was growing in Ardan against Evnis, and that it was based around the ruins of Dun Crin, in the marshes. Well, there are the marshes. And if there's a ruin out there, I'll find it. What happens then, I'm not so sure. One step at a time. Vonn climbed, panting, to stand beside him and they both looked north-east. Towards Dun Carreg." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was too faraway to see, but Camlin could make out a dark stain on the horizon. Baglun Forest. Been there. Not my best memories. That had been when he was part of Braith's crew, come to the Baglun to cause some mischief in Ardan. Little had he known at the time that it was all at Rhin's behest. He'd ended up with a knife in the back, put thereby one of Evnis\" sworn men.\n\nAnd nowhere he was, a refugee on the other side, playing guide to the fugitive Queen of Ardan and the fugitive King of Domhain. He peered over the cliff, saw them labouring up the twisting path behind him. He'd followed his own twisted path to this spot. From bandit to shieldman. What next?\n\nWarriors emerged from the path, Edana with Baird. Camlin saw she was grinning.\n\n\"The cry of gulls, it sounds like home,\" Edana answered his questioning look.\n\n\"Home is fifty leagues that way,\" Camlin said, pointing along the coast. Dun Carreg was there somewhere, and between them a host of Rhin's sworn men, led by Evnis, the man who had slain Edana's father.\n\nEdana's smile evaporated as she stood staring into the distance. Men crouched, drank from water skins. Warriors in a strange land, thought Camlin. They were all hard men in Roisin's company, battle-tested and loyal, hand-picked by Rath.\n\n\"Why have we landed here?\" Roisin said, frowning at the countryside. She was no longer dressed in her fine velvet dresses, instead wearing dun breeches, a linen tunic and leather vest, over it a dark cloak, but to Camlin she looked just as beautiful as when draped in her court finery. And as dangerous." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"We are too exposed here, too close to Dun Carreg,\" Roisin continued. \"We should have landed in the marshes. Less likely for us to run into Rhin's followers, and it would be harder to track us. This is a mistake. '\n\nIs this intentional? Undermining Edana?\n\nEdana gave Roisin a hard look. \"There are reasons why we are here. Dun Crin is our destination, a ruin somewhere in those marshes. We don't know exactly where it is. It could be twenty leagues to the south, or one league east. Camlin is a masterful scout and he will find it, I have no doubt. '\n\nI am? I will?\n\n\"He suggested we begin from higher ground. Once we are in the marshes the travelling will be slow going. It will be easier to cover ground on better terrain, skirt the marshes and choose a point of entry.\" She paused and gave a moment to look at each one of them.\n\n\"This is my land,\" Edana said, looking at the warriors gathered about her. \"It's been taken from me. My parents murdered. My people scattered and oppressed. \"She looked at the gathered warriors, meeting each eye.\"You are all brave faithful men, and I thank you for your courage and your honour. Do not think that Lorcan and I are beaten. We have yet to begin the fight. We will win back our rightful thrones, with your help, and that starts here, today. That starts now. '\n\nWarriors nodded, muttered their approval. Even Camlin felt his blood stirred at her words. She's growing up.\n\n\"Camlin,\" Edana said to him. \"Take us to Dun Crin.\"\n\nCamlin sped through the village, his bow strung and arrow nocked. He kept to the shadows as much as possible." }, { "from": "human", "value": "They had walked all day, steadily descending from the moorlands towards the marshes." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Now they were in a kind of borderland, the terrain dry enough for scattered woodland and roads, but dissected by a thousand streams and middling rivers. Camlin had spied the village and planned on circling around it, but something had drawn his eye. The lack of sound or movement. And there were no signs of normal village life, hearth fires, livestock, dogs– nothing. Instinct told him he needed a closer look, and so did Edana when he informed her of his concerns.\n\nNow he was starting to regret it, though.\n\nProbably another bad idea to add to my long list of bad ideas, he berated himself. Why couldn't I just mind my own business and walk around?\n\nHe looked to the far side of the street, where Baird was keeping pace with him, his sword drawn. Camlin had also sent half a dozen men wide around the village, with orders to sit and wait for him and Baird. Unless they heard trouble– then they were to come running. The rest of their crew were camped a quarter-league back, with Edana and Roisin. Lorcan had volunteered to come with them, but Camlin had told him to sit tight; he'd received a sulky glare in return.\n\nThe village was small, built on the banks of a river. Camlin had seen the tips of willow rods in the river, the tell-tale ripple of a current around submerged salmon traps, nets left out to dry along the bank. A dozen coracles, assorted river craft and flat-bottomed marsh boats were pulled out of the river. There were no more than a few score homes, and so far he had not seen a single person, had not heard a single voice.\n\nHe crossed a gap between buildings, paused to look around a corner, saw a crow picking at the carcass of a dog. He walked past it, almost certain now what he would find." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Camlin smelt it first. Death. The metallic hint of blood, mixed with rot and excrement. He hung his head, readied himself before he went on.\n\nThe street spilt into an open area, what would have been a market square. A roundhouse stood on its far side. About halfway between Camlin and the roundhouse a gallows had been erected, a dozen or so small figures hanging in the still air. A fury rose within him.\n\nBairns. He took a step forward and then halted abruptly.\n\nThe ground between Camlin and the gallows was black, uneven, and moving.\n\nCrows. Hundreds of them. And flies.\n\nCamlin and Baird shared a look and they both moved into the square. Crows rose up before them like a wave, cawing and screeching their protests.\n\nPart-eaten bodies were everywhere, the stench verging on overwhelming. Men, women, children, seething with flies and maggots. Over a hundred. The whole village? Camlin saw the glint of iron and checked a body. A warrior in a shirt of mail. His cloak was tattered, torn to pieces, splattered with blood, but Camlin could still make out the black and gold of Cambren.\n\nRhin.\n\nHe felt suddenly vulnerable and turned a slow circle, scanning the surrounding buildings, the dark shadows of the roundhouse. Baird appeared in the shadow of a doorway, shook his head.\n\nNothing. They are all dead, or fled to the marshes.\n\nCamlin carried on searching amongst the dead, making his way deeper into the courtyard. He found three more in Rhin's cloaks of black and gold. Reaching down he unclasped one, pulling it free, stirring up a cloud of flies in the process." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Then he heard a noise, looked over at a building with wide, open doors. He heard it again, coming from within. The whicker of a horse.\n\nStables? Why are there horses alive, when every other man, woman, child and beast has been slain?\n\nMore movement, this time from the roundhouse at the far side of the square. Figures emerging. Warriors– five of them– cloaks of black and gold, swords in hands. Eyes fixed upon him, they were striding purposefully towards him.\n\nHe dropped the cloak in his grip and drew an arrow, nocked and released in less than a few of their strides. It took the first warrior through the eye, dropping him like a felled tree. The others began to run at him.\n\nNot the effect I'd hoped for.\n\nHe drew and released again, the arrow hissing between warriors as they spun out of its way.\n\nCamlin cursed as he released the next arrow, this one punching low, into a man's belly. He dropped to his knees.\n\nThen a figure crashed into the three still running at him. Baird, sword rising and falling. One of their enemy screamed, his belly open and guts spilling about his feet. Another had grabbed Baird, whose head lunged forward, butting the warrior's nose even as his sword stabbed into the warrior's side. Camlin stood and stared a moment, frozen by the ferocity of his companion. Then his eye was drawn to the roundhouse. Three more men burst from the doorway, two running towards Baird, the other sprinting around the edge of the courtyard, making for the stables.\n\nBefore Camlin realized it he had another arrow nocked and was sighting atone of those charging at Baird. It slammed into the warrior's shoulder, spinning and dropping him. The other was too close to Baird for another shot. Camlin glanced between Baird and the warrior sprinting towards the stables, drew his sword and ran to Baird's help." }, { "from": "human", "value": "He almost didn't need to." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "By the time he reached them Baird had put one man down and was trading blows with the other, backing the warrior up. A panicked glance from the warrior at Camlin was all Baird needed, his sword opening the man's throat.\n\nHooves thudded and the last warrior burst from the stables, kicking a horse hard into a gallop. Camlin dropped his sword and drew an arrow, tracked the warrior, who was bent low in the saddle, almost hugging the horse's arched neck. Camlin's arrow took him in the throat; the warrior sagged, slumping from the saddle to be dragged by the still-galloping horse.\n\nCamlin and Baird just stared atone another, chests rising and falling.\n\nThey both turned together to the sound of footsteps approaching from behind.\n\nEdana and a dozen others, including Roisin and Lorcan. Quickly, Camlin moved to intercept them. She doesn't need to see this.\n\n\"You were supposed to wait for my signal,\" Camlin said, hurrying forward to stop her reaching the square.\n\nSome truths are best not seen.\n\n\"We heard screams, the clash of iron. I was worried for you,\" Edana said with a wave of her hand as she pushed past Camlin into the square.\n\nShe stood there a moment, eyes scanning about her, body rigid. Then she stuttered into motion, picking her way through the square, eyes sweeping the ground until she reached the gallows. She faltered, looked up at the children, their bloated corpses swinging in a gentle breeze. Ropes creaked.\n\nShe saw the black and gold of Cambren upon the dead warriors'cloaks.\"Rhin, even here. '\n\nCamlin came and stood beside her, saw tears running down her cheeks." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lorcan pushed forward and took her hand. \"Come away now,\" he said.\n\n\"These are my people,\" she snapped, yanking her handout of his grip. \"I am not some innocent girl...\" She trailed off. \"Not anymore.\"\n\n\"But, why do you stare so? You do not need to be here. We have seen, now let us go.\"\n\n\"I stare so that I will not forget. This is my land, these are my people. Rhin and her ilk have slain them. Slaughtered children. They will not be forgotten. There will be a reckoning.\"\n\nLorcan looked into Edana's face, then nodded.\n\n\"What happened here, Camlin?\"\n\nGood question. And why were there warriors still here? He glanced at the roundhouse where the enemy had appeared from. Something's wrong. We need to get out of here.\n\n\"What happened here, Camlin?\" Edana repeated.\n\n\"Hard to say. Rhin has warriors down this way, for some reason. Maybe the word that there is a resistance based in the marshes is true? Looks tome like they were making some kind of example.\" He nodded to the gallows. \"My guess is it didn't go down too well, got out of-'\n\n\"Over there,\" Edana blurted, pointing behind Camlin. To the stables. \"Something moved...\"\n\nI'm an idiot. These buildings need checking.\n\n\"You should leave,\" he muttered to Edana as he set his bow down and drew his sword, Baird following him as he entered the stable. Camlin waited a moment for his eyes to adjust, then started skewering the straw in each stable. He got to the last partition, saw a lump in the straw." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"If you don't want an extra hole in your body, you'd best be standing up now.\"\n\nThere was a moment's silence.\n\n\"All right, I warned you,\" he said, stepping in.\n\nThe straw exploded upwards. He saw a flash of red hair as a small figure darted past him.\n\n\"Got it,\" Baird shouted, hoisting the figure into the air. \"I mean her,\" he suddenly bellowed as the child squirmed in his arms and bit his hand.\n\n\"Enough, girlie,\" Camlin said. He made a point of sheathing his sword for her to see. She slowly calmed, then went limp in Baird's arms.\n\n\"We're not going t'hurt you. What's your name? \"Camlin asked. She just looked at him, big dark haunted eyes in a dirty face. She can't be more'n eight, nine summers old. What's the poor little mite had to witness to put such fear into her?\n\nWhen Edana saw the child she held her arms out, but the child only stared, her face full of fear and suspicion. Baird put heron the ground.\n\n\"We're not going to hurt you, \"Edana said, crouching down to look her in the eye.\"We're friends, not enemies. What's your name? '\n\nMore silence.\n\n\"If we were going to put a blade in you, we'd have done it by now, ' Camlin told her.\n\nThe child looked at him. \"Meg,\" she whispered.\n\n\"How old are you, Meg?\" Edana asked with an encouraging smile.\n\nJust a silent stare.\n\nCamlin's eyes were raking the buildings around the courtyard, his skin prickling. He wanted to take a look inside the roundhouse, but he also wanted Edana out of the village." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You need to getaway from here,\" he said.\n\n\"Soon,\" Edana said with a frown, stooping close to the girl. \"It's all right, \"she said.\"We'll not hurt you.\"\n\nMeg just stared at her.\n\nNeed to hurry this along.\n\n\"How old are you, Meg?\" Camlin asked.\n\n\"Eight.\"\n\n\"How long ago did this happen?\"Camlin gestured at the square.\n\nShe frowned, as if unsure. \"Two nights?\" she said hesitantly. Then her bottom lip trembled and she started sobbing.\n\n\"We know it was Rhin's men, \"Camlin said, feeling sorry for her– no child should have to go through this horror.\"They wear the black and gold. Don't know why they did it, though. And it'd be real helpful if you could remember how many. '\n\n\"That's enough for now, ' Edana said to him as Meg continued to sob– days of pent-up emotion and fear obviously released.\n\n\"There were lots,\" Meg suddenly blurted. \"And their chief was called Morcant.\" She spat his name.\n\n\"Morcant,\" Edana whispered. Camlin sucked in a breath as they shared a look. Back when Camlin had been part of Braith's crew in the Darkwood Morcant had joined them and led the raid that had captured Edana and her mam, Alona, Queen of Ardan. Soon after Camlin had found himself drawing a blade against Morcant and switching sides. Camlin loathed him.\n\nHe looked at the square, at the bodies swinging from the gallows. Not a surprise that he's behind this. But what's he doing this far west. Hunting rebels?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Something nagged at Camlin and he looked about, feeling suddenly vulnerable.\n\nThen he saw Vonn and the others burst into the far side of the square, Vonn waving desperately. Camlin crouched down, placing a palm flat on the ground. A slight vibration. Steady, rhythmic.\n\nHorses." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Veradis marched forwards, stepping in time with a dozen warriors spread either side of him, over two score more at his back. They were advancing upon a squat stone tower surrounded by a village of thatch and wood. The sun sat low in a blue sky, the air fresh and sharp as they continued their approach through green meadows carpeted with wildflowers.\n\nA beautiful day.\n\nTo the west, behind a low hill, he saw a cloud of dust appear, marking Geraint's horsemen as they circled the village. Hidden from the rebels inside. The plan was that they would go round the village and wait for Veradis\" shield wall to flush the rebels out of the town into the open meadows beyond, a killing ground for Geraint's mounted warriors.\n\nVeradis had spent over a moon hunting down the remnants of King Eremon's resistance. The realm was still not stable, and that would not change while its newly appointed vassal king Conall was away chasing after Edana. Domhain had been conquered, the citizens of Dun Taras throwing open the gates in surrender, in acceptance of Conall, one of their own, with the blood of a Domhain king in his veins.\n\nEven if he is a bastard. But Rhin sitting upon the throne in Conall's absence had not gone down well. Unrest had escalated into violence, and the streets of Dun Taras had run red. The rebels had notched up a string of minor victories, and even when Veradis and his shield wall had entered the fray it had been hard, bloody work. The shield wall had not been designed for enclosed spaces and back-alley fighting. But eventually the rebels had been defeated and fled. Rhin had ordered her battlechief, Geraint, to give chase, and had asked Veradis to lend his support." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Better to crush them now, put an end to the leaders, than allow them to spread their poison. It will only fester and rear up again, she had said to him.\n\nVeradis knew she was right. The stability of the realm meant peace and less bloodshed.\n\nThey reached afield of barley, trampling through the green unripened stalks. A wide street of hard-packed mud opened before them. Veradis heard the bass lowing of a herd of auroch in the distance. He gave his commands and the warriors'shields snapped together, a concussive crack as they marched forwards, no one breaking stride. Veradis peered over the rim of his shield. It was an improved design, oval instead of round, giving more protection to his head and ankles, while making it easier to stab his short sword around its edges. He'd spent much of the winter thinking on his shield wall, considering strategies, strengths and weaknesses, seeing where injuries were most common, and the new shields were one of a few innovations he had made.\n\nThey marched into the village, their iron-nailed boots thumping on the ground like a drum beating time. A narrow street angled away, and Veradis gave more orders. The back row of twelve men broke out of formation and establishing anew compact wall, three men wide, four deep, who took this new street. This was how he'd learned to fight in the city streets– smaller, more compact groups.\n\nThe tower reared over rooftops ahead of them, its unshuttered windows like dark eyes in its granite face. They are here somewhere, could not have slipped away in the night. He saw a flash of movement in one of the windows. Holed up in the tower, then.\n\nA sound seeped into his awareness, more a vibration at first, travelling into his boots, up his legs. It grew louder by the heartbeat, and then a cloud of dust was roiling down the street towards them. He stood, gaped open mouthed for long moments before he realized what was happening." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Auroch,\" he bellowed, leaping to the side, pulling men with him.\n\nThe huge cattle stampeded down the street, swinging their longhorns from huge, shaggy-haired heads. Tall as giants, they were mountains of muscle and fur. The ground shook beneath their hooves.\n\nVeradis slammed against a wall, other men with him, some crashing through doors and shuttered windows. One of his warriors stumbled in the road. Veradis reached out a hand, but the auroch were already upon them. One moment the warrior was there, the next he was gone, blood splattering Veradis' face as a seething, stinking mass of cattle surged by, the thunder of it almost overwhelming.\n\nAnd then they were past, stampeding down the street, out into the fields of barley. He called out to his men, his voice a croak choked by the dust, and he saw shapes scattered on the ground, knowing they were his sword-brothers and that many would never stand again.\n\nFor the first time in an age he felt a deep, mind-numbing fear fill him. The shield wall had been dominant for so long in his memory, crushing any opponent with overwhelming regularity, that to see it broken and scattered so easily was shocking. Not since the very first battle, when he had stood in the wall and faced a charge of draig-riding giants had the shield wall been so easily destroyed.\n\nThen he heard voices, battle-cries, saw shadowy figures emerging from the settling dust. The rebels, come to finish any survivors before we can regroup.\n\nSomehow he was still holding his shield. He drew his short sword. \"To me,\" he managed, more a choking whisper than the battle-cry he was hoping for, then again, louder, the act dissolving the fear that had frozen him, transforming it into anger. His eagle-guard would not fall like this. He glimpsed a handful of his warriors moving towards him. Then the rebels were on them, screaming their defiance." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Veradis took a blow on his shield that reverberated through his arm." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He swept his shield wide, opening his foe's defence, and plunged his sword into the man's belly, wrenching it free in a spray of blood. He snarled and kicked the collapsing man away, strode into the chaos, a hot rage filling his veins.\n\nBodies littered the ground, mounds of trampled meat. The rebels were all warriors, stalwarts of Eremon and Rath, not pitchfork-wielding farmers. They attacked with a controlled fury, knowing this was their last, and also their best, chance of defeating Rhin's notorious ally. Veradis looked around wildly, trying to find men to regroup the shield wall, but they were fractured, embroiled in scores of solitary battles.\n\n\"So be it,\" Veradis growled. They'll see there's more to us than just the shield wall. He blocked an overhand swing that was about to take a stumbling comrade's head off, twisted and back-swung, opening his attacker's throat. He reached down, pulled his sword-brother to his feet and moved on. Smashed his shield into an enemy's side, stabbed hard, his sword-tip breaking through a shirt of mail to slide across ribs. His opponent cried out, pulled away, was hacked down by another eagle-guard. A spear was thrust towards him; Veradis deflected it with his shield, the spear-tip bursting through layers of ox-hide and beech, punching through a handspan above his wrist. He dropped his shield, wrenching the spear from his opponent's hands, and hacked his blade down into the man's skull. Veradis switched his short sword to his left hand, drew his longsword and fought on.\n\nA horn blew to his left, two short blasts, one long. He grinned fiercely. It was one of their signals: regroup. The eagle-guard that had left the shield wall before the auroch stampede appeared from aside street nearby, a dozen men information, their shields locked. He started cutting his way towards them." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Others did the same, merging into the wall, swelling it, and before Veradis reached them it had grown, six men wide, four rows deep. The resistance started to fall before it.\n\nOther sounds emerged over the din of battle– the thunder of hooves and the blowing of horns, growing rapidly louder.\n\nGeraint and his warband. They must have heard us. Thank Elyon. He saw Geraint riding a black warhorse at the head of a host of mounted warriors. He skewered a rebel with his spear, let it go, drew his sword and started cutting down rebels as if they were stalks of wheat. It was a matter of heartbeats before the rebels were broken, fleeing in all directions. No one can stand with a shield wall before them, cavalry behind. Veradis stood there, panting, both swords bloody.\n\n\"Well met,\" he said to Geraint as Rhin's battlechief pulled his horse up beside him. The warrior leaned over and gripped Veradis\" forearm.\n\n\"Think you might just have saved my life,\" Veradis said to him.\n\n\"Good.\" Geraint grinned. \"I've been meaning to return that favour. '\n\nDun Taras came into view as the road wound between two hills, the fortress' dark walls a brooding shadow against the countryside. Veradis rode beside Geraint, their warriors spread in a column behind them. A cluster of prisoners walked at the centre of the line, hands bound and heads bowed. Thirty men, survivors of the uprising, heading towards Rhin for her judgment.\n\nWhich is unlikely to be merciful, judging by her mood when I left Dun Taras.\n\nGeraint, however, was in fine spirits, laughing and joking as they approached Dun Taras.\n\nVeradis was in the grip of a dark mood, the deaths of his men weighing heavily upon him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Thirty-eight men dead. And what honour in that death? Slain by overgrown cows. More men lost than in the battle of Domhain Pass, where we fought against a warband ten thousand strong.\n\nHe looked at the pouch hanging from his belt, filled with the draig teeth he had collected from a dozen of the fallen. Men who stood with me from the beginning, who stood against the draigs and giants of Tarbesh. Nathair's first battle, his first victory. Nathair's Fangs, we called ourselves. It was my fault. I should not have marched them into that village unprepared. I should have sent scouts first. I have become overconfident, arrogant, thinking my men and shield wall are unbeatable. This proves we are not.\n\nRhin was waiting for them in Eremon's old chambers. Veradis remembered the room all too well; it had been where they had fought the old battlechief Rath and his shieldmen, where his friend Bos had died. He avoided looking at the flagstones where Bos had fallen, scrubbed of blood now, but there was still a faint outline, if you looked hard enough. Blood always leaves a stain.\n\n\"Well, Geraint, I can tell by your grin that my problems with rebels are ended,\" Rhin said coolly. Her silver hair was braided with gold thread, spilling across one shoulder, the paleness of her skin enhanced by her sable gown.\n\n\"Yes, my Queen,\" Geraint said. \"The rebellion is finished. None escaped– a few hundred dead, and thirty prisoners await your justice.\"\n\nRhin raised an eyebrow at that. \"Something to look forward to, then. Come, celebrate with me.\" Veradis was handed a cup by a servant and was pleasantly surprised to see that it was a cup of wine, not the mead or ale that was so popular in this part of the world." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"To strongmen that will always do my bidding,\" Rhin said, lifting her cup, chuckling. Veradis wasn't sure he wanted to drink to that, but the wine smelt good and his throat was dry after their long ride.\n\nRhin enquired of the battle, shrewd as always, asking about tactics and the decisiveness of the conflict. How many dead on both sides, how many survivors? Were the leaders dead? Her eyes bored into him as Veradis told of the auroch stampede.\n\n\"Always adapt,\" she said when he'd finished.\"War is wits, Veradis. Strength, courage, skill, these are all valuable assets in combat, but wits are what win a battle, and a war. Your shield wall has served us well, but our enemy are not mindless animals. They will study, analyse, adapt. You must be one step ahead, always, or you will stagnate and be outwitted. '\n\n\"Aye, my lady,\" Veradis said. This I have learned. \"And how go things here, my lady?\"\n\nShe sighed wearily and rubbed at her temple. \"I am spending my life organizing, administrating and advocating between petty grievances, Veradis, and it is boring. I find myself in a position where I command four realms– all of the west, in fact– and it is tedious. There is a lotto do, and I am stuck herein Domhain, waiting for Conall to return to us.\" She smiled ruefully. \"It would appear that I prefer to conquer than to rule!\" She shifted in her seat, scowling. \"Not to mention that this chair is uncomfortable; no wonder Eremon killed himself.\"\n\n\"I thought he was assassinated, my lady.\"\n\n\"Yes, but we'll keep that between us. Took his own life is better, less likely to turn him into a martyr. A cowardly act, suicide. Couldn't face me.\" She winked at him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I would not like to face you as an enemy, either.\n\n\"And what would my orders be, my lady, now that the resistance against you is crushed?\" I do not want to spend another moon here. The God-War is happening, out there, while I play at peace-keeping on the edge of the world.\n\n\"Getting a scratch in your boots?\" Rhin asked.\n\nCan she hear my thoughts?\n\n\"Aye,\" he nodded.\n\n\"I feel the same,\" Rhin said with a shrug. \"Once Conall returns I plan on leaving Domhain. Nathair is on my mind.\"\n\n\"And mine too, my lady.\"\n\n\"Of course he is. And there are other concerns I would attend. I sent a warband north, after this Corban and his companions– the ones I had trouble within Dun Vaner.\" She pulled a sour face. \"I have not had any news from them, and I am impatient. So I will travel north. I would like you to accompany me, and we can see if I can reunite you with your King.\"\n\n\"That would be good,\" Veradis said. \"How do you know where the boy has gone?\"\n\n\"He told me,\" Rhin said. \"He came to Dun Vaner chasing after his sister. She was with Nathair, riding to Murias with him. I forget her name.\"\n\n\"Cywen,\" Veradis said, her face filling his mind as he spoke her name.\n\n\"That's the one. Her brother seemed to have a strong sense of family loyalty. Foolish child. It's an overrated quality in my opinion– I've spent most of my life plotting how to kill off my kin, not rescue them. '\n\n\"So you've sent a warband after him? \"Veradis asked.\"I'm surprised you have the men available, spread throughout four nations as you are.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I've spent many years raising my warbands in preparation for these days. Even so, you are right, things area little stretched. I've had to send men who were stationed in Narvon. They should beat the border with Benoth soon.\"\n\nBooted feet echoed from the corridor; a guard entered.\n\n\"Lord Conall has returned, my lady.\"\n\n\"Excellent,\" Rhin said. \"Where is he?\"\n\n\"His company approaches the gates as we speak, my lady.\"\n\n\"Come, then,\" Rhin said, rising. \"I could do with stretching these old legs.\"\n\nThey found over threescore warriors dismounting from horses in the courtyard beyond Dun Vaner's keep. Veradis knew in a heartbeat, from the averted faces and the stoop of shoulders, that Conall and his men had failed to capture Edana and Lorcan, Eremon's heir. Veradis saw Rafe dismount, the blond lad from Ardan, two hounds circling him. One jumped up at him, sniffing a pouch on his belt. He cuffed it good-naturedly and went to another horse and helped a grey-faced warrior dismount. The man looked close to collapse, a wide bandage strapped around his neck and shoulder. Spots of blood had leaked through.\n\n\"Braith?\" Rhin cried out as she strode down the wide stone steps into the courtyard. She stroked the huntsman's face and fora moment it was as if the two of them were the only people in the courtyard.\n\n\"Get him to a healer,\" Rhin snapped at Rafe. \"I'll be along as soon as I can, ' she called over her shoulder.\n\nThen Conall was there, his face set in proud lines." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"They got away,\" he said.\n\n\"That much is obvious,\" Rhin scowled. \"The how I will hear when we are somewhere more private. And I hope you can tell me something of the where.\"\n\n\"I have a prisoner who maybe able to help with that,\" Conall said, stepping aside and pulling a man forward. He looked remarkably like Conall. Older, lacking the fire and mirth that seemed to war constantly for control of Conall's features, but definitely related. Serious grey eyes regarded Rhin.\n\n\"This is Halion. My brother, and Edana's first-sword. '\n\n\"Ahh,\" Rhin smiled viciously. \"Your jaunt across half of Domhain may not have been entirely wasted, then.\" She stood and stared at Halion along moment, the warrior returning her gaze.\n\n\"Eremon's seed, \"she laughed,\"all so proud. \"Then she turned and marched backup the stairs towards the keep.\"Come on, then, \"she snapped,\"bring him along and we'll see what we can salvage.\"\n\nVeradis leaned against a pillar of stone, watching as Rhin stirred a pot bubbling over afire. Conall's brother Halion satin a chair, his wrists tied to the arm-rests, a leather belt tightened about his chest, holding him secure.\n\n\"We could try the traditional method of questioning,\" Rhin said as she unstrung a pouch from her belt, pulling some dried leaves from it and crumbling them into the pot. \"But I'm inclined to cut straight to the end of the hunt. With the traditional route– you know, flaying, toe crushing, hot irons, the removal of genitals, that kind of thing– there is always so much blood. And screaming. It takes time. \"She smiled grimly.\"I don't really have the time to waste. I don't like it here. I need to be elsewhere, so you need to tell me what you know, and you need to tell me now. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Halion watched her, his face an unreadable mask.\n\nI'm glad I'm not him.\n\nBitter fumes started to rise from the pot.\n\n\"I wouldn't stand too close, \"Rhin warned Conall and Veradis,\"unless you wish to tell me your deepest secrets. '\n\nBoth men took a step back.\n\n\"Now then, take a deep breath,\" Rhin said to Halion, taking the pot by its chain and holding it above Halion's lap. He held his breath before the fumes enshrouded him. He bucked in his chair, trying to break free. Two warriors stood behind, holding it in place. Halion shook his head from side to side, searching for an escape from the fumes, his arms rigid, his back arched. Eventually he had no choice; he took a shuddering breath, then another. Moments passed and he slumped into the chair, tension seeping from his muscles.\n\n\"Good,\" Rhin muttered. \"Now. Tell me your name.\"\n\n\"Halion ben Eremon.\" He looked surprised, then too relaxed to care. Rhin smiled.\n\n\"And whom do you love, above all others in these Banished Lands?\"\n\n\"Conall ben Eremon, my brother.\"\n\nConall took a step back, as if from a blow.\n\n\"And who is your lord?\"\n\n\"I have no lord,\" Halion corrected. \"I serve a lady; Edana ap Brenin. Queen of Ardan.\"\n\nRhin scowled at that.\n\n\"Why are you asking him these questions?\" Conall growled. \"How are they relevant?\"\n\n\"I am establishing that he is telling the truth– that the drug has him fully.\" She looked back to Halion. \"And where is Edana now?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"At sea, I would imagine.\"\n\n\"What are her plans?\"\n\n\"To reunite with the resistance in Ardan. To take back her crown.\"\n\n\"It was never hers,\" Rhin muttered. Halion stared ahead.\n\n\"And where is this resistance? What is Edana's destination? '\n\n\"Dun Crin, the giant ruins in the marshes of western Ardan.\"\n\nRhin smiled triumphantly. She reached out and stroked Halion's cheek.\"Thank you. You have been most helpful. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Coralen looked up as Craf spiralled down to her. She drew her horse to a halt and waited for him, twisting in her saddle to check on the main company emerging from the woodlands of the mountain slopes, as small as ants from this distance.\n\n\"Village,\" the crow squawked as he drew nearer, alighting on her saddle pommel.\n\n\"Where?\" she asked.\n\n\"Ahead. On the road.\"\n\nTypical. She'd known it was inevitable that they would encounter other people at some stage but had hoped they'd have escaped detection a little longer than this. They had spent two nights travelling through the mountains and entered Narvon only yesterday.\n\nEnkara and Storm approached her. Even relaxed they both radiated strength and menace. Coralen grinned, fora moment lost in the strangeness of the company she kept. The world has changed immeasurably since I tracked half a dozen Benothi giants into the mountains between Domhain and Cambren. That had been where she'd first encountered Corban and his company.\n\n\"What is it?\" Enkara said as she rode over. She was one of Tukul's Jehar, one of the Hundred that had ridden out in search of the Bright Star nearly twenty years ago. Coralen had a healthy respect for all of the Jehar– their martial prowess and dedication was verging on inhuman, and the fact that the women amongst the Jehar ranks were easily as skilled as the men impressed Coralen. But Enkara had become more than that: a mutual respect had developed, and out of that a hesitant friendship.\n\n\"A village, not far ahead,\" Coralen said. As she stared she saw faint columns of smoke. Cook-fires.\n\n\"Can we go around?\" Enkara mused." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"If we numbered a score, yes, we would go around. Three hundred...\" Coralen shook her head. \"There's no point. We would have to march leagues out of our way not to be spotted. And this is only the first of many villages that we are going to come across. '\n\n\"So we just go straight through it?\"\n\n\"Yes. Fast.\"\n\nEnkara thought about that a moment, then smiled. \"I like it.\"\n\nThe rest of the scouting party joined them.\n\n\"So what now?\" Dath asked, sitting relaxed and confident in his saddle. He was starting to lose the nervousness that had seemed to cloak him like a mist. He's found something he's good at. He's made to be a huntsman, can track, scout, has a remarkable eye for details. And he's a better shot with his bow than I am, or anyone else I've known.\n\nCoralen gave them her orders, splitting the crew, Enkara and two others leaving to warn Corban and the warband, the rest going with her to scout out the village. It still felt strange, giving orders. She had ridden with a hard crew most of her life, with Rath and his giantkillers, but they had numbered around a score or so, and she had grownup with them. And she'd never given them orders. Now she was responsible for three hundred lives and was making decisions that could mean the difference between life and death for them all.\n\nIf it is strange for me, how must it feel for Corban, sitting at the head of this warband, having the Jehar, Benothi giants and one of the Ben-Elim looking to him?\n\n\"What about me?\" Craf squawked.\n\n\"Stay with me,\" she said, clicked her tongue and touched her heels to her horse, spurring it to a canter." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Coralen lay hidden amongst gorse and heather, studying the village in front of her. She had led Dath and a dozen Jehar wide around the village and approached through woodland from the south, leaving the majority of them hidden in the trees. Coralen and Dath had crept closer fora better look, accompanied by Kulla, a young Jehar warrior who always seemed to be somewhere close to Dath. Coralen just ignored her.\n\nThe small village spread along the riverbank, consisting of forty or fifty buildings of undressed stone and turf roofs, a large roundhouse at its centre. Women were scrubbing clothes in the river shallows, bairns playing on the riverbank under their watchful eye. Men worked infields of wheat and rye spread to the west, and to the east Coralen saw a herd of goats dotting the valley slopes, their bleating drifting on the wind.\n\nAs Coralen watched the women about their work she saw a girl– six or seven summers, maybe– creep upon one of the women and splash water over her back, then runaway in a burst of spray and giggles. The water must have been icy cold, fresh from the mountains, but the woman didn't turn, just continued her scrubbing against a boulder. In time the girl crept back again with exaggerated stealth, but just before she put her cupped hands into the water, the woman turned and dashed after her, sweeping her up and kissing her repeatedly. Coralen heard them both laughing.\n\nAs she watched she felt something tighten in her chest, and to her horror she felt tears bloom in her eyes. I can't remember one moment in all my lifelike that with my mam. I was never the child she wanted. She blinked, sending a fat tear rolling down her cheek, and sniffed." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You all right?\" Dath asked beside her.\n\n\"Fine,\" she snapped, swiping at her face. \"A fly in my eye.\" She paused a moment, then crept back to her horse and swung into the saddle. Dath and Kulla followed her.\n\n\"Where are you going?\"\n\n\"To the village.\" The original plan had been to stick to their position until Corban and the warband appeared, and make sure that no one headed south from the village in an attempt to spread word of the warband's coming. Suddenly, though, the fear and panic that the villagers would feel were things she wanted to try and avoid.\n\n\"Why?\" Dath asked her. \"It's dangerous. '\n\n\"You should stay here,\" she said as she rode towards the village. Dath caught up with her.\n\n\"You're mad, but Corban and Farrell would have my stones if I let you go riding into that village alone. '\n\n\"Displeasing the Seren Disglair must be avoided,\" Kulla said, a horrified expression creeping across her face. \"At all costs.\"\n\nDath raised an eyebrow and Coralen scowled. \"I can look after myself,\" she snapped.\n\n\"I know that.\" Dath shrugged. \"But I'm still coming. '\n\n\"We,\" Kulla amended.\n\n\"Suit yourself.\"\n\nThey rode into the village. Dogs barked, children shouted and people gathered about them, more filtering from the surrounding fields. Coralen saw many making the ward against evil as they saw her, causing her to scowl. Strangers obviously weren't welcome and in these troubled times she could understand why. But if they fear me, wait until they see Corban with a warband of giants and wolven. She pulled on her reins, saw the gauntlet of wolven claws she wore on her left arm and realized she was also wearing her wolven fur, the head draped across her shoulders, jaws gaping and teeth bared." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Perhaps they have good reason to fear me.\n\nA man stepped out of the crowd surrounding them. Dath and Kulla looked around warily, prepared for trouble.\n\n\"Greetings,\" he said. \"Excuse the poor welcome– strangers are rare this far north.\" Despite his polite tone he clutched a thick-hafted boar spear in his hands. With disapproval Coralen noted the blade was rusted. Other men were moving forward, most hefting woodcutters'axes. One had a battered sword sheathed at his side. She saw the mother and child that she'd watched in the river huddled together and remembered her purpose.\n\n\"You're about to see a whole lot more, \"Coralen said.\"I've come to warn you that a warband is approaching from the north. They'll be here soon. '\n\nGasps rippled around the crowd, a hint of panic, some faces sceptical. Questions flew at her, raised voices.\n\n\"There is nothing to fear, they are peaceful and just travelling south. They will not stop, they will not attack. They want nothing from you. You'd be best going to your homes and closing your doors. '\n\nCoralen saw expressions of doubt, disbelief, fear spreading through the crowd.\n\n\"Peaceful! When is a warband peaceful?\" someone yelled.\n\n\"They mean you no harm is what I mean.\" Coralen felt her temper fraying.\n\n\"Who are you?\" the man who had greeted her shouted. People filtered away from the crowd's edges. A group began to hurry to the east, towards the wooded valley slopes. Some made to pass her, heading south, and she turned her horse, blocking the road.\n\n\"This isn't going well, \"Dath whispered to Kulla, which didn't make Coralen any calmer." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Help the writer, keep the story going.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, demons\nAuthor: John Gwynne\nTitle: Ruin\nChapter: 27" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They had stopped a little earlier than usual, the sun still a handspan above the horizon as Maquin had set snares around a network of burrows that he had spied. She'd watched with fascination as he'd cut, looped and tied twine to overhanging branches, bending and pegging them to the earth, and then settled beneath a densely leaved oak a score of paces away. It had been dark when she finally heard the snap and creak of the snare tripping. Maquin had grinned at her, a rare thing, transforming his dour expression.\n\n\"Hot meat for our supper,\" he'd said.\n\nShe couldn't express how happy she was about that. It had been raining all day, a soft drizzle that had soaked her through long before highsun. Maquin's hard pace had allowed no time for rest, keeping her breathless and exhausted as usual. She was glad to stop before the darkness settled about them.\n\n\"Is afire safe?\" she asked as Maquin searched for kindling that wasn't soaked through, cutting away at a rotted branch to reach the dry wood within.\n\n\"So much cloud, and it's so low, smoke shouldn't give us away, and we've gone a ten-night since we last saw any Vin Thalun. I can bank and hide the fire, keep the flames low and covered. Reckon it's worth the risk, eh? Feels like my bones are damp.\"\n\nI'm glad to hear him say that. He seems inhuman, all of him distilled down to strength and will. Maquin skewered the quartered meat of the rabbit and set it on a spit above the small fire.\n\nThey were a ten-night into the heartland of Tenebral, keeping as much as possible to the dense woodlands that carpeted the undulating landscape." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "After that night in the woods when Maquin had slain the Vin Thalun– with some help from me– they had set out east. Fidele had still not recovered from that night– she had killed a man. She'd put her spear through his throat, and had had nightmares about it ever since. Idiot woman. He was my enemy, would have killed Maquin and then me.\n\n\"Teach me how to do that,\" she asked abruptly, nodding at the rabbit.\n\n\"Don't think it's something fora fine lady's hands, ' Maquin said.\n\n\"Well, it should be,\" Fidele snapped. \"What use am I, otherwise? I am like an infant, unable to fend for myself.\"\n\nMaquin shrugged. \"We all learn what we need to,\" he said. \"People like you learn how to govern, give orders. People like me, to do what we're told. To learn something useful. '\n\n\"And what is your useful trade, then?\" Fidele asked him.\n\n\"Death. Ideal in death.\"\n\nHis gaze dropped to his hands, and her eyes followed. They were surprisingly fine and long-fingered, like a musician's hands at court, though as he turned them she saw thick calluses on his fingers and palms, the whorls of his skin marked by earth or blood.\n\n\"I'll teach you to catch a rabbit, prepare it for cooking, make afire, if you'd like. Though there may not be another opportunity before we reach Ripa.\"\n\nIf we reach Ripa.\n\nThe injured warrior of Tenebral, Drusus, had died the same night, but not before he'd told them that Peritus had set a rendezvous point with every member of his small rebellion. Ripa, fortress of Lamar. That had made sense to Fidele, as Lamar and his eldest son Krelis had always borne an ill-concealed hatred for the Vin Thalun. If anyone would declare openly against the Vin Thalun it would be Lamar of Ripa." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Maquin passed her apiece of the quartered rabbit and she bit into it, burning her lips but not caring, it tasted so delicious." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She realized Maquin was watching her and she wiped her mouth.\n\n\"Sorry, not very ladylike.\"\n\n\"Don't mind me, \"Maquin said.\"It all goes down the same. '\n\n\"Tell me, Maquin. How did a man of Isiltir end up here?\"\n\n\"It's along story, ' Maquin grunted.\n\n\"And we have many dark nights ahead of us. You don't have to finish it all tonight. '\n\nHe stared silently at the fire awhile, as if trying to remember.\n\n\"I was shieldman to Kastell ben Aenor. His cousin, Jael, killed him in the tombs beneath Haldis. He killed Romar, King of Isiltir as well, though he didn't hold the blade. \"He spoke to the fire, not taking his eyes from the flicker of the flames.\"I fought against Jael in Isiltir. Lykos came with his Vin Thalun and turned the battle. \"He paused, as if remembering. A hand lifted to his ear, which Fidele noticed was only a stump.\"I was captured. Lykos took meas part of his spoils, put me on an oar-bench, gave me this. ' Maquin touched the scar on his back, where Lykos had branded him.\n\nHe speaks as if it didn't happen to him, as if he is recounting someone else's tale.\n\n\"He threw me in the pit, told me that if I lived long enough he'd set me free, that I could seek my vengeance on Jael. '\n\n\"Is that what you want?\"\n\nHe looked up at her now, his eyes dark pools, a glint of firelight a spark in their depths." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Aye, with all that I am.\"\n\nFidele resisted the urge to recoil at the hatred she heard in his voice. It emanated from him, throbbing like the pulse of a wound. He had spoken of Lykos, and at that name she had felt her own anger stir and bubble.\n\n\"I feel the same about Lykos,\" she whispered fiercely. \"I hate him. I am scared of him too. If he lives I would wish to spend my life hunting him until he were dead. But another voice within me says that I would run, as far and as fast as I could to escape him. To the very edges of the world.\" She ground her teeth, fear, anger, shame, all swirling through her.\n\n\"He's high on my list of people to see dead, I'll not deny,\" Maquin said. \"If he's not already dead. I saw you put that knife into him; it went deep. Wouldn't be surprised if you killed him.\"\n\n\"Aye, maybe. And then again, he may still live.\"\n\nMaquin shrugged. \"Can't change that. Yet. '\n\n\"No, but it doesn't stop me being scared. Don't you feel fear?\"\n\n\"Fear? I left that in the pit. I have nothing left to lose, nothing to fear for. I have lost everything– my kin, Kastell, my sword-brothers. My pride. In the pit I lost my honour and humanity. All that's left is revenge. '\n\n\"Then why are you here?\"\n\nHe shrugged again. \"I made you a promise.\"\n\n\"You were going to break your promise, though. You left me. You walked away.\"\n\nHe stared at her. Why did I say that?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I did." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I won't do that again. Not until you're safe.\"\n\nThe effect of those words was comforting, seeping through her like hot soup on a cold day.\n\n\"I didn't blame you for leaving. Or judge you. '\n\n\"I judged me. That was enough.\"\n\nFidele woke to a touch, Maquin's hand on her shoulder. She half rose, then paused as she saw his face.\n\n\"What's wrong? ' she said.\n\n\"Listen.\"\n\nShe did.\n\n\"What is that?\"\n\n\"Hounds,\" Maquin said. \"We have to go. Now.\"\n\nShe leaped to her feet and in moments they were hurrying through the undergrowth.\n\nFidele hoped that Maquin was mistaken, or that the hounds were just a coincidence, out on a hunt with a local woodsman. But all morning the sounds trailed them, becoming clearer, an excited baying. The land around them changed, the woodland growing denser, the ground rising into a steady incline. The scent of pine grew around them as they climbed higher, the woodland opening up, pine needles dense and spongy underfoot. The baying behind them was louder now, and Fidele had started looking over her shoulder, fearing to see hounds and men behind her.\n\n\"They area league or so behind us,\" Maquin said.\n\n\"They sound... so close,\" Fidele gasped.\n\n\"Sound carries in this woodland,\" Maquin grunted. \"But they were double that distance away at daybreak.\"\n\nWhat are we going to do? She was walking with a spear in her hand, the same one that she had used to kill the Vin Thalun. Now, though, she was using it as a crutch to keep herself upright. Her grip on its shaft tightened. Sweat ran down her face, dripping into her eyes, stinging, her lungs heaving, the aching in her legs a constant companion. They were following a fox trail. Animals know the way through the forest better than I do, Maquin had said to her. Better to trust them than try cutting anew way through the undergrowth. Blessedly, the ground levelled beneath them, to one side a cliff rising steep and sheer, pines crowding close on the other. Anew sound made itself known, growing with each step. Running water." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Maquin pulled up in front of her and grabbed her about the waist as she stumbled past him, her legs not instantly obeying the order to stop." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She was glad he did.\n\nA ravine opened up in front of her, a river roaring through it some distance below. She fell to her knees, sucking in great lungfuls of air.\n\n\"What are we going to do,\" she asked.\n\n\"Well. If the dogs weren't onto us I'd say we climb down this ravine and swim fora bit. Come out a few leagues downriver. It would take a huntsman a ten-night to pickup our trail again, if ever they could find it.\"\n\n\"Let's do that, then. '\n\n\"No point. They'll know we've used the river, and with those hounds they'll pickup our scent and trail again within a day; we'll be back to square one.\"\n\nHunted again. Death breathing down our necks, again.\n\n\"I am sorry to bring this upon you.\"\n\n\"Well, I'll not deny, you're proving to be a great deal of trouble.\"\n\n\"So what do we do?\" Fidele felt that old companion squirming in her belly. Fear. I cannot be caught. I cannot go back to Lykos.\n\nMaquin reached inside his bag and pulled out the ball of twine he'd taken from the woodcutters\" hut.\n\n\"Got to kill those hounds.\"\n\nFidele crouched behind a tree, peering back down the track in the twilight.\n\nThe sun was setting behind the treetop canopy, its last rays dappling the ground pink and orange. Fidele thought she saw movement.\n\nPlease Elyon, let it be Maquin.\n\nHe had set out his plan to her– if it could be called that– and left her soon after. Fear had been steadily filling her since then, like the drip of ice melting into a bucket." }, { "from": "human", "value": "No." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I will not die scared. Or live scared any longer. Maquin is right. There is nothing I can do other than face it. She gripped her spear tightly.\n\nA figure emerged out of the gloom: Maquin sprinting towards her and skidding to the ground beside her.\n\n\"Well, I think I got their attention,\" he said through ragged breaths.\n\nMen were visible on the path now, the first one straining to control three hounds, all barking frantically and straining on their leashes.\n\n\"Didn't think there'd be three,\" Maquin muttered, pulling one of the many knives he carried. \"Woodsmen usually hunt with two.\"\n\nHe stood and let their pursuers see him.\n\nThe first man let the dogs go, all three of them bursting along the path towards Maquin. They were big grey-coated hounds with broad heads and wide muzzles, the type she'd seen bring down boars when accompanying Aquilus on hunts. Their bared teeth glinted in the twilight.\n\nWe're dead.\n\nOne pulled ahead of the others, tongue lolling, so close that Fidele could seethe muscles of his chest and shoulders bunching and flowing with each ground-eating stride. He stumbled on something across his path and suddenly the undergrowth was in motion, along branch whipping out of nowhere, sharp spikes slamming into the hound's flank, impaling it a dozen times. It howled, squirmed, the howls slipping to a whine, then it slumped, blood dripping from its mouth.\n\nThe other two hounds paid it no attention, surging past.\n\n\"Remember, do what I told you,\" Maquin hissed as he spread his feet, crouching, drawing another knife. Fidele shifted the weight of her spear, eyes focused on the nearest hound. It was thirty paces away now. A heartbeat, and it was twenty. She shuffled involuntarily backwards, heard the roar of the river behind her, set her feet." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The hound jolted to a stop, one leg wrenched into the air, its body swinging around, dragging on the branch that it was now snared to. Fidele held her breath but the snare and branch held. The other hound powered past it and leapt at Maquin. As she rushed forward, she glimpsed Maquin tumbling away, the hound slamming into him.\n\nFinish your task, she screamed at herself as she ran forwards and plunged her spear into the snared hound's chest. Dimly she remembered Maquin telling her to stab it in the belly, that it would be softer there, at the same time feeling the spearhead slide on bone. She put all her weight onto the shaft and pushed, felt the spear slip past ribs, deeper, into something softer, the hound whining, snapping and writhing. It shuddered and then collapsed.\n\nShe pulled on her spear but it was stuck; she tugged more frantically, then heard the shouts of men running towards them down the track. A hundred paces, closing quickly. She left her spear in the dead hound and turned.\n\nMaquin lay beneath a pile of fur, the last hound slumped on him.\n\nHe's dead. Fidele rushed to him, feeling as if her heart was lurching in her chest, and heaved the dog away. Maquin groaned and she felt a tide of relief wash her.\n\n\"Thought I was dead,\" he blinked.\n\n\"So did I,\" Fidele breathed as she helped him stand. \"What now?\"\n\n\"Didn't think we'd get this far.\" He glanced down the trail at the onrushing warriors, then over his shoulder at the river.\n\n\"Time to get wet,\" he said. He gripped her hand in his and together they ran at the ravine's edge, leapt into the air and plummeted towards the river below." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lykos wandered in a world of grey. Grey plains undulating into the distance, a charcoal river curling through it like some fluid serpent. Grey trees, branches swaying, slate-grey clouds boiling above him. In the distance he saw a structure, arching out of the land.\n\nAbridge?\n\nOn its far side was a wall, stretching into the sky, merging with the clouds. Or was it a wall...?\n\nHe squinted, saw that there was movement within it, a billowing, like sails in a fickle wind.\n\nIt is not a wall. It is mist. A fog bank.\n\nHe saw a rock and sat to assess the situation.\n\nPain spiked, in his face and back. He put his hand to the greater pain, his back, and his fingers came away red. Blood red.\n\n\"How did that happen?\"\n\nHe felt a flicker of worry, but almost as soon as it had come it was gone. It was hard to care in this world leached of all colour. Of all life.\n\nHe looked about again, knew where he was.\n\nThe Otherworld. He had been here before, since he had made his pact with Asroth, summoned hereon rare occasions by Calidus for some clandestine communication or other. But this time it felt different. Time was different here, hard to measure, but he knew somehow that he'd been here... awhile? How long?\n\n\"Long enough. Longer than ever before.\"\n\nIs this death?\n\n\"No,\" a voice said beside him, startling him. \"But near enough.\"\n\nIt was Calidus, sitting upon a boulder. He looked younger, his white hair softer, less brittle, the creases in his face lines instead of grooves. He wore a coat of chainmail, dark leathery wings folded behind him. A smile spread across his face." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You look pleased with yourself,\" Lykos commented.\n\n\"I am. Things are going well.\"\n\n\"So why am I here?\" Lykos asked him.\n\nCalidus'smile disappeared.\"I have not summoned you this time. You found your own way here. You are dying. '\n\n\"Oh.\" I guessed as much. I should feel scared, but I don't.\n\n\"And that, over there?\" He pointed to the bridge and the wall of mist.\n\n\"The bridge of swords, and what comes next,\" Calidus told him.\n\n\"What does come next?\"\n\n\"Death. Whatever that is.\"\n\nLykos felt indifferent to it. Not even any hint of curiosity.\n\n\"I don't want you to die, \"Calidus said.\"I need you to live. '\n\nLykos shrugged again.\n\n\"Here,\" Calidus said and passed him an apple. Lykos took it in both hands, ran his fingers over the featureless skin. A grey apple. Not very appealing.\n\n\"Would you walkaway from it all, then?\" Calidus asked him.\n\n\"From what?\"\n\n\"Your life.\"\n\nLykos thought about that, maybe fora few heartbeats, maybe fora moon, he could not tell. Eventually he shook his head. \"I can hardly remember it.\"\n\n\"Your heart's desire was to unite the Three Islands. To become Lord of the Vin Thalun. '\n\n\"The Three Islands?\"\n\n\"Aye. Your father was a Vin Thalun corsair, and Lord of the Island of Panos. You inherited that island, though you had to fight for it.\"\n\nA dim memory stirred. The corpse of his father lying upon a bower of thorns. Flames. Blood in the firelight." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I did.\"\n\n\"You made a pact with Asroth. He helped you win the Three Islands. You united them, forged a nation out of the Vin Thalun and became their king.\"\n\nLykos felt a flicker of emotion, an echo of the joy that had consumed him as he had sat before the defeated captains of Nerin and Pelset and heard their oaths of fealty.\n\n\"Take a bite of your apple.\"\n\nLykos lifted it to his lips and saw there was a pink flush to its skin, faded and pastel, but there now, stark against the grey of this world. He took a small bite, tasted... something. Faint, bland.\n\n\"And you have done more. You rule in Tenebral, are regent in Nathair's stead. '\n\n\"Aye. But that hasn't gone so well. '\n\n\"Tell me of it.\"\n\nAs Lykos spoke, he remembered: the effigy of Fidele that Calidus had gifted him, the power it gave him over her. Passion stirred in him at the memory of her, the sensation of her skin beneath his fingers, the taste of her fear. He remembered the arena, his wedding day, Fidele as beautiful and desirable as he had ever seen her. Maquin and Orgull duelling in the fighting-pit. Maquin throwing down his weapons, the explosion of eagle-guard from amongst the spectators.\n\nChaos.\n\nBattle.\n\nFighting Maquin, Fidele plunging a knife into his back. He felt a wave of anger at that, but it soon subsided into a self-deprecating chuckle. \"I suppose I had that coming.\"\n\n\"No. In your world you take, or it is taken from you.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I remember those words. My da spoke them tome.\"\n\n\"Aye. And you have taken, and tasted.\"\n\n\"I have.\" He thought of Fidele again, felt a spark of anger at Maquin, the man who had taken her from him.\n\n\"Your face, Lykos. What happened to it?\"\n\nHe touched his cheek, felt gouges in his flesh, blood congealing into crusted scabs.\n\n\"She attacked me, clawed me like an animal. The bitch.\" He licked a drop of his blood from a finger. \"She was magnificent.\"\n\nCalidus grinned at him.\n\n\"Do you want to go back?\"\n\n\"Aye.\" Lykos grinned in return, took another bite from his apple. It was blood red now, the flesh sweet, juice dripping down his chin.\n\nLykos' eyes fluttered open.\n\nWhere am I?\n\nThe swaying sensation gave it away. On a ship. He reached out, gripped the side of a cot and pulled himself up. Pain throbbed in his back but he gritted his teeth and managed to sit upright. He sat there long moments, head in his hands, fighting the pain, the swirling sense of nausea and the fact that he felt weak as a newborn pup.\n\nA door creaked and a figure peered into the cabin, a woman. He blinked, remembering her.\n\nNella. She had been his woman before his obsession with Fidele. Or one of his women. Something was strapped across her chest, a lump wrapped in linen.\n\nShe put a hand upon his head, her face creased with worry.\n\n\"I'm fine, woman, \"Lykos said irritably. Or at least, that's what he meant to say. It came out strangled and unintelligible. She poured water from a jug, which he drank greedily." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Slowly, or you'll bring it backup, ' Nella scolded him. He waved her away.\n\nOthers came through the cabin door– old Jayr, his ship's healer, Alazon, the white-haired shipwright, and another, a warrior bristling with hilts andiron. Where's Deinon, my shieldman?\n\nMemories and dreams were starting to blur. The arena, fighting the Old Wolf Maquin, Fidele. She'd put a knife in his back. After that everything was vague. Being carried, half-dragged, from the arena. Then nothing.\n\nNo, not nothing. The Otherworld. Calidus. He gave me a task to do.\n\nHis stomach growled, complaining about the sudden influx of water or the fact that he felt half starved, he did not know. Probably both.\n\n\"Slow down with the water,\" old Jayr said as his fingers probed at Lykos'throat, then lifted bandages from his waist, checking the wound on his back.\"You're well,\" he sniffed.\n\nThat didn't mean much from Jayr, who pronounced everyone healthy until they were a handspan from death. But that in itself is encouraging, I suppose.\n\n\"Where's Deinon? ' Lykos managed to get out, his voice a croak.\n\n\"Dead,\" Alazon said.\n\nThat hit Lykos like a punch in the gut. Of course they lived and usually died by the sword, but Deinon had seemed invulnerable. And he had been the closest thing to a friend that Lykos had known, his presence always reassuring.\n\n\"The Old Wolf, so men have said,\" Alazon continued. \"This is Kolai. I appointed him as your chief shieldman until you were able to choose Deinon's... \"He didn't finish the sentence." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Lykos gave Kolai a perfunctory nod as he looked him over." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "His age was hard to gauge, his skin weathered and scarred, but Lykos vaguely remembered him, had bet money on him. Another one from the pits. It always ages them on the outside. Thirty summers, maybe.\n\n\"How long have I been out?\"\n\n\"Over a ten-night,\" Nella said, fetching a bowl and dipping a linen cloth into it. \"Goat's milk. Take a few drops, then stop, ' she ordered. His eyes dropped to the lump strapped to her chest and he saw a shock of black hair as she leaned over him. It gave out a whimper.\n\n\"What's that? ' he asked as he grabbed the linen from her.\n\n\"Your son,\" she snapped.\n\nHe blinked at that, abruptly remembering that she had been heavy with child the last time he'd seen her, back on Panos. He slurped a mouthful from the linen, then took the bowl and drank it down.\n\nNella tutted at him.\n\n\"She's right– slowdown, ' Jayr said to him reprovingly.\n\n\"My son,\" Lykos said, feeling a grin split his face. \"What's his name? '\n\n\"Rodas.\"\n\nLykos reached over, pulled the linen sheet back and stroked his thumb across the child's cheek.\"Well met, Rodas, \"he said, patting him on the head. That didn't go down too well, the boy's face wrinkling as he sucked in a breath and wailed.\n\n\"He's not a hound, \"Nella said, slapping Lykos\" hand away.\n\n\"He needs to be strong,\" Lykos said as he stood. \"My sword? My knives?\" The world felt as if it was moving, more so than he would expect from a ship's cabin, but he refused to lie still a moment longer." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Report,\" he ordered as he pulled on a linen shirt and a leather vest, wincing at the jolts of complaint from the wound in his back.\n\nAlazon spoke to him of all that had happened since the uprising in the arena. He had taken control while Lykos was incapacitated, a decision which Lykos approved of. Apparently a bloody battle had raged on the meadows and streets of Jerolin for half a day. The steady influx of Vin Thalun from ships moored on the lake and others arriving by river had turned it. Since then the Vin Thalun had been going door to door, searching, burning, executing. The uprising had not spread, in large part due to the fact that many of the eagle-guard of Jerolin had stayed allied with the Vin Thalun. Fidele had been wed to Lykos, after all, so with her missing– kidnapped, Alazon had announced, by a madman and murderer– Lykos was to all purposes her representative until she was found. Slowly the unrest had died down and a semblance of peace had been restored, at least within Jerolin and the surrounding vicinity. Meanwhile Alazon had sent hunting parties out after any survivors of the uprising.\n\n\"What of the Old Wolf and Fidele? I want his head, and I want her back.\"\n\n\"Got someone you might want to talk to about that.\"\n\nLykos leaned against a timber frame in the shipyard that stood on the lakeshore before Jerolin's dark walls, resting fora moment as the sun beat down upon him.\n\nDamn, but it's hot. Without a word Alazon handed him a skin. Lykos sniffed and drank, cool watered wine. A glance at the village on the lakeshore and Jerolin on its low hill had been reassuring. All seemed normal, people going about their everyday business. It's as if there was no uprising." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The only visible difference was that there were more Vin Thalun about the place. In the village, on the lakeshore, standing watch on the walls of Jerolin alongside the fortress' eagle-guard.\n\nAlazon has done well. The situation could have polarized us.\n\nThe lake was a forest of masts and black sails, a Vin Thalun fleet settled on it like crows upon afield of corpses.\n\n\"I've had word from Calidus. A fleet must be readied for sail. War-galleys and transporters fora warband two thousand strong. Room for horses and baggage. ' And something else.\n\n\"That's fifty ships, at least. We can do that, ' Alazon shrugged.\n\n\"Good. We'll talk more of it later. '\n\n\"This way,\" Alazon said, striding bow-legged through the shipyard, and led him to the arena that still stood on the plain before Jerolin. Its earth was hard packed now, dried out by the sun. Dark stains betrayed the violence that it had witnessed.\n\nThere were cages on the far side, designed to hold pit-fighters. The cages were full. A score of Vin Thalun warriors guarded them, lounging in the sun, some sparring half-heartedly, some drinking.\n\nAlazon called out a name and a warrior separated from the guards, a young Vin Thalun, his beard oiled and bound with only a few iron rings. He looked as if he'd seen combat recently, his nose crooked, his jaw swollen, bruises fading.\n\n\"This is Senios,\" Alazon said. \"He's got something to tell. '\n\n\"I saw Fidele and the Old Wolf,\" he said, eyes unable to meet Lykos'." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Where?\"\n\n\"The forest– I was guarding the timber fields, the day of your...\" He trailed off.\n\n\"Aye. Goon.\"\n\nSenios told of his capture by Maquin, bargaining for his life and time. How he had tried to escape, fought hard with the Old Wolf, only losing because Fidele had struck him from behind.\n\nLykos looked him up and down. I saw the Old Wolf kill Herak, trainer of pit-fighters. Can't see you besting him.\n\n\"What did you offer in return for your life?\" Lykos asked him.\n\n\"Information.\"\n\nLykos just stared at him.\n\nSenios looked at the ground, shuffled his feet. \"The giantess and her whelp,\" he muttered, just above a whisper. \"I took the Old Wolf and Fidele to see them.\"\n\nLykos felt a hot gush of rage, fear entwined about it. His most closely guarded secret. Twelve years he had kept them safe from harm and prying eyes on the island of Pelset, but things had become so fluid, danger everywhere, that he had wanted them close to him. And now Fidele and the Old Wolf had seen them.\n\nThe Old Wolf must die and Fidele must be returned to my side, where I can seal her flapping lips.\n\n\"And,\" he managed to say, bottling his rage.\n\n\"I escaped,\" Senios said, raising his head and meeting Lykos'gaze.\"They ran. Some of the giants'guards gave chase.\"\n\n\"How many?\"\n\n\"Seven, eight.\"\n\nNot enough.\n\n\"When did this happen?\"\n\n\"Twelve nights ago,\" Alazon said. \"Senios reached us eight nights gone. I sent a score more into the forest, hounds and a local woodsman with them.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Good, Alazon,\" Lykos said, patting the old warrior's shoulder. He looked hard at Senios, reached a decision.\n\n\"Kolai,\" he snapped to the warrior whom Alazon had appointed as his shieldman.\n\n\"Aye,\" the warrior said, stepping forward.\n\n\"I need new shieldmen. See if Senios is worthy.\"\n\nKolai drew a short sword and knife from the impressive array of weapons strapped about his body. Senios blinked and took a step away.\n\nKolai moved into the arena, beckoned for Senios to follow.\n\nSenios' eyes darted about, fell onto Lykos, who was watching him like a horse trader at market.\n\n\"What are you waiting for?\" Lykos said.\n\nSenios walked hesitantly after Kolai. He drew his short sword and shrugged a buckler onto his arm.\n\n\"Begin,\" Lykos said and Kolai exploded forwards. Iron met iron, sparks flying, feet shuffling on the dusty earth. Senios fought well– any Vin Thalun who reached adulthood knew how to fight, but Kolai steadily broke down his guard, Senios'blocks and lunges becoming wilder as Kolai's skill became more apparent. Ina dozen heartbeats Senios was bleeding from many small wounds, blood sheeting into his left eye. He knew it was only a matter of time and decided on an all-or-nothing attack.\n\nI admire that, at least. But he betrayed my secret.\n\nHe ended up flat on his back, Kolai's boot on his chest, sword hovering over his throat.\n\n\"Live or die?\" Kolai asked, not taking his eyes from Senios.\n\nThere was only ever one outcome I wanted from this. Senios betrayed me to save his skin for an extra day." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Die.\"\n\nKolai's sword stabbed down, a gurgle and a rush of blood, then he was cleaning his blades and sheathing them. Lykos nodded to him as he resumed his position a few steps behind Lykos. He knew this was as much a test for him as for Senios. Unlike Senios, he has just passed.\n\n\"Who are they?\" Lykos asked Alazon, pointing to the men crammed into the cages at the far end of the arena.\n\n\"Prisoners. A mixture. Mostly locals who got caught up in the rioting. A few eagle-guard. Pit-fighters who turned onus.\"\n\nLykos remembered that, could see in his mind's eye Maquin and Orgull smashing the locks to the cages, the pit-fighters inside rushing out. Lykos walked to the cages, paced slowly alongside them, studied those inside. Local people, farmers, trappers, traders, a handful of battered and bloodstained eagle-guard. He stopped suddenly.\n\n\"Javed.\"\n\nJaved was a pit-fighter, one of the few who had risen up through the ranks with Maquin. He was from Tarbesh in the east– small, slim, seemingly built solely of wire-like muscle. Lykos had offered him and a handful of others their freedom, one last fight and a chest of silver at the end of it for the victor. Javed had won his bout, earned his freedom and his silver, and yet he had chosen to fight beside Maquin and Orgull. He sat with his head bowed, refusing to look at Lykos.\n\n\"I saw the Old Wolf set you free. He used you, you know. Needed some help in getting out.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Javed looked up then, glaring, but still he said nothing.\n\n\"You could have had a chest of silver, and yet you're back in a cage. '\n\n\"I saw my chance for freedom and I took it,\" Javed said.\n\nNo doubt I would have done the same.\n\n\"Not for long, by the look of things.\" Lykos grinned.\n\n\"I'll earn another chest from you, ' Javed said.\n\nHe always had a pair of stones on him, I'll give him that.\n\n\"Maybe, but you'll have to earn your way back into the pit first. It's an oar-bench for you.\"\n\nHe saw the light dim in Javed's eyes as the horror of his fate swept him.\n\n\"That's right. Back to the very beginning. Then the first level of the pits, if you're still alive. Perhaps I'll see you back herein a year or two. \"He walked on, Javed's eyes burning into his back. He counted five eagle-guard warriors within the cage, ordered that they be brought out.\n\n\"Peritus was behind your uprising. Where is he?\"\n\nNone answered. He drew his sword and buried it in a warrior's belly, ripped it out, intestines spilling to the ground like a barrel of writhing snakes. The man screamed.\n\n\"Where is Peritus?\" Lykos asked again.\n\nSilence, except for the agonized screams of the man who had just been gutted.\n\nLykos swung at the next warrior's ankle. There was a crack as the bone broke. Lykos struck again, hacking through flesh and bone, leaving the man's foot hanging by a thread of skin. Lykos felt a sharp pain in his back, stitches pulling, tearing. He brushed hair from his face, breathing hard." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The warrior with his guts on the ground had stopped screaming, was now making pitiful mewling sounds, like a hungry kitten.\n\n\"Where is Peritus?\"\n\nThree men looked silently back at him. One grey-beard stared flatly, one glared. The third was a young man, barely past his Long Night. Urine dribbled down one leg, pooling in the dirt. Lykos left him, went to the man who glared.\n\n\"Where is Peritus?\"\n\nThe warrior spat in his face. Lykos smashed the pommel of his sword into his mouth. Blood and teeth spattered the ground. Lykos punched and punched the iron hilt into his enemy; the man slumped unconscious, face a bloody pulp. Lykos swung two-handed at his neck, half-severing the head.\n\nHe paused to catch his breath and wipe blood from his face, felt something warm trickle down his back and onto his hip, knew he'd opened his wound, but didn't care.\n\n\"Where. Is. Peritus?\"\n\nNo answer, the one that had soiled himself now whimpering.\n\nLykos took a step towards him.\n\n\"No, please, no,\" the young lad pleaded.\n\n\"A warrior should not beg, it is unseemly,\" Lykos said. Laughter rippled through the Vin Thalun. He took another step closer, raised his sword.\n\n\"Ripa,\" a voice said. Not the young warrior, but the grey-beard. \"If he still lives, Peritus is in Ripa.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I'm hungry, ' Haelan said.\n\n\"You'll have to wait for the highsun bell, like everyone else, ' Tahir replied, not even bothering to look at Haelan.\n\nThey were in a huge paddock, Tahir inspecting the saddle-straps on a bay stallion. It dug at the ground with one hoof. \"I'm surrounded by impatient souls, ' Tahir muttered.\n\nMam never made me wait, Haelan thought. He felt a pressure behind his eyes at the memory of her and blinked hard. \"I hate waiting,\" he said.\n\n\"Don't we all, \"Tahir grunted as he adjusted the straps, then stood and patted the animal's neck. \"Shouldn't you beat your chores? '\n\nI hate chores. There were a good score of children living at Gramm's hold who were too young to set foot in the Rowan Field, but of an age where they could be put to some practical use.\n\n\"You could go and get me some food,\" Haelan said, ignoring Tahir's mention of chores. He looked back at the feast-hall that sat at the crown of a hill, smoke from the kitchens wafting into a grey sky. His stomach growled.\n\n\"No,\" Tahir said, pausing to look at Haelan, his gaze hard. Haelan knew that look, had seen it many times now, although he was still struggling with it.\n\nNo one ever used to say no tome, except Mam and Uncle Varick, and that was rare enough.\n\nTahir's eyes softened, responding to something that swept Haelan's face. \"There's no special treatment here, lad. You have to blend in. It's too dangerous for you to standout; you know this. We've spoken about it more than once, haven't we?\" The young warrior looked sternly at Haelan, holding his eyes until the boy nodded." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Now I'm going to let this lad know what it feels like to have me on his back. You should beat your chores, anyway– blending in. You're supposed to be in the timber yard, aren't you? '\n\nHaelan grunted a response.\n\n\"Besides, it'll be highsun soon enough and you'll be filling your belly before you know it.\"\n\nI'm not a bairn, thought Haelan. When I have my crown I'll make you fetch me food all daylong. He scowled at Tahir's back as the warrior pulled himself into the saddle, the bay dancing a few steps.\n\n\"Go on with you, then,\" Tahir said. \"I'll not be going far; just around the paddocks. If harm comes knocking I'll be close enough to shut the door, as my old mam used to say.\"\n\nWith a sigh he began walking across the paddock.\n\nGramm's hold spread before him, a sturdy timber wall surrounding a collection of buildings scattered across a low hill, the main hall standing at the hill's peak. People were busy, working on the various trades that kept the hold thriving– timber and horses being the main ones. Gramm had built this place with his own hands within sight of Forn Forest's borders, raised his sons and daughters here, and now more than two hundred souls dwelt about the hill.\n\nOver half a year Haelan and Tahir had been here. Gramm had taken them in, looked after them, protected them. At first Haelan had thought his mam would come for him soon. After a ten-night he'd asked Tahir what was taking her so long. The young warrior had just muttered about patience– one of his annoying sayings, of which there were many. After a moon had passed Haelan asked again. This time Tahir had not been able to meet his eyes. Soon after, Gramm had come to him and sat him down." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"How old are you, lad?\" Gramm had asked him.\n\n\"Ten summers; but I'll be eleven on Midwinter's Day,\" Haelan had replied.\n\n\"Aye. Well, you're still a bairn, but I'll talk to you like a man, nonetheless. It's the only way I know how, and it never did my boys much harm. \"He'd scratched his beard; a sadness in his eyes had stopped his words fora moment.\n\n\"We've had word from the south, from Dun Kellen. About your mam. '\n\nHaelan's heart had beat faster.\n\n\"She's dead, lad. Or so my messenger tells me, and I've no reason to doubt him.\"\n\n\"Dead,\" Haelan had echoed, the word sinking in his chest like a heavy stone dropped into deep water.\n\n\"Aye. Jael's put her head on a spike. And he's looking to do the same to you.\"\n\nThe tears had come then, a seemingly endless flood.\n\n\"Doubt that it helps much, but I share your grief. My eldest son died there. Orgull. He was a captain of the Gadrai, friend of Tahir. He held the door to the tunnel you escaped in.\"\n\nHaelan did remember him, the huge bald man with no neck, looked as if he could never be defeated. In blurred images he remembered Gramm trying to comfort him, then leaving the room and Tahir entering. He'd sat quietly, waiting for Haelan's tears to run their course.\n\n\"I'll look after you, \"Tahir had said.\"We're two of a kind, you and me– the last of our kind. Me, the last of the Gadrai; you the last of your line. But things will be different from now on. You're hunted– Jael knows we escaped Dun Kellen and he wants you dead. You're the rightful heir to Isiltir, and Jael wants that crown– so you mustn't be found... '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I know I'm hunted, Haelan thought. Once a group of warriors had been spied riding towards the hold. As they'd drawn closer Haelan had made out the banner that rippled above them; a lightning bolt on a black field, a pale serpent entwined about it. Jael's banner. They have come to kill me, Haelan remembered thinking, the fear as he had seen them cantering along the road freezing him in the courtyard. Tahir had swept him up in his arms and run, hiding him in the cellars beneath the feast-hall's kitchens. They had stayed there together, Haelan trying to control his shaking limbs, Tahir staring at the trapdoor, one hand permanently fixed to his sword hilt. It had felt like days before Gramm had opened the door and told them the warriors were gone. That had been over four moons ago.\n\nThe courtyard was heaving with activity. A score of warriors were climbing into saddles, horses stamping and blowing. Wulf, Gramm's eldest son, shouted a call and led them clattering towards the gates. Haelan jumped out of their way, aiming for the shadows, trying to hide from Wulf's eyes– the warrior had scolded him more than once for shirking his duties around the hold.\n\nHaelan put his head down and ran across the courtyard, heading for the timber yard, which was situated in the far north of the settlement, beside the river. He sprinted along the edge of the feast-hall, pausing for breath as he crested the hill the hold was built upon. His eyes were drawn eastwards, towards Forn Forest, the river disappearing into the endless expanse of trees that consumed the horizon. Closer on the river Haelan saw line after line of felled timber bobbing in the water, like the body of some half-submerged creature, the current and long barges speeding it towards the hold." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "An open gateway in the hold's wall led to the river, and to the stone bridge that spanned it, remnant and reminder of the giants that dwelt here once. Haelan saw figures moving on the bank amongst the moored craft. He glimpsed Swain, Wulf's boy, the closest thing to a friend that he'd ever known. Back at Dun Kellen he'd had playmates, but there was always a divide between the future heir and future subjects. I am still heir of Isiltir, but here that does not seem so important. Sometimes he struggled to remember his mam and da's faces.\n\nSwain was the natural leader of those who were not old enough for the Rowan Field, and from Haelan's first day at the hold had looked out for him.\n\nHaelan ran down the hill, through the gates onto the riverbank.\n\n\"There you are,\" a voice boomed, old Kalf beckoning to him, as barrel-chested as the boats he tended.\n\n\"You're late, but better late'n never, so here you go,\" Kalf said as he handed Haelan a mallet and a bucket, Haelan wrinkling his nose at the hemp and pine-tar inside. \"Get cracking, then, before the day's over. '\n\nHaelan found a barge without workers and began. He knew what to do now, having performed the same task everyday for the last ten-night. Gramm's hold had grown wealthy on timber from Forn Forest, and most of it was transported down the river, great floating rafts of it tied and pulled by barges. Over a dozen of those barges had been dragged from the river and now hung suspended on timber frames in various stages of repair. All of their hulls needed caulking with the pitch in Haelan's bucket." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I can do this now. Haelan felt a flush of pride as he banged tarred fibres into gaps between the timber strakes of a barge's hull, the pine-tar sticking to everything. He managed to get most of the tar in the right place, unlike his first day, when his wastefulness had earned him more than one clump around the back of his head by Kalf. He'd felt ashamed and useless, until Swain had taken pity on him and shown him how to scoop and spread the pitch without losing half of it to the ground. Now with something resembling competence he scooped, spread, hammered and repeated, kept going until his arms were aching.\n\n\"You're getting better at that, \"a voice said close by. Swain appeared with a bucket of his own, his younger sister Sif and a scruffy dog at his heels.\"I'll help you finish up.\"\n\n\"I'll help too, ' his sister said.\n\n\"No,\" Swain said firmly. \"Last time you tried you ended up with more tar on you than the boat. You looked like a river-wraith. Mam had to cut your hair and Da nearly killed me. You sit there and play with Pots.\"\n\nSwain was half a year away from entering the Rowan Field, his limbs looking too long for his body, wiry muscles stretched upon his frame. He was all energy and ideas, always coming up with ways to brighten each day, whether it was leading stealthy night-time excursions to catch river rats or organizing raids on the kitchen ovens. Tahir had caught Haelan more than once as he was sneaking after Swain and a dozen others– You can't go, Tahir had said, it's too dangerous– but lately either Haelan had perfected his skulking skills or Tahir had decided to turn a blind eye to the adventures." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Swain climbed the scaffolding to work on the parts of the hull that Haelan couldn't reach; working together they made quick progress along the barge. The sounds of Sif giggling drifted around them as she played with the dog, a wiry ball of white fur that took a willing part in Swain's adventures, sniffing out pies that had been hidden in the kitchens or rooting out rats' nests along the riverbank. All of a sudden the dog abandoned Sif and began jumping at the scaffolding below Swain, trying to bite his dangling mallet.\n\n\"Stop it, Pots,\" Swain ordered.\n\n\"Why do you call him Pots?\"\n\n\"He was born in a cook pot in the kitchen, him and six others. And he kept going back after the litter was grown and given out. Maybe that's why he's so good at finding the pies.\" Swain grinned conspiratorially as he climbed down from the scaffolding. He crouched low, beckoning Haelan closer, and pulled something from a pouch at his belt.\n\n\"Here's some of the last pie Pots found, keep us going till highsun. ' He passed some to Haelan and Sif, then threw the rest to the dog, who swallowed it without chewing.\n\n\"Thank you,\" Haelan mumbled over pie-crust. He gave his last bit to Pots and scratched him behind an ear.\n\n\"Well, it's a family business, looking after you. \"Swain winked at him.\"You mean Orgull. He was your uncle? Your da's brother,\" he said, steering his thoughts away from his mam and Dun Kellen.\n\n\"Aye. He left here along time ago, joined the Gadrai in Forn Forest after killing a giant from the north.\" Swain's hand dropped to a hatchet hanging from a loop at his belt, running a thumb along its edge.\"He gave me this, when he left. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was a perfect, smaller copy of the throwing axes Haelan saw the warriors of Gramm's hold carrying.\n\n\"What was he like?\" Swain asked him, something other than his usual confidence in his face.\n\nHaelan shrugged. \"Big.\"\n\nSwain laughed. \"I remember that. He used to throw me around like Pots with a rat. Do you remember anything else?\"\n\nHaelan thought hard. This obviously meant a lotto Swain, and Haelan was grateful to him for many things since he'd arrived here, not least the piece of pie he'd just gulped down.\n\n\"Tears,\" he said at last. \"Tahir wept as we left Orgull and the other one. They were good friends, is my guess.\" He knew there was a tale there, of sword-brothers. Part of him wanted to know more, another part shying away from anything that reminded him of the circumstances in which his mam died. He looked at Swain, saw a desire for more, a need to know. \"I'll ask Tahir about him. '\n\nSwain patted Haelan's shoulder and gave him a weak smile.\n\nA murmur of sound drifted over to them, growing quickly. Haelan saw a dozen or so lads and lasses gathered in a huddle down by the riverbank. He and Swain hurried over, Sif trailing after them.\n\nIt was Trigg, holding a willow-trap high.\n\nThe half-breed.\n\nTrigg was of an age to Swain, but she stood ahead taller than him, her face broad and angular, limbs long and muscular. Her mam and da had been part of Gramm's hold, and part of an expedition that had rowed up the river into Forn. They hadn't returned. The barges they'd used had eventually been found, half-sunk in the river, signs of battle on the vessels, but nobodies." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A year later Trigg's mam had staggered back into the hold from across the bridge that led into the Desolation. Her belly was swollen with child and she was half-mad, babbling about being made slave to the Jotun giants.\n\nTrigg had been born, her mam dying in the act of giving birth, so the hold had raised Trigg, not one person taking heron, but many of them. Now she was just part of the hold, although Swain and the others behaved differently around her. Nothing they said, but Haelan could see a wariness in the way Trigg was treated, like an unbroken colt. As if she were dangerous. Haelan had only spoken to Trigg fleetingly, the tall girl always standing on the edges, when she was around at all. She disappeared for long lengths of time, Swain told him that she travelled into Forn. What for he didn't say.\n\n\"What've you caught? ' Swain asked, pushing through the crowd.\n\n\"Biggest rat you've ever seen, ' Trigg grinned, hefting the basket. Whatever was in it was heavy, as even Trigg was straining to hold it high. As Haelan watched the basket bucked and rocked.\n\nAnd angry.\n\n\"It was in the river, after the salmon.\"\n\nSwain peered through the willow slats and whistled. \"I've caught bigger, ' he said, winking at Haelan.\n\n\"I don't believe that, \"Trigg said flatly, no anger in her tone, no insult, just a statement of a fact as she saw it. Pots was yapping at Swain's feet, jumping up at the basket. \"Looks like your ratter wants ago. How about a wager?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Haelan had seen Pots sniff out and kill a score of rats down by the river, and he was good at it, quick and deadly, the rats always dead within heartbeats.\n\n\"No,\" Sif said. She tugged at Swain's hand.\"Don't do it,\" she said.\n\nSwain peered back into the basket and frowned. \"Old Kalf'll catch us, then we'll be scrubbing these barges till midwinter.\"\n\n\"There's an empty barn over there. \"Trigg smiled, sensing a victory over Swain.\"Are you scared for your pup? '\n\nSwain snorted. \"What's the wager, then? '\n\n\"My knife for your axe.\"\n\n\"No chance.\"\n\n\"Don't have much faith in your dog, do you? '\n\nSwain was silent a moment, then he nodded and they were all rushing to one of the timber barns. Ashe hurried with the others, Haelan glanced across the river. Beyond a strip of green vegetation the land to the north quickly changed, turning into a wasteland, barren and pitted, punctuated by a scattered range of mountains receding into the distance. The Desolation, it was called, a peninsula of land where the Scourging had raged hottest, so Tahir had told him. The battleground where Asroth and Elyon's hosts had met, the Ben-Elim and the Kadoshim. The land was still scarred and broken from the outpouring of Elyon's wrath, a place of rock and dust, of ruins and bottomless chasms. Haelan often looked out at the northlands, imagining the clash of angels and demons filling the landscape. He shivered. Now only giants were supposed to roam the wasteland, occasionally raiding across the river on their great bears. A huge war-hammer and a bear pelt hung in the feast-hall to remind Haelan that the giants and their bears were more than just tales." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Once inside the barn Swain and Trigg threw together a circle from hay bales while others started shouting wagers." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Haelan was holding Pots.\n\n\"Kill it quick,\" he whispered in Pots' ear; the dog gave his face a quick lick.\n\nSwain came and took Pots, holding him by the scruff of the neck as Trigg placed the willow basket on the far side of the makeshift ring. Pots growled, his hackles standing, and Trigg opened the basket.\n\nSomething black and sinuous leaped out, a collective gasp issuing from the small crowd. It was a rat, but bigger than any that Haelan had ever seen before. From snout to tail it must be as long as my arm. Yellow incisors gleamed in a malevolent face, thick bristly hair coating its body, and suddenly Haelan was scared for Pots.\n\nPots was surging towards it, all fur and snarls.\n\nThe rat didn't try to run, it just bunched up, then leaped.\n\nThey collided with a meaty thump, Pots twisting, trying to get his jaws at the rat's neck. They rolled on the dusty ground, teeth snapping, spittle flying, then parted, skidding indifferent directions, Pots\" feet scrabbling for purchase.\n\nThe rat found its balance first, darted forwards, and the two animals were a swirling mass again. Abruptly there was blood spattering the ground, an animal whine. Haelan closed his eyes, scared, saw a memory of blood flying in a dark tunnel and quickly opened his eyes again. The fighting animals crashed against a hay bale. Haelan saw the rat's jaws clamped around Pots\" shoulder, the dog squirming frantically, teeth snapping, head twisting as he tried to get to the rat.\n\nPots shook violently; the rat flew off with a ripping sound, bouncing off of a hay bale." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The two animals stood staring atone another, Pots holding a front paw in the air, blood pulsing from a ragged gash in his shoulder.\n\nHe's going to die, Haelan thought, knowing Pots killed with speed. That was gone now.\n\n\"Help him,\" he whispered to Swain.\n\n\"I can't, ' Swain said, looking on in shock.\n\nSif buried her face in Swain's breeches.\n\nThe rat approached Pots, slower this time, nose twitching. Pots lunged forward, teeth snapping and stumbled, the rat leaping aside, then it was on Pots'back, teeth gouging, Pots crying out, high-pitched. Haelan screwed his eyes shut, clenched his fists, trying to blot out the sound. Memories surged, Pots\" screams becoming deeper, morphing into something else, something worse; the sound of men dying in a dark tunnel, blood flowing. He grabbed his head, fingers squeezing, trying to stop the sound, but Pots' cries of pain filtered through everything. Distantly he realized he was moving, a hand grabbing at him, but he shook it off, voices shouting at him, then his arm was rising and falling, faster and faster, warm liquid spraying his face, in his mouth, blurring his vision.\n\nThen silence; only the heaving of his breath, a dog whining.\n\nHe wiped blood from his eyes, saw Swain's hatchet in his hand, slick with blood. The rat was a twitching mess on the floor, hacked into savage ruin, intestines spilling about Haelan's feet. Pots had crawled away, watching him.\n\nHe looked up, around the ring, saw faces staring back at him, mouths open. Sif was crying." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Not fair,\" Trigg said. \"My rat was winning.\" Swain stepped into the ring and picked Pots up.\n\nHaelan felt tears bloom, leaving tracks through the blood on his cheeks. His shoulders started to shake.\n\n\"Come on,\" Swain said, putting an arm around Haelan. Sif came and took his hand.\n\n\"Look at my rat,\" Trigg said, frowning. \"I would have won. You put him up to it.\"\n\nSwain stopped and turned, then took the hatchet from Haelan's grip and threw it at Trigg's feet.\n\n\"Your prize,\" Swain said.\n\n\"No, you can't, \"Haelan blurted.\"Orgull gave it to you. '\n\n\"That is fair,\" Trigg said. \"I'd have won it anyway. ' She stooped and picked up the weapon, wiping its shaft clean on a hay bale.\n\nA horn call echoed through the barn, all of them looking to the entrance. Swain strode away.\n\nThey stood outside, the horn call ringing out again.\n\n\"What's that about? ' Haelan asked.\n\n\"Look,\" Swain said, pointing north, across the river towards the Desolation.\n\nHaelan stared, frowning. In the distance a cloud hovered low over the land.\n\n\"What's that? ' Haelan asked.\n\n\"Dust. Look to the land beneath it,\" Swain replied.\n\nAt first Haelan saw nothing, then he caught movement. Aline of riders emerged from the wasteland, approaching Gramm's hold, metal glinting in the sunlight." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Ulfilas felt a wave of relief fill him as he saw the river come into view, a dark, shimmering vein winding across the land. Beyond it was Isiltir. And goodbye to this pox-ridden land of ash and stone. And giants. And bears.\n\n\"It is always good to return home, after along journey,\" King Jael said to him as they cantered down a gentle slope, the hooves of two hundred mounted warriors raising a cloud of dust behind them.\n\n\"Aye, my King.\"\n\n\"And a successful one,\" Jael added, quieter this time.\n\nThe meeting with the Jotun had gone well enough. No one had died, and King Jael's spirits had seemed much improved on the return journey. Ildaer, the Jotun's warlord, had appeared most impressed with the gift of ancient weapons that Jael had given him. Impressed enough to hunt down a runaway princeling, though? Ulfilas wasn't so sure about that. And he couldn't shake the sense of wrongness about the situation. Giants were the enemy, as they had always been, for time without end. Ulfilas had grown to manhood beneath the shadow of Forn Forest, where the threat of giant raids had been very real– admittedly the Hunen, a different giant clan from the Jotun but giants were giants, warlike, savage and not to be trusted. So making deals with them was just wrong.\n\nBut who am Ito judge? These are strange days...\n\n\"What's wrong? ' Jael asked him.\n\n\"I was thinking on the wisdom of making alliances with giants,\" Ulfilas said.\n\n\"A polite way of saying I'm a fool, ' Jael replied. He smiled, but there was a sharpness in his features, no warmth in his smile." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Never, my King.\"\n\n\"I hate giants,\" Jael said. \"And wish every giant clan dead, have dreamed that since the Hunen slaughtered my mam and da, burned out my home.\" He paused, the flare of his nostrils giving away a measure of his anger. \"But I wish to be king more.\"\n\n\"The greater good, then,\" Ulfilas said.\n\n\"My greater good, at least,\" Jael said with a grin. \"And who knows, my dream may yet come true. We have seen the Hunen of Forn broken, destroyed. That is one less giant clan. But I need the Jotun.\"\n\n\"Do you think they'll find the child? ' Ulfilas asked Jael.\n\n\"Maybe–\" Jael shrugged– \"if he has reached this far. He maybe dead. He maybe alive and still in Isiltir, hiding in some woodsman's shed. Many would help him, out of misguided loyalty to a dead king. Or he may have escaped north into the Desolation. I do not know, but I will not rest until I see his dead body at my feet. While Haelan is out there, alive or dead, there is a challenge tome. He is a rallying point for every naysayer. He must die, and be seen to be dead by all. '\n\nWarbands had been set to scouring Isiltir, circling ever wider after the fall of Dun Kellen. Ulfilas guessed that Jael was probably correct when he said that Haelan was already dead. Probably lying in a ditch somewhere, food for crows.\n\n\"We'll find him, ' Ulfilas muttered.\n\n\"Aye, we will. Us or the Jotun. Little travels through the Desolation without their knowledge.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I believe that. Ulfilas glanced back at the hills they were finally riding out of. At the edge of his vision, far beyond the column of Jael's shieldmen, there was a flicker of movement, a shape outlined against the horizon fora moment. It looked like a bear.\n\nMaking sure we leave their lands.\n\nHe turned his eyes forwards. To the east the bulk of Forn Forest loomed, dark and brooding. The river was closer now, dark shapes of boats appearing upon it. To the south-east was abridge, beyond it a hill with a timber hall at its crest, a palisaded wall circling it. Buildings sprawled down the slope, almost right to the river's banks.\n\n\"A desolate and dangerous place fora hold,\" Jael remarked.\n\n\"Aye. Who would be mad enough to build here? Forn Forest to the east, the Desolation to the north.\"\n\nDag the huntsman dropped back to join them. \"That is Gramm's hold. He's been here a good long while: twenty, twenty-five years.\" Dag had a set of scars down one side of his face that stretched from skull to jaw, looking like the raking of claws. Part of one ear was missing and the hair on that side of his head only grew in patches.\n\n\"Has he, now?\" Jael said. \"Perhaps he needs reminding who really is king.\"\n\nHooves clattered on stone as the warband crossed the bridge, the river's dark waters clogged with dressed timber, cut and ready to be shipped downstream. Faces peered over the palisaded wall as Jael and his shieldmen cantered onto a road that skirted the wall, taking them past the usual array of boats beached for repair, smokehouses, tanners\" yards and grain barns, eventually bringing them around to the southern approach to the hold. Ulfilas noted the glint of sunshine on iron along the wall. Ten armed men, at least." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Advance the plot as the writer's tale assistant.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, demons\nAuthor: John Gwynne\nTitle: Ruin\nChapter: 33" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He fell in with a great splash, the marsh somewhere between water and mud. It was thick, black, and it stank. He thrashed his way closer to where he thought Sniffer had been, with each move sinking deeper. He reached down, arms feeling like they were pushing through porridge, felt something solid brush his fingertips.\n\nFur?\n\nHe hesitated fora moment, thought about pulling himself backup onto solid ground, but the thought of Sniffer, scared and drowning, filled his mind. He took a deep breath and let the bog take him, digging his way down, doing everything that his da had told him not to do in this situation. With each move of his arms and his legs he felt the bog suck him down, deeper and deeper. His lungs started to hurt, and still he went deeper. He could hear his pulse pounding in his head, his heart thumping in his chest. His lungs burned now, and still he went deeper. Then he felt it, something solid; fur and flesh. He wrapped one arm around it, felt his fingers dig into a thicker level of mud, scrape along something hard and cold. Instinctively he gripped onto it with his fingertips, pulled his arm tight about the hound's body, with his other hand pulling on the rope stretched taut above him.\n\nHe didn't move. Panic surged through him, combined with the screaming in his lungs into an overwhelming urge to open his mouth and breathe. By an immense act of will he didn't, instead just kept pulling on the rope.\n\nHe moved. Just a fraction at first, then more, half an arm's length. The hound was a huge weight, anchoring him down, and he was tempted to let go. No. Not now, not after this. He reached higher up the rope, pulled again, this time moving easier, pulled again and now he was moving through honey, not tar. He pulled again and his head burst out of the bog, his mouth opening to suck in a huge lung-full of air. He pulled again, dragged the limp weight of the hound clear, onto his shoulder, started heaving himself towards the bank." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Scratcher was going berserk on the bank, leaping, barking and howling at them.\n\nRafe crawled onto solid ground, the body of Sniffer flopping beside him. He realized he was gripping something in his other hand, a handle attached to something caked in mud. He dropped it on the ground, ran his hands over Sniffer, Scratcher licking the hound, pushing him with his muzzle.\n\nThe hound wasn't breathing; viscous mud clogged his nostrils, dripping from its mouth.\n\nNo! Rafe put his ear to the hound's deep chest. Nothing. Hot tears came to his eyes and he shook the dog. Its head lolled drunkenly.\n\n\"No!\" he yelled and slammed his fists onto the dog's chest. Again, and again.\n\nSuddenly the hound jerked, started choking, legs kicking, coughing up great clumps of black earth. Scratcher leaped about them both, barking and licking.\n\n\"Good boy,\" Rafe said as he flopped down beside Sniffer, draping one arm over him. Sniffer lifted his head and looked at Rafe. \"Good boy,\" Rafe said. \"Good boy.\"\n\nSniffer licked his face.\n\nRafe trudged wearily through the gates of Dun Taras, headed for his room, a barrack that he shared with a score of other warriors. People were staring at him.\n\nCan't blame them, I suppose. He was quite a sight, the mud of the bog drying black, caking him from head to foot. He'd tried to wash, but it didn't seem to want to come off. Sniffer was the same, grey fur spiked with dried mud. He didn't seem to care, though." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Why did I do that? I'm a bloody idiot, could have got myself killed. My da would've given me such a hiding.\n\nAshe approached the keep he saw a familiar face sitting on the steps of a fountain. Braith.\n\nHe was much recovered from his wound, just a slight stoop to his shoulder that gave away the weakness where the muscle had been cut.\n\n\"What in the Otherworld happened to you?\" Braith asked him as he approached. Rafe thought about telling the truth, but then thought better of it. Risking death to pull a hound out of a bog. He'll think I'm touched.\n\n\"I fell in a bog,\" he said. \"Scratcher pulled me out.\" A good lie is best mingled with the truth, my da always told me. He sat next to Braith, dropping his bag at his feet. It clunked and he remembered the box he'd pulled out of the bog. It had been locked so he'd put it in his bag, thought he'd have a look at it later.\n\n\"How're you feeling? ' he asked Braith. He liked the woodsman, respected his skill in the wild. And there was something about Braith; when you spoke he made you feel that he listened. Really listened, as if you mattered.\n\n\"Well enough,\" Braith said. \"My legs aren't what they were, yet. That's why I'm sitting here; had to stop fora breather. \"His mouth twisted in a rueful smile.\"But nothing a few good meals won't change. Don't think my aim'll ever be as good, though.\" He rolled his shoulder and grimaced. \"Something I'd like to thank Camlin in person for. '\n\nRafe nodded. He had a few scores of his own that he'd like to settle." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A noise rose up beyond the archway to the keep, a crowd gathered. Many were marching through the gates.\n\n\"What's that all about? ' Rafe asked.\n\n\"Rhin's making an announcement at sunset, \"Braith said. He glanced up at the sky and stood.\"Lend me your shoulder and let's go and see what she has to say.\"\n\nRhin was standing at the top of a dozen steps before the gates to the keep. She looked regal and imposing in her sable cloak edged in rich embroidery, a torc about her neck and golden thread wound through her silver hair. Conall stood one side of her, glowering at the crowd, Geraint the other. Rafe saw Veradis standing lower down, on a level with the crowd, but apart. A dozen or so of his eagle-guard were with him, looking fine in polished cuirasses of black and silver.\n\n\"I'm not one for grand speeches so I'll make this quick,\" Rhin began, the crowd quietening almost instantly. \"There are unsavoury forces at work in this realm that are determined to stay rooted in the past, and in the process cause me some irritation. The past is not always good, by the way. In the case of Domhain the past involved a senile, lecherous old King and his selfish bitch of a young whore wife.\"\n\nMutters rippled around the crowd, some laughter as well.\n\n\"I like to say things as I see them– something you will no doubt become accustomed to. Anyway, this unsavoury element that I speak of amongst you: it has come to my attention that they are keen for Halion ben Eremon to sit upon the throne of Domhain. Now, you already have Conall, the brother, and a very fine King he is proving himself to be, too. So why be so greedy?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Some more laughter.\n\n\"You malcontents out there will have to make do with Conall, for two reasons. First, because, in case you have forgotten, I have conquered Domhain. Defeated its warbands, seen your King take his life rather than face me, and so I get to choose who I put on your throne. That's the victor's right.\n\n\"Secondly. Halion will be unable to sit upon your throne, because as of this time on the morrow, his head will no longer be connected to his body.\"\n\nThere were gasps at that, some widespread muttering, and still some laughter. Conall took a step back, eyes wide, but he quickly composed himself.\n\n\"Think that was as much news for Conall as it was the rest of us,\" Braith said in Rafe's ear.\n\n\"That's all I have to say, ' Rhin said and disappeared into the shadows of the keep. Conall stood there a moment, head bowed, then he strode after her.\n\nThe crowd dispersed slowly. Rafe decided it was time to find somewhere to wash the mud from his body, when a warrior of Cambren pushed through the crowd and called to Braith.\n\n\"Queen Rhin wants to see you,\" the warrior said.\n\n\"Come with me,\" Braith said, bending to massage a leg.\n\nRafe shrugged, though he didn't much like the thought of being too close to Rhin. She scared him. They followed the warrior and he escorted them into the keep.\n\nRhin was waiting beside afire-pit, shadows rippling across her face. She raised an eyebrow when she saw Rafe.\n\n\"Legs are still a bit weak under me,\" Braith said byway of explanation." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Are you well enough fora long journey?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Rhin said to Braith, no preamble.\n\n\"I am,\" Braith said. \"Long as I'm sitting on a horse, not walking. How far? '\n\n\"To Ardan. Tracking. Hunting.\"\n\n\"I could do with some help.\"\n\nRhin looked at Rafe. \"You're a huntsman, I believe. ' She looked him up and down.\n\n\"I... I am,\" Rafe stuttered.\n\n\"Good. There's your help, then, Braith. '\n\n\"What would you have me do?\" Braith asked.\n\n\"Come ready to my chambers tonight, seventh candle. And be ready for the road.\"\n\nRafe followed Braith hesitantly into Rhin's chamber. It was late, the only light coming from a low-burning fire and a candle or two dotted around the room.\n\n\"Sit,\" Rhin said, waving them to two chairs pulled close about the fire. She poured them both a cup of wine and then reclined, her eyes shining in the firelight. Shadows clung to the deep grooves of her face.\n\nShe looks exhausted, worse than normal.\n\n\"What is the mission, my Queen?\" Braith said.\n\n\"Ahh, Braith. My faithful Braith. You have served me well. I'm glad you didn't die on a cold beach in Domhain.\"\n\n\"I'll drink to that, ' Braith said as he raised his cup.\n\n\"As to your mission. Well, it is based solely on a prediction, at the moment. It may not happen. Though I am usually right. If there is one thing I know well it is the hearts of men. But I will not speak of it yet. We must wait, and see if my suspicion is founded.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I'll just drink some more of this fine wine, then, ' Braith said.\n\n\"As long as you are able to ride, you can drink all you like,\" Rhin smiled.\n\nRafe took a sip and settled back into his chair. Fora while he listened to the low murmur of Braith and Rhin's conversation, but in time his eyes drooped.\n\nHe came awake with a start. Rhin and Braith were still in their chairs, though they were no longer talking. They were looking at the fire. Rafe stared too, and as he watched, fresh flames curled up, wood crackling, a spark spitting out onto the stone floor.\n\n\"What-\" Rafe began.\n\n\"Quiet,\" Rhin snapped.\n\nA figure formed in the fire, like the thread of a tapestry being sewn upon a fabric of flame. Slowly it became clearer: a figure sitting upon a stone floor, a chain of iron about its wrists.\n\nThe figure spoke, a crackle of flame. \"What do you want?\" Then Rafe recognized him.\n\nHalion.\n\nWitchcraft. Rafe felt his body prickle with goose-bumps. He wanted to getup and run, as far and fast as he could, but his feet seemed to be frozen, his arms pinned to the leather chair he was sitting in.\n\nAnother figure appeared, moving quickly. It bent over Halion, then the shackles were falling away, clanging on the stone.\n\n\"What are you doing?\" Halion asked.\n\n\"Get up,\" the other figure said, a man, his back to the flames.\n\n\"I don't understand, ' Halion muttered.\n\n\"Rhin's had enough of you being alive. She's putting your head on a spike, on the morrow.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Thought that would suit you. You've made your choices, ' Halion said.\n\n\"Don't be a fool, Hal. \"The figure held out his arm for Halion.\"You're my brother. I can't see that done to you. '\n\nConall.\n\n\"So what is this, then?\"\n\n\"It's an escape, you idiot– what did you think? \"Rafe could almost seethe grin on Conall's face.\n\nHalion gripped Conall's arm and stood slowly.\n\n\"Come with me,\" Halion said.\n\n\"No. I don't want to see you dead, but that doesn't mean I want to go back to life on the run, in a saddle. And besides, I don't like those whom you serve. '\n\n\"The feeling's mutual there, ' Halion said.\n\n\"So, I'll take you to the tunnel in the stables, give you a horse. You're on your own from there. Where you go is your business– and don't tell me, I don't want to know.\"\n\n\"But Rhin'll have your head for this. '\n\n\"She'll never know. '\n\nRhin snorted at that.\n\nThen they were moving, disappearing from the flames.\n\nSilence settled in the room. Rafe stared at the fire. The flames died down, shrinking back to glowing embers.\n\n\"How did you do that?\" Rafe whispered.\n\n\"You don't really want to know, \"Rhin said.\"Suffice to say that it involved the freshly flayed skin of an enemy and some blood. Actually a lot of blood. It wasn't easy. But then, if it was, everybody would be doing it, wouldn't they. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Rafe swallowed, feeling his gut churn." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Wish I'd never asked.\n\n\"Never did trust that Conall.\" Braith muttered.\n\n\"No. It's a shame, ' Rhin sighed.\n\n\"Did you know he would do this?\"\n\n\"I suspected.\"\n\n\"So will it be Conall's head on a spike alongside Halion's on the morrow?\"\n\n\"No. Not yet, at least. I need him for the moment. I have to go– pressing needs elsewhere, and I really don't like it here. So I'll let him think he's deceived me, leave him to rule Domhain fora while, see whether he can tame the dissenters. He may just get himself killed, of course, which will save me a job in the long run. \"She shrugged.\"I can't worry about everything.\"\n\n\"Better get moving,\" Braith said. \"Else Halion'll getaway. '\n\n\"I want him to getaway. And you're going to follow him. \"Rhin said with a slow smile.\"All the way to Edana. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Maquin crawled through the long grass, breathing in the scent of meadow flowers. Abruptly the grass parted and a wide plain dissected by a forked river opened up in front of him. We're going to get wet. Again.\n\nThe grass rustled behind him and Fidele crawled up.\n\n\"It's big, ' she said.\n\n\"Aye.\"\n\n\"I have ridden past it many times, and it never looked so daunting before.\"\n\n\"That's because you and your honour guard could ride across abridge that wasn't guarded by Vin Thalun then.\"\n\nBeyond the river a forest followed the skyline into the east.\n\n\"That is the forest Sarva, and beyond it is Ripa.\"\n\nRipa. Our destination, and safety, according to Fidele.\n\nAnd now we are nearly there. Just a river and a forest to cross.\n\nThey had been travelling for over two moons now, shadowing the main river most of the way from Jerolin. After the hounds and the jump into a river they had been carried a few leagues south. They'd hauled themselves out, shivering, battered and bruised but still alive, and gone to ground, hiding in a cave fora ten-night as they let the Vin Thalun pass them by. Since then they had avoided all pursuit, though they had glimpsed Vin Thalun corsairs patrolling the great river that flowed from Jerolin to Ripa.\n\nMaquin scanned the plain below them. There was no bridge crossing the river, but he spied a ford. Movement on the river drew Maquin's attention.\n\nIt was a ship's prow, oars rising and dipping.\n\nHe recognized it as a Vin Thalun war-galley. He had spent enough time breaking his back rowing one all the way from Isiltir to the island of Panos. Ashe watched his hands itched, the memory of pulling at an oar triggering a host of feelings and memories. All of them unpleasant." }, { "from": "human", "value": "The Vin Thalun galley reached the ford in the river, a gangplank appearing and men swarming down it." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Some carried great lengths of timber, half a dozen stripped trunks and spare masts. With an efficiency that Maquin grudgingly respected they set about portage of the ship across the ford, placing the lengths of timber in front of the ship's prow, at the same time ropes were hurled down for men to haul the ship over the masts, warriors running to the stern of the ship to collect the timber as it rolled over it and carry it back to the prow, repeating the process until the ship was back in the water on the northern side of the ford. Then they boarded the ship and set to rowing again.\n\nThe sun was low in the sky when the Vin Thalun galley disappeared over the horizon, heading north-west.\n\n\"They are going to Jerolin,\" Fidele said.\n\n\"Most likely. And we're going to Ripa. Come, let's go get our feet wet.\"\n\nMaquin watched Fidele as she skinned a rabbit, the first rays of dawn dappling her skin through the canopy above. Her cuts were economical and precise, first gutting the dead animal, dumping the offal in the river, keeping the heart and liver, slicing a neat line all along the underbelly, then ripping the skin free in a series of fluid tugs.\n\nShe's not useless now. Not that I thought she was before. Stubborn, pig-headed, maybe, but not useless. Over their time together Maquin had learned a quiet respect for her. She was a lady of rank and clearly not capable of surviving in the wild– well, not when I met her– but to her credit she had refused just to rely upon him. She asked more questions than an inquisitive bairn, and slowly built up a set of skills that would look after any woodsman in the wild." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The rabbit was skinned and quartered now. She pierced each piece on along knife and set it over their small fire, a luxury Maquin would not normally have agreed to, but they were half a day from Ripa now. Fidele was focusing on turning her makeshift spit, face set in lines of concentration so as not to burn any of the meat. The last two moons had taken their toll on her. She was pale, her face gaunt, dark shadows beneath her eyes, streaks of grey in her otherwise jet hair. Yet something else had changed about her. When Maquin had led her from the arena at Jerolin there had been a rage within her, something cold and hard. Brittle. Over their journey that had changed, gradually melting away. She was relaxed in the wild, appearing more comfortable than Maquin had ever witnessed her in Jerolin.\n\nAnd now I have taken her almost to safety, to Ripa. The first promise that I have not broken in along time. He felt something at that thought, a warmth deep in his chest. The satisfaction of a task completed. I'd forgotten what it is to feel... good. To have honour.\n\nAnd he felt something else, an echo of his life before Lykos and slavery, before Jael's betrayal and Kastell's death, when life had been more than just a consuming need for vengeance or survival. She has reminded me what it is like to be a man, not just a trained killer. That feels good, too.\n\nShe looked up at him, perhaps feeling his eyes upon her.\n\n\"What?\" she said, a smile warming her face.\n\n\"Nothing,\" he muttered and looked away.\n\nThey stepped out of the forest; the road and river left a gaping hole amongst the trees that reminded Maquin of the dark entrance to the catacombs beneath Haldis. Ripa appeared before them: a stone tower on a high hill overlooking the sea. It was guarded by a stout wooden fortress, a town of wood and thatch spilling from the hill's slopes and down into a bay. Columns of smoke rose up into the sky. The river curled languidly towards the sea through a plain of tall grass, the smell of salt and sound of gulls in the air." }, { "from": "human", "value": "They walked on the road, which was built upon an embankment, beside them fields of tall grass swaying in a strong breeze." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Maquin felt exposed and self-conscious now that they were out in the open. Vulnerable. Been in the wild too long.\n\nAs they followed the road from the forest that led to Ripa something nagged Maquin.\n\nWhere are the people? The children?\n\n\"Something's wrong, ' Maquin said.\n\nAs they crested a slight rise they saw what. Black-sailed ships dotted the bay– lots of them.\n\nA blockade. Maquin stopped walking, pointed to the bay. Fidele stared, her brow creased with worry.\n\n\"That smoke doesn't look right, ' she said.\n\nShe was right. Even as Maquin watched thick black columns of smoke appeared, close to the harbour.\n\nRipa is under attack.\n\n\"We should get back to the forest,\" Maquin said.\n\nThey turned, hurrying back. Before they'd gone a dozen strides a shape appeared in the darkness that enveloped the river's entrance to the forest. A sharp prow emerged like a spear bursting through a body. A lean hull, low to the water, oars rising and falling inconstant rhythm.\n\nMaquin grabbed Fidele and dragged her down the embankment into the long grass that edged the road. Once undercover Fidele pulled Maquin to a halt.\n\n\"I must see,\" she hissed at him.\n\n\"We should leave, getaway,\" he said, all his instincts screaming to run, to survive.\n\n\"Go where? There is nowhere else to go. This is the only safe place.\" There was a tremor in her voice.\n\nShe thought her running was over, that she was safe.\n\nHe allowed her to lead him to the edge of the grass. They peered out, saw the Vin Thalun galley sail past them, sleek and fluid, others emerging from the darkness of the forest. They were close enough to see faces on the first galley's deck, Vin Thalun warriors gathered there, staring at Ripa. Maquin's eyes were drawn to one– dark-haired, an oiled beard. Maquin knew him just by the way he stood." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lykos.\n\nFidele's hand gripped his forearm, nails digging in as she hissed. She took a step forwards, one hand reaching for the knife at her belt. Maquin grabbed her and dragged her back, the grass around them swaying. A cry of alarm went up from the galley's deck. He risked a glance back, saw Lykos staring hard. Lykos shouted an order and the galley swerved towards the bank. The oars were pulling out of the water, being drawn back through the oar-holes. A gangplank appeared, warriors crowding behind it.\n\nMaquin looked to the forest, then up to Ripa on the hill. In the forest we'll be hunted. In the fortress we'll be trapped.\n\nFidele made the decision for him. She bolted away from him, through the long grass towards Ripa.\n\nMaquin caught up with Fidele. He could hear the sound of pursuit, feet drumming on the road, the change in sound as they hit the long grass. It was hard going, the grass weaving about them as they powered through it. All Maquin could hear was his own breathing, the sound of their passage as the grass rustled and swayed. He risked a glance back, to his horror saw Vin Thalun running along the road, tracking them. And they were gaining.\n\nGot to do something.\n\nHe grabbed Fidele and burst out of the grass and dragged her up the embankment to the road, shoved her forward, yelled for her to keep running as he turned, pulling a knife from his belt. A score of Vin Thalun were pounding up the road towards him– forty paces away, thirty– galleys alongside him flowing down the river, and to his right the long grass was rippling in the wake of those who had followed them. He flipped the knife in his hand and threw it at a warrior on the road. The man swerved and the blade punched into his shoulder instead of his neck. \"Old Wolf,\" he heard someone call out from the river as he turned and ran, other voices taking up the cry. He didn't stop to look." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He caught up with Fidele and together they hurtled along the road, buildings streaming past them. Sounds of battle drifted on the breeze from the bay, clouds of black smoke billowing across the road.\n\n\"Hold your breath,\" Maquin grunted as Fidele slowed before the thick smoke. He sucked in a deep breath, grabbed her hand and plunged in. A dozen heartbeats and there was no change, his eyes stinging, forty heartbeats and he could feel the veins pounding in his head, felt like his heart was thumping out of his chest. Fifty heartbeats and the smoke thinned, and then suddenly they were through it. Fidele staggered into him, coughing, her eyes streaming.\n\n\"Can't stop, ' he rasped. Blurred images fought on the road ahead. He turned to his left, pulling Fidele into a huddle of buildings, led her through a twisting maze of alleys and paths. Eventually Maquin stopped, leaning against a wall. Fidele collapsed to her knees, chest rising and falling violently as she struggled for breath. Maquin realized he was still clutching a knife in one hand.\n\n\"Got to keep moving,\" he muttered. He glanced up, saw the tower of Ripa looming above them.\n\n\"One hard climb and we're there, ' he said. Dragging Fidele to her feet they stumbled on, turning a corner and almost falling into a running battle, Vin Thalun trading blows with warriors of Ripa in the black and silver of Tenebral. The Vin Thalun were fewer in numbers, but more were emerging from the streets and alleys all the time. Maquin looked up the hill, saw that the gates of a tall wooden wall that ringed the tower were open– people streaming through them." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "These men are the rearguard, buying time for the people of Ripa to reach safety.\n\n\"Up the hill,\" Maquin yelled at Fidele over the din of battle. Together they ran, swerving around combat, over bodies. Two men crashed in front of them, punching, kicking, stabbing. Fidele hurdled them and stumbled on, but a hand grabbed Maquin as he leaped over them. He crashed to the ground, rolled to his feet, brandishing his knife. A Vin Thalun was climbing from the ground, short sword blooded and buckler still in his hands. Maquin didn't wait for him to find his balance and lunged forward with his knife, at the same time drawing another. His first blade scraped along the Vin Thalun's buckler, his second slicing low, beneath the rim of a battered cuirass. Blood and a tangle of intestines gushed out of the wound. Maquin kicked the screaming man over and turned back to Fidele a dozen paces ahead. He waved heron, sprinting after her.\n\nThe men of Ripa were trying to form a wall against the Vin Thalun, but there were too many, more surging up the hill, others flowing out of side streets, flanking the beleaguered rearguard.\n\nThey have no chance.\n\nThen Vin Thalun were spilling into the road above them, two score at least, more appearing, blocking the road and falling on the men of Ripa.\n\nFidele looked at him despairingly.\n\nThere was noway back. The side streets were swarming with Vin Thalun, and besides, running that way would only delay the inevitable.\n\nThe tower gates were still open, a hundred paces up the road." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Only chance is to get through those gates.\n\nHe stared at Fidele a moment, the worry etched upon her features, moments from their journey flashing through his mind. Strangely, he found himself smiling, remembering snippets of conversation and silence.\n\nI think you're worth dying for. He knew making the gates was unlikely– just too many Vin Thalun in the way, and more arriving by the heartbeat.\n\nDeath is only ever a moment away.\n\n\"What now?\" Fidele asked.\n\nI carve us away to those gates, or die trying.\n\n\"Stay behind me,\" he grunted, stepping in front of her.\n\nThe first men saw him too late, his knives bringing sudden death upon them. Ina dozen heartbeats three Vin Thalun were dead, another slumped upon the ground, bleeding out from a deep gash in his groin.\n\nMaquin pressed forward, felt Fidele behind him, knew she would have her knife in her hand.\n\nThe Vin Thalun saw him coming now, a handful moving on him together, spreading into a half-circle.\n\nDon't give them time. He knew from the pits that to hesitate against many was to die. With a snarl he swept forwards and to the left, one knife high, the other low, cutting, blocking, slicing, always moving. Time slowed, each heartbeat a lifetime. He felt cuts appear on his arms, his thighs, thin lines of pain burning like flame as his attackers managed to get past his guard. He stabbed, hands slick with blood. A blow high on his back staggered him and he fell to one knee, rolled forwards from it, a sword slicing a handspan from his face. He had no idea where Fidele was now. Could only hope that she was still close. He kept stabbing, every face he saw superimposed with the features of Lykos or Jael. He killed them both, countless times, a feral grin on his face. One of his knives stuck between ribs, was ripped out of his hand as his victim fell away. He pulled another blade from his boot, powered on, blood splattering his face, blurring his vision, the taste of iron in his mouth. Someone grabbed his arm; he spun on a heel, sliced a hamstring, the man falling, still clutching him, pulling him down. A blow crunched into his gut, low, above his right hip, felt like a punch. He snapped an elbow into a face, heard cartilage snap, took a step forwards and suddenly he was falling, his right leg numb, the ground rushing up to him, his head slamming onto the blood-slick ground, his knives skittering away. He pushed at the ground, tried to rise, but his legs weren't working properly; he just managed to roll onto his back. He sucked in air, the sky a bright blue above him. Numbness pulsed out from the blow to his gut. He reached there, fingers coming away dark with blood." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Is this death? He felt no pain, just weariness settling upon him like a heavy cloak, his limbs suddenly filled with lead.\n\nA face loomed over him, blotting out the sky, a Vin Thalun beard thick with iron rings, face twisted in a snarl, iron glinting. He thought about moving, fingers twitching to find one of his knives, but it was all too much effort. Then the face was falling away, Fidele replacing it. She dropped to her knees, shook him, face contorted with fear.\n\n\"Run, you idiot,\" he said, though he wasn't sure how loud he said it, or even if the words had passed his lips at all.\n\nHands gripped his head, Fidele lifting him onto her lap. Tears stained her cheeks, dropped onto his face. He tasted the salt on his lips. Her fingers brushed at his hair, wiped blood from his eyes. Her mouth was moving, her voice filling his head, but he couldn't distinguish the words.\n\n\"It's all right, ' he tried to say. His eyes fluttered closed.\n\n\"Live, damn you!\" she screamed at him, a fist pounding his chest. His eyes snapped open. He heard that.\n\nI'm trying, but it's not as easy as you'd think. In truth just staying focused on her face was proving difficult; a dark nimbus formed around the periphery of his vision, the urge to close his eyes overwhelming. So tired.\n\nA noise grew, filling his head: pounding, rhythmic, growing louder. Hooves? Shadows were all around him now, a flash of hooves stamping. Arms reached down and grabbed Fidele, pulling her away and his head thumped onto the earth.\n\nShe fought them, shouting, reaching out, pointing at him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Then hands were gripping him, lifting him high. Anew face appeared, a man, thick black beard on a weathered face. He grinned, which Maquin thought was strange at a time like this.\n\n\"Welcome to Ripa,\" the face said, and then the darkness surged in and Maquin knew no more." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lykos stood on deck and stared up at the tower of Ripa. Gulls circled and screeched and absently Lykos spied a sea-eagle, sailing the currents high above the flocks of gulls.\n\nHe is like me. Striking without warning. But I did not strike quickly enough. The tower still stands, its walls and gates closed against me.\n\nHe tried to focus on strategy, on finding away to end this, but his mind kept looping back to Maquin and Fidele. Fora moment he had not believed his own eyes, not believed that his fortune could be quite so good. Two moons he had waited for word of their capture, had become increasingly frustrated with every passing day. Eventually word reached him that their trail had been found, only for them to disappear again. And then, nothing.\n\nUntil today, when he saw them staring straight at him from a sea of undulating grass.\n\nAnd again they have escaped me.\n\n\"Your boat is ready,\" a voice behind him said. Kolai, his shieldman. Lykos had hand-picked another dozen men, a mixture of pit-fighters and corsairs, more than he had ever felt the need for before. But a knife in the back had convinced him of his mortality. Better too many than too few.\n\nLykos made his way across the ship's deck and swung nimbly over the side, climbed down a rope net into a rowing boat bobbing on the swell. The wound in his back was as good as healed, though he could sense a weakness there, an ache when he exerted himself. His twelve shieldmen were already in the boat, half of them sitting at the oars. Each one of them had a grapple hook and rope wound about one shoulder. Kolai dropped into the boat behind him and they set off, cutting across the bay to the harbour." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They skirted the burning galleys of Ripa, larger, heavier and slower than any Vin Thalun galley. Lykos smiled at the sight, knowing how many ships the Ripa fleet had cost him while defending their coastline against Vin Thalun raiders before the pact with Nathair and Aquilus. It was very satisfying.\n\nThey moored the boat and climbed stone steps to the harbour. A group of Vin Thalun was standing on a pier, a hundred men, maybe more. Lykos walked up to one who stood before them, black-haired, beard oiled and clinking with iron like any self-respecting Vin Thalun. A scar ran from the corner of his mouth to his left ear.\n\n\"Demos, it is good to see you, you old pirate.\" Demos was the closest thing to a friend that Lykos had. He had no interest in politicking, or in power, just lived for the thrill of riding the waves, of hunting on the deep blue. He was a shark, a predator, and a friend.\n\n\"Less of the old,\" Demos grinned, \"I'm younger than you. \"He held Lykos by the shoulders and stared at him.\"Being a lord is taking its toll, I think. '\n\n\"Aye. That and being stabbed in the back,\" Lykos said grimly.\n\n\"Think you can do this?\" Lykos asked him, looking at the cliffs that Ripa's tower was built upon.\n\n\"Only one way to find out,\" Demos grinned.\n\n\"I'll go and draw their eyes, ' Lykos said. They gripped forearms and then Demos was jumping into along rowing boat, one of five that were moored beside the pier." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lykos strode into the town. He did not rush. Dead littered the streets, warriors of Ripa stripped of anything useful– weapons, armour, boots, cloaks. Vin Thalun gathered about him as he passed through the town, until a few hundred were massed at his back. Ashe climbed the hill to the tower he looked back out over the bay.\n\nVin Thalun galleys filled it, at least a score used in this strike on Ripa. Most had sailed around the coast and blocked the bay, burning the ships that were moored in Ripa's harbour. An attacking force had landed as Lykos had sailed his own men down the river, another ten shallow-draughted galleys. Fifteen hundred swords, and another thousand crew on the ships, reserves if need be. His sources told him that old Lamar had no more than eleven hundred men at his disposal, and judging by the corpses on the street a good few of them wouldn't be lifting a sword against him.\n\nSo I have the manpower to finish this. Lykos felt a worm of worry burrowing through his belly. He was overstretched and he knew it. He'd sent a fleet north-west at Calidus\" request: fifty ships, including a score of transporters for horses and wains, all under the command of Alazon. Calidus had not expressly ordered Lykos to sail with the fleet, although he knew it had been presumed. But for Lykos only one thing dominated his mind, filling it, which was why he was here now.\n\nFidele. He had never felt like this about a woman before, always took what he wanted, with rarely a second thought. No doubt he had enough bastards scattered about the Three Islands to one day crew a galley. But Fidele was different. She's the only one who's stabbed me, fora start. He chuckled to himself, Kolai glancing at him. I will have her back." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Besides, this rebellion needed to be crushed before it spread." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Peritus is in Ripa and so he has Lamar's backing, and Lamar commands the largest warband in Tenebral after my own.\n\nAnd he did not want Calidus finding out what level this rebellion had escalated to, at least not until after Lykos had dealt with it.\n\nThe road steepened and he saw the tower looming above him, black gates closed before it. The walls bristled with men andiron. No matter. A fortress is only as strong as its weakest man. Bodies were thicker upon the ground now, and to his annoyance Lykos saw a number of Vin Thalun faces amongst the dead. He paused again, turning; his position gave a fine view of the surrounding countryside. To the north and west the forest of Sarva stretched, a green, undulating ocean of bough and leaf. In its fringes a hill reared, broken walls and towers jagged on the horizon. Balara, the giant ruin. He had been there only yester-eve, making sure that his secret was guarded and safe.\n\nNot so secret now, since Fidele and Maquin saw them. He had considered sending his giants back to Pelset, but decided in the end that keeping them close was the safest answer. He faced the tower and gates, stepped over the last of the dead that clogged the road and walked on a dozen paces, stopping within hailing distance of the barred gates.\n\n\"Close enough fora good spear throw from their wall,\" Kolai observed.\n\nLykos shrugged. He was more careful since his injury, but somethings smacked of cowardice, and he had not become Lord of the Vin Thalun by being a coward. Or by being cautious.\n\nHe gave his orders and shortly a few warriors returned carrying a wooden table and a chair. They positioned it in the road before Lykos. He sat, theatrically nonchalant as bread and cheese were placed before him, a cup of wine. He began to eat. Men were led before him now, warriors of Ripa roped together. With kicks and punches they were forced to their knees on the road before Lykos." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Kill them,\" Lykos said, crumbs of cheese spilling from his mouth. He washed it down with wine as the prisoners' throats were cut.\n\nThe row of warriors upon the wall watched it all in stony-eyed silence.\n\n\"Should have their attention now,\" Lykos said as he stood and the table was carried away. He belched.\n\n\"You up there,\" he shouted. \"Anyone worth talking to?\"\n\nHis voice rebounded from the black walls.\n\n\"I don't expect someone my equal– no deities amongst you, I would guess. But Lamar, maybe even Krelis, or Peritus the cowering worm, of course. Any of you will do. '\n\n\"I'm going to enjoy killing you, ' a voice called back, a large man appearing above the gate. Very large, towering at least ahead over any others around him. Lykos recognized him. Hated him.\n\n\"Well met, Krelis,\" Lykos called back. \"A beautiful day, no?\" Krelis was Ripa's beating warrior-heart. He had led the shipbuilding and then defence of the bay and coastline surrounding Ripa. His ships had not been as sleek and deadly at sea as Lykos\" own galleys, but they were big enough and fast enough to consistently spoil Vin Thalun raids on villages along the coast.\n\n\"It'll be a better day when your head no longer graces your shoulders. '\n\nLykos pulled a face. \"A little too aggressive a start fora peace talk, I think.\"\n\n\"This is no peace talk. Look what you've done to my town. '\n\nAs if to prove Krelis' point, black smoke billowed across the road, obscuring the view fora few moments." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Wine,\" Lykos called, and Kolai passed him a skin." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He drank deep and smacked his lips.\n\nWhen the smoke cleared, Lykos spread his arms.\n\n\"There is nothing damaged that cannot be repaired. I needed to make a point.\"\n\n\"And how will I repair my slain warriors? My murdered people?\" Lykos could hear the hatred in Krelis' voice, barely contained.\n\nGood. Anger is always the best enemy. It blinds, cloaks, distorts.\n\n\"You are harbouring an enemy of the realm. Peritus. He is guilty of treason. Murder. Inciting rebellion.\" Lykos shook his head, tutting. \"To protect such as he, well, there are consequences.\"\n\n\"You are not the law-giver in Tenebral. You area pirate, usurping power. And Peritus is battlechief of Tenebral, a better man than you could ever hope to be.\"\n\n\"He is an outlaw, stripped of his titles and sentenced to death by Fidele, Regent of Tenebral in Nathair's absence. And incidentally my wife, by the way. '\n\n\"She is not your wife.\"\n\n\"I think she is. I was there. Any who says different is a liar.\"\n\n\"She says different,\" Krelis called out.\n\nLykos froze at that. She is in there, then. He felt something cold clench in his belly. \"Will you give Peritus up tome?\"\n\n\"I will not,\" Krelis said.\n\n\"Is he brave enough to talk tome? Or will he continue to hide behind you, his puppet?\"\n\n\"Krelis is no puppet,\" a voice called out, older.\n\nAh, Peritus; good. I did not think you would keep yourself from this." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"So, you have found someone stupid enough to take you in,\" Lykos called. \"And I cannot help but notice that you are all scared to meet me in combat, else you would not be hiding behind your walls.\" He was starting to enjoy this now. \"What say you, Peritus? Care to test your blade against mine?\"\n\n\"I'd like nothing more, \"Peritus called down.\"But I do not trust you– I've tasted your justice and hospitality before, remember. I think if I came out to fight you that your shieldmen would fall upon me. You area liar, a man of no honour.\"\n\n\"I am hurt,\" Lykos said, putting a hand to his heart. \"Well then, it would appear we have a problem to resolve. How would you suggest we go about that?\"\n\n\"Nothing springs to mind,\" Peritus called back. \"This is the end for you now, Lykos. To openly attack Lamar– you have made a mistake, after your years of schemes and lies, to be so impulsive at the end. I thought you a more worthy adversary. The other lords of Tenebral will act now. Your farce of a marriage will aid you not one bit.\"\n\n\"It was no farce,\" Lykos screamed, spittle flying, venting a sudden rush of rage. He was taken aback by it and had to take a few moments to control his breathing and wait for the red mist to fade a little. He plays meat my own game.\n\n\"We have only to wait here, let word spread,\" Peritus continued. \"That tower behind me is dug deep into the rock, has huge supplies of grain, freshwater. If your plan is to starve us out you'll be waiting a very longtime. You could always try to take us by storm. Please do. That way we may still get to test each other's blades. I think I'd win. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "So confident. I'll cut the smile from his face. He has a point, though. I can't afford along siege, even beyond the fact that I hate waiting.\n\nShouting drifted from beyond the tower walls, the clash of arms somewhere behind it. Movement rippled through the warriors above the gates, sudden and startled.\n\nGood job then that I have a plan of my own. He drew his sword and charged forwards, a thousand Vin Thalun roaring as they followed behind him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Fidele splashed water on her face, then dipped her hands into the bowl before her. The water turned pink. Events since her rescue by Krelis were a blur.\n\nIna seeming hurricane of movement she had been swept through the gates and into a hard-packed courtyard, hands lifting her from a horse's back to others that checked her for wounds, half-dragging her up wooden steps into a feast-hall, through it into the giant's tower. She remembered cold stone beneath her feet. Eventually she had pulled herself from the gripping hands and demanded to see Maquin.\n\nIt turned out they were being taken to the same place. A series of rooms on a lower level of the tower that were being used as an infirmary for the injured from the town.\n\nWell, she was wounded– a score of cuts and bruises allover her body– but nothing serious. Maquin, however, was a different matter. He had been stabbed, slashed, kicked. A memory filled her mind– him striding forward into the massed Vin Thalun, carving his way through them like some untouchable demon, always moving, always striking. She had seen the blow that felled him, seen him kill the attacker– his body failing as even then he tried to force a path for her to the tower– saw him collapse. She'd killed the Vin Thalun standing over him, recalled the sensation with a shudder: she had plunged her knife into him, punching through leather into the body beneath. Twice, now, I have killed in Maquin's defence. Her hands shook as she put them back into the bowl, scrubbing at them with a hard-bristled brush.\n\n\"Will he live?\" she asked as she turned away from the bowl. Maquin lay upon a cot in a stone room with whitewalls. A row of large windows were open, shutters flung wide, letting in streaming sunshine and a strong breeze that diluted the cloying scent of blood and sweat. Other beds filled the room, the injured or dying groaning as they were tended by a score or so of healers. Tables were being carried in, more injured stretched out upon them." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A man was bent over Maquin, white-haired and thin. Alben was the swordsmaster of Ripa and, ironically, one of its most skilled healers.\n\n\"A man can die of many wounds,\" he murmured. Maquin was still unconscious, his breathing shallow. Alben cutaway the prone warrior's leather vest and linen shirt, revealing a dark wound above his hip. It pulsed blood rhythmically, with every beat of Maquin's heart. Alben probed it, fingers pushing around the wound. Maquin stirred and groaned.\n\n\"Knife or sword?\" Alben asked.\n\n\"What?\" Fidele asked, eyes still fixed on Maquin's face.\n\n\"What made this wound– knife or sword? It will tell me how deep the wound is.\"\n\n\"Knife, I think. I'm not sure, it was so quick. '\n\n\"Hmm.\" He reached out to a rack of tools, pulled out a metal rod with a flatiron head and placed it alongside other similar tools heating in afire that burned in a wide pot. He left it there awhile, gathering what he needed. A salve that smelt of honey, some leaves, gut twine, a curved needle, a roll of linen bandages. He placed them all on a table beside Maquin, then went back to the iron rod, checked its end.\n\n\"Hold his legs,\" Alben ordered one of the healers.\n\n\"I'll do it, ' Fidele said, stepping forward.\n\n\"He may kick out, my lady.\"\n\n\"Alben, this man has saved my life many, many times; he has kept me alive for two moons, brought me through the wild, slain Vin Thalun hunting parties against all odds. All for someone that he could have walked away from.\" She was going to say more but the words died on her tongue. \"This is the least I can do.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Alben studied her a moment, then nodded." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Hold them like so,\" he said, demonstrating for her.\n\nShe gripped his ankles and leaned all her weight upon them. Alben asked an attendant to hold Maquin's shoulders while he rinsed the wound. There was so much blood Fidele wondered how Maquin could survive– but he had to. Alben took another long look at the gaping cut, then pressed the heated iron head into the wound. Maquin's feet kicked, his body jerking, and he groaned. There was a hiss, the stench of cooking meat and Fidele felt her stomach lurch– she refused to look away. Alben pushed the rod a little deeper, then with a twist took it out, dropped it into a bowl of water. He cleaned up the wound, stitched it closed, then applied the honey-like salve and covered it over with a leaf. Finally he bandaged the wound.\n\n\"Thank you,\" Fidele said, feeling suddenly weary beyond measure.\n\n\"It's a gut wound, \"Alben said.\"If it's pierced his intestines, he will most likely die, in agony.\"\n\nShe felt something twist inside her, a cold fist clenching around her heart. No. Not after coming so far.\n\n\"If they are not cut then he may still die– fever and the like. I have seen people live, but only a handful out of hundreds. He may wake at anytime– there is seed of the poppy for his pain. No food, only water for the next day. Now, let me take a better look at you.\"\n\n\"I am fine, just scratches.\"\n\n\"They need to be cleaned. A scratch can still kill.\"\n\nA hand touched Fidele's shoulder and she spun around. At first she thought it was a patient, a sickly-looking man staring at her, pale with lank hair, his frame gaunt, almost withered." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"My lady,\" he said, his eyes touching her face.\n\nEktor, Lamar's son.\n\nWithout thinking she reached out and hugged him. He was a strange man, reserved and introverted, but Fidele had spent sometime with him the previous year, poring over manuscripts in his library buried deep in the tower's bowels, and she had come to see another side of him.\n\n\"It is good to see you, Ektor,\" she said as they separated. He was standing stiff and blinking.\n\n\"And you too, my lady,\" he managed. He looked around the room. \"My father, he is waiting for you in his chambers. You should go, now.\"\n\n\"Lady Fidele has been injured, Ektor. She will be along as soon as she has been cared for,\" Alben said, his hands guiding Fidele to an empty cot. \"If you could pass that onto your father, I'd be grateful. '\n\n\"Send a messenger, I'm busy, ' Ektor said, retreating.\n\n\"We'll talk, soon, ' Fidele said to Ektor, who nodded as he turned and left the room, disappearing into a corridor.\n\n\"That boy is always busy, in his mind,\" Alben remarked.\n\n\"A boy?\" Fidele smiled. Ektor was the youngest of Lamar's sons, around twenty summers.\n\n\"When you reach my age, my lady, all whose sleep is not interrupted by the need to empty their bladder are boys.\"\n\nFidele sat there as Alben checked over her wounds, a myriad of cuts and scratches, washed away some blood.\n\n\"Have you had word from your son, my lady?\" Alben asked as he cleansed her wounds." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"No.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "My son. Where are you, Nathair? She felt a knot of worry bloom every time that she thought of Nathair, which was everyday. Every night before sleep took her she whispered a prayer to Elyon for his safety. Lykos had hinted at terrible things...\n\n\"So no news of Veradis either, then,\" Alben said.\n\n\"Veradis. No,\" Fidele said. Fora moment she had had to concentrate to pull his face into memory. So much has happened since Nathair sailed away. \"In my last correspondence from Nathair...\" The letter that stripped me of my regency, my son replacing me with Lykos... \"Veradis was at Nathair's side, in Dun Carreg, Ardan. Elyon willing, they are still together. Veradis is the one man I trust with Nathair's life. He has been most faithful, a true friend to my son.\"\n\n\"He is a good boy,\" Alben said, a faint smile touching the corners of his mouth. \"I taught him his weapons.\"\n\n\"And taught them well.\"\n\nA groan drew Fidele's attention. Maquin was stirring on his cot. His fingers moved and his eyes flickered. They opened, searching. He made to sit up.\n\nAlben was there, holding his shoulders. \"No,\" he said.\n\nFidele squeezed Maquin's hand, leaning over him. Recognition swept his face and he relaxed.\n\n\"You're safe, \"Fidele said.\"Rest. '\n\nHis lips moved but only a whisper came out.\n\nShe leaned forward, putting her ear to his mouth.\n\n\"You area great deal of trouble, my lady,\" he whispered, then his eyes closed and his breathing steadied.\n\nShe jumped suddenly– aloud bang, a grating sound. She turned, saw a grapnel hooked about the edge of the window's stone sill. A rope dangled from it, disappearing over the sill's edge. A hand appeared, then ahead, shoulders, and in a heartbeat a Vin Thalun corsair was crouched on the wide sill, breathing hard. He drew a sword. All along the room grapple-hooks appeared in other windows." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Alben was the first to move, powering forwards, sword appearing in his hand. A flick of his wrist and it was buried in the Vin Thalun's throat. The warrior fell backwards with a gurgle, spinning into nowhere.\n\nScreams echoed through the hospice as more Vin Thalun appeared, leaping into the room, stabbing at healers and wounded alike.\n\n\"Out of here,\" Alben snapped at Fidele. Even as he said it another figure was appearing in the window behind him. Before Alben could turn the Vin Thalun was leaping forwards, crashing into the old swordsmaster, both of them tumbling to the ground. They came to a stop, the Vin Thalun on top of Alben, a knife in his hand.\n\nFidele grabbed one of the iron bars heating in the fire-bowl and rammed it into the corsair's face. He screamed, flesh sizzling as he rolled away from Fidele, from the pain, clutching at his face. Alben rose, sword flashing, and the Vin Thalun stopped screaming.\n\n\"Come on,\" Alben said as he gripped Fidele's shoulder, steering her to the door.\n\n\"Maquin,\" she breathed, pulling free and staggering back into the room.\n\nVin Thalun were everywhere, slaughtering those about them like wolves in a sheep pen. Maquin was still lying on his cot, though he had pushed himself up onto one elbow, sweat and pain staining his features. She reached him and wrapped an arm about his torso, helping him to stand.\n\nHe grunted with pain but got his feet under him.\n\n\"Thought you'd-\"His face twisted in a grimace.\"Gone. '\n\nThen Alben was there and they both had him, half-dragging him into the corridor. The sunlight failed to reach here, torches illuminating the hall in a sequence of light and shadow. Screams drifted down the corridor, echoing from other rooms. A figure crashed into them, sending them smashing into a wall. Alben's sword was at the man's chest before his panicked cries told them it was Ektor. A handful of Vin Thalun were just behind him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Run,\" Alben said as he stepped into the corridor. Ektor ran on, calling for them to follow. Fidele grunted under Maquin's weight as Alben stepped away on light feet, his arm straightening to skewer the first Vin Thalun. He kicked him back into his comrades, slashed across the eyes of one that avoided the dead man, and then the corridor was momentarily jammed with the dead.\n\n\"Alben,\" Fidele cried as she struggled down the corridor with Maquin's arm about her shoulders. Alben glanced back at her, hovered, clearly on the brink of decision, then sprinted after them.\n\nThey reached a staircase that spiralled both up and down. Alben began to lead them up but Ektor grabbed him.\n\n\"No, they are loose on the floors above us; listen.\"\n\nThe sound of combat, screams drifted down the stairwell.\n\n\"The Vin Thalun behind us will head up, to the gates,\" Ektor said. \"We should go down, to my chambers. They won't go that way. '\n\nAlben nodded sharply and they were running downwards, feet slapping on stone, sconced torches sending their shadows flickering on damp stonewalls. Fidele and Alben stopped Maquin from tumbling down the stairwell. Even so he was drenched with sweat and breathing hard when they reached Ektor's chamber.\n\n\"Torch,\" Ektor said to Alben, who reached up and took one from a wall sconce. Ektor rattled a key in a lock, threw the door open and ushered them in, closing it hastily and locking it again. The only light was from Alben's torch, but Ektor quickly used it to light a few lanterns, then he doused the torch in a bucket." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Can't be too careful, ' he said, gesturing into his chamber. Fidele remembered his fear of naked flame and the thousands of scrolls that were kept in this room.\n\nIt didn't seem to have changed from when Fidele had seen it last. The first half looked as if battle had raged through it: chairs overturned, bed sheets strewn on the floor, half-eaten trenchers of food left to rot. Beyond this wreckage was the library, a great curved stonewall with a thousand alcoves carved into it.\n\nShe helped Maquin into the chamber and he collapsed onto along table, rolling onto his back with a moan.\n\nEktor shrieked at Maquin and none too gently started pulling him upright.\n\n\"Ektor, he is injured,\" Fidele said, something in her tone giving Ektor pause. He looked at Maquin, saw the wound low in his belly. \"My maps,\" he said. \"He's crushing my maps. And he'll be more comfortable on my bed.\"\n\nFidele and Alben helped Maquin to a huge bed on one side of the chamber. Alben went back to the door and put his ear to it, listening for any sound of the Vin Thalun.\n\n\"You need to stop saving my skin,\" Maquin said to her through gritted teeth. \"This way I'm never going to be out of your debt. '\n\nYou saved me from something far worse than death. From a living hell. No matter how many times I save you from a knife through the heart you will never be in my debt.\n\n\"You need to learn how to keep out of the way of sharp iron, then.\"\n\nHe started to grin at that, but it shifted into a pained grimace." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Quiet,\" Alben hissed and they all froze.\n\nA hundred heartbeats went by; eventually Alben turned back to them.\n\n\"There were footsteps on the stairwell, but they have not come this way.\"\n\n\"How did they scale your walls?\" Fidele asked.\n\nAlben shrugged. \"It has never been done before. We area long way up from the bay.\"\n\n\"And what now?\" Fidele asked.\n\n\"We wait,\" Ektor said.\n\n\"For what, the Vin Thalun to overwhelm the tower?\" Fidele said.\n\n\"What would you suggest we do?\" Ektor snapped. \"You, no offence intended, are not exactly warrior-born. Your friend, on the other hand, looks as if he could carve his way to the Otherworld if he had a mind to.\" It did not sound like a compliment the way Ektor sneered as he said it. \"But he is clearly injured and unable to stand unaided, let alone fight. And the oldest swordsmaster in the Banished Lands.\" Alben scowled at that. \"And me.\" He smiled ruefully. \"Not the greatest band of heroes ever mustered.\"\n\n\"He's got a point, ' Maquin grunted.\n\nFidele thought about it. Togo charging into the unknown would be foolish. The thought of Vin Thalun out there, though, possibly taking the tower, opening its gates to Lykos. It was terrifying, all the more so for the not knowing.\n\nI will cut my own throat before I let him touch me again. She found herself pacing about the chamber, searching fora distraction. Ektor was tidying his table, a worried frown on his face. He seems more worried about his maps than the fact we're possibly being overrun by invaders." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I remember studying them with Ektor– how long ago was that? A year? Two?\n\nShe had spent along day in this chamber with Ektor, listening to his wealth of knowledge on the history of the Banished Lands, trying to unravel clues in the ancient writings of the giants. She had been unsettled by what they had discovered, rumours about the Ben-Elim and Kadoshim walking the earth clothed in bodies of flesh and blood. There was reference to the high king's counsellor being Kadoshim, a servant of Asroth. The question had been which high king? Aquilus or Nathair? Meical or Calidus? I think I know now, if Lykos\" association with Calidus is anything to go by.\n\n\"Did you ever find the answer?\" Fidele asked Ektor.\n\n\"Not exactly,\" he said quietly, as if guarding some great secret. \"But I narrowed it down to two conclusions.\"\n\n\"So did I,\" Fidele whispered.\n\nEktor nodded at her, smiling. \"You really show a great deal of potential, you know.\"\n\n\"Thank you,\" she murmured.\n\n\"Footsteps,\" Alben hissed, drawing his sword. Fidele pulled her knife from its sheath. The latch lifted, rattled as someone tried to open the door. A fist pounded on the thick oak, dust puffing from the hinges. Fidele felt a knot of fear squirm inside her. She gripped her knife tightly.\n\n\"Ektor,\" a voice shouted, \"are you in there, you pasty-faced bookworm?\"\n\nFidele's fear melted away. Only close kin can be so personal and insulting.\n\nAlben unbolted and opened the door, revealing the bulk of Krelis standing in the doorway, a dozen warriors filling the corridor behind him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Ektor came forward and glowered at his brother. \"You took your time.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Camlin stood in the shadows, leaning against a wall. They had rowed into the lake to a tower that protruded from the dark waters like a spear, disembarked and entered a huge round chamber, ivy growing up its walls and birds nesting in its eaves. Edana satin one of many chairs around along table, Baird stood a step behind. Pendathran was there, and Drust, the warrior who had brought them here, as well as Roisin and Lorcan.\n\nNews of Edana's arrival had spread through the camp like sunlight in a darkroom, people thronging to see her. She had happily wandered amongst them fora time, Baird and Vonn keeping a watchful eye over her.\n\nShe was not the only one to cause astir. Roisin seemed to have made a big impression, if the way Pendathran's eye kept settling upon her was anything to go by.\n\n\"An unusual place fora meeting,\" Edana said, looking around the room.\n\n\"Aye. Dun Crin is an unusual place altogether,\" Pendathran replied. \"A giant's fortress that stood in a valley, is my guess. The histories tell of the world changing shape after Elyon's Scourging.\" He shrugged, a rippling that made his chair creak. \"We'll never know how it came to be like this. But it is hidden well, and if discovered is defendable. Towers like this one are linked by old battlements that are easily defended by only a handful. And there is little chance of surprise out here when the only way across is swimming or a boat. '\n\n\"You have chosen admirably,\" Roisin said, \"A better-defensible place I could not imagine.\"\n\n\"Thank you, my lady,\" Pendathran said gruffly." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Help the author by continuing the tale.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, demons\nAuthor: John Gwynne\nTitle: Ruin\nChapter: 43" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Meical nodded, a sharp, controlled movement, and Corban let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding.\n\n\"To Ardan,\" Balur said, striding off on his trunk-like legs. Like a creature rousing from sleep the warband followed him.\n\n\"Dun Cadlas lies to the east,\" Balur said to Corban as they travelled through a green-sloped valley. \"It was Owain's fortress, his seat of power. Rhin will likely have a strong garrison there. '\n\n\"I thought the same,\" Corban said. So we need to avoid them. Coralen had already gone ahead with a score of scouts, Dath amongst them. Corban had asked her to search fora specific location for their evening campsite. She had scowled at him as she'd ridden away.\n\nDid she want to go to Drassil?\n\n\"We will loop wide around the fortress, then rejoin the old road– it is the fastest route to the border,\" Balur continued. He didn't usually offer information, speaking only when Corban asked questions of him.\n\nHooves drummed and Meical rode up beside them. He nodded at Corban but didn't say a word.\n\nThank Elyon for that.\n\nThe leagues passed quickly and soon after highsun Balur led them back to the giants' road that they had followed virtually all the way from Murias.\n\n\"Dun Cadlas is ten leagues behind us, the bridge into the Darkwood forty leagues ahead,\" Balur said. The road was in better repair now, and there were more travelling upon it. Ahead of them Corban saw shapes fleeing down the embankments and heading for cover as they thundered down the road. No one stayed on the road to challenge them. Frequently Corban looked up at the sky. Every time he found the winged shadow trailing them. He swore under his breath." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Amazingly they encountered no opposition throughout the entire day." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As the sun began to merge with the horizon they crested a ridge and Corban saw to the south an ocean of green boughs spreading across the landscape.\n\nThe Darkwood. It was still some distance away, most of a day's ride, the land between dotted with woodland and undulating meadow. To the west Corban saw hills rolling into mountain peaks. We will not make it today.\n\nA black dot appeared on the road ahead, quickly growing larger. Soon individual riders were visible– three of them, and a wolven loping beside them.\n\nCoralen.\n\nShe'd found a place for camp that suited Corban's request and led them to it, a patch of woodland upon the slopes of a gentle hill, a stream curling along its base. The sun painted the sky pink as they saw to their mounts and secured the area.\n\nWhile all were at their tasks Corban went to see Craf.\n\n\"Now, Craf,\" Corban said, and with a flapping of wings Craf took to the air. It wasn't elegant, the first time that Craf had become airborne since the death of Fech, but it was flying.\n\n\"Craf won't fly, ' the crow had said when Corban had sat and begun talking to him.\n\nHigher Craf spiralled now, at the edge of the trees, level with the first boughs, then higher, cresting them and bursting into open skies. He circled there a moment. Corban was sure that the bird was looking back down at them, at him.\n\nDon't ask him to do this, Brina had said. It's not fair. He's old, he's been through enough.\n\n\"He's going to comeback down, ' Corban said to no one in particular." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Craf didn't. He winged higher, angled his course to the north.\n\nI don't want to ask him, Corban had said. But I see no other choice.\n\nCorban put a hand above his eyes and peered into the sky, tracking Craf as he shrank to a black dot.\n\nWe are in a foreign land, enemies all about us. Coralen and our scouts have saved our hides a hundred times, but we need eyes in the sky.\n\nCraf passed out of sight and Corban slipped into the treeline, looked back to check that no one was left out in the open. Only Brina was still standing on the grassy slope, her face pale and anxious.\n\n\"Brina, come on,\" Corban called, holding his handout to her. She gave him afoul look but hurried under the cover of the trees, refusing to take his hand.\n\nCorban looked, saw Balur standing by a tree trunk to one side, another giant to Corban's left. The trees either side of him formed a kind of gateway into the woods. He looked behind, up at the tallest tree, saw Dath's boots dangling down from the highest branches. Dath had the best eyes in the whole warband.\n\n\"Anything?\" Corban called up to him.\n\n\"Nothing,\" Dath called back down.\n\nCorban swallowed.\n\n\"Craf won't do it, \"the crow had said.\" Craf scared. Too dangerous. Might die. '\n\n\"I know it is dangerous,\" Corban had said to Craf, \"but it is necessary. Please help us, Craf. Be brave and do it for us. And you will get first pickings of everything that Storm catches.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Everything?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Craf had asked.\n\n\"Aye, everything.\"\n\n\"First pickings, not last?\"\n\n\"Aye. You have my word.\"\n\nCraf had bobbed his head, thinking.\n\n\"First pickings no good if Craf dead,\" the bird had eventually croaked.\n\n\"You won't die, Craf. '\n\n\"Corban can't say that. False promise. '\n\n\"I don't think you'll die,\" Corban had corrected.\n\n\"Anything?\" Corban called up to Dath again now.\n\n\"N-... wait, I think I see something. Yes. He's coming. '\n\n\"Just Craf?\"\n\n\"No. The other one's after him. '\n\nCorban's heart rose into his throat. Brina edged closer to him. Corban wasn't sure if it was for comfort or so that she would be nearer to kill him if Craf got hurt. Heartbeats passed.\n\n\"Nearly here,\" Dath called down. \"The other one's almost on top of him. ' The creaking of branches signalled that Dath had started to climb down.\n\nIt was just as before, Craf setting off on a scouting mission, the hawk spotting him and swooping down from above, Craf dashing for the safety of the warband.\n\nPlease. Elyon, don't let it end like last time.\n\nCraf burst over the edge of the canopy, cutting tight to the trees and looping steeply down the slope. The hawk appeared, just moments behind, talons outstretched, wings tucked tight in a steep dive. Somehow Craf turned, a sharp bank in the air that brought his path around to face towards Corban beneath the trees. Wings flapping furiously, he powered towards Corban. The hawk turned too, with greater control and agility, hardly breaking pace." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Come on, Craf." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Corban willed himself not to move, prayed that no one else would. Craf was close to the first branches now, with a rush of beating wings passed under the first boughs, the hawk half a dozen heartbeats behind. Craf hurtled over Corban's head.\n\n\"Now!\" Corban yelled.\n\nBalur and the other giant tugged on the ropes they were holding, each one looped over a branch of the tree they were standing beneath. The same rope had lain slack upon the ground beneath the two trees. Now it shot into the air, pulling up beneath it half a hundred cloaks that Corban, Brina and Cywen had stitched together the previous night. This wall of cloaks appeared in the air so fast and sudden that it appeared to be magic, a sorcerous barrier between Craf and the hawk.\n\nWith a thud the hawk crashed into the cloaks, almost tore through them, its speed so great. The giants let goof their ropes and the huge tapestry of fabric tumbled to the ground, dragging the hawk with it. There was a powerful flapping of wings as the hawk tried to right itself. It spun in the air, wings beating furiously, scraped the ground and rolled. Fora moment it stood upon the ground, then its wings unfolded, beat once and it lifted off.\n\nAn arrow slammed into awing, spinning it, sending it crashing back to the ground. Corban glanced back, saw Dath reaching for another arrow. Coralen stood beside him, her own bow bent. Her arrow pierced the hawk's body, and another from Dath impaled the bird to the ground. It screeched, shuddering.\n\nThere was the sound of beating wings again. Craf glided down onto the dying hawk, pinning it with his talons. Even now the hawk's beak lashed out, trying to strike Craf, but there was no power and Craf brushed off the blow. He raised his head and struck down with his own beak, straight into the hawk's head. Again and again. When he stopped the hawk lay still." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"For Fech,\" Craf squawked, looking up, his beak dripping red.\n\n\"For Fech,\" Corban echoed.\n\nCheers rang out behind him.\n\nCorban walked into the trees, Storm at his side. Dimly he was aware of Jehar standing guard, a shadow too straight here, a movement there. He sat with his back to a tree, Storm curling at his feet. It had been good, taking Kartala out of the skies, and the relief that Craf had not been hurt was a physical thing. The whole warband had celebrated a little, as much as was possible whilst in the heartland of their enemy, anyway, and broken out the last few barrels of mead left from the battle in the north. Now, though, Corban had a headache and he just wanted to be alone fora while, away from the questions.\n\nFootsteps sounded, soft on the woodland litter. It was Meical. He sat beside Corban.\n\n\"To Ardan and Edana, then,\" Meical said to him.\n\nI thought I'd got away too lightly with it.\n\n\"Aye.\" Corban sucked in a deep breath. \"I mean you no insult, Meical. You have saved my life, snatched me from the throne room of Asroth, followed me through the wilds of the north, advised me, fought beside me. I could not have saved Cywen if not for you. I am more grateful to you than words can express. And you are Ben-Elim. But...\"\n\n\"Yes. I know, your heart tells you to keep your oath.\" He sighed, but some of the tension that Corban had seen in him that morning was no longer there.\n\n\"Yes,\" Corban said simply." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Meical had two cups in his hand and offered one to Corban.\n\nHe took it and sipped some mead.\n\n\"At first, I was angry with you,\" Meical said. \"But I have thought about it all this long day, and now I am merely annoyed, and anxious.\"\n\nCorban said nothing, just waited, a trick he'd learned from Brina.\n\n\"We have had a few disagreements since Murias, you and I,\" Meical continued. \"Elyon cut us from different fabric, I think– mankind and the Ben-Elim, I mean. Duty drives me, my duty to Elyon in his absence, unclouded by passion or emotion, whereas in you and your kind I see emotion lurking beneath each and every decision. Fuelling every decision.\" He rubbed his eyes. \"Whether that is good or bad, I know not, but that is the way Elyon made you, and so I must accept it. Sometimes that is not easy for me to do.\" He glanced at Corban, the flicker of a smile touching his lips.\n\nThis is the most human he has sounded since I met him.\n\n\"Thank you, for not disagreeing with me in front of them all,\" Corban said.\n\n\"What point me declaring that I will follow you if I won't? Or only when you do as I want you to do? Perhaps I have lessons to learn. \"He shrugged.\"I will follow you to Ardan, Corban. I wish we were going to Drassil, feel that our hope is best served by going there. But, I am not Elyon. I do not know all things. ' He shrugged and drank from his cup.\n\n\"Do you think we will win?\" Corban asked, voicing the thought that dominated most of his waking life." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Win? I don't know. I have laboured for more of your years than I can remember in preparation for these days, and many of my plans have come to nothing, or been thwarted by Asroth and Calidus, his servant. I thought I had sought out the best of men to fight Asroth and his Black Sun, from kings to ordinary men. But so many of them are now dead– Aquilus of Tenebral, Braster of Helveth, your own King Brenin. Many others. '\n\n\"Brenin knew you?\"\n\n\"Oh aye, he was one of the first to swear his oath tome. A good man, and he was one of the few that knew about you. Another one murdered by Asroth and Calidus\" schemes. '\n\nAll that time, as I grew up in his household, and this God-War was already happening.\n\n\"I dreamed of you, last night,\" Corban said.\n\n\"Of me,\" Meical said.\n\n\"Aye. In the Otherworld.\"\n\n\"You know that the Otherworld is no dream,\" Meical said, looking concerned now.\n\nCorban nodded.\n\n\"And what happened, in your dream?\"\n\n\"I was in a valley. It was beautiful, not like the Otherworld I remember; this had vast cliffs and waterfalls. You were there. I saw you, flying. You landed upon a high ridge, greeted your kin, and entered a cave.\"\n\nMeical frowned. \"This happened. I returned to the Otherworld last night. It is dangerous, even for me, but I longed fora moment of home, to speak to my kin.\"\n\nI can understand that.\n\n\"I wanted to follow you, but I was afraid, so I just, wandered...\" Corban tried to remember, but it was all blurred images now." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Meical grabbed his arm, the grip like iron. \"You must not do it again, do you understand? Asroth is looking for you there. If he finds you...\" Meical shook his head.\n\n\"I don't know how to make it stop. '\n\n\"Then promise me if you find yourself there again, that you will hide, do not move. Asroth's Kadoshim fly high, like the hawk you caught today. They will see you before you see them. And they are not the only dangers in the Otherworld. There are creatures, rogue spirits that would do you harm if they found you. '\n\n\"Rogue spirits?\"\n\n\"Aye. Kin that went their own way, would not side with Ben-Elim or Kadoshim. They took on new forms, a reflection of their spirits. Some have become... savage.\" He closed his eyes a moment. When he opened them he gripped Corban's wrist.\"Promise me that you will hide. '\n\n\"I promise,\" Corban said.\n\n\"Good,\" Meical muttered, calming a little.\n\n\"How is it that you and Calidus are here? Made flesh?\"\n\nMeical looked into his cup, swirled it around. \"It is part of the prophecy; one Ben-Elim, one Kadoshim. Part of Elyon's fairness, I suppose. Though Calidus hasn't entirely embraced that aspect.\" He barked a laugh, then sipped some more mead.\n\nThey satin silence awhile, then Meical sat straighter. \"So what I wanted to say to you is this: I have made mistakes, thinking they were the right thing to do, and been outwitted by my counterpart, more than once. So, perhaps doing something that I consider a mistake will turnout right.\" He smiled at Corban and drank some more mead." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I'll drink to that, ' Corban said and raised his cup.\n\nThey set out the next morning with the rising sun, though thick cloud made dawn a grey, shadow-filled place. There was an air of anticipation about them all.\n\nWe will reach the Darkwood today, if no one bars our way. And then Ardan.\n\nThey knew Uthandun was the test, the fortress built by Uthan, Owain's son, overlooking the stone bridge that crossed the river Afren, serving as the gateway to the Darkwood and Ardan beyond.\n\nIf word has travelled ahead of us, then Uthandun is where the resistance will be gathered. I pray that we have moved fast enough to outpace all news of us.\n\nHighsun came and went, with only a short break to rest and water horses. The road was becoming busier, traders with loaded wains, trappers with piles of skins, sometimes a family travelling to the market at Uthandun. All moved off of the road and sought to hide as the warband thundered past.\n\nThe sun sank lower.\n\nThey passed into a region of low-lying hills, to the south-east they occasionally glimpsed the Darkwood, bringing back a multitude of memories to Corban. Walking into a glade full of the dead, feeling a gut-wrenching fear for Cywen, discovering that she'd been captured along with Queen Alona and Edana, and finally the exhausting hunt through the night, deep into the heart of the Darkwood as Storm led them unerringly on the trail of the kidnappers.\n\nTukul's voice drew Corban's attention back to the world about him. A rider was galloping towards them. It was the Jehar Enkara." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Warriors of Rhin ahead,\" she said as she reached them." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"About a score– we let them through. They'll run when they see you, and Coralen will pick them off. '\n\nCorban nodded, felt a spike of worry for Coralen and the others.\n\nNothing to be done about it.\n\nFigures appeared on the road ahead. Warriors, by the glint of metal and the way they rode. No sooner had they become visible than they were turning and galloping back down the giants' road.\n\nCorban saw them stop, saw figures topple from horses– Dath and his bow– Jehar appearing from woodland on either side of the road as Storm surged into view, leaping upon a rider and dragging him and his mount crashing to the ground.\n\nCorban kicked Shield on, breaking from a canter to a gallop, the warband increasing their speed with him. Even so it was allover when they reached them. Storm greeted him, running up and circling about Shield. Her jaws were sticky with blood. Dead men and horses littered the road.\n\n\"Two got away,\" Coralen said when she saw him. \"I'm sorry. '\n\n\"How far are we from Uthandun?\" Corban asked.\n\n\"A few leagues,\" Coralen said.\n\n\"Then we're too close now for it to matter. '\n\nThey rode on.\n\nSoon after, they crested a low hill and suddenly the Darkwood lay spread before them, Uthandun a few leagues away, sitting upon a gentle hill before the forest. Corban reined Shield in, just satin his saddle and starred.\n\nThe meadows surrounding the fortress were filled with tents. Hundreds of them, men moving about like industrious ants. But that wasn't the worst of it. Corban's eyes were drawn to the river Afren, glistening between the meadow and the forest. It was full of ships with black sails." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Veradis stared out of a window high in Uthandun's keep. It was sunset, the day's last rays washing the land in golden hues. And in the distance, far along the curving line that was the giantsway, Veradis saw a dark smudge appear upon it. The smudge glittered with sunshine on iron, like a dirty jewel.\n\n\"How faraway are they?\" Veradis asked Rhin, who was standing at his shoulder.\n\n\"Three or four leagues.\" She looked sideways at him. \"Too faraway fora battle this night.\"\n\n\"And you are sure it is the Black Sun?\"\n\n\"Aye. Did Calidus not say so in his messages. That Meical and his puppet, this Corban, would be arriving at the gates of Uthandun within the next day or so.\"\n\n\"Aye, so you have told me, although I have not seen these messages,\" Veradis said, trying to keep the annoyance from his voice and not entirely sure that he had succeeded.\n\n\"Do you doubt me?\"\n\nNot now I don't.\n\n\"No, my lady. Of course not.\" He paused, straining his eyes to seethe gathering warband in the fading light. \"How many did Calidus say?\"\n\n\"Three hundred swords, or thereabouts.\"\n\n\"It looks to be more tome.\"\n\nRhin shrugged. \"Three hundred, four hundred, six hundred. It matters not. You have close to a thousand men. I have double that. We have our Vin Thalun friends on the river, another five hundred swords. And Calidus and Nathair are four days north of here, another thousand men. The Black Sun cannot win.\"\n\n\"They have giants and wolven.\"\n\nA remnant of the warband that Rhin had sent north had trickled into Uthandun over the last ten-night, a score of men. All of them told a similar tale– of magical mists, of giants and wolven and warriors silent and deadly." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"They do. Forgive me, but you sound... scared.\"\n\nVeradis bridled at that. Am I? Maybe a little, but not of them; only of failure.\n\n\"I have faced giants and magical mists before, wolven and worse,\" Veradis murmured, \"but I have been taught caution since then. Courage does not always equal victory.\"\n\n\"No, of course not.\"\n\n\"It feels almost too easy.\"\n\n\"More wars are won by errors of planning than great valour on the battlefield, or at least that has been my experience. Plan well. When it is time to strike, do it hard and fast.\"\n\nNever, ever, underestimate this woman.\n\n\"And think, the God-War could be won in a single day. A single battle.\"\n\n\"Indeed. How far did you say they are?\"\n\nRhin laughed. \"You cannot bring them to battle this night. By the time you reached them it would be full night. On the morrow...\"\n\n\"The morrow,\" Veradis said, the words falling from his lips like along-awaited promise. He could not suppress a smile. \"This is all that I have dreamed of, for so long now. To take to the field against the Black Sun.\"\n\n\"And to win, I hope,\" she said with a sidelong glance.\n\n\"Aye, and to win.\"\n\n\"Good. Then it would seem that your dream is about to come true.\"\n\nA smile spread across his face.\n\nThe sun disappeared behind hilltops, the sky turning to dark velvet as they stood in silence and watched. Campfires blinked into existence where the Black Sun's warband had been, undulating across afar slope like a cluster of stars." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"They may attempt to slip around us on the morrow,\" Veradis said, imagining being one of them, seeing his warband and the Vin Thalun ships arrayed before them.\n\n\"They might,\" Rhin said, \"and that would be a shame. Perhaps we should do something to ensure that battle is joined with the rising of the sun.\"\n\nVeradis marched along the hard stone of the giantsway. It was cold and dark, the heart of night wrapped tight all about him. There was no sign of Rhin's scouts that were apparently ranging ahead, fifty of them leaving the fortress ahead of him, a protective screen picking methodically over the ground for any sign of the enemy.\n\nI hope.\n\nThe tramp of his warband's feet on the giantsway behind did a good job of obscuring his hearing, the only sense that was of any use in this inky darkness. Nevertheless he strained his ears, trying to pick out sounds from ahead, not an easy task.\n\nThis was a mistake, he thought, not for the first time since leaving Uthandun's walls. Walking into an ambush was not a pleasant thought.\n\nIt had seemed like a wonderful idea when Rhin suggested it, full of deep cunning: a forced march before dawn, not seeking battle, but to be close enough to give the enemy a surprise and no room for retreat when the sun rose.\n\nNo room for escape.\n\nNow, though, all the dangers and potential disasters loomed tall in his mind.\n\nWhat if they can hear us coming and are flanking us even now? He glanced down at his feet, boots wrapped in lamb's wool, the same as every other warrior behind him. It made a remarkable difference; usually the tramp of two thousand warriors on a stone road would have been close to deafening. Still, they were not silent, and every sound seemed magnified in this darkness." }, { "from": "human", "value": "We will still win." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Cannot lose. Too much is riding on this. And we are meant to win. This is not just another battle, it is the fate of the world. He shifted the shield on his arm, shrugged the weight of his chainmail shirt, loosened his sword in its scabbard and kept marching.\n\nIt had taken them almost three moons to journey from Dun Taras in Domhain all the long way to Uthandun, travelling through three realms. Rhin had paused along the way, gathering warriors, sending others off to enforce her new sovereignty upon her newborn realm. They had reached Uthandun a ten-night ago, Veradis putting the time at camp to good use. His eagle-guard had drilled hard everyday, working on horn signals from the back to signal front-line switches, or flank-strengthening and a myriad of other manoeuvres, working on the weaknesses of the shield wall, not that there were many. And Veradis' excitement and anxiety had grown daily in equal measure as Rhin reported to him of messages that she had received from Calidus.\n\nThey are close, so close. It will be good to see Nathair again. And he has been successful, captured the cauldron, one of the Seven Treasures. He must be overjoyed. Veradis had felt a worry lift from his shoulders that he had not realized was there.\n\nIt is only a shame that Nathair will not be hereto witness the defeat of the Black Sun. He will be disappointed at that.\n\nSomething drew his attention, a flicker in the corner of his eye, just fora moment. A bone-grey blur. His senses strained as he stared into the darkness.\n\nNothing. He looked back over his shoulder as he continued marching, could make out an embankment that dropped steeply away from the road, but beyond that he saw nothing to confirm that his eyes had seen anything more than a trick of starlight. He marched on, the distant campfires of the enemy growing as they got nearer." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Dawn was a sliver of light in the east, the land a uniform grey, punctuated with deep, impenetrable pools of shadow." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Muffled hooves drummed behind him; even they had been bound with fur. Rhin drew up before him, Geraint riding at her side.\n\n\"It is time,\" she said, her eyes wide and bright with excitement. He felt the same, a night's march doing little to dampen his enthusiasm for the coming battle.\n\n\"Proceed as we planned,\" Rhin said to him, then leaned in her saddle, reached down and stroked his cheek. \"We'll soon toast our victory over a cup of wine. '\n\nHe shivered, and not in anticipation. He knew that Rhin had a thing for younger men and he had no idea how he'd be able to reject her and live. She pulled on her reins and was gone before his mouth could work. His cheek felt hot where she'd touched him.\n\nGeraint lingered a moment. \"Keep your head down,\" the older warrior said, then he was riding away too, back down the road to Rhin's warband– close to two thousand swords spreading wide behind him, a mix of mounted men and foot soldiers.\n\nThis is it, Veradis thought, emotion swelling within him.\n\n\"Give the signal,\" he said, and a warrior blew on a horn, two crisp notes. Before they had faded his eagle-guard was spilling from the road, forming into three blocks facing east. He would lead the first one, the other two behind, and together they would become a spearhead of iron and wood, flesh and bone. He marched towards his front rank, glanced at the shield wall to his left, warriors milling, forming lines. He saw Caesus, his captain, leaning out of the front line, looking towards him. They shared a glance and Caesus touched his fist to his heart, a salute. Veradis returned the gesture, then strode along the front line of his wall." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Faces stared back at him, grim and resolute. Many of them he recognized as having stood with him from the beginning, faced the charge of giants and draigs on that hillside in Tarbesh. Nathair's Fangs, they had called themselves, named after the draig teeth Nathair had given to each and everyone of the survivors. Veradis\" hand slipped to his sword pommel, where his draig tooth had been carved into the wood and leather hilt.\n\n\"Victory or death!\" he cried in aloud voice and tugged his helmet on, hefted his shield and took his place in the wall. His cry was echoed, a thunderclap in the dawn as his men slammed tight around him.\n\nThe enemy were camped about half a league away, tents sprawled upon a gentle slope to the east of the giantsway, disappearing over the crest of the hill. Their fires were dimming as the sun rose, washing the earth with a pastel glow. Horn blasts rang out and the shield wall slipped into motion, smooth and practised, not a misstep that Veradis could tell. They had all removed the fur from their boots and now their progress was marked by a rumble as they marched forwards.\n\nHis heartbeat and the marching of feet kept time, helping to calm nerves, giving a discipline to their advance that somehow helped to keep in check the surge of emotions that accompanied battle– rage, fear, doubt. They passed across open meadows, the enemy growing ever closer.\n\nVeradis' eyes scanned the hillside but it was still cloaked in great patches of shadow, the sun rising behind it, making silhouettes of tents and figures, and making him squint. Figures stood tall, silently waiting for them.\n\nWise, making camp with the rising sun at your back. But sunlight will not save them. Not this day." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Cywen must be up there. As soon as he'd heard the news of this warband's approach Veradis had suspected that Cywen must be with them. He had asked Rhin before he had thought.\n\n\"I do not know,\" Rhin had said, regarding him with a puckered frown.\n\nThe next time she'd told him of a message from Calidus she had walked away, paused at the doorway and told him that Cywen lived, had been taken by Corban and his companions during battle in the halls of Murias.\n\nVeradis had been surprised at the relief he'd felt to hear that she was still alive.\n\nCorban found her. Rescued her. And she is upon that hillside now. I hope her brother tells her to stay out of this battle, or she's likely to get herself killed. He chuckled at that, the thought of Cywen taking orders from anyone, even the Black Sun, seeming like an impossibility.\n\nHis feet hit the beginnings of the slope, a gentle incline. Behind him he heard the rumble of hooves, neighing, sporadic battle-cries as men summoned their courage.\n\nStill there was no movement from above. He'd expected a charge. Everywhere he'd fought, warriors attacked in the same way. The old way. A wild surge with the blood up, then the singling out of opponents, the distilling of battle down into single duels, the winner moving onto find his next opponent, the loser food for crows. And soon, until the battle was done.\n\nNot us. The shield wall had torn apart all that came against it. Except a charge of draigs, and a stampede of auroch. Here, though, it is against men and giants we fight. We will not lose." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He felt his heartbeat thumping in his chest, his mouth dry, palms sweaty, and everything seeming enhanced, sharper. The grating of iron-rimmed shields as they rubbed together in the advance, the smell of grass wet with dew underfoot, the sound of wood pigeons complaining as they abandoned branches nearby. This was the precursor to combat, the process his body went through before imminent violence. He was almost used to it now, even welcomed it. He loved the simplicity of battle. All the doubt of the night's march was gone, as if evaporated by the rising sun. He felt alert, confident, focussed.\n\nThis war will be won today.\n\nThey were a third of the way up the hill now, the first fires a hundred paces away. Still no movement. The hairs on Veradis' neck prickled, his eyes searching over the rim of his shield for the enemy. For any sign of movement.\n\nSomething is wrong.\n\n\"Sound the halt,\" he grunted to the signaller stationed behind him. A horn blast rang out. The shield wall rippled to a standstill, the other two on his wings doing the same, only heartbeats behind. Veradis stared at the clusters of figures before him, standing straight-backed and static, a breeze tugging at their cloaks, a fluttering of fabric.\n\nHe lowered his shield and stepped out of the shield wall, cursing himself fora fool.\n\nHe strode forwards, pasta guttering fire, drawing the longsword at his hip as he approached the first group and hacked at a figure. It collapsed to the ground, the sound of sticks splitting, others in the line tugged to the ground where they were tied and stacked together.\n\nHe kicked at the format his feet– sticks bound together and wrapped in a cloak. Cries from the woodland on his flank rang out: Rhin's horsemen moving through the open trees, discovering the true nature of their foe. Caesus reached him, eagle-guard at his back." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Search the campsite,\" Veradis ordered, already knowing what they would find. Or not find.\n\nRhin cantered up the hill to him, Geraint and a dozen shieldmen about her.\n\n\"A trick, my lady,\" Veradis said bitterly, lifting a tattered cloak from the ground as she drew near.\n\n\"That I can see,\" she snapped, her face tight with rage. \"The question is: where are they?\"\n\nJust what I was thinking.\n\nA cry sounded from his warband, spreading, taken up by others. From the slope they were standing on they had a fine view of the surrounding countryside. Veradis saw men pointing back towards Uthandun. A sick feeling flowered in his belly, the aftermath of a punch to the gut. He stared hard at Uthandun, walls bathed in the light of dawn as the sun fully crested the hill at his back. At first he could see nothing wrong, then a flicker drew his eyes. Not Uthandun, but close to it. The Vin Thalun ships.\n\nTheir sails were burning." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Tukul ran up the boarding plank onto the black-sailed ship, his sword dripping red, Corban and a score more following behind him. All along the riverbank his Jehar were doing the same, killing guards and boarding ships. Thus far there was little clamour of battle– the defenders having been taken by surprise.\n\nThat won't last much longer.\n\nThey'd chosen eleven ships to board, eight of these sleeker galleys and three fat-bellied transporters. Enough to hold their entire warband, and their horses as well, if all went to plan.\n\nBut I've never known any plan to go smoothly.\n\nTo his right there was a burst of brightness and awash of heat. He glanced, saw a furled sail burning fiercely, fire feeding greedily on fabric, saw the flicker of arrows, flames trailing incandescent in the sky and in moments more ships were on the way to becoming crackling torches.\n\nThe thud of running feet, more warriors emerging from the gloom. They saw him and slowed, came at him hesitantly, circling– hard-looking men with wiry muscle and weather-beaten features, all with dark, oiled beards, iron rings tied into them. For the most they gripped bucklers and short swords. Then Corban and others were spreading out from behind him. Tukul slipped his axe from its holster into his left hand and charged, blades swirling.\n\nMen died.\n\nTukul left his axe buried in a skull, surged on, wielding his sword in great two-handed strokes. Blades stabbed at him, but he sent them all spiralling away. He carved his way down a narrow deck, an unstoppable force, his sword-kin spread either side. Soon the planks were slick with blood and gore. A shadow reared upon his left but then amass of fur and teeth crashed into it. A glance showed Storm standing over a still form, her jaws dripping. On his other side Corban swept past him, dressed in his wolven cloak and claws. He blocked an overhead blow with his sword and opened his opponent's throat with a slash of his wolven claws, kicked the dying man aside and ploughed on." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A hand touched his arm, Gar. Their eyes met fora moment and then they were following Corban, cutting into a retreating knot of warriors. A dozen heartbeats later and their enemy, those who could, were leaping over the sides. Tukul looked about for the next man to kill and realized the deck was clear of any resistance.\n\nIs that it? Tukul thought. Not so hard to take a ship, then.\n\nHe glanced over the side at the ships moored close by. Combat still raged on them, battle-cries and the clash of weapons ringing loud in the still dawn, echoing back from the wall of trees on the far bank. On one deck he watched giants, war-hammers and axes swinging, saw one giant lift and hurl an enemy into the river.\n\nCorban disappeared down an entrance in the deck and Tukul ran after him, fearing more enemy hidden below-decks. He almost gagged as he climbed down the steep steps, the stench of ordure almost overpowering. He blinked at the bottom, eyes adjusting to the darkness, the only light leaking in through oar-holes.\n\nMen were chained in rows to benches, or what resembled men, all of them skeletal thin, pale and scarred. Most of them were slumped where they sat, regarding him and Corban with flat, empty eyes.\n\nCorban lifted his sword and the nearest man flinched, then Corban swung his blade down and sparks flew, shattering the chain that bound the first bench of rowers.\n\n\"I've taken this ship, killed those who enslaved you. \"He worked his way down an aisle between the benches, hacking at the chains, splashing through liquid that Tukul suspected wasn't river water. \"You are free to go, if you wish, or row a little longer and beset ashore somewhere else.\" He glanced out of one of the oar-holes. \"This is not the safest place to be stranded. Tukul, make sure they understand what I have said,\" Corban muttered as he turned and climbed backup towards the light." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Tukul ordered barrels of water brought down and made sure the rowers all had their fill, though slowly." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "One man gripped his wrist. He was short and wiry, with skin that was olive dark, like the men from his homeland in Tarbesh. His eyes burned brighter than the others'.\n\n\"What's your name, brother, ' Tukul said to him.\n\n\"Javed,\" he whispered after along pause, as if he were struggling to remember.\n\n\"Some water for you,\" Tukul offered a jug from the barrel. Javed drank noisily.\n\n\"Is this a Vin Thalun jest?\" Javed said, water dripping from his beard. \"Another entertainment?\"\n\n\"No. You are free, as my lord said.\"\n\n\"What's the catch? You'll kill us if we try to leave?\"\n\nTukul shook his head. \"Leave if you wish, there will be no punishment from us.\" He peered through the nearest oar-hole, heard horns ringing from the nearby fortress. \"Though I cannot guarantee the reception you'll receive from them. '\n\nThe man peered through the hole.\n\n\"You're welcome to stay. '\n\n\"Where are you going?\"\n\n\"East,\" Tukul said.\n\n\"East is not the ocean,\" Javed snorted. \"Now I know you are playing with us.\"\n\n\"I speak the truth,\" Tukul replied calmly.\n\nJaved stared into Tukul's face.\"Think I'll stay awhile,\" he said.\n\nEast to Drassil. How quickly plans can come undone.\n\nCorban had turned pale when he'd seen the warband and fleet arrayed about Uthandun. They hastily made camp and Corban had summoned his war council– Meical, Tukul, Gar, Balur, Ethlinn, Brina and Coralen." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Corban satin a camp chair with his head in his hands. Craf flapped down from the sky and perched on the arm of Corban's chair.\n\n\"Cheer up,\" the crow squawked. He had taken to following Corban everywhere since the plan against Kartala the hawk had succeeded.\n\n\"Options,\" Brina had snapped at Corban, making him jump and lower his hands.\n\n\"What?\" Corban said.\n\n\"There are always options,\" Brina answered.\n\nWith a deep indrawn breath he visibly gathered himself. \"What are they?\" he asked.\n\n\"Fight.\"\n\nA humourless smile. \"Not a good idea. There are thousands of them. We are outnumbered.\"\n\n\"Run away.\"\n\n\"Better for us. I'd like to, but where? All routes to Edana are blocked. '\n\n\"Run north– retreat, in other words,\" Brina said.\n\n\"And run into Calidus, Nathair and a thousand Kadoshim,\" Tukul pointed out.\n\nCorban shook his head. \"We've tried that already. Not appealing. '\n\n\"West, then,\" Brina said.\n\n\"West is Cambren and Domhain. What is therefor us?\"\n\n\"Nothing,\" said Brina, \"but I'm going through the options. '\n\n\"So what does that leave?\"\n\n\"East,\" Brina said.\n\n\"And what is east? The Darkwood, then marshlands.\"\n\n\"Drassil is east,\" Meical said.\n\nCorban looked at him.\n\n\"He's right, \"Brina added.\"Much further east, granted. But you've just said we can't go south, north or west. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And what of Edana?\"\n\n\"Even if we could breakthrough those ahead of us,\" Gar said, \"and I for one am happy to try, and avoid those behind, they would be on our trail, would follow us straight to Edana.\"\n\n\"Would Nathair and Calidus not follow us to Drassil?\"\n\n\"Perhaps,\" Meical said. \"Though somehow I doubt it. I suspect that Calidus\" focus is elsewhere. '\n\n\"What do you mean?\" Corban asked.\n\n\"If he wanted to bring us to battle, he could have. They are not so far behind us, could have caught us with a handful of forced marches.\"\n\n\"Then why hasn't he? '\n\n\"I cannot say, for sure, but I suspect he is fixated upon the cauldron. To catch us he would have to leave it behind, under a smaller guard.\" Meical shrugged. \"I am guessing, but I do not think they would be as quick to follow us all the way to Drassil. The journey is many leagues longer, and takes us far from the relative safety of Rhin's realms. '\n\nCorban stood and paced fora while. He eventually stopped before Balur and Ethlinn.\n\n\"What would you do,\" he asked them both.\n\nBalur shrugged his massive shoulders. \"My heart says fight, my mind says run, live, fight another day. When there's a chance of winning. Here, there is no chance. '\n\n\"To fight now is to die, to run aimlessly is a longer death,\" Ethlinn said, her voice a rustle, autumn leaves on the air. \"But to run somewhere that has meaning, hope. Drassil is the wisest choice.\"\n\nCorban bowed his head for long moments, then sucked in along breath and looked around at them all, his gaze coming to rest on Meical." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"We will try for Drassil,\" he said quietly.\n\nHe was silent awhile, eyes staring into the south. Eventually his eyes dropped back to the fortress in the distance, a dark shadow now before the glitter of the river Afren in the twilight.\n\n\"They know we're here. Come sunrise there'll be a warband after our blood, whatever direction we decide to move in,\" Corban murmured.\n\n\"We should leave before sunrise, then. Steal a march on them,\" Coralen said. She'd been standing silently in the shadows until now.\n\n\"Marching in the dark is no easy task,\" Gar said. \"There's a risk of getting lost. We could end up in more trouble than we started in. '\n\n\"We'd not get lost with Storm. She's better than the north star,\" Coralen replied.\n\n\"That river,\" Corban said. \"How far east does it go?\"\n\n\"To the marshes that border Narvon and Isiltir. From there we could follow it to the northern sea,\" Meical answered. \"If we had ships we could sail all the way to Gramm's hold. '\n\n\"Who is Gramm?\" Corban asked.\n\n\"A friend,\" Tukul said.\n\n\"An ally that dwells on the fringes of Forn Forest,\" Meical said. \"He has helped us before, and will join us, now that the God-War has begun in earnest.\"\n\nCorban had nodded, eyes fixed on the black sails dotting the river Afren. \"Looks like we need some ships then.\"\n\nTukul looked up at Dath, who stood on the raised cabin deck at the rear of the ship.\n\n\"We must leave now,\" Dath yelled, and Tukul echoed the cry, standing atop the boarding-plank, beckoning to Balur and those still gathered upon the riverbank. All was chaos, ships burning, waves of heat and smoke billowing across the river. Many of the sailors who had fled from the flaming ships were trying to put the fires out, but more than half of the enemy galleys were blazing hotter than a forge. Tukul suspected there had been some Elemental assistance to the fire. As more of the sailors gathered upon the bank they launched a fierce counterattack on the ships that were being stolen. Horn blasts rang out from Uthandun, the sound of hooves and battle-cries drifting down from the fortress." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Balur was pushing warriors onto the boarding-plank, giants and Jehar both, sending them stumbling up the ramp and onto the ship's deck, then he turned, swung his black axe about his head and launched himself into a knot of enemy warriors surging towards him.\n\nTukul saw the first warrior chopped in half, legs and torso flying indifferent directions, the second taking the iron-spiked butt of Balur's axe in the face, a third losing his head, then smoke billowed about them, obscuring them from Tukul's sight.\n\nAll else had boarded now, Dath yelling for the ramp to be pulled in and the mooring rope cut, but still Tukul hesitated. He took a few steps down the ramp, yelled out to Balur, glanced back onto the boat, the faces staring at him.\n\nI'll not leave the living behind.\n\nHe drew his sword from his back, began to stride purposefully down the ramp, ignoring the voices behind that called his name, then Balur burst from the roiling smoke, blood-spattered, a limp figure slung over one shoulder. He hurtled towards the ramp, other forms appearing behind him, chasing him. Giant boots thudded onto the ramp, wood creaking, and Tukul saw Balur carried a giantling across his shoulder, blood flowing from a gash across its scalp.\n\nBalur heaved past him, Tukul stepping to the edge of the ramp, a straight lunge impaling the first sailor chasing after Balur. Tukul kicked him off his sword, sent his corpse falling back into the others following. He stepped forwards, his sword slashing twice, took off a hand at the wrist, opened a face and then the enemy were staggering back, tangled, falling as they tried to getaway from him. He turned and sprinted backup towards the ship, Balur dragging the boarding-ramp in as he leaped to the deck, another Jehar slicing the rope that moored them to the bank. Oars rose and dipped; sluggishly at first, the ship pulled away, quickly picking up speed." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "All along the river behind them others were following suit on different ships. Ten more followed, seven sleek-hulled, like the one Tukul was aboard, three wider, deep-hulled transporters with pot-bellies. The horses had been loaded on them.\n\nA weight fell on Tukul's shoulder, staggering him, and he looked round to see Balur, his big hand coming down again to pat Tukul on the back.\n\n\"My thanks, little man,\" the giant said.\n\nTukul nodded. \"Your companion?\"\n\nBalur pointed and Tukul saw Ethlinn, Brina and Cywen bent over the gangly form of the giantling Balur had carried aboard. A female.\n\n\"She is in good hands,\" Tukul said, then climbed onto the rear deck, where Dath stood wrestling with a steering oar, Kulla the Jehar standing close to him, watching what he did with a raised eyebrow. Corban and Meical were standing at the rail, eyes fixed on the smoke-hazed riverbank. Farrell and Coralen were there, Storm sitting and licking blood from her claws.\n\n\"You sure you know what you're doing? ' Farrell asked Dath.\n\n\"He is a skilled seaman,\" Kulla said.\n\n\"Course I do,\" Dath grunted. \"It's a little bigger than Da's fisher-boat, but the principle's the same, ' He wrestled with the oar a moment.\n\n\"You need to be stronger,\" Kulla pointed out. Farrell laughed.\n\n\"She's got a point, \"Dath admitted.\"You maybe a better choice for this job. '\n\n\"Here you are, then,\" Farrell said, striding over and taking the steering oar from Dath." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Try not to ground us on a bank,\" Dath said.\n\nFarrell gave him a flat stare.\n\nTukul strode to Corban's side and leaned on the rail. He noticed his hands were dark with blood and grime.\n\nThe cries of those trying to putout the flaming ships faded, further away.\n\n\"Not all of their ships are burning,\" Corban said. \"They could follow us.\"\n\n\"Perhaps, but not until they've cleared the way. That will be no easy, or speedy, task. '\n\n\"Aye.\" Corban rubbed his eyes. \"Well, then it would appear that we did it,\" he said to them both.\n\n\"Aye. Fortunate for us that the bulk of their warband marched during the night,\" Meical said.\n\n\"Someone on their side has a mind for strategy,\" Tukul added.\n\n\"Aye. And fortunate for us that we do too.\" Corban was staring into the distance, where the smoke had parted to give a view of the surrounding land. They could seethe hill they had camped upon, fires still a pale flicker, their stick men and cloak-wrapped crow-scarers facing down a warband thousands strong.\n\n\"I'd like to seethe look on Rhin's face just about now,\" Dath said.\n\nTukul laughed. It had been a close thing, that march through the night to reach the ships before dawn. Especially when Storm sniffed out an enemy warband marching along the giantsway towards them.\n\nThat wolven has saved our lives more times than I can count.\n\n\"Coralen, you're a genius– your ruse worked, ' Corban called.\n\n\"It always has done,\" Coralen said proudly. \"Distraction,\" she continued. \"Rath taught it tome, and I'm sure you know the rule well enough; the blow that ends the fight is the one your opponent doesn't see coming. Make them look somewhere else, then make your move.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I know that rule very well.\n\nTukul saw Meical nodding approvingly.\n\n\"You rode with Rath?\" a voice grated behind them: Balur, the steps creaking as he climbed onto the deck. Brina followed behind him, small in his shadow. Her hands were red with blood. Craf fluttered down from above, perching on a rail.\n\n\"I did,\" Coralen said. \"He was my uncle.\"\n\nBalur's white eyebrows bunched.\"Did he use that trick against the Benothi? '\n\n\"Yes,\" Coralen shrugged.\n\nThere was an uncomfortable silence, Balur glowering down, Coralen scowling up.\n\n\"We have put old grievances behind us,\" Meical said quietly.\n\nThe silence continued, then Balur sighed.\n\n\"Aye,\" he rumbled and walked away.\n\nThe ship turned a bend in the river; Uthandun disappeared from view.\n\nCorban turned and looked ahead, the river winding beneath the trees of the Darkwood.\n\n\"Craf, will you do something for me?\"\n\n\"Anything,\" Craf croaked. Brina raised an eyebrow at that.\n\n\"Find Edana at Dun Crin, tell her we tried, but it was impossible to reach her. Tell her we are going to Drassil. Tell her...\" He paused, shoulders slumping. \"Tell her my oath still stands.\"\n\nWithout a word of complaint Craf launched himself into the sky and winged southwards, disappearing beyond the trees.\n\n\"What have you done to my crow?\" Brina muttered.\n\nCorban stared after him awhile, then looked at their course ahead." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"So. To Drassil,\" he said, though Tukul thought he may have been speaking to himself.\n\nIndeed. To Drassil." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Uthas stepped into a cavernous room, massive pillars rising high to a domed roof far above. A nimbus of light filtered through, as if the material the ceiling was carved from was thin, translucent.\n\nAsroth's throne room. He felt a surge of fear coursing through his veins, paralysing him.\n\nWhy have I done this? What kind of fool am I?\n\n\"Remember, this is what you asked for,\" Calidus said to him, still bound in his human form, appearing small and frail amidst the might of Asroth's Kadoshim.\n\nAnd they were everywhere. Thousands of them, beyond counting. Not the shadowy wraiths he had witnessed emerge from the cauldron in Murias, but solid, grey-skinned creatures of scale and fang and wing. They wore coats of dark mail and bore spear and sword, regarding him with curious stares. The air crackled as one close by stretched its bat-like wings.\n\nUthas wrenched his eyes away from them and paced down the aisle before him, focusing on Calidus' back. He had walked what felt like along way when a sound drew his eyes.\n\nA scream.\n\nHe looked to his left, saw a figure chained to a post. A winged man, or what was left of a winged man.\n\nHe is Ben-Elim.\n\nUthas stopped and stared.\n\nOne wing of white feathers, stained with blood and grime, hung broken and useless from his back. The other wing was gone altogether, all that was left of it a frayed stump protruding from the Ben-Elim's back. He was chained to the post, suspended by iron collars about his wrists, head slumped, dark hair hanging. Another collar of iron was fixed about his neck, the chain secured to an iron ring embedded into the ground. As Uthas stood and stared, the Ben-Elim raised his head, dark eyes fixing him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Help me,\" the Ben-Elim whispered through cracked and swollen lips.\n\n\"Why do you not just kill him?\" Uthas asked.\n\n\"Where would be the fun in that?\" Calidus replied. \"Besides, life and death are not the same, herein the Otherworld. It is nigh impossible to slay one of Elyon's Firstborn. They have tried. \"He shrugged at the Kadoshim nearby.\"So we settle for pain. '\n\nUthas could not take his eyes away. Ashe stared, a Kadoshim approached the Ben-Elim, buried a spear-blade into his belly, twisting it; the Ben-Elim screamed in agony.\n\n\"Onwards,\" Calidus said and they carried on, the screams fading behind them.\n\nEventually they came to wide steps that stretched the entire length of the chamber. Uthas climbed, at their top saw a figure sitting upon a throne that resembled the looping coils of a great wyrm. The figure was reclining, a leg draped across one coiled arm of the throne.\n\nAsroth.\n\nHe radiated power, silver hair bound into a single, thick warrior braid. He wore a coat of oil-dark mail, leathery wings curled tight behind him. Kadoshim stood about him, some were guards holding bright spears, others were in conversation with the Lord of the Fallen. They fell silent as Calidus and Uthas approached.\n\n\"I bring anally, my King,\" Calidus said, more reverence and fear in his voice than Uthas would have thought possible. \"Uthas of the Benothi clan.\"\n\nBlack eyes in a milky-paleface that could have been carved from alabaster regarded Uthas." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Asroth rose from his chair and paced forward. The ground smoked and hissed with each footstep, leaving behind a blackened imprint.\n\n\"Welcome to my home,\" Asroth said, smiling through blue-tinged lips.\n\n\"My lord,\" Uthas said. He stood a hand taller than Asroth, but still his legs were suddenly weak and he slid to his knees.\n\nAsroth crouched before him, a broken-nailed finger tracing Uthas'chin, lifting his head so that their eyes met. The ground lurched beneath Uthas\" feet, he felt as if he was falling. He did not much care for the sensation.\n\nAsroth licked his lips with a black tongue, as if tasting the air. \"I know you,\" he said. \"You are mine.\"\n\n\"I am,\" Uthas heard himself say, voice dry as gravel. He remembered vividly when Rhin had conjured Asroth through spells and flame. At the time it had been terrifying and exhilarating both. This time it was mostly terrifying.\n\n\"Why are you here?\" Asroth asked.\n\n\"Uthas has information of value to our cause,\" Calidus said. \"He knows the whereabouts of two of the Treasures.\"\n\n\"That will be most helpful,\" Asroth said. \"They are vital to our campaign. Which Treasures?\"\n\n\"The cup and the necklace, my lord,\" Uthas said.\n\n\"Nemain's necklace, \"Asroth said quietly. He closed his eyes, dark veins tracing his eyelids.\"I remember seeing it about her neck as she fought me. \"He smiled, opening his eyes.\"She had spirit. And you slew her. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I did,\" Uthas said, feeling both shame and pride flow through him.\n\n\"So where are these Treasures?\"\n\n\"I am aware of their last known locations,\" Uthas said.\n\n\"Not quite the same as where they are now,\" Asroth said.\n\n\"No, my lord, but it is unlikely that they have been moved.\"\n\nAsroth nodded. \"So. Where are these last-known locations?\"\n\nUthas paused, fighting the urge to speak, to spill the information from his mouth. He clenched his teeth together.\n\n\"Uthas would ask a reward of you, for this information,\" Calidus said.\n\nThank you, thought Uthas. Never had he felt more grateful to someone for speaking for him.\n\nAsroth frowned, his alabaster skin creasing like old parchment.\n\n\"You would bargain with me?\"\n\n\"No, my lord,\" Uthas uttered. \"A reward...\"\n\n\"Ahh.\" Asroth stood and strode back to his chair, his leathery wings wrapping around him as he sat. \"It is true, I reward those who serve me– successfully. And punish those who fail me. What reward do you wish for?\"\n\n\"To be King of the giant clans– and to rule from Drassil, our ancient home. When the war is won.\"\n\n\"But your giants are Sundered. Even I cannot change what is already done.\"\n\n\"I ask that they be given the choice, in this God-War. Those who join your cause have meas their lord, your vassal king. Those that refuse, back to dust.\"\n\nAsroth smiled. \"That does not seem unreasonable. I agree. If you are successful in your part of the bargain. Calidus must have these Treasures in his possession before your part is deemed fulfilled. Agreed?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Agreed,\" said Uthas.\n\n\"Good. Now, where are these Treasures?\"\n\n\"The necklace is in a tomb in the tunnels beneath Dun Carreg. The cup was lost in the marshes around Dun Taras. I know the location, but I have never been able to search there because it is insight of the walls of Dun Taras. The men of Domhain would have fallen upon us. But now, Domhain belongs to Rhin, so I would have the freedom to search.\"\n\n\"Can you find them? Bring them to Calidus?\"\n\n\"I believe so,\" Uthas said.\n\n\"You can, or you cannot. Which is it?\" Asroth's voice was a deep basal rumble, filling his senses like a vapour.\n\nUthas licked his lips, which were abruptly dry. \"I can. I will.\"\n\nAsroth grinned. \"Good. I am pleased.\" He held his arm out, black veins mapping it. He pressed along, broken nail against the pale flesh, drew a line, dark blood welling.\n\n\"A bargain must always be sealed in blood, no?\"\n\nUthas nodded and Asroth gripped his wrist, pulled his arm out and dragged a sharp nail across the inside of his forearm. His flesh parted as if cut with the sharpest iron, feeling as if Asroth had lit afire in his veins, but he clenched his jaw, refusing to show any weakness.\n\nAsroth wrapped long fingers about Uthas' forearm in the warrior grip, their blood mingling. Within heartbeats Uthas was feeling dizzy, intoxicated.\n\n\"Bring me the cup and necklace,\" Asroth growled as he released his grip." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dimly Uthas was aware of Calidus leading him from the great chamber, walking out into the pale light of the Otherworld.\n\n\"You must return to the world of flesh now,\" Calidus said to him.\n\n\"What of you?\" Uthas said. He blinked, trying to focus. He was aware that he did not want to leave Calidus. He had come to find the old man's presence comforting in this grey world.\n\n\"I have another ally to meet,\" Calidus sighed. \"My work is never done.\"\n\nUthas woke to the sound of Calidus screaming.\n\nHe staggered upright, reaching for his spear. His arm throbbed and he looked down to see a scab of black blood. He blinked and shook his head, fora momenta vision of Asroth's paleface and dark eyes consuming his mind.\n\nMoonlight shone upon Salach, who lay close by, seemingly reaching full alertness before Uthas. Eisa was curled beside him.\n\nUthas felt a pang of jealousy, but quickly buried it.\n\nWe find comfort where we can, and in these end days it is rare and often short-lived.\n\nMore screams rang out, magnified by the darkness. Uthas followed the sounds, Calidus' voice distinct, even in rage. And the screaming was soaked with it– not fear, not pain, not even anger, but pure, undiluted rage. As Uthas drew closer he heard the rasp of a sword drawn, the thud of iron cutting flesh, a wild neighing, then Uthas saw him.\n\nCalidus was standing amidst the paddocked horses that pulled their wains. He was hacking at a stallion, the beast already fallen to its knees, eyes rolling white, blood spurting black in the night from a great rent in its neck. Even as Uthas stood and stared, dumbstruck, the animal crashed onto its side, legs kicking as if it were running. With a shiver it lay still." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He has gone mad.\n\n\"Calidus,\" Uthas called out, striding over to him. He was dimly aware of footsteps behind him, Salach, no doubt, as well as a growing number of Kadoshim. Uthas dipped beneath a rope bound between trees. Calidus turned his eyes upon the giant, blazing with malice, and Uthas froze, deciding that getting too close to Calidus with sword still in hand might not be the wisest move.\n\n\"What is wrong?\" Uthas asked.\n\n\"Incompetent. Fools,\" Calidus hissed, then turned and swung his sword overhead, chopping into the dead horse, wrenching his blade free in a spray of blood and bone.\n\n\"Who?\" Uthas asked.\n\n\"Rhin. Veradis.\" With each name he hacked into the horse again. Then once more. Finally he pulled his blade free and leaned upon it, chest heaving, head bowed. After awhile he wiped his blade clean on the horse's carcass and strode to Uthas, saw a crowd of faces staring back at him.\n\n\"Meical and his puppet have escaped,\" Calidus said, all calmness and composure now, although somewhat ruined by the streaks of blood splattering his paleface and silvery hair. \"And the Vin Thalun fleet is burned, sunk or stolen.\"\n\n\"What! How can that be?\"\n\n\"They attacked the Vin Thalun fleet moored at Uthandun, stole some ships and sailed east, burned the rest. The details are vague. We shall have to wait until we see Rhin face to face for the finer details. I met her in the Otherworld and must confess, I became... a touch irritated. She fled from me.\"" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Assist the writer by carrying on with the story.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, demons\nAuthor: John Gwynne\nTitle: Ruin\nChapter: 61" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Easy, my brave girl,\" he soothed, tears welling in his eyes. He patted her neck, the battle about him dimming to a dull roar.\n\nYou'll not begetting backup to run again, my faithful friend.\n\nFora moment his voice alone seemed to soothe her pain and she lifted her head and looked at him with dark, liquid eyes.\n\nResting his head on her muscular neck, he breathed a prayer, kissed her and then put his sword through her throat, the last act of a faithful friend. He crouched beside her as the battle passed him by, only a few footsteps away, stroked and whispered to her until her eyes glazed and her legs stopped kicking.\n\nHe stood, a dark rage swelling in his chest, and looked about. Coralen was gone. Out hereon the slope the battle was almost done, the enemy retreating back into the hold. His Jehar were pressing after them, sounds of battle ringing out from the courtyard beyond.\n\nHe stalked through the gates, the courtyard he remembered transformed, full now with heaving battle, the stench of blood and death, billowing smoke. He looked to the feast-hall, saw a great bear standing guard on the steps, two men behind it spiked to two thick columns.\n\nGramm. Wulf.\n\nThe bear swatted at anyone that came close, but did not move from the steps, a beast defending its kill.\n\nTukul ran across the courtyard, ignoring the pain in his back, past Coralen and Enkara fighting back to back, swerving around another dozen acts of combat, his grip tightening on his sword hilt. The bear saw him coming and roared, fur bristling, swung at him with one great paw. Tukul skidded under the blow and hit the ground, his body rolling before coming up underneath the bear's snapping jaws and ramming his sword up, through fur and flesh, the blade going deeper still, through the lower jaw and on, blade almost to the hilt now, into the bear's brain." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It spasmed, a mountain of muscle and fur, blood gushing from its mouth as its head jerked, a convulsion that tore through its body, one last violent paroxysm and then it was collapsing, Tukul taking the weight of the beast's head upon his shoulders. He stood there, chest heaving, covered in blood, then ripped his blade free and shrugged the head to the ground.\n\nHe pounded up the stairs. One look at Gramm and he knew the man was gone. His belly was one great wound, looking as if the flesh had been chewed, not cut. Tukul grimaced and looked away, saw Wulf, unconscious, pale from loss of blood, his chest rising and falling weakly.\n\nTukul grabbed the spear that pierced Wulf's wrists, jerked it free and Wulf sank into his arms, eyes fluttering open.\n\n\"My da...\" Wulf whispered.\n\nA sound filled the courtyard, overwhelming the din of battle. A pounding roar. Tukul looked up to see bears with giants upon their backs come lumbering around the side of the feast-hall. Two, three, four of them. Upon the first bear sat a blond-haired giant, war-hammer in his fist dripping gore. He looked at the steps, saw the dead bear; his face twisted in rage.\n\nThen he saw Tukul." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Corban ran up a gentle slope, weaving amongst half-repaired boats suspended on timber scaffolding as he followed Meical deeper into amaze of grain barns and boatyards, tanners and smokehouses.\n\nThey had rowed through the night until Corban felt that his heart and lungs would burst. With the coming of day he'd heard the sounds of battle echo down from the hold upon its hill, seen the fires spreading. Meical had urged them on, until they had turned a bend in the river and seen a row of jetties and boathouses lining the bank. At a glance it was clear that the battle was not over, but also that it wasn't going well for Gramm, great columns of black smoke punctuating the pale blue sky, figures fighting on the hold's walls.\n\nCorban had ordered all armed for war, he'd arrayed himself in his wolven pelt and claws, as had Farrell and Gar. The ship had barely scraped against the jetty before the boarding-plank was lowered and Meical was leaping to shore, Corban and the rest of them surging after him.\n\nBriefly they paused on the riverbank, waiting for numbers to gather, and then they were off, Meical leading the way, Corban following close behind.\n\nHe heard the thumping rhythm of Storm running at his side, behind that Balur One-Eye's thunderous gait and the sound of other ships grounding, his warriors pouring from their decks. The plan was simple: to gather on the riverbank and follow Meical to the top of the hill where Gramm's feast-hall stood, where the fighting had seemed fiercest. He'd ordered Cywen to stay on the ship with Brina, Buddai and a handful of others, though that hadn't gone down too well. Giving Cywen orders never went well." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Meical slowed before him and they spilt out of the lanes between buildings into an open space, a high wall looming above them. A bonfire crackled close by, red-cloaked warriors with black cuirasses, a white lightning bolt and coiled serpent upon their leather breastplates were gathered around it– Jael's men. Open gates stood to the left, bodies strewn about. Gramm's folk. Meical saw them and charged for the gate, seemingly in a berserker rage.\n\nCorban followed without thinking, blocked a hurried blow from a rider, Storm leaping and tearing the attacker from his saddle, ripping his throat out before they'd hit the ground.\n\nBalur roared a battle-cry, a handful of his Benothi kin surging forwards swinging their black axes, and suddenly blood was fountaining. In heartbeats the enemy before the wall were dead or fleeing and Corban was following Meical through the open gates.\n\nAhead of them towered the rear of along timber feast-hall, an open space before it of hard-packed earth. To either side of the hall were wide lanes, edged with long stable-blocks and all manner of outbuildings, and amongst them battle raged. Here and there clusters of what must have been Gramm's warriors were holding against overwhelming odds. At the slope's crest, before the feast-hall, Corban caught a glimpse of riders in blackmail with curved swords.\n\nJehar.\n\n\"Tukul is here,\" Corban cried, turning to Gar, then he was raising his sword and charging into the fray, the thought of his comrades on the far side of this feast-hall fighting alone filling him with a cold fear.\n\nWhere is Coralen?\n\nHe chopped into the leg of a rider, dragged him from his saddle and let Storm finish him, ran on, slammed into a knot of warriors that had more of Gramm's men backed into the gates of a stable-block. He didn't stop moving– sword and wolven claws raking, stabbing, chopping. The battle mind, as Gar often referred to it, settled upon him, when everything about him seemed slow, as if his foes were moving through water and he could see every blow before it began. A man on foot with sword and shield came at him cautiously and Corban stepped in close, swept a stabbing sword aside and punched his wolven claws over the shield's rim. They came back bloody, the warrior collapsing. He moved on, deflected a spear lunge, stabbed his sword up into an armpit, pivoted away from another horseman who had moved into attack, Storm leaping at the horse, making it rear and throw its rider to the ground. Corban stabbed him through the throat before he could rise. To his right Corban glimpsed Farrell crush a skull with his war-hammer, to his left Gar took someone's head off. In front of him a rider toppled from his saddle, an arrow through his throat." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dath. A quick glance showed Kulla with him, the young Jehar protecting Dath's flank.\n\nA deafening roar reverberated around the hold. From the corner of his eye he saw something disappear around the far side of the feast-hall, something huge. He glanced at Gar, but he was concentrating on pulling his sword from someone's chest. Corban continued forwards.\n\nHe'd moved closer to the feast-hall, the slope levelling, but still the way was blocked by a heaving mass of combat. He snarled in frustration, desperate to reach Tukul, Coralen and the others. Glancing about, he saw stairs running up the hold's wall and without thinking ran towards them, bounding up two at a time, footsteps following him– Storm and Gar, Farrell, Dath and Kulla.\n\nThe walkway was empty of the living. He paused at the top a moment to look about.\n\nThe hold was full with seething battle, horses rising and plunging, men screaming. There were more of his warriors pouring through the open gates, numerous Benothi giants amongst them. Further back, he saw Javed leading scores of oarsmen– many of them veterans from the Vin Thalun fighting-pits. Down below him Meical was carving his way through the enemy, behind him Balur and a handful of Benothi moving forwards like a floating island.\n\nA faint sound caught his ear, drifting from the far side of the feast-hall. A battle-cry. Words he'd first heard from his da's lips. He whispered it now.\n\n\"Truth and courage.\" Tukul. It is Tukul.\n\nHe ran on, leaping over dead men, the timber planks of the walkway drumming. Ashe drew closer to the front the gate tower came into view. It was burning, waves of heat and smoke rippling outwards, beyond the wall corpses littering the meadow and entrance." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Then he was above the courtyard before the feast-hall's entrance.\n\nCombat still raged here just as fierce, but not as dense and close-packed as elsewhere. Corban caught a flash of red hair and felt a rush of relief, but before he could shout or even think, his eyes were drawn to the feast-hall steps.\n\nTukul stood upon them, his sword drawn and held high. Before him a blond-haired giant was sitting astride a monstrously huge bear. Other bears with giants upon their backs roamed the far side of the courtyard– three more of them– killing anything that stood in their way.\n\nEven as Corban and the others stared, frozen fora few moments in shock and disbelief, the bear rumbled forwards, jaws snapping at Tukul, the giant leaning in his saddle to swing a war-hammer. Tukul slipped to the far side, the giant's left, hindering his reach, at the same time slicing at the bear, leaving a red line across the beast's snout. It roared in pain and rage, half-reared and leaped forwards, catching Tukul with a paw, sending him flying up the stairs.\n\nThen Dath was nocking an arrow and drawing, sending it thumping into the great bear's flank. The arrow sank deep but the bear only gave a twitch, as if shrugging off a mosquito. Dath drew and released, and then again, each arrow finding its mark. The fourth one he aimed at the giant, but it skittered off of leather armour as the giant swung his hammer again at Tukul.\n\n\"Truth and courage,\" Gar bellowed as he leaped from the walkway, landing with a thud on the stable-roof below, then rolling and jumping into the courtyard. Corban echoed the war cry and followed him, Storm leaping after him gracefully. Warriors in the courtyard turned at the sound of their voices, and distantly Corban heard a wild neighing." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Shield?\n\nAn arrow hissed over Corban's head, thumping into the bear's belly. This time the bear paused and looked at the feathered shaft protruding from its side.\n\nTukul took advantage of the lull and darted in, chopping into the creature's shoulder, darting out again, backing up the stairs.\n\nCorban sprinted across the courtyard, swerving amongst mounted Jehar locked in combat with red-cloaked warriors, then he glimpsed Coralen's red hair, fighting back to back with Enkara, four or five enemy closing on them. Corban changed direction, barking a command at Storm. She sprang forwards, smashing one of the red-cloaks to the ground, a scream cut short, and then Corban was there, chopping into a neck, yanking his blade free as that man collapsed, gurgling, Corban spinning and punching his claws into another's thigh. The warrior stumbled back and toppled, his leg giving way, Coralen finishing him. There was no time for words. Corban's eyes met Coralen's fora heartbeat, and then he was running again, towards Tukul. Tukul was at the top of the steps now, standing before two injured men. The bear was wounded, favouring one leg, blood dripping from sword cuts and arrow wounds. The giant upon it was yelling guttural commands. Behind them the other bear riders had formed a half-circle, protecting the blond giant, who was clearly their lord, while he made his kill.\n\nCorban increased his pace as he saw Gar and Farrell ahead of him, a blur of wolven pelt and dark mail. Gar ran straight for the feast-hall steps, a giant seeing him and shouting warning. The giant threw a spear, Gar swerving, the spear-blade slamming quivering into the hard-packed dirt, then Gar was between two of the bears, rolling beneath a paw, leaping onto the steps, trying to reach his da." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "At the same time Corban saw the bear on the steps lumber closer to Tukul, who it was clear would retreat no more, standing guard before the injured men. The bear swung a huge paw, Tukul ducking underneath, then standing, fluid as silk, sword rising and falling in a mighty blow, severing the bear's paw.\n\nThe bear's roar of pain was deafening, staggering Tukul, and the blond giant took advantage, hurling his war-hammer into Tukul's chest, knocking him backwards, slamming him into the feast-hall doors. He slid to the floor.\n\nGar screamed, reached the top of the stairs, hurdled the injured men and ran to his da.\n\nStorm was next to reach the steps, leaping onto the bear's neck, sinking her fangs deep into its flesh. The bear reared, throwing the giant on its back from his saddle to crash down the steps into the courtyard. The bear swiped its maimed leg at Storm; with a ripping sound the wolven was torn free, sent flying into one of the pillars with a crack.\n\nCorban and the others reached the steps, swerving around the maimed bear's thrashing limbs. It swiped at Coralen but she ducked and Corban leaped in and buried his wolven claws in the bear's soft belly, raking them and ripping them free, blood gouting from the wound. Then the others were there: Coralen, Enkara and Kulla stabbing and chopping, Farrell swinging his hammer. It crunched into the bear's skull and it spasmed, went rigid, reared up and toppled back down the stairs.\n\nThe other giant bears lumbered into motion, closing on the stairs, the fallen giant rising and glowering up at them, reaching for his war-hammer." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Corban ran to Storm.\n\nShe rose groggily, whined when he touched her ribs, then growled at the approaching bears.\n\nThe others had formed a half-circle about him, bristling with iron. The blond giant knelt down beside his bear, now a bloody ruin of fur.\n\n\"I nursed her from a cub,\" he said, his voice harsh, grating. He gripped his war-hammer, with a roll of his shoulder twirled it in his hand like Cywen could twirl a knife. Two of the giant bears closed in behind him, the other one clashing with Jehar in the courtyard, holding them back.\n\nCorban braced himself. Never fought a giant before. Can't be as bad as the Kadoshim. He gritted his teeth.\n\n\"I am Ildaer, warlord of the Jotun,\" the giant said. \"You should know the name of your killer.\"\n\n\"You're welcome to come and try, ' Coralen snarled.\n\nAn arrow hissed and punched into the giant's shoulder, staggering him.\n\nA strangled cry rang out behind them and Gar pushed past Corban, leaping down the stairs, sword raised, Ildaer raising his war-hammer and catching Gar's blow on the iron-banded hammer-shaft. Gar crashed into him and they tumbled back down the stairs, fell apart, Gar rolling to his feet, surging forwards, the giant rising almost as quickly. Gar's blade sang as it flashed through the air, the giant gripping his war-hammer two-handed, iron sparking and screeching as he blocked a barrage of blows, retreating step by step.\n\nThe giant towered over Gar, but he pressed on, unrelenting, striking too fast for Corban to follow, high and low, loops and straight lunges, feints and combinations, a savagery and power in Gar's blows that Corban had never seen before." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The giant was fast, faster than something of that size had the right to be, blocking each sword strike, jabbing with the hammer-shaft, a step back, another jab, but as fast as he was, he could not contain the storm that Gar had become. As Corban watched, a red line opened upon the giant's thigh, another across his forearm, a razor cut across his cheek.\n\nThe giant took another step back, Gar pressing on, and Corban frowned. Something was wrong, a repeat in the pattern of blows, something Gar had always told him never to do.\n\nHe remembered Gar's advice to him, so long ago, it seemed.\n\nAnger is the enemy.\n\nAbruptly Ildaer stopped retreating, blocked Gar's next blow, sweeping his blade wide, and kicked Gar in the chest. Corban heard bones crack and Gar tumbled head over heels backwards. The giant strode after him.\n\nCorban ran down the stairs, leaped and stood over Gar.\n\n\"Where is your honour?\" Ildaer sneered. Blood sheeted the giant's cheek, ran down one arm, slicking the spiralling tattoos, soaked the wool of his breeches.\n\n\"Honour be damned, he is my friend,\" Corban snarled, \"and you'll have to kill me before you touch him again. ' He heard Storm growl behind him.\n\nIldaer looked at him, at his friends on the steps behind him. The giants and their bears stood like stone, tension thick as storm clouds.\n\nA voice rang out from the left and Corban looked to see Balur standing with Meical at the far end of the courtyard, scores of the Benothi and Jehar at their back." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Ildaer, you whelp,\" Balur growled, raising his black axe.\n\n\"Balur One-Eye– it cannot be,\" Corban heard Ildaer whisper, suddenly going as pale as alabaster.\n\nThen Ildaer was turning and running to the closest bear-rider behind him, swinging up onto the bear's back and fleeing through the gates. Balur charged after them, the Benothi following and screaming insults. Corban knelt beside Gar. He was conscious, breathing in short, controlled breaths.\n\n\"Help me, to my father,\" he whispered.\n\nFarrell was beside him and between them they carried Gar up the steps, past the two injured men that Tukul had been protecting– one alive but unconscious, one very obviously dead– and then they were beside Tukul, his body twisted where he'd fallen.\n\nTukul was still alive, his breaths coming in ragged wheezes.\n\nGar grimaced in pain, took his father's hand.\n\nTukul opened his eyes, fora moment unfocused. Then he saw his son.\n\n\"My Gar,\" Tukul wheezed. Blood speckled his lips.\n\n\"Corban, where is Brina?\" Gar said, voice cracking. \"Get Brina.\"\n\n\"Peace, Gar, it is... too late for that,\" Tukul said. He looked past Gar and saw Corban, other faces pressing in.\n\n\"I told you... I would be here... first,\" he said to Corban.\n\n\"Aye, you did,\" Corban said with a lump in his throat.\n\n\"And we made a fair song of it, eh, Cora?\"\n\n\"We did,\" Coralen said, a tremor in her voice. \"You did. You weren't content with one bear. You had to kill two. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "A smile fluttered at the edges of Tukul's mouth.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Remember what I said to you. '\n\nShe smiled softly at him.\n\nTukul coughed, went rigid with pain, blood dribbling down his chin.\n\n\"My sword,\" he whispered, voice faint and thin.\n\nCorban put the hilt in Tukul's hand, closed his fingers around it– he looked away to hide his sorrow. He was Tukul's Bright Star and he would stay strong for him in his last moments. No matter what it cost him.\n\nFootsteps sounded on the steps behind. Meical was standing silent, looking down upon them.\n\n\"Gar, my beloved son,\" Tukul whispered, \"you are my joy.\" Tears dripped from Gar's nose.\"Never forget that. I'll see you again, on the other side,\" Tukul breathed, then with a sigh he was gone." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Veradis stood at the prow of the ship and watched the coast of Tenebral pass him by.\n\nI grew upon this coastline. He closed his eyes and thought of sailing with Krelis, dolphins chasing their ship as it cut through the water. Krelis laughing. Krelis is always laughing when I remember him. Of swimming in the bay of Ripa, sunning on rocks, drinking wine, sparring on the beaches that ringed the bay. Krelis always laughed at that, too. How I'd not give up until I was on my back, him a giant and me little more than a bairn.\n\nHe opened his eyes as the ship shifted beneath him. Alazon was yelling commands; ropes on the sail tightened and loosened, and then the dip and bite of oars. Before them a bay opened up in the coastline, deep and wide, high cliffs dipping towards sandy beaches.\n\nThe Bay of Ripa.\n\nHome.\n\nThey passed from the open sea into the bay's sheltered embrace, behind them fourteen black sails following their course.\n\nThere was already a host of black ships in the bay, clustered about the port of Ripa, more spread throughout its waters. Veradis spied other ships amongst them. More like the corpses of ships. They were ruined and fire-blackened, hulls upturned and wallowing. Ripa's ships. He frowned at that. Beyond them, rising high upon gleaming limestone cliffs Veradis saw the tower of Ripa, built by giants, conquered and claimed by men, now the home and symbol of the Lord of the Bay.\n\nMy father.\n\nWhat am I doing here? The weight of his task came crushing down upon him, the sun-tinged, halcyon glow that had filled him turning to iron-grey clouds, heavy with impending doom. His mind returned to Calidus pulling him to one side on the banks of the Afren in Narvon, just before he had set sail." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Bring me Fidele, in chains if needs be.\n\nVeradis had not believed it, or that she had wed Lykos, and he had said as much, had questioned Calidus' information, but the silver-haired counsellor– and Ben-Elim– had been adamant.\n\nI was as shocked as you, \"Calidus had said.\"But it is true. By all accounts Lykos is infatuated with her. But that is not the end of it. She arrested Peritus and Armatus, sentenced them both to death. That seems to have been the touchstone of this rebellion. There was rioting, Lykos and the Vin Thalun attacked by an angry mob. And now, moons later, Fidele has reappeared, in Ripa where the rebellion is centred. Now she is denouncing Lykos and the Vin Thalun, and inciting the whole of Tenebral to rise up against them. '\n\nVeradis shook his head, eyes fixed on the tower. Fidele, my father and brothers. How can I fix this? I am a warrior, not a diplomat.\n\n\"What do you want me to do?\" he had asked Calidus.\n\n\"Try to reason with them. Peace is what we need, with Lykos in control. If that is not possible.\" He shrugged. \"A decisive victory, show them the strength of your shield wall.\"\n\n\"All warbands in Tenebral have been learning the shield wall. It would be a bloodbath, and a waste of men.\"\n\n\"Aye, but your father and Krelis– they are not progressive. I doubt they would fight with it, and even if they did, you have faced giants, draigs, warbands numbering thousands. You are battle-hardened, veterans of a score of battles. You will not lose.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"How can I fight my kin?\" Veradis asked the waves now.\n\n\"Whoever leads this rebellion must be put down. Fidele, Peritus, your father or brother, without sentiment. Whoever they are, they must be cowed, that is all. Taught that opposing Nathair is pointless. You can teach that lesson. Fidele you bring tome, the rest, deal with at your discretion. Bring them tome, execute them, exile them, do as you will,\" Calidus had said.\n\n\"Deal with them at your discretion,\" Veradis murmured.\n\nThe port of Ripa was empty and silent. Veradis' fifteen ships docked and his men disembarked, near a thousand men in iron helms and coats of mail, black cuirasses polished, silver eagles gleaming upon their chests. They were dressed in the modifications Veradis had implemented over the last two years: iron-banded boots instead of sandals, breeches of charcoal wool instead of leather kilts, longer, oval shields instead of round ones. They all wore two swords at their hips– short and long, and held spears in their hands, lighter and longer than the traditional hunting spears.\n\nLykos was waiting to greet him, a few hundred Vin Thalun about him, looking more like a rabble than a warband beside Veradis' disciplined ranks.\n\nThey look dangerous enough, though. Especially him. Veradis was looking at a warrior beside Lykos, of average height, lean and scarred, but his eyes were cold and hard, grey and bleak like a stormy sea. They stared flatly back at him. Dead eyes.\n\n\"Well met,\" Lykos said, grinning at Veradis. They greeted one another with the warrior grip. Things had not gone well for Lykos in Tenebral, and not so long ago Veradis might have taken a little pleasure in that, probably because of his own deep-rooted prejudices against the Vin Thalun, but since Veradis' failure to catch or kill Corban he felt mostly empathy for Lykos rather than anything else." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Nathair sends his greetings,\" Veradis said, \"and he sends you this.\" Veradis reached inside his cloak and pulled out two scrolls, checked the seals on them, gave one to Lykos and put the other back in his cloak.\n\nLykos took it and slipped it into his belt.\n\n\"Not going to open it?\" Veradis raised an eyebrow.\n\n\"Later,\" Lykos said, linking his arm with Veradis\".\"Right now we need to go and join a battle. '\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"Your timing is excellent, my old friend,\" Lykos said, his breath smelling of wine, \"but any tarrying here and we'll miss the fun. '\n\nOld friend?\n\n\"Three warbands are arrayed on the fields beyond Ripa, all of them eyeing each other with bad intentions.\"\n\n\"With all haste then,\" Veradis said and he led his warband through the streets of Ripa.\n\nVeradis stood and surveyed the field. He was standing to the south-west, at the foot of the slope that Ripa was built upon. To his left, filling the meadows right up to the eaves of the forest Sarva, were the Vin Thalun, numbering well over three thousand men, at a glance. Upon the slope to the east stood the warband of Ripa, fewer men but appearing more formidable, all wearing the black and silver of Tenebral, though without Nathair's eagle.\n\nAnd to the north another warband, again men of Tenebral, the banner of Marcellin of Baran rippling above their formed lines. From this distance it was hard to reckon their numbers, but easily in the thousands.\n\nLykos wasn't joking; he is fortunate I have arrived." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Lykos, I need a horse,\" Veradis said, \"saddled and ready.\" The Vin Thalun frowned but barked at a warrior and sent him off running.\n\n\"Caesus, you know what to do.\" Veradis' young captain nodded to him and marched off with two dozen eagle-guard in tow.\n\nIt was not long before a white mare was presented to him, dancing with energy. Veradis adjusted the harness for himself and swung into the saddle, patting the mare's neck. He reached out and an eagle-guard handed him a banner.\n\nHe cantered first up the hill towards his father's warband, holding the banner high. It was white linen, the black branch and red berries of a rowan stark upon it, symbol of truce. Ashe drew closer he began to see faces he recognized– these were by and large men whom he'd grownup around for the first eighteen years of his life.\n\nA murmur spread along their ranks, rippling ahead of him as he rode along their front line, nodding to those he knew. When he reached the centre of the line he reined in before a man ahead taller than any other gathered upon the slope. His brother Krelis.\n\nThey just stared at each other, silence settling about them, between them.\n\n\"Didn't expect to see you here, ' Krelis said in the end.\n\n\"We need to talk,\" Veradis said. \"Bring Father, down there.\" He nodded into the centre of the field, where a white tent was being erected by Caesus and two dozen eagle-guard.\n\n\"This has gone past talking,\" Krelis said.\n\n\"If we don't talk lives will be lost for no good reason. '\n\nBehind the tent being raised Veradis' eagle-guard were marching in shield-wall formation. Fora moment Veradis just sat and admired them, pride washing over him. The crash of their shields as they turned and stood behind the tent echoed about the field." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Krelis watched too.\n\n\"It's a trap– I don't trust that bastard Lykos.\"\n\n\"Trust me. It is a rowan-meet. My men will guard all who set foot there.\"\n\nHe looked at Krelis again, noticing lines around his eyes and across his forehead that had not been there the last time Veradis had seen him.\n\n\"You've changed, ' Krelis said to him.\n\nVeradis smiled. Krelis had always made him smile.\n\n\"You've changed too, big brother. You look old. '\n\n\"Cheeky pup.\" Krelis grinned.\n\nVeradis kicked his horse into motion. \"Down there, bring Father, and anyone else who you think should have a say.\"\n\nHe rode away from the warband, towards the north of the plain, where Marcellin was camped.\n\nMore than four thousand, Veradis thought as he approached Marcellin, closer to five.\n\nMarcellin hailed from Baran, a fortress carved out of, and into, the Agullas Mountains. He was a big, gruff man of somewhere between fifty and sixty summers, and he had a pair of bushy eyebrows that dominated his craggy face.\n\nBos came from Baran, grew up there, I remember. He felt a stab of sadness at the memory of his friend. Good friends were hard to find.\n\n\"Who are you?\" Marcellin asked him as he reined in before him.\n\n\"Veradis ben Lamar, first-sword and general of King Nathair, and I speak with his voice.\"\n\n\"Oh, do you now?\" Marcellin asked, eyebrows bunching as he stared up at Veradis." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I do, my lord.\"\n\n\"Well, don't think to try and persuade me against kicking that arse Lykos out of my country. He is a disease, and I mean to cut him out. There's nothing you can say to sway me.\"\n\n\"I am not going to try,\" Veradis said. He reached inside his cloak and suddenly Marcellin's shieldmen were pointing a lot of sharp iron his way.\n\n\"I am no assassin,\" Veradis said, trying to keep the anger from his voice, and not entirely sure he was successful.\n\n\"Go slowly, then,\" Marcellin said. \"My lads are fond of this old man.\"\n\nVeradis pulled out a rolled scroll, sealed with red wax.\n\n\"From Nathair,\" Veradis said.\n\nMarcellin took it, frowning bad-temperedly at it.\n\n\"Read it, and if it is to your liking, join me fora rowan-meet with Lamar and Lykos in that tent.\" Without waiting for an answer, he rode away." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Cywen wrapped bandages around Gar's chest; it had started to bruise already but he didn't so much as wince as she pulled the cloth straps tightly to bind his ribs. He sat upon a bench in the feast-hall of Gramm's hold, eyes downcast. Once she'd tied off the bandage she squeezed his hand and he looked at her, eyes red-rimmed and hollow.\n\nI remember that pain, can feel it still, though it is buried deeper now than it was. Da, Mam, Heb, Tukul– how many more people we care about will we lose before this is over? She wished she could do something to ease his pain.\n\n\"You've some cracked ribs, \"she said.\"The bandages will give some support, help them heal, but the fact is anything you do is going to hurt, and that includes breathing. \"He nodded and she helped him back into his coat of dark mail.\"Take this with you, ' she said, offering him a vial.\n\n\"What is it?\"\n\n\"Poppy milk, it will dull the pain.\"\n\n\"I do not want it dulled. I deserve it,\" he muttered. He picked up his scabbarded sword and walked away.\n\nThe feast-hall had been turned into an impromptu hospice, and bodies were everywhere, filling long tables, the metallic tang of blood thick in the air. Cywen had stayed on the ship during the battle, ordered by Corban to help in the organization of unloading the provisions they'd need from ship to shore. She'd been annoyed at first but had seen the sense of it. She was not Corban with a blade, or Gar, or even Farrell for that matter. And the ships needed unloading by someone with more than half a brain, so she'd set to it, with Brina snapping orders at her and Cywen delegating the heavy lifting to Laith and a dozen other giantlings– who had also been forbidden by Balur and Ethlinn to join in the fight." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Added to the giantlings there were over two score of the villagers who had joined them during the journey through Narvon, as well as a few score oarsmen who had rowed the last sprint to the hold and had been too exhausted to move, let alone fight, so Cywen and Brina had quite the workforce at their disposal. All eight ships were close to unloaded when Cywen heard a great rumbling and ran to the raised deck at the back of the ship to get a view of what was happening. The hold on the top of the hill was wreathed in smoke, but the din of battle had faded, only the occasional muted rumble. Now, though, that rumble grew, a cloud of dust rising beyond the hold and swirling eastwards. Brina and Laith had come to stand beside her, then other giantlings.\n\nThe dust cloud had veered north, down the hill, then Cywen had seen what looked to be animals, running, small from this distance, but still clearly bigger than horses, three or four of them, with figures riding upon their backs.\n\n\"Are they auroch?\" Cywen mused.\n\n\"They are the war-bears of the Jotun,\" Laith said beside her, something in her voice hovering somewhere between awe and loathing.\n\nThen Cywen saw what the bears were running from: amass of horses, Jehar, and giants. Amazingly the gap between the bears and those chasing them widened. The bears ran with surprising speed once their momentum was up, straight to the river and without a pause leaping in, sinking beneath the surface fora moment before reappearing and swimming steadily to the far bank. Cywen watched them cross the river and climb out upon the far side, bears shaking themselves dry. A giant had dismounted and walked back to the river's edge, stood there staring across at his pursuers, who had reached the riverbank now and stood ranged along it, Cywen seeing the silver of Balur One-Eye's hair. The giant across the river had raised his arm, holding an axe or war-hammer– Cywen could not tell from this distance– and shouted. No one gave a response and the giant turned, climbed onto a bear's back and the three bears had shambled away." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "After that, word had comedown to them that the battle was over and Brina and Cywen were needed at the hold.\n\nAnd here she was still. She watched Gar walk from the feast-hall, the bright light of highsun beaming through the open doors about him. There were many working on the injured: Cywen and Brina, Ethlinn and Laith, as well as healers from the hold itself, chief of them a woman named Hild, the wife of Gramm's son, Wulf.\n\nThe far end of the hall was being filled with the dead, Jehar, Benothi giants, men of the hold laid out upon tables. Cywen looked back at Tukul's corpse, wrapped in his cloak now and lying alongside Gramm's body.\n\nSo many dead. She felt a hot flush of rage, aimed mostly at Calidus and Nathair. All of this goes back to them, eventually. Calidus most of all, by whatever webs he has woven and pulled the threads; he is the author of this ill.\n\nShe turned and walked for the doors, suddenly feeling suffocated by the cloying stink of blood.\n\nFresh air, I need fresh air.\n\nShe walked out onto a balcony before wide steps; Buddai uncurled from the spot he'd been lying in, tail thumping on wood. Cywen made her way to one of the columns bracing the overhanging roof and leaned against it, taking long, deep breaths. There was a cold wind blowing through the hold, but right now it was refreshing, setting her skin tingling and easing the taint of death that was thick in the feast-hall. She looked at the bloodstains on her hands, under her fingernails, saw stains on the column she was leaning upon, pooled about her feet." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Blood, everywhere.\n\nShe forced herself to look away and saw that she was not the only one who had been busy.\n\nThe courtyard was clear of the dead, instead filled with a score of wains and a herd of horses, all being laden with goods– barrels, chests, clothing, weapons tied in bundles– harvested from the dead, no doubt. At the edges of the courtyard long stable-blocks rang with life, familiar sounds of saddling up, horses neighing, harness jangling that reminded her with sudden and sharp clarity of Dun Carreg, so much so that it almost took her breath away. Closer she saw Corban at the bottom of the steps. He was standing with Meical and Balur, in conversation with Wulf, now lord of this hold. Gar stood behind Corban, his eyes fixed grimly on the carcass of a great bear that had been dragged aside. Corban saw Cywen and beckoned to her.\n\n\"The wounded, Cywen,\" Corban asked her when she reached them. \"Can they travel?\"\n\nBrina should be asked this question. Where is she?\n\n\"Most,\" Cywen said. \"There area few who could not sit on a horse, probably for at least a moon.\"\n\n\"How about a wain?\"\n\nCywen looked at the wains in the yard. \"Aye, that should be fine. Stitches will need to be kept an eye on, fevers and soon, but I'd say there's none amongst the living unfit to travel.\"\n\n\"Good,\" Wulf said with passion. \"I would begone from this place.\"\n\n\"Agreed,\" Meical said. \"We need to leave. Word will spread of what has happened here, and we need to belong gone before Jael sends a larger warband, or Ildaer braves the river with the full strength of his clan.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Balur grunted at that.\n\n\"There are so many of us, so much to bring...\" Hild said.\n\n\"There is plenty of room in Drassil,\" Meical said. \"But we must travel light– we will most likely be hunted. We must make it to Forn with all haste.\"\n\n\"The horses,\" Wulf said. \"My da spent a lifetime breeding them, I cannot just abandon them.\"\n\n\"Bring them,\" Meical said. \"Drassil is colossal. There are no stables, but there are bear pens the size of this hold that could be easily converted. And meadows have been cleared fora league all about the fortress– your da did not rest idle at Drassil for sixteen years,\" Meical said to Gar.\n\nCoralen approached them, the first that Cywen had seen of her. She'd been sent to oversee the sinking of their ships, Corban determined that nothing be left for their enemy's use. Her red hair was dark with sweat, her face was soot stained and tight with grief. She was carrying an axe in her hands that she offered to Gar.\n\n\"It is your da's. I found it in the skull of a dead bear, beyond the wall, ' Coralen said.\n\nGar took it. \"His sword I leave with him,\" he said, voice hoarse. \"But I would be glad to carry one of his weapons. It feels... right. Especially one that he was so fond of.\" He frowned, looking down at it. \"But I have never used an axe before...\"\n\n\"I will teach you,\" Wulf said, then his mouth twisted as he looked at his bandaged hands. \"If I can.\"\n\n\"He spoke highly of you,\" Gar said. \"And of your da.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Grief swept Wulf's face.\"He tried to save my da– pulled him down from... \"His eyes flickered to the column, to his bandaged hands.\"He stood over us, before that bear... '\n\nA warrior ran up, one from Gramm's hold.\n\n\"Has the half-breed been found?\" Wulf said to the man, a cold rage in his voice.\n\n\"She is not amongst the dead,\" the warrior replied.\n\n\"Fled, then,\" Wulf snarled.\n\n\"Who?\" Meical asked him.\n\n\"A half-breed traitor. We gave her a home, raised her, yet she chose to betray Haelan to the enemy. It was only thanks to the boy's quick wits that he'd fled his hiding place before Trigg revealed it to our enemies.\"\n\n\"Sometimes it feels that this world is full of traitors,\" Meical said.\n\n\"Aye.\" Wulf nodded. \"But I vow, if I ever see this one again, it will be one less amongst the living.\"\n\n\"We should raise cairns-\" Corban said, looking at the bloodstained hold.\n\n\"Too long,\" Meical said. \"We would still be here when Jael came riding up with a thousand men.\"\n\n\"Burn them,\" Wulf said grimly, \"burn the entire hold, leave nothing for our enemy.\"\n\nCywen stood beside her brother, facing the feast-hall, a host gathered behind them. Beyond the gates along column of wains and horses loaded with provisions was waiting for them.\n\nA silence fell over the courtyard and Brina sang the first lines of the lament, the melody stark and pure, Gar and Wulf adding their voices first, then more joining until the whole host sang the song for the dead, their voices rising to deafening crescendo, filling Cywen's heart with a tide of emotion. As the last notes died, Wulf and Gar stepped forward and threw burning torches at the feast-hall steps." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The steps and hall had been doused with oil, and flames roared skywards, hungry and crackling. In short moments the hall was ablaze, heat rolling at them in great waves.\n\nWulf turned and left the courtyard, followed by Corban and then all of the others. As Cywen mounted her horse she saw Gar standing before the gates, outlined by flames, still staring at the hall.\n\nCywen glanced sidelong at Brina.\n\nShould I talk to her, about last night, about the book? After all that's happened it seems almost unimportant... Still the memory of the giant words she'd seen had haunted and swirled about her mind throughout the whole long day. She'd wanted to talk to Corban about it, but there had been no opportunity thus far.\n\n\"You might as well come out and say it,\" Brina said acerbically. \"Holding your tongue suits you just about as much as it does your brother.\"\n\nThey'd ridden leagues across rolling meadows, their convoy now close to a thousand souls, heading steadily towards what looked like an ocean of trees that filled the horizon in every direction. Behind them the hold still burned, a flickering beacon upon its hill.\n\n\"The book,\" Cywen said, talking quietly, even though they were riding between two wains full of the injured and semi-conscious.\n\nBrina sighed, lips pursing, but she said nothing.\n\nShe's not going to make this easy.\n\n\"It scared me,\" Cywen said.\n\nBrina was silent, again. Cywen thought she would not answer. Then Brina spoke softly.\n\n\"It scares me, too.\"\n\n\"It is a book of spells, isn't it? '\n\n\"Aye, some of it is.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I don't understand. I thought the book is about faith, that being an Elemental is simply believing it and speaking it. That's what you told me– that's what the book says. I read it myself. '\n\n\"Aye, that's right, ' Brina said. Her wrinkled face twitched.\n\n\"So why the need for spells, when faith is all?\"\n\n\"Faith is not all,\" Brina snapped. \"That is the point. Faith can be strong, then weak, then gone, all in the same person, all in the space of a hundred heartbeats. That's why Heb died. His faith wavered. \"She was silent a moment, abruptly her breathing laboured.\"So the book explains the alternative. The other way. Spells give the wielder more control, more consistency. '\n\n\"So they're easier? '\n\n\"Not exactly. With faith, there is no cost, no price to pay. But spells are... different. Firstly they are harder to perform, in one sense– there is the gathering of ingredients, how to prepare them, knowing the words of power and soon.\"\n\n\"Like a poultice, or medicinal potion?\"\n\n\"Exactly.\"\n\nI knew she wanted to talk about this, would not be able to stop once she started.\n\n\"Although from what I can see, the ingredients are not so easy to come by as meadowsweet or foxglove, or as pleasant.\"\n\n\"What do you mean?\"\n\n\"I mean, the ingredients for these spells are often hard to come by, and by and large unwholesome.\"\n\n\"Unwholesome?\"\n\n\"Yes. For example, blood is often an ingredient.\"\n\nCywen was silent. She didn't like the sound of this, just talking about it was making the hairs at the back of her neck stand on end." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"But there is also another cost.\" Brina stopped there, looking around to check that no one was listening.\n\n\"What other cost?\" Cywen prompted.\n\n\"I'm not sure, \"Brina said.\"The book hints and alludes, but– \"she shrugged–\"I need more time to work it out. It is appealing– could be useful in this God-War. Togo into battle knowing what you are capable of, having confidence in what you can do. Not like my poor Heb... '\n\n\"I don't like it, ' Cywen muttered.\n\n\"I don't like it either, \"Brina retorted.\"But that doesn't mean you don't use it. I don't like swords or spears, or fire when it's used to burn a person. There is much in life I don't like. But should I throwaway or choose not to use a weapon that could help us win?\"\n\n\"I don't know, ' Cywen said begrudgingly.\n\n\"I know you wish to speak of this with Corban,\" Brina said. \"I am asking you to wait. There is more I have seen– hints and riddles about the cauldron, about the Seven Treasures. I am trying to understand it.\"\n\n\"We could ask Balur, or Meical,\" Cywen said.\n\n\"No,\" snapped Brina. Then, calmer: \"Please. Let me try. Just a little longer.\"\n\nI guess I owe her that much. If spells can help us then we should probably take every opportunity. Still, I don't like it... and if she doesn't tell Corban soon then I will.\n\nHaving reached a resolution with herself, Cywen slipped into silence again until she saw a group of riders cantering towards them from the east, a score, maybe a few more." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Brina kicked her horse on.\n\n\"Where are you going?\" Cywen asked her.\n\n\"One of the benefits of being a counsellor,\" Brina said over her shoulder, \"I get to be nosy.\" She cantered down the column towards Corban.\n\nCywen thought about that a moment.\n\nWell, I am Brina's apprentice, or assistant, or whatever she likes to call me. So I should assist her. She kicked her horse after Brina.\n\nCorban raised an arm and Dath blew on his horn, the whole column rippling to a halt. The riders approaching them were mostly warriors, dressed in leather and fur, with iron helms, straight spears and strong shields, their war gear looking similar to that of the surviving warriors from Gramm's hold. Then Cywen saw the bairns– two riding together on one horse, a lad and lass, and another sitting before a thickset warrior with long arms and no neck. A small white dog ran along beside them.\n\nThey are from Gramm's hold.\n\nIt was a good guess because Hild, sobbing and smiling, jumped down from the wain she was driving and ran to meet them, the lad and lass slipping from their horse to run into her arms.\n\nWulf and Hild's children, then. The ones Jael had been holding hostage. But who is the other child?\n\nCorban stopped before the warrior with the child sitting in front of him. The white dog ran around Shield, barking excitedly, then he saw Storm, tucked his tail between his legs and hid behind the horse. He stuck his head out from behind a leg and growled.\n\nStorm looked disdainfully at him, then looked away.\n\n\"Wulf tells me that you are Haelan,\" Corban said to the lad, who was dirt stained, and looked exhausted and scared witless, but he managed to sit straighter in his saddle, and when he spoke he looked Corban in the eye and his voice had conviction." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I am Haelan ben Romar, rightful King of Isiltir,\" the lad said.\n\n\"Well met, Haelan,\" Corban said, speaking solemnly. \"I am Corban ben Thannon, and I am prince of nowhere and king of nothing, but I do lead these people, and we are sworn to fight the man who has usurped your throne, because he serves Asroth and the Black Sun. So you would be welcome amongst us and, I suppose, as safe as it is possible to be in these times of war.\"\n\nHaelan looked up at Corban, then down at Storm, and finally along the column that stretched back almost out of sight, full of Jehar, Benothi giants, pit-fighters and so many others.\n\n\"You are going to fight Jael? Going to defeat him?\"\n\nCorban smiled. \"I cannot promise you a victory, only that I'll fight him and win, or die in the trying. '\n\nHaelan nodded, not looking like his eleven or twelve summers at all.\n\n\"That is good enough for me,\" Haelan said. \"I will gladly join your warband, Corban ben Thannon.\"\n\nCorban held out his hand and took Haelan's arm in the warrior grip. The lad looked momentarily taken aback, then pleased. And then Corban was riding back to the head of the column, Dath blowing on his horn again, and the warband stuttered into movement, the newcomers joining them. Buddai left Cywen's side and loped over to the small terrier, who jumped allover him as if they had been friends forever. Buddai slapped the dog gently with a paw, then rolled in the grass.\n\nCywen smiled at the sight, seeming so natural and ordinary in these most unnatural of times. She took one last look behind her, the sun sinking into the horizon, the fires on Gramm's hill guttering low. Then she turned her head to the east and rode on, towards the endless green that was Forn Forest." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Evnis sat by the tower gates with his head in his hands. He felt a lot of things right now. Foolish, most of all. I cannot believe that I just stood up in the middle of afield and called Vonn's name.\n\nThe emotion of seeing his son after so long had been overwhelming. Clearly. But it was fading now, a distant blend of joy and fear. In its wake was the realization that he had ruined an exceptional plan. It didn't help that Braith was pointing that out to him, repeatedly.\n\nAnd Morcant was furious about his silver. It's not his silver. It was given to him by Rhin, and she will expect to see it used wisely or returned to her. Perhaps that is why he is so angry. Or scared.\n\nThe sun was setting, and Evnis' hundred shieldmen had arrived. Morcant had ridden in with two hundred swords, so the tower and hill was suddenly a very busy place with horses being putout to pasture, tents going up and food being cooked.\n\nBefore him the marshlands shimmered, glittering like a many-faceted jewel in the fading rays of the sun. With a deep sigh he stood and walked down the hill to where Braith and Morcant were standing, close to where the enemy had escaped. Glyn followed a few paces behind.\n\nI cannot believe that I stood in the open and allowed an enemy to aim his bow at me.\n\nEvnis had never been an impulsive man– emotional, yes, deeply so, but he never acted on that emotion. Not immediately, anyway, certainly not impulsively. Except today.\n\nAnd there had been one high spot, one good moment in the midst of all of the irrational behaviour and shame.\n\nVonn saved me." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Evnis had played that moment over and over in his mind; Camlin with an arrow aimed at his heart, and then Vonn's hand resting on the archer's arm, stalling him.\n\nWhat does that mean? The one thing for sure is that at that moment he didn't want me to die. That gives me much hope. If only I could have talked to him. He ground his teeth. It will happen, and when it does, he will comeback tome. If he does not– I cannot have my son fighting for my enemy. He stopped himself from thinking that... he would not allow it to come to that.\n\nHe reached Braith and Morcant. Rafe, a little apart, was squatting with the two hounds and looking down the waterway that had been used so effectively as an escape route. Morcant had tried to follow, hell-bent on recovering his chest of silver, but within a few hundred paces the ground became impossible to ride a horse upon, and soon after that was too treacherous to walk upon. Maybe with time, men picking their route, but not fast enough to keep the boats within sight.\n\n\"We need to talk,\" Evnis said, the sight of Morcant's petulant face both annoying him and focusing him.\n\n\"We need to do more than talk,\" Morcant muttered, but Evnis pretended he hadn't heard him and walked on towards the riverbank.\n\n\"So. Let us decide,\" Evnis said. \"How, exactly, are we going to kill Edana?\"\n\n\"Starve them out,\" Morcant said. \"I've been building towers around the marshland, they won't be able to leave without my seeing them. And I'll either buy the local villages'loyalty, or raze them to the ground. Either way they won't be able to trade for food. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Evnis looked at him as if he was mad.\n\n\"They live in a marsh. It's not farmland, where crops only come in the right season. Look in that river and you'll see a hundred fish. They are not going to come out because they're starving. '\n\nMorcant scowled at him but didn't reply.\n\nIntelligence is not a necessary pre-requisite for skill with a blade, then.\n\n\"We either lure them out, which I imagine will be impossible, or we go in thereafter them,\" Evnis said.\n\n\"I'm going to go in there and find them, \"Braith said.\"Then I'll send someone back to get you.\"\n\n\"You can do that?\"\n\n\"Aye. That's what I was going to do anyway– would've been easier if I'd had Halion to follow... \"He looked pointedly at Evnis.\"And now Camlin knows I'm here, he won't make life any easier for me. \"His hand drifted up to the scar between his neck and shoulder.\"But I can still do it. It will take longer, and I'll need a few more men– huntsmen, preferably. If that's not possible then men who are good on their feet, quiet. Observant. '\n\n\"You shall have them. But, once you find Edana and send word tome, how do you suggest I bring a warband in there?\" He looked at the marsh, lip curling in disgust.\n\n\"Buy boats. Build boats. Steal boats. That's how they're getting around in there, and it's the only way you'll move a significant amount of men.\"\n\nThere's a forest a few leagues behind me, and every village situated about this stinking mosquito-infested latrine will have fisher-boats." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"We can do that,\" he said.\n\n\"You'll need a lot of boats for that lot, ' Braith observed, looking backup to the tower.\n\n\"I don't think even that will be enough, \"Evnis said.\"I'm sending a messenger back to Dun Carreg for more warriors. We don't know how many are in there– fifty, a hundred, three hundred, five? I don't want to go to all this hard work, get our warband in there only to find out that we're outnumbered. '\n\n\"Makes sense,\" Braith said. \"And you'll want to leave Morcant's towers manned, in case they decide to bolt and run. Not enough fora fight, but enough to track them if they go running.\"\n\n\"Aye. Good,\" grunted Evnis. For all of his arrogance he is a good man to have around in a situation like this. And whatever arrogance he has, it is as nothing to that preening peacock over there.\n\nMorcant had just stood and listened, glowering every now and then into the marshland.\n\n\"Long as I get that chest of silver back,\" he muttered.\n\n\"You might never see it again,\" Evnis said, enjoying seeing him squirm a little.\n\n\"If I don't I'll be telling Rhin you're the reason it's gone,\" Morcant snapped.\n\n\"Ha, that silver was gone before I arrived. You wouldn't even know about it for another ten-night if I hadn't been here.\"\n\nMorcant stalked up to him, his blade in his hands, and Evnis fought the desire to take an involuntary step back.\n\n\"I will have it back, or I'll have blood, ' Morcant snarled." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I can promise you one of those,\" Evnis told him, glaring.\n\n\"And what if you see your son again?\" Morcant sneered. \"Will you betray our position again? Perhaps you should not come.\"\n\n\"You do not make the decisions here,\" Evnis said, cold and hard now. \"And I promise you all, I shall not act again as I did today. The next time I see him, my son will join me, or he will die.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I do not think this is a good idea,\" Lykos said as he leaned back in his chair and tipped more wine into his mouth.\n\n\"Why not?\" Veradis asked him.\n\n\"Because none of the people that you have invited to this party like me.\"\n\n\"That is probably true-\"\n\n\"Definitely,\" Lykos interrupted.\n\n\"You are safe enough for now, this is a rowan-meet; it is sacred.\"\n\nLykos raised an eyebrow. \"You'd be surprised how far some people will go, once they have begun a course. And, as I said, they really don't like me.\"\n\nWhat damage have you caused in Tenebral? Whatever you have done, it ends now. Veradis felt an overwhelming anger at Lykos and the trouble he had caused. If it were up to him he would have slapped him in chains and given the regency back to Fidele, or to Peritus if the rumours of her unstable mind were true. But it is not up tome. I have been given clear orders where Lykos is concerned, more's the pity.\n\n\"We must try and reach some compromise.\"\n\n\"Surely. As long as it doesn't involve me being separated from any of my body parts. '\n\n\"Nathair values you most highly. That is not an option.\"\n\n\"You reassure me,\" Lykos said with a smile, then drank some more wine. \"Not as much as having Kolai standing at my back, perhaps, but enough to convince me to stay and see what happens.\"\n\nAll were allowed one person to accompany them, again, out of tradition more than any real fear of danger. The rowan-meet was sacred, a deep-rooted tradition brought with the Exiles from the Summer Isle. Kolai, the cold-eyed warrior whom Veradis had noticed on the harbour, stood implacably behind the chair Lykos was sitting in. Veradis had brought Caesus with him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The tent flap was pulled back and in walked Lamar, Lord of Ripa.\n\nDa. Veradis felt the breath catch in his chest. His da had aged, far more than the two years that had passed since last they'd seen one another. He was gaunt, a stoop to his frame that had never been there before, and the skin on his bones was loose and waxy. His eyes met Veradis\" and he stopped, just stared at his son. Those eyes still held all the wit and intelligence that Veradis remembered.\n\n\"Father,\" Veradis said.\n\n\"You have grown,\" Lamar said solemnly, looking him up and down.\n\nVeradis shrugged, not knowing what to say. Suddenly he felt like a little boy in his father's presence.\n\n\"Gods, but you look like your mother,\" Lamar said with a sigh.\n\nVeradis blinked at that. Others had said much the same. Many others, but never his father.\n\n\"Please, sit,\" was all he could think of to say.\n\nA table had been set out, with a jug of wine and cups. Lamar sat opposite Lykos. He regarded the Vin Thalun lord with what most would have considered an emotionless gaze, but Veradis could seethe cold hatred behind his father's eyes. Then there were more figures entering the tent. Ektor came first, looking completely unchanged, dark hair stuck across his forehead, face pale and sallow. He met Veradis\" eye and nodded to him, no words of greeting.\n\nThey had never been close.\n\nBehind him came Peritus and Alben, both men he respected, one whom he loved. Alben had been his weapons-master, and more than that, had shown him more kindness than his father ever had. He smiled at the old man, silver hair tied tight at the nape. Alben returned the smile, warm and open, and then they were both sitting." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Marcellin entered then, with one shieldman at his back, a warrior almost as tall as Krelis. He sat with a nod to Lamar and Peritus and poured himself some wine.\n\n\"Welcome,\" Veradis said, moving to a chair.\n\n\"Not all are here yet,\" Lamar said, holding a hand up.\n\nThen Fidele stepped into the tent.\n\nShe paused at the entrance, her eyes fixing on Lykos with clear hatred and scorn.\n\nHardly the loving wife, then. She was as beautiful as she had always been, though different. There was something hard about her, the bones of her face harsher, muscles shifting in her forearm as she gripped the tent pole. And stronger. She had seemed frail when Veradis had left Tenebral, brittle with grief. Now that was gone. She tore her eyes away from Lykos, who was not looking happy at her presence, and walked to an empty chair.\n\n\"She should not be here,\" Lykos said. \"She is unhinged, has brought this realm to the brink of war.\"\n\n\"I will not leave,\" Fidele said. She looked at Veradis as she said it, not Lykos.\n\nShe does not look unhinged tome.\n\nBehind her a warrior entered, not overly tall or muscular, but his presence filled the room, a melding of grace and menace. He was old fora shieldman, streaks of iron in his hair, heavily scarred, one ear just a lump of flesh, and he was not dressed as a warrior of Tenebral, only in a plain linen shirt and leather vest. And knives. Two at his belt besides his sword, a hilt poking from a boot, and Veradis suspected more were secreted about his body. Then the warrior looked at Veradis." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Maquin,\" he whispered.\n\n\"Well met,\" Maquin said, his face a cold mask.\n\nThe last time I saw him was in Forn. He was wounded, bloody, had been chased to exhaustion, but I still recognized him. Now, though, this is not that man...\n\nMaquin stood behind Fidele.\n\n\"So you have tamed the Old Wolf, then,\" Lykos said.\n\n\"Do not speak to her,\" Maquin said.\n\n\"Or what?\" Lykos said good-naturedly. \"This is a rowan-meet, remember.\"\n\nMaquin said nothing, just stared unblinking at Lykos.\n\n\"Perhaps I should speak to you, then,\" Lykos said to Maquin. \"I see you have grown your warrior braid back.\"\n\n\"Hair grows,\" Maquin shrugged.\n\n\"Aye, and can be cut again.\"\n\n\"Many things can be cut,\" Maquin said, his gaze radiating hatred as palpable as heat from afire.\n\nWhat is going on here?\n\n\"Enough,\" Lamar said. He looked at Veradis. \"We have come at your request, though I hold no hope for reconciliation here. Lykos has done too much, gone too far.\"\n\n\"That is yet to be seen,\" Veradis said with a sigh, taking his place at the table, opposite his father. He had thought he was ready for this, prepared. He realized that he wasn't. He poured himself some wine.\n\nI must resolve this. Redeem myself to Nathair for my failure in Narvon. He took a slow sip from his cup and focused, just as he did in the shield wall, when the shields cracked together." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Carry on with the narrative as the plot partner.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, demons\nAuthor: John Gwynne\nTitle: Ruin\nChapter: 86" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Two and a half thousand swords,\" Gar whispered behind him.\n\nFive hundred paces out and horn blasts rang from the cluster of riders, the warband rippling to a halt, a silence settling heavy upon them all.\n\n\"Is it just me, or is there a lot of waiting in war?\" Dath muttered.\n\n\"Aye, you're right, \"Farrell replied.\"Usually followed by a lot of dying. '\n\nDath took a deep breath.\n\n\"That's comforting. '\n\n\"Here to help,\" Farrell muttered.\n\nHearing Dath and Farrell's bickering actually helped to calm Corban's nerves, something familiar in this most unfamiliar of circumstances.\n\nThe other battles seemed to just happen– Dun Carreg, Murias, Gramm's hold. This waiting and watching is worse.\n\nFour riders separated from the others, riding at a steady pace towards the gates of Drassil, one clearly the leader, his horsehair plume tugged by the wind– must be Jael, the self-appointed King of Isiltir– another held Isiltir's banner, the third appearing to be a shieldman, obviously a warrior, sitting his saddle with an easy grace and clothed similarly to the other two, in red cloak, black cuirass andiron helm, sword at his hip, spear in one hand. The fourth appeared elderly, hunched over his saddle and wrapped in a voluminous cloak, the hood pulled up.\n\nA loremaster, perhaps, come to tell me that I have no legal claim to be fighting against the King of Isiltir.\n\nThey rode steadily closer.\n\nAt least it looks as if the waiting's over." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Ulfilas rode one side of Jael, his first-sword Fram upon the other, their cloaked and hunched companion close behind them. As they drew nearer Ulfilas looked up at the walls of Drassil, the great tree towering behind them, its branches unfurling like some giant organic shield that touched the clouds.\n\nThe gates were huge, constructs of weathered oak andiron, as tall as a house from Mikil, and looked as thick as a wall. On the wall above, warriors stood in silent rows, peering down on them. Here and there Ulfilas saw the huge proportions of a giant.\n\nNever thought I'd wish for the company of Ildaer and his Jotun. Where is he, the traitorous coward? Over a dozen messengers had been sent north into the Desolation in search of Ildaer and his giants. Not a sight or sound had been heard of them since the disaster at Gramm's hold, and eventually Jael had tired of sending messengers.\n\nOn one of the gate towers a banner rippled; as Ulfilas drew nearer he was able to make out a rayed white star upon a black field.\n\nIn the crook of his arm Ulfilas held the banner of Isiltir, the wind trying to rip it from his grip.\n\nWhite star against the storm and serpent.\n\nThey were three or four hundred paces from the gates now, still closer to their warband than to the walls of Drassil, but nevertheless Ulfilas was starting to feel a little intimidated by the sheer scale of them.\n\nAre our ladders even tall enough?\n\n\"Are you sure this is a good idea?\" Ulfilas asked Jael, who sat straight and confident in his saddle." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Jael reined his horse in and cupped his hands about his mouth.\n\nToo late.\n\n\"Who leads this rabble?\" Jael called out, voice sounding small and insignificant as it battered against Drassil's walls. No answer came back to them.\n\n\"I've heard a name, and a title, \"Jael called.\"Corban. Bright Star. Are you up there, Corban, but too scared to speak with me. '\n\nHe's always had a natural ability to get under the skin, has Jael.\n\n\"I'm here, ' a voice came down to them.\n\n\"I've a proposition for you, Bright Star, \"Jael shouted, managing to make the title sound like an insult.\"I've a lot of men under my care, and no doubt you've a fair few with you inside those walls. How about we decide this the old way, and spare the blood of thousands of men. Spare their lives. '\n\nSilence.\n\n\"You against my champion. Winner takes the field.\"\n\nMore silence.\n\n\"I'd wager that that has set the cat amongst the wood pigeons, ' Jael whispered to Ulfilas.\n\n\"You lie,\" another voice drifted down.\n\nI recognize that voice.\n\nA face peered over the wall. Wulf.\n\n\"Ahh, the son of Gramm,\" Jael called out. \"How are your hands?\"\n\nI think he's genuinely enjoying this.\n\n\"You will die today, Jael. As will your lackey, Ulfilas.\"\n\nWell, I did spill his da's guts before his very eyes. I'd be surprised if he wasn't angry.\n\n\"Be quiet, you insignificant oaf,\" Jael called back. \"I'm talking to your leader, not you. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Curses drifted down and then Wulf's face disappeared.\n\n\"I do not lie,\" Jael said. \"I swear an oath, before my people and any powers that deign to listen. If you defeat my champion I shall withdraw and leave you in peace.\"\n\n\"I'll fight you, ' the first voice came down to them.\n\n\"Ahh, tempting,\" Jael said, \"but, no. I am a king. I have a champion, whereas you are no king, but profess to be a champion. The champion of Elyon, no less; or am I mistaken? That is what the prophecy says, does it not?\"\n\nMore silence.\n\n\"So if you are the champion you claim to be, then comedown here. Fight my champion, and spare the lives of your followers.\"\n\nJael turned and grinned at Ulfilas. \"Either way, we win here. If he refuses, he loses the respect of his warband– they will not fight so fiercely for someone who had an opportunity to save them and chose not to. And if he comes down here, he dies. Their Bright Star. That will rip the heart out of this warband. They may even surrender after that.\"\n\nI'll give it to Jael, he is a canny one.\n\n\"But what if he comes down here and wins?\" Ulfilas said.\n\nJael just pulled a face at him. \"Win? Please.\" Then he frowned as he thought about it a few moments, finally shrugging. \"If he wins we'll just kill him, anyway. He won't get back to those gates before my mounted shieldmen could catch him.\"\n\n\"That may inspire some anger amongst his warband, rather than dishearten them.\"\n\n\"It may, you're right. But he'd still be dead, and that is the most important goal here, Ulfilas. To kill a snake you cutoff the head.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I'm coming down, \"the Bright Star's voice drifted down to them.\n\nThe gates opened with a grating of iron and oak and alone figure stepped out. They closed behind him with a booming thud as he strode purposefully towards them.\n\n\"He looks quite confident,\" Jael remarked.\n\n\"He does,\" Ulfilas agreed.\n\nThe four of them waited in silence as the lone warrior approached them.\n\nSo this is the Bright Star that Nathair is so scared of. Corban. He is younger than I expected.\n\nHe was young, his face smooth-skinned apart from the short dark stubble of a beard. He walked with the easy gait of a warrior, of average height, broad at the shoulder, thick at the chest, slim at the waist, built more like a blacksmith, to Ulfilas' mind.\n\nHe's well dressed, though, Ulfilas thought, admiring his war gear. A well-fitting coat of mail, leather andiron on his wrists and feet, shield slung across his back and a large hand-and-a-half sword at his hip.\n\nA big sword, too big to use single-handed. Strong but slow.\n\nUlfilas had seen this type many times before, strong but slow, their strength often their worst enemy, relying upon it to batter their opponents into defeat. He saw a strange weapon strapped to Corban's left hand, like a three-pronged knife bound into a leather gauntlet.\n\nLike claws. Ulfilas remembered the wounds on many of those who had been slain in the night-time raids during the journey through Forn.\n\nSomething glinted on his arm, an arm-ring spiralling around his bicep, gleaming with silver." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Jael will want that once this man is dead.\n\nHe stopped about fifty paces from them, regarding them with dark, serious eyes.\n\n\"I am here, then.\" Corban drew his sword almost without having seemed to move, his feet shifting, balance perfect. He rolled his shoulders.\n\nMaybe not so slow, then.\n\n\"Brave of you,\" Jael commented, \"and trusting.\"\n\nNot so trusting, that's why he stopped over fifty paces away from us.\n\nCorban shrugged. \"Let's get on with this. '\n\n\"Not a conversationalist, then,\" Jael said. \"As you wish.\" He pulled on his reins and kicked his horse, turning to ride back to the warband. Ulfilas and Fram followed. Ulfilas looked back over his shoulder, saw the surprise on Corban's face as Fram rode away, then saw his expression change as the fourth member of their party slid from his horse and dropped his cloak.\n\nThis will most likely be over before we are back amongst our warband.\n\nIt was Sumur." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Fora heartbeat Corban froze, numb, shocked, then a jolt of fear hit him.\n\nSumur. Kadoshim.\n\nI'm going to die.\n\nI should have listened to Gar and Meical and not accepted Jael's challenge. Gar had insisted on accepting the duel, said that he was Corban's champion, that he had stood guard over him since birth, and it wasn't going to change now.\n\nYou can do much for me, Gar, but you cannot be me. Jael is right, I am Elyon's champion, no other. Gar had just stood there, looking into Corban's eyes, his face twitching with frustration.\n\nMeical had grabbed Corban, ordered him not to go, and then when it became clear that wasn't going to work, almost begged. It was the most emotion Corban had ever seen from the Ben-Elim.\n\nBut I had no choice. How could I let so many die when I could have done something to stop it?\n\nYou tell me I am the Bright Star, Corban had said as Meical had gripped his arm. I must do this. Meical had regarded him with sad eyes, then nodded and let go.\n\nAs those behind him recognized who he faced they broke outwith shouting and cursing. He recognized Gar's voice, Dath's swearing. Could imagine the look of fear on Cywen's face.\n\nI have to put it out of my mind, he told himself. If I want to last more than a few heartbeats I must put everything out of my mind except his sword.\n\n\"Surprised?\" Sumur said, having crossed over half the distance to Corban, only twenty or thirty paces separating them now.\n\n\"A little,\" Corban muttered, taking a few steps backwards as Sumur strode towards him, inevitable as time." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It seems the Kadoshim have learned a little humour since they entered this world.\n\n\"I am going to carve out your heart and eat it,\" Sumur said, the gap closing between them.\n\nNow that's not so funny.\n\n\"Are you Sumur, or something else?\"\n\n\"Sumur is still inhere,\" the Kadoshim said, walking closer, his black eyes boring into Corban. \"All of his knowledge, his skill, the instinctive responses of his body.\" He rolled his wrist as he approached Corban, his blade twirling a slow circle. Corban recognized the movement, remembered seeing him do the same thing back in Dun Carreg, when Gar had faced Sumur, trying to purchase Corban time to escape.\n\nStrange– the body and movement is Sumur's, but the voice is someone else's. Not someone, something. And if Gar couldn't beat him, how in the Otherworld can I?\n\n\"But Sumur does not rule inhere, anymore.\" The Kadoshim put fingertips to heart and head. \"I am Belial, captain of Asroth.\"\n\n\"I think I'll just stick with Sumur, ' Corban said, shuffling back another few paces.\n\nSumur shrugged and continued striding forwards. \"Will you run from me?\" he asked, his head cocked to one side. \"I can smell your fear.\"\n\nHe is not trying to goad me, is just speaking the truth.\n\n\"All men feel fear,\" Corban snarled and surged forwards.\n\nPartly he was just sick of running and wanted to fight, but there was more to his attack than simply a knee-jerk anger. He had half-hoped to catch Sumur by surprise, maybe have half a heartbeat within which to find an opening." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "That did not happen.\n\nCorban's first strike was a two-handed chop at the head, using all his strength, from feet and ankles, through legs into his back, shoulders and arms.\n\nSumur met the blow easily, almost lazily shrugging it off. Corban's second, third and fourth blows– a combination that he was sure Gar would have stopped and applauded him for– all met with hard iron. He did manage to stop Sumur's advance, though, the Kadoshim planting his feet and gripping his blade two-handed. Corban swirled around him, one blow merging into the next, trying to move onto Sumur's left side.\n\nThen, without any warning, no visible tell that Corban spotted, Sumur was pushing forwards, almost opening Corban's throat with his first blow, the blade-tip scraping off Corban's torc, the second strike glancing off his mail-covered shoulder, the third met with Corban's blade, the fourth deflected by the iron strips in Corban's bracer, the sixth avoided by a leap as Sumur tried to cut his feet from under him. Three more blows came at Corban's head in sharp succession, each one powerful enough to take his head off if not deflected. Corban rolled and rotated his wrists, elbows, shoulders, shifted his weight, sending the blows slipping a finger's width wide of his head each time.\n\nIt is like fighting a giant, his strength is incredible.\n\nSumur's blade came at him faster and faster, the strength building with each blow; the Kadoshim starting to move in circles about him, halting Corban's steady retreat back to the gates of Drassil.\n\nInstinct overcame Corban's fear then, his mind shrinking to the man and blade before him, reading the shift of his feet, the contraction and extension of muscle, the tilt and bunching of balance. At first it was enough that he managed to block each blow, but slowly his body began working faster than thought, the constant drills of Gar and the sword dance flowing through his limbs without conscious direction, and he began to counter Sumur's blows. First one in three or four, then every other blow against him and he was striking back." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They exchanged another flurry of blows, Corban using every form within the sword dance, and while he managed to push Sumur back a dozen steps and defend against his attacks, he could not breakthrough the Kadoshim's guard.\n\nThey parted, Corban breathing heavily, muscles and tendons strained and screaming for respite, bruises throbbing beneath his mail shirt where blows had sneaked through his guard, blood trickling down one leg from a shallow cut above his knee. Sumur was unmarked but looked... irritated.\n\nI'm still alive, Corban thought. It came as quite a shock to him.\n\nHe knows the sword dance as if he were it, can strike with every conceivable combination, can counter the same. If that is all I can meet him with I am going to die– sooner or later I will tire, will slowdown, and his strength and stamina are not changing. If anything his strength is growing with his anger. A memory flashed through his mind, of Gar standing over Akar in the weapons court.\n\n\"What's the matter? \"Corban breathed with a forced grin.\"Can't you kill me?\"\n\nSumur snarled at that, powered in at him, blows coming from every angle. Corban blocked them all, just, then forced his body to change course, stepped in instead of obeying instinct and swirling away. He headbutted Sumur full on the bridge of the nose, punched his sword hilt into Sumur's face as he staggered back a step, slammed his wolven-claws into the man's belly, punching through chainmail links deep into soft flesh, ripping the claws free as he swept away.\n\nThank you, Coralen.\n\nSumur paused, looked at him with his head cocked to one side, dark drops of blood smearing his lips, dripping from his mouth. He did not seem to notice the wound in his belly, even though blood was dripping, pooling about his feet." }, { "from": "human", "value": "I have to take his head." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I can hardly touch him, and when I do, Ideal a blow that would kill any other man and he does not even notice it.\n\nThe uselessness and frustration of it threatened to overwhelm him.\n\nNo. Gar's words from a million training sessions came back to him, ordering him on. I endure. I try again.\n\n\"Surprised?\" Corban said. \"Perhaps I'll get to add your head to those of your kin that are decorating Drassil's gate.\" He gestured behind him towards Drassil and then followed in before Sumur could respond. Their blades rang, a concussive, harsh rhythm, echoing off Drassil's walls.\n\nAbruptly pain ignited along Corban's thigh, a line of burning fire, a downwards glimpse showing him a red line, bleeding heavily, soaking into his breeches. Sumur spun out of reach, Corban blocking a backswing with his wolven claws, taking too much of the power from Sumur's blow, a pain stabbing through his wrist.\n\nThis is how the end comes. The slow creep of a myriad small wounds, blood draining away, muscles bruised, worn, weary, tendons stretched too far, too many times, exhaustion squeezing in upon your mind and body, all combining to slow you by a heartbeat for that one fatal blow.\n\nNo, he screamed at himself.\n\nSumur smiled at him. \"Your heart, I can almost taste it.\" He licked his lips.\n\nIf I'm going to die I'll make a song of it, at least. Don't want Tukul waiting for me on the bridge of swords without a smile on his face.\n\nHe hefted his sword, taking the weight in one hand, striking like a smith at the forge with both arms, blade and claw, on his fifth or sixth stroke he felt his blade slam into Sumur's chainmail, caught Sumur's sword between the blades of his claw, punched him in the mouth, pulled away, pivoted on a heel, taking two blows in quick succession upon the shield across his back, as he spun, catching fragmented glimpses of the world around him– men in red cloaks, silent and staring, a horse stamping a hoof– as he came out of the spin swinging his sword low at Sumur's calf, Sumur jumping over it, Corban using the brief moment Sumur was weightless to step in close, hook his foot behind Sumur's ankle as he landed and push with all his strength against the Kadoshim's chest, sending him crashing to the ground. Corban swept forwards, his sword rising and chopping down, into the churned dirt as Sumur rolled away, rising smoothly to his feet. Corban could hardly breathe, the exertion of that last attack draining him of all energy and will. He stood staring at Sumur, leaning on his sword, tip buried in the ground, heart thumping in his chest, mouth hanging open as he sucked in great lungfuls of air." }, { "from": "human", "value": "He is too good, too fast, too strong." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They call me Elyon's champion? Where is he now?\n\nSumur walked towards him. His left arm and shoulder were hanging oddly, his clavicle was clearly broken, but it did not alter his movement, the pain not even registering upon the Kadoshim's face.\n\n\"You've done well, \"Sumur said, his voice a demonic rasp,\"better than I'd ever have imagined, but the end is, has always been, inevitable.\" Corban saw the coiling of muscle in his legs, the bunching of tendons in his wrist as Sumur prepared for the death lunge and knew exactly what the once-Jehar was going to do; he also understood that he could not stop him. At the same time he remembered another duel, one he'd watched so long ago, in a feast-hall on Midwinter's Eve.\n\nTull.\n\nAs Sumur moved, so did he, flicking his wrist to spray dirt from his blade-tip into Sumur's face, blinding him fora moment. Sumur took a step back, raising his sword in front of him to defend against the blow that he presumed would come at his head, at the same time Corban spun in a circle to his right. He came out of his spin to Sumur's left, ending up almost behind the Kadoshim, Corban's sword chopping into the back of Sumur's neck, landing perfectly at the spot where the skull ends and the back and shoulders begin.\n\nThere was the wet sound of an axe splitting damp wood and Sumur's head flew through the air, a trail of dark blood arcing in its wake. The body collapsed, feet twitching, and a great black mist poured from the open wound, forming into a winged creature above the corpse.\n\nCorban stood, feet planted wide, chest heaving, not quite believing what had just happened. What he had just done. Then he noticed the silence, heightened all the more by the thump and roll of Sumur's head as it hit the ground and came to a rolling stop." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The winged shadow above Sumur's corpse screeched in fury, its wings appearing to beat in a attempt to reach him, then the wind was tearing at it and in moments it became a tattered, shredded banner, and then, nothing– less than a sigh upon the air.\n\nCorban looked up, saw Jael staring open-mouthed, behind him his warband, every last one of them silent in disbelief. Then he heard a roar from the walls of Drassil, rolling down to him like a great cascading wave, engulfing him, the sheer shock and joy of the moment making him grin. He punched his sword into the air and added his voice, exulting in his victory.\n\nAs the cheering died down Corban walked to Sumur's severed head, reached down and held it high by its hair.\n\n\"Keep your word, Jael,\" Corban yelled. \"Your champion is defeated. Go back to Isiltir.\"\n\nJael stared at him, something between awe, fear and rage flitting across his features, then he snapped a command to the mounted warriors around him. They looked at him, seeming to hesitate, but Corban guessed what was going to happen. Jael barked his command again and first one warrior kicked his horse and snapped his reins, then another and another, until a score of them were riding towards him.\n\nCorban looked back at the gates of Drassil, knew he'd never make it in time, so he set his feet and held his sword high with two hands.\n\n\"Come on, then,\" he said. And then, louder, he bellowed, \"TRUTH AND COURAGE,\" more rage spilling from his voice than he knew he felt.\n\nThe enemy hooves pounded towards him, warriors bent low over their saddles, spears and swords pointing his way. The ground trembled. Dimly he recognized the sound of Drassil's gates opening, heard the enraged, frantic yells of warriors as they raced from the gates to his aid." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "You will be too late, he thought calmly. Go back.\n\nHe concentrated on the closest rider, no more than two hundred paces away now, two score heartbeats, maybe less, focused on the rhythm of the hooves, the rise and dip of the spearhead in the warrior's fist. Apart of his mind registered that it was one of the warriors who had ridden outwith Jael, not the one with the banner, but the one he had thought was Jael's champion.\n\nStrangely, out of nowhere, he remembered Coralen's kiss in the doorway to his chamber, could almost taste a hint of apple.\n\nI wish I could see her one more time, if only to tell her...\n\nAnew sound had crept into his awareness, the rumble of hooves from behind him, closer than those in front, and mixed with it the thump of something else, something as familiar to him as his own heartbeat.\n\nThe sound of wolven paws.\n\nAs if to confirm it, he saw fear spread across the face of the closest rider bearing down upon him.\n\nHe looked back, saw Storm pounding towards him, her fangs bared, muscles rippling with each bound of her powerful legs, and beside her Shield, his mane whipped by the wind, hooves a hammer blow, the two of them matching pace. Behind them a swarm of warriors were pouring from the gates of Drassil, Balur and the Benothi forging ahead of them.\n\nBefore him the riders were closing, a score of warriors intent upon his death.\n\nThen he knew what he had to do.\n\nHe sheathed his sword and turned his back on the enemy riders, took a deep breath, focused on Shield's hooves, the rhythm of his gallop, and he set his feet as the stallion approached. He bent his knees, went onto the balls of his feet, began to move, to run and then Storm and Shield were almost upon him, Shield a mountain of muscle and mane so close he could smell him, seethe sweat streaks in his coat, and he broke from a run into a sprint, Storm pounding past him, both Corban and Storm's muscles bunching, leaping at the same time, Corban's heart thumping in time with the pounding of Shield's hooves. He reached out, grabbed a fistful of the stallion's mane, and used the horse's momentum to hurl himself into the air." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There was a heartbeat that felt like an eternity as he was weightless, flying, legs scissoring, then, with a solid thump he was in the saddle, hands reaching for the reins and Shield was angling away, pounding through a gap in the approaching riders and then he was free, galloping across open space along the front of Jael's warband, wind whipping his black hair out behind him like a banner.\n\nSome of Jael's warband were actually cheering him.\n\nBehind him the sound of screams rose up as Storm tore her target from his saddle and ripped him apart.\n\nHe guided Shield in a loop, slowing to a canter, glimpsed Storm leaping and snapping amidst the riders sent to kill him, saw spears rising and falling and felt a hot rage bubble up. From Drassil warriors were still pouring, Jehar on horseback amongst them, hundreds charging across the open space. Horns were blaring along the lines of Jael's warband and suddenly they were lurching into movement, stuttering forwards.\n\nThe plan was to stay atop the battlements, let their warband break upon the walls of Drassil. Guess we'll need anew plan.\n\nHe heard Storm growling and snapping, sawhorses rearing and plunging around her.\n\nWith a snarl he drew his sword and urged Shield back to a gallop." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I have a bad feeling about this.\n\n\"Charge them, charge them, kill them!\" Jael was screeching close to Ulfilas' ear.\n\nThe warband was moving, but sluggishly.\n\nThey are still reeling from what we have just witnessed. And in truth I do not blame them for being hesitant about joining battle with these people.\n\nUlfilas was still coming to terms with what he'd seen.\n\nThe greatest duel between two men that I have ever witnessed– maybe that has ever happened. I cannot believe that Sumur lost. It had been like witnessing two storms collide at sea, a maelstrom of furious, deadly movement, utterly beautiful to watch. At first it had seemed an inevitability that Corban would die– he was an exceptional warrior, clearly, but Sumur had seemed too perfect, too clinical, too fast and powerful, but then, slowly, almost by sheer, dogged will and determination, Corban had edged back into the fight, gone from just trying to stay alive fora few moments longer to having a slim chance, and finally, mostly by a combination of heart and wits and a general stubborn refusal to die, had taken Sumur's head.\n\nAnd what the hell was that thing that came out of Sumur?\n\n\"What are you DOING?\" Jael was screaming at him, almost apoplectic with rage. \"Lead the warband forward; you are my bannerman.\"\n\nDon't you think you should be leading them? You're our King.\n\nUlfilas ignored the sense of foreboding growing in his belly, grunted at Jael and kicked his horse forwards, warriors on foot behind him lurching after him. Horns were blaring. The score of riders that Jael had set upon Corban were dead or dying, that wolven the size of a horse ripping half of them to pieces and still running amok just a few hundred paces ahead." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And the first man that beast tore apart was Fram, Jael's first-sword; after Sumur, that is. So that's his two finest warriors down before the battle is even joined. Not the most inspirational of starts.\n\nUlfilas was rapidly losing heart for this conflict, but a voice in his head was shouting at him that to turn and run would be the end of him. And that's true enough, I don't doubt. If we are broken here any that survive the battle will then have to survive the long march through Forn. Don't fancy that much, so we'd better get on and win this battle.\n\nThe men of Isiltir were responding to the horn blasts and Jael's screams urging them on, sweeping forward and curling in upon the lesser numbers that had swarmed out from the open gates of Drassil.\n\nThat at least is a stroke of good fortune. At least they are coming out hereto fight so we don't have to try and climb those walls. Our numbers may still win the day.\n\nUlfilas felt a warrior's respect for Corban, even if he was his enemy. That running mount had been a thing of beauty, undertaken with sharp iron bearing down upon him, mere heartbeats separating him between life and death. It was as if the running mount had been distilled into that one moment, learned and practised by every warrior in every realm throughout their youth for that exact purpose.\n\nWarriors on foot swept past him, running into the battle, the score of Jehar the same as Sumur, which gave Ulfilas a flare of hope– all of a sudden I'm wishing Nathair had forced a hundred of them upon us, like he did on Gundul and Lothar.\n\nHe saw the Jehar slam into a knot of enemy warriors only fifty paces ahead of him, a mixture of giants and men who looked remarkably similar to the Jehar that were with him, except that they wore surcoats with the white star blazing upon their chests." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Ulfilas had a sudden memory of the warriors at Gramm's hold who had cut him and his riders down so easily." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Instinctively he pulled on his reins, but the press of men behind him was too great and he was forced on.\n\nI am no coward, but I am no fool either, and I have no death-wish upon me.\n\nHe saw that he was about to enter this battle whether he wanted to or not. He slipped Jael's banner into the leather cup on his saddle that usually held his spear, drew his sword and kicked his horse on, choosing a warrior who looked like one out of Gramm's hold.\n\nSomeone normal to fight.\n\nHis horse's shoulder ploughed into the man, sending him reeling, Ulfilas\" sword rising and falling, crunching into the warrior's helm, dropping him instantly.\n\nHe kicked his horse on, swinging left and right with his blade, leaving awake of bloody wounds and dying men. He started to think that they could still win this battle, though all was chaos and blood around him. It was almost impossible to tell how the battle was faring. He hacked at a spear jabbing at him, snapped the shaft, stabbed into the face of the warrior wielding it, heard a scream, saw the mango down, and dug his heels into his horse.\n\nFora moment there was a lull around him. To his left he saw Corban, still upon his horse, hacking at men of Isiltir with maniacal energy; close to him there was a flash of white fur and fangs, and about the young warrior a knot of fighters gathered to protect him– a huge man with a war-hammer, a red-haired woman with wolven claws like Corban's, dripping with gore, and one of the Jehar mounted and trailing arcs of blood with his sword– he looked remarkably like the warrior who had unhorsed Ulfilas at Gramm's hold, only younger and more battle-frenzied." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Not going that way, then.\n\nHe yanked upon his reins and suddenly there was one of the Jehar in front of him– one of his Jehar– fighting a silver-haired giant with one eye and a black axe. The Jehar was fast, darting in and cutting at the giant's leg, eliciting a howl of pain or rage, but then a huge knife smashed into the Jehar's chest, hurling it from its feet. The injured giant lumbered forwards and swung his axe, taking the Jehar's head off as it tried to rise, and then there was a screeching shadow-demon materializing in the air right in front of Ulfilas, his horse screaming and rearing. He managed to control his mount, saw another giant striding forwards, smaller, slimmer– female? It's so hard to tell the difference– but still clearly a giant, two belts criss-crossing her chest with an abundance of those oversized knives sheathed in them. As Ulfilas watched, she bent down and recovered her knife from the chest of the decapitated Jehar and then looked about fora new target.\n\nHer eyes settled upon him.\n\nThe bad feeling that Ulfilas had ignored reared up now, a flare of fear and foreboding, and he ducked low in his saddle as the air whistled over his head and something sharp missed him by a handspan. He kicked his horse on. It was well trained and it stepped agilely to the left and leaped away, sending those about it reeling, friend and foe alike. Fora handful of insane moments the horse rose and fell, forging its way through the battle like a leviathan through stormy seas, then it burst into clearer ground.\n\nBattle still raged here, but it was islands of violence upon the plains surrounding Drassil, rather than a constant sea. Everywhere Ulfilas looked the red-cloaked men of Isiltir were falling to giants and to sword-wielding Jehar. He saw a tall dark-haired warrior in blood-spattered mail, at first thought him a giant, but then realized he was a little too short, and too slim and elegant, too graceful in his death dealing. Even as Ulfilas watched, this warrior cut down three men of Isiltir in as many breaths." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Further away he saw more of those shadow-demons appearing in the air, hovering like a dense mist as they screamed their rage and then drifting apart in the wind." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He knew by now that their appearance marked the death of one of Nathair's Jehar.\n\nWhatever they are– and I'm not sure I want to know– I do know that this battle is lost.\n\nAlways the pragmatic man, Ulfilas looked to the north, saw the remnants of the old road they had followed here. The prospect of fleeing through Forn was becoming more appealing with every red-cloaked death around him.\n\nRun, live a little longer; stay and die very soon.\n\nIt wasn't much of a choice.\n\nHe lifted the banner of Isiltir from its harness on his saddle and dropped it to the ground, then spurred his horse to the north, moving at a trot, calling men to him as he went. Within a hundred paces he had close to two hundred men following him, then another hundred. He reined in as the land began to rise and looked back over the battlefield.\n\nThe warband of Isiltir was breaking apart, men beginning to turn and run, heading towards the perceived safety of the trees of Forn. Soon it would become a rout. He glimpsed Jael on the far side of the conflict, still in his saddle, a knot of warriors about him as he moved steadily southwards towards the treeline.\n\nLooks as if he has the same idea as me.\n\nWith a shake of his head Ulfilas spurred his mount up the slope, towards the trees.\n\nThen the ground in front of him exploded.\n\nFifty paces or soup the slope turf and dirt erupted into the air, beneath it something dark and round emerging from the ground.\n\nUlfilas swayed in his saddle, jerked away, then realized what it was.\n\nA huge trapdoor." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Men and women with longbows in their hands– ten, twenty, thirty, more– were surging out of the ground. Even as Ulfilas stared in frozen shock they formed a line, drew arrows from quivers, nocked, drew and released. Straight at him and the warriors about him.\n\nHe threw himself backwards, out of his saddle, heard the soft thunk of arrows sinking into flesh, his horse rearing and crashing to the ground, legs kicking, all about him men falling with feathered shafts buried in their flesh.\n\nUlfilas thrashed on the ground, one foot caught in a stirrup, flicked it free, rose to one knee in time to seethe archers drawing and shooting again. He threw himself flat on his face, heard more screaming around him, dragged himself upright and stared frantically around.\n\nThe men who had followed him were wavering, though they still outnumbered the archers at least three or four to one.\n\nThose archers stand between me and freedom. A good charge should see to them, Ulfilas thought, dragging his sword from his scabbard, waving it in the air, yelling to his warriors. He took a few steps forward, heard the boots of men following behind him, saw the archers in front snatching for arrows, saw panic stirring in some. He singled out one in the centre of the line, slim, small, resolutely drawing another arrow from his quiver, something about him saying that he was the leader of these archers.\n\nI'm going to take your head, Ulfilas thought, the need to kill, to vent his frustration at this most disastrous of days rearing up within him. He started to run.\n\nThen someone else climbed out of the hole, alone Jehar warrior, small, a woman. She saw him charging at the archer and her eyes narrowed. She drew her sword. Behind her more men were appearing from the hole in the ground, men clothed in leather and fur holding single-bladed axes in their fists." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gramm's men.\n\nTwenty or thirty of them as well, forming a line and throwing their axes. Ulfilas threw himself to the ground again, a mouth full of dirt, a body crashing down beside him, face a bloody ruin with an axe-haft poking from it.\n\nAs Ulfilas looked up he saw the axe men start to rundown the slope, pulling fresh axes from their backs, and behind them another wave of warriors pouring from the hole, these dressed strangely, scraps of leather armour wrapped around forearms and shoulders, most of them carrying bucklers and short swords or knives.\n\nBollocks to this.\n\nEver the pragmatist, Ulfilas scrambled to his feet and ran the other way.\n\nSomething thudded into his back, a hard punch that sent him sprawling and knocked the air from his lungs. He tried to push himself up but found his arms weren't working as well as they should, felt a dull ache in his back, a tingling numbness. He managed to get his right elbow under him, push up, but his left arm wasn't doing what it was told.\n\nMust getup. To stay is to die.\n\nHe coughed, saw blood speckle the ground close to his face.\n\nWhat?\n\nThen there was a pressure upon his back– someone's boot? – an unpleasant tugging sensation, closely followed by a wet ripping sound. The pressure on his back disappeared, replaced by a tingling pain, a boot slipping under his chest and flipping him over.\n\nHe gasped, looked up into a bearded face.\n\n\"Well, well,\" the face said, \"I was hoping I'd run into you. '\n\nIt was Wulf, and he was smiling." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He was holding an axe in his fist, blood dripping from its edge. He raised it high, above his head, and Ulfilas screamed." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Haelan watched the battle from the walls of Drassil.\n\nIt had been Swain's idea, but Haelan had not been difficult to persuade. He felt proud that Corban had asked him to watch over Storm's cubs, but as the horns rang out from Drassil's walls, announcing the arrival of Jael's warband, he had felt a desperate need just to see. So when Swain suggested away of him doing both of those tasks. Well...\n\nSo here they were, Haelan, Swain and Sif, standing upon a deserted patch of the western wall, each of them with a wolven cub under either arm, Pots was sitting at his feet, looking up at him like he felt a little left out. They'd put the cubs in a wide, deep basket of willow, the three of them carrying it all the way to the battlements. The cubs had become restless, though, so they'd decided to get them out fora while and let them watch the battle too.\n\nThey liked it, or at least seemed to, they were quiet enough.\n\nHaelan was finding it hard to breathe, at various moments had felt that his heart was lurching out of his chest, that despair would overwhelm him, closely followed by sheer joy that he was sure would cause him to explode.\n\nThey'd reached the wall just as Corban had begun his duel with the black-clothed warrior, one of the Jehar obviously. Within moments Haelan was certain that Corban was going to die. Tears had blurred his eyes long before the end, and then he had cried fresh tears, these ones of joy when Corban had sent his enemy's head spinning through the air.\n\nAnd then such treachery, Jael setting his shieldmen to ride Corban down, after what he had just survived, just achieved." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And then the running mount.\n\nWhen he saw Shield and Storm pounding across the open space he had cheered, screamed, exhorted them to greater speed, the voices of Swain and Sif mingling with his own.\n\nIf there had been any doubt in Haelan's mind that Corban was the greatest hero the Banished Lands had ever known, that succession of events had confirmed it beyond all question. He'd fight anyone who dared to say differently.\n\nAnd now the whole plain along the western wall boiled with battle.\n\n\"We're going to win, ' Swain was yelling, putting his two cubs back in the basket and leaping up and down.\n\nOf course we are.\n\nAfter Corban's duel and escape from Jael's shieldman, it seemed that victory was inevitable. He was only worried now about who might fall along the way.\n\nTahir is down there, fighting for me.\n\nHis eyes scanned the field, but it was so hard to make out individuals amongst the press and heave of battle. Giants were easy enough to follow, Balur One-Eye particularly, with his silver hair and black axe, swathes of blood consistently bursting around him, from this distance looking like droplets of dew on morning grass. And Corban he could see, still mounted, with Storm always close to him, leaping and tearing.\n\nThe cubs under his arms began to squirm so he put them back in the basket, stroking his favourite, a brindle bitch with a face as black as night.\n\nHe saw Jael's banner flying in the centre of the battle, then it moved steadily northwards, a single rider breaking out from the heart of the battle, a steady motion towards the northern flank. Then the banner disappeared, the rider still visible, heading further and further out, men of Isiltir gathering in a great mass about him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They are fleeing. Hope swelled in his chest, something telling him that the battle was coming to its last stages now.\n\nThen he saw Jael, his white horsehair plume blowing in the wind, still upon his horse, a knot of warriors with him. They headed steadily towards the southern edge of the battlefield, reached the treeline, then stopped as a handful of giants stormed through them. Haelan gripped the battlement walls, knuckles whitening, praying, begging for Jael to fall. All was confusion, flesh andiron and blood merging in a chaotic explosion fora dozen heartbeats. A giant fell, of that Haelan was sure, and then figures were disappearing into the trees. Jael was nowhere to be seen.\n\nFrom Haelan's vantage-point it looked as if the whole battlefield paused fora moment, then rippled, like the death-spasm of a dying animal.\n\nThe trickle of those fleeing turned into a flood now, red-cloaks falling away from the mass of combat in tens and twenties, and then they were all fleeing, the warband of Drassil following, slaying with impunity.\n\nThen a sudden thought struck Haelan.\n\nThose men fleeing are men of Isiltir. My people.\n\n\"Watch the cubs,\" he blurted to Swain and Sif, \"and don't let Pots follow me. \"And he was running down the wall's stairwell, leaping steps two at a time.\n\nIn the courtyard before the main gates he climbed into the saddle of a fully tacked horse. It was a little big for him, the stirrups too long, but it was the most suitable of what was left and he was a good rider, had been satin a saddle as far back as he could remember. Without anymore thought he clicked his tongue and rode out through the gates." }, { "from": "human", "value": "It was a different world down here, the battle from above seeming to have something serene about it, playing out like the swirls of sea and sand as the tide comes in." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Down here it was loud, filled with the screams of the dying and the yelling of the living, and it stank, of blood and metal and excrement. Everywhere was chaos. He scanned the field for Corban, could see men of Isiltir fleeing, giants striding amongst them wielding their axes and hammers, then he caught a flash of bone-white fur and headed for it.\n\nBefore he'd covered a hundred paces he heard running to one side, felt a flash of fear. I am part of the reason Jael came here, led a warband of thousands through Forn Forest with the goal of seeing me dead.\n\n\"What are you doing down here, laddie?\" a voice called out, and relief swept him.\n\nTahir.\n\nRelief at both Tahir being alive and the fact that it was not a warrior coming to separate his head from his shoulders.\n\n\"I've an idea, \"Haelan said,\"and I need to find Corban. '\n\nTahir looked at him, was clearly wrestling with the idea of marching him straight back to the safety of Drassil.\n\n\"All right then. Shift along then, and I'll climb up therewith you. '\n\nThey found Corban drinking from a water skin, drenched in blood, his hair plastered to his head. A handful of people were gathered around him, Gar and Meical, Coralen and Farrell and Laith, as well as Balur One-Eye and Ethlinn. And of course Storm.\n\nThe battle had moved away from them, or rather the chasing of the broken and fleeing warband, only here and there the sound of iron marking real combat, a few knots of men fighting rearguard actions and retreating in a more orderly fashion." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Little one's got something to say to you, ' Tahir said as they rode up.\n\nHaelan looked at the fierce bloodstained faces around him and quailed a little. He swallowed his fears, knowing what needed to be said.\n\n\"These are my people,\" Haelan told them. \"Jael is fled, I think, or maybe dead. I saw him from the battlements, over there.\" He pointed south to the trees. \"The rest of them, they might stop if I ask them, if they are offered mercy.\"\n\n\"Mercy?\" growled Farrell.\n\n\"Yes, mercy,\" Haelan said, holding his chin high. He looked at Corban. \"Some of them, many of them, were just following the orders of their King, yet still they cheered you...\"\n\nCorban looked back at him, dark eyes thoughtful, and behind that Haelan saw a well of exhaustion that Corban held in check.\n\n\"You're right, \"he said.\"No need to goon killing. It's just how exactly we're going to do this. '\n\nHaelan dangled in the air, Balur One-Eye holding him up high over his head, like a human banner. On one side of him rode Tahir, on the other Corban. Balur was calling out in a booming voice, proclaiming Haelan King of Isiltir and pronouncing mercy upon all those who would lay down their arms.\n\nOver seven hundred men surrendered.\n\n\"Well,\" Farrell said to Corban and Haelan when they were gathered before the gates of Drassil, \"I would imagine that it's rare to end a battle with more men than you started with. '\n\n\"Aye. I think it's safe to say we can call this a victory, then, ' Corban said." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"That we can, Ban, that we can,\" Gar said with a weary smile.\n\nJust then a group of men and women approached from the northern end of the battlefield– Dath and his archers, as well as Wulf with his axe-throwers and Javed and his pit-fighters. Wulf held up a severed head as he drew near, and threw it at Corban's feet.\n\n\"Ulfilas,\" he said. \"Jael's high captain, and the man that killed my da. '\n\n\"I am glad for you,\" Corban said wearily. \"A day where much justice has been done, and injustices set right.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" murmured many voices around them.\n\nHaelan noticed that Dath was looking up at Corban, the widest smile upon his face. One of the Jehar stood close to him, a small, pretty young woman, or so Haelan thought. She was smiling too.\n\n\"What are you smiling about?\" Corban asked Dath.\n\n\"I'm getting married, ' Dath said, his grin growing even wider." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Camlin sat and waited.\n\nFeels as if I've spent half my life waiting for men to kill. Not sure which part is the worst. The waiting, or the killing.\n\nDepends on who I'm waiting around to kill, I suppose.\n\nHe was sitting upon a raised knoll amidst a thick bank of reeds, a space flattened at its centre for him. From here he could peer out through the reeds and have a commanding view of the surrounding area, watching over a dozen streams and rivers that fed from the lake, flowing in the direction that he reckoned Evnis and his warband would come. Looking the other way he saw the lake, the village that had grownup along its banks deserted now, still and silent apart from the odd chicken. A moorhen pecked about in what had once been afire-pit, claiming it for her own. At the heart of the lake Dun Crin reared from its still, black waters. If Camlin stared hard enough he could make out warriors along its ancient walls, standing in the shadows of its crumbling towers.\n\nThe sky above was a pale blue, afresh wind welcome in this stagnant place, and bringing with it the scent of spring.\n\nLeast the bad weather's broken. Waiting's always better without the rain and snow.\n\nHe heard footsteps close by, peered through the reeds to see Edana's fair hair, Roisin, Lorcan and Pendathran with her, their shieldmen as well– Halion and Vonn, Cian and Brogan. He pushed through the reeds to join them.\n\n\"All's ready, then? '\n\n\"Ready as we'll ever be, \"Pendathran said.\"You up to this? ' the big general asked Camlin.\n\n\"Course,\" Camlin grunted." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Of course he is,\" Edana snapped.\n\n\"Aye, you've proved yourself, that's for sure,\" Pendathran growled. \"Don't mind me, I just get nervous before a fight, that's all.\"\n\n\"Surely not you,\" Roisin said, a purr in her voice that Camlin didn't like.\n\n\"So do I,\" Edana said, eyes scanning the marshes with its countless streams and rivers and hidden approaches.\n\nDon't we all? Camlin thought. I've been in a hundred scrapes, more, probably, and my mouth still goes dry and my palms sweaty 'fore a fight.\n\n\"It's the prospect of death, \"he said matter-of-factly.\"No matter how many battles you live through, doesn't mean you'll seethe end of the next one. '\n\nThey were all silent at that.\n\n\"Indeed, well, on that cheerful note,\" Roisin said.\n\nThere was a flapping from above and a black speck dropped out of the sky.\n\n\"Men, boats, spears,\" the crow squawked, alighting in the branches of a willow. They all stared at him.\n\nI'm glad Edana talked him into sticking around, now.\n\n\"CLOSE,\" Craf squawked, giving his wings an extra flap to emphasize his point, making them all jump, even Pendathran, who swore.\n\n\"This is it, then,\" Edana said, looking at them all. \"You all know what to do.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" Pendathran said. He looked in their eyes, then grinned.\n\n\"For Ardan and Domhain, for kin and friends, for our Queens.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They parted, Camlin walking back to his bank of reeds.\n\n\"Camlin,\" a voice called after him, Halion striding after him. \"I'll see you again, ' the warrior said. He held his arm out and Camlin took it in the warrior grip.\n\n\"Aye, brother,\" Camlin said. \"This side or the other.\"\n\nAgain, the waiting.\n\nCamlin checked his bow, his string, lifted his blade in its scabbard to check it wasn't sticking, let it slide back with a click. Checked his arrows, the tips wrapped with foul-smelling linen. Flint and a pile of tinder and kindling set neatly to one side, not damp, not spoiled.\n\nGood.\n\nThe reeds rustled and ahead poked through them, scruffy red hair and a dirty face.\n\n\"Hello, Meg,\" Camlin said. \"You shouldn't be wandering around at a time like this. \"There was no force in his reprimand, though– he'd learned by now that the girl would damn well do as she pleased, no matter what he said about it.\n\n\"Don't need to worry about me, ' she said.\n\nHe frowned. \"You happy with what you've got to do? '\n\nCamlin had adopted anew strategy with Meg. He'd learned that if he kept her out of things in an effort to keep her safe she'd just follow him and get involved anyway. So now he was finding tasks for her to do, even in the most dangerous of situations. That was what he had done with the hunt for Braith.\n\nAnd thank the stars it turned out about as well as it could.\n\nEvery night he put his head on his pillow he felt a sense of relief that Braith was no longer out there, hunting him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I am,\" she said." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I just came to see that you were all right.\" She looked at him intently, then smiled. \"And you are.\" With that she spun around and disappeared into the reeds.\n\nStrange child. P'raps that's why she fits in so well around us. Around me.\n\nThen he heard the creak of wooden boats, weight shifting within them, the sound of oars and paddles in water, quite but not silent.\n\nHere we go, then." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Evnis sat at the head of his boat and blinked as the lake opened up before him. Beside him Glyn swore.\n\nWhoever would have thought that such a place existed?\n\nThe lake was vast, its waters dark and still, and at its centre stonewalls and towers reared, as if the lake were a black field about a broken fortress. Except that green algae and creeping vines grew upon this fortress, silent, sinuous things swirling in the waters about the walls. Birds clustered upon crumbling towers, taking flight and squawking their protests at the arrival of Evnis and his warband.\n\nRafe was in the first boat leading the way, his two greyhounds sitting in it as still as stone, like figureheads. Warriors behind Evnis rowed them deeper into the lake, more boats following, others filtering from a series of streams and rivers along the north-eastern bank of the lake. Before half of them had emerged from the marshland streams a boat appeared from between two towers that loomed out of the lake. It rowed towards them.\n\n\"Hold,\" Evnis said, raising a hand, his men backing water, the motion continuing through the boats behind him.\n\nThe lone boat rowed closer, four or five figures within it, the first with long fair hair.\n\nSurely not...\n\nOars backed water and the boat stopped, drifting fora moment until it was side-onto Evnis'boat, maybe fifty paces away. Half of Evnis\" fleet were spread behind him, the other half still backed up in the streams and rivers.\n\nEdana stood in her boat. Evnis smiled to see her. She was dressed plainly, looking more like a woodsman than a queen, in woollen breeches, a linen shirt and black leather vest, though she wore the grey cloak of Ardan around her shoulders, something that Evnis hadn't seen fora while. And she wore a sword at her hip." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He almost laughed at that.\n\n\"There does not need to be bloodshed here today,\" she called out, her voice carrying across the still waters of the lake.\n\nIt's unlikely to be our blood, Evnis thought. Perhaps you mean your own.\n\nEdana looked at the warriors in their boats, taking her time to meet their eyes. Men behind Evnis fidgeted.\n\n\"There are men of Ardan amongst you, true-born warriors of Ardan who fought for my father.\"\n\nAye, there are, and now they fight for me. Most of them have always fought for me.\n\n\"Men of Narvon, maybe, Owain's men. And warriors from Domhain, perhaps, who once served Eremon. '\n\nTwo figures stood in Edana's boat, one dressed as a warrior, dark-haired, though Evnis could see he was little more than a lad, beside him a woman, tall and dark-haired, her chin lifted proudly.\n\nA rare beauty, Evnis thought.\n\n\"This is Roisin of Domhain, wife of Eremon, and her son Lorcan, rightful King of Domhain.\"\n\nExcellent. This is most helpful of you, Edana, gathering all of the rats into one boat. You are making my life so much easier.\n\n\"You are fighting as pawns fora woman with a black heart, a manipulator, deceiver, a betrayer. Rhin is not a queen; she is a tyrant, a disease that must be cutout.\"\n\nMuch to his surprise Evnis found himself listening, as if Edana actually had something to say. He pulled his eyes away from her, looked at the others in her boat, sitting at the oars. One of them was Halion, the warrior sitting calmly, his eyes scanning the boats behind Evnis. He looked to the other rower and started." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was Vonn.\n\nHis son was staring straight at him.\n\nAlong silence passed between them, something unspoken communicated, and then, finally, Evnis nodded to Vonn, a small incline of the head, nothing more. Vonn saw and looked away.\n\nEdana was still talking, something about peace and good men banding together.\n\n\"Can someone please kill her,\" a voice shouted from behind Evnis.\n\nMorcant, of course.\n\nAnd I think I should oblige.\n\nEvnis roared an order, oars and paddles splashing into water and they were moving again.\n\nEdana, Roisin and Lorcan were all sitting down in their boat now, Halion and Vonn rowing hard, a sprint for the sunken fortress. From gaps in walls and towers other boats appeared, men in them, but for each boat with people in there was one that they towed by rope, empty. Evnis noticed it but did not have time to think too hard about it. He was closing on Edana.\n\nThen he heard a huge tearing whooosh behind him, followed closely by screaming. He twisted around, rocking his boat, to see a wall of flames igniting along the lake shore, crackling through reed banks and somehow spreading across the streams and rivers that they had travelled upon.\n\nHow the hell have they done that? We're in a marsh, with more water than land.\n\nSome of his boats were on fire, men jumping overboard, human torches, and separated behind them, on the far side of the flames were roughly half of his warband.\n\nHe cursed himself fora fool and set his mind on killing Edana." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Camlin watched as Meg tugged on along rope, dragging a rolled mat of dried rushes and reeds across a stream between two boat-loads of warriors.\n\nCamlin touched his arrow-tip into the small fire he had crackling, the linen soaked in fish oil catching alight with a hiss. He raised his bow, drew and released, his arrow arcing and dropping into the mat of reeds. That, too, had been doused in fish oil and so the whole thing ignited in a heartbeat, flames roaring, men screaming, leaping from the boat, flames searing the flesh from warriors before and behind it.\n\nMeg appeared at another spot on the bank, alongside the forms of other men hidden in the reeds. Clay pots filled with fish oil flew through the air to smash into boats. Camlin released another flaming arrow and a boat went up inflames. Along the bank other huntsmen fired flaming arrows and more fires were igniting, roaring into the air, more men screaming.\n\nCamlin heard screaming all about him, the same happening on a dozen inlets.\n\nHe glanced out to the lake, saw Evnis leading over a score of boats towards Dun Crin, Edana a dot before them. Other boats were appearing from the walls, moving towards Evnis' splintered fleet.\n\nGoing to plan, then. That's a pleasant surprise.\n\nShouts and battle-cries drew his eyes back to the river before him. About a dozen of Edana's warriors were spread along this side of the bank with him, some doing the same as him. Others ran forward as Evnis\" men began to reach the banks, some leaping, others swimming, not every boat on fire– some further back were not touched at all.\n\nDamn, but there's a lot of them. Five hundred at least is my guess. Those weren't good odds, as Edana's warband numbered less than two hundred swords." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Mind you, we're evening the odds a little, now.\n\nSpears began to fly, going both ways, and Camlin ducked as one hissed a handspan over his head.\n\nHe started aiming at men now, planting flaming arrows in chests, throats, backs, thighs, at least a dozen men falling to his aim before a handful of warriors reached the bank and charged at his clump of reeds.\n\nTime to leave.\n\nHe grabbed his quiver of arrows, half-empty now, slung it over his back, waited a few moments as his enemy drew nearer, until he heard them crunching into the reeds, and then he grabbed a clay pot and threw it as he ran the other way, heard it smash down upon the small fire he had set, then the sucking in of air, like an indrawn breath before flames exploded, ripping through the reeds and scorching the onrushing warriors.\n\nMore screaming.\n\nHe flew out of the reeds, hearing flames rushing up behind him, and hurled himself out onto the lakeshore, rolling amongst abandoned huts. He came to his feet alone, the sounds of battle raging along the various streams and rivers behind him, and more dimly from the drowned fortress in the lake. He took a moment to stare, worry for Edana gnawing at him.\n\nFires dotted the lake, like bobbing candles on the water.\n\nI bet it's not so pretty right close, though. Ashe watched, he saw one of the empty boats that they'd packed with jars offish oil and dried rushes shoved with long poles into an enemy rowing boat, hulls crunching together, a torch thrown in after it. The vessel went up inflames, quickly setting the enemy boat on fire." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "More screaming.\n\nThink there's going to be a lot of that today.\n\nMany of Evnis'boats were aflame, and Camlin could see shapes in the water– men swimming for land. Some of Evnis\" vessels had made it to Dun Crin's walls and warriors were scrambling onto the cold stone. Camlin heard the clash of iron drifting across the lake.\n\nThere were only sixty warriors of Edana's warband on the sunken walls, the other hundred or so ranging the rivers and stream banks, where they'd hoped to contain the bulk of the enemy warband, and where they thought the fiercest fighting would be.\n\nAnd talking of fighting...\n\nCamlin looked between Dun Crin and the lakeshore, decided there was nothing he could do for Edana now except kill those enemies of hers that were closest to him.\n\nHe nocked an arrow and ran at a crouch towards the streams, veering around the wall of flames.\n\nHe burst into chaos, the world rapidly constricting to a score of paces at most in any direction. The blockade was still burning, but even if it hadn't been, no boats were getting into the lake now, as the first two this side of the firewall were roaring infernos, blocking the stream completely, dark shapes twisted within them. Further along the stream more fires raged. Some of the enemy were splashing in the stream, being skewered like fish with spears by Camlin's companions from solid ground. A few boats had managed to make it to the stream bank and their cargoes of flesh andiron and harmful intentions were unloading rapidly. Fifteen, twenty men, more on another boat behind them. Camlin recognized one dressed in black leather and wool, cloak of sable and a silver helm." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Extende the story in collaboration with the author.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, demons\nAuthor: John Gwynne\nTitle: Ruin\nChapter: 96" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Rafe was exhausted. He had run, walked, staggered, crawled his way through the marshlands for over a ten-night. Atone point he had collapsed, thought he was just going to lie there until he died, but Scratcher and Sniffer had licked, pawed, nibbled and dragged him back to consciousness. If spring had not arrived and brought with it milder weather he would have died. But instead he lived, and walked.\n\nHe was a good huntsman, and even in the horizon-spanning marshes he was able to find his way back, eventually one cool morning finding the river that flowed past Morcant's Tower, as he had come to think of it.\n\nA pale mist layover the land, rising up from the marshes to creep a little way up the hill that the tower was built upon. The sun was already burning it away, though.\n\nThe dogs ran ahead of him, seemingly as pleased as him to be out of the marshes, and they must have been sighted from the tower, for horns rang out, announcing his arrival.\n\nFigures came out of the gates as he walked up the hill; all he could think about a warm meal and a soft bed. Then the dogs came running back to him, both of them with their ears flat and tails tucked.\n\nHe paused and looked at the figures coming out of the gate.\n\nSomething was very wrong there– one towered above the other, so either one was a dwarf and the other normal sized, or one was a giant...\n\nElyon's stones, it's Rhin. Not the person I most wanted to see. And she's got a giant with her!\n\nQueen Rhin stood before him, a giant with grey hair and a spear the size of an oar stood beside her." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I take it it's not good news, ' Rhin said.\n\n\"News?\" Rafe said.\n\n\"You're the only one back, \"Rhin said impatiently, then looked at him quizzically.\"Has the marsh stolen your wits? '\n\n\"Hungry, thirsty,\" Rafe mumbled.\n\n\"Yes, of course.\" She clicked her fingers. \"Feed him, give him something to drink– not alcohol, he'll most likely sleep fora week– then bring him tome. '\n\nRafe was escorted to a huge tent on the meadow beside the tower and enclosure. Tents were everywhere, hundreds of them, warriors in Rhin's black and gold. Rafe also saw giants, at least a score of them together.\n\nStrange days, strange days.\n\nScratcher and Sniffer walked with him, but they wouldn't enter Rhin's tent, just bounded off together as he walked in. That might have been because of the giant outside the tent entrance– not the one he'd seen earlier, but one that looked even more fierce if possible, a huge axe slung over his shoulder and a moustache that Rafe could have swung from.\n\nIt was cool inside the tent, not dark, but dim. Rhin sat at a table, behind her the grey-haired giant that had accompanied her earlier.\n\n\"Feel better?\" Rhin asked him.\n\n\"Aye. Thank you,\" he said, remembering his manners a little late. \"My Queen,\" he added.\n\nRhin laughed and gestured for him to sit. He did, a cup of water already poured for him. He drank, savouring it. Most of the marsh water had been stagnant and rank, even the freshwater was questionable, and usually with something slimy in it. He looked up over the rim of his cup, realizing Rhin and the giant were both staring at him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"So,\" Rhin said." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Where is Evnis?\"\n\nIt was not the question he had expected, certainly not the first one, at least. He'd been expecting something more along the lines of What happened?\n\n\"I don't know, ' he said.\n\nRhin sighed. \"Please, it is very important. Think. Hard.\"\n\nShe looked scary sometimes, and Rafe suddenly remembered sitting with her in a darkroom, watching afire reveal pictures of Halion and Conall in a dungeon far below them. He shivered.\n\n\"He was in his boat, we were on the lake, all rowing at Dun Crin, chasing Edana-\"\n\n\"Edana. Dun Crin. Chasing. Good,\" Rhin murmured.\n\n\"Then there was fire– they set traps, started setting the boats on fire.\"\n\n\"In a lake!\" Rhin said, not sounding pleased again.\n\nRafe explained in more detail the battle of Dun Crin, the tactics used against them. He told her how his boat had capsized and how he had swum to the shore.\n\nThat wasn't exactly what happened. I don't like fire much. I paddled my arms off and got to the lake shore without even getting my feet wet. But then I tried paddling up a stream and men started throwing spears and pots of oil at me. I got wet then, capsized, swam a hundred paces underwater, scrambled out onto the opposite bank and ran like hell.\n\nHe told how the battle was lost by then, and he had escaped into the marshes.\n\n\"Hmm,\" Rhin said when he finished, steepling her fingers. \"That's not very helpful. '\n\nRafe shrugged. \"Sorry.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Not very helpful at all,\" the giant rumbled, which made him jump a little.\n\n\"I'm sorry. I was in front– I led the warband to Dun Crin– and Evnis was right behind me. But then it all went to hell– excuse me– fire and water and blood, and I didn't see anymore of Evnis.\"\n\n\"You were the master huntsman?\" Rhin said.\n\n\"Aye.\"\n\n\"What of Braith?\"\n\n\"Braith's dead. '\n\nRhin sat back in her chair at that, looked genuinely dismayed, even as if she might shed a tear.\n\n\"By whose hand?\" she asked, voice like sharp flint.\n\n\"Camlin. He was Braith's captain from the Darkwood. Gut-shot him, from as far apart as we are. '\n\n\"I've heard his name, \"Rhin said with a hiss,\"and I won't forget it. And you escaped?\"\n\n\"Aye.\"\n\n\"You seem to be very good at that,\" Rhin observed.\n\nCan't blame a man for staying alive, he thought. Can blame him for running, though, I suppose.\n\nHe didn't know what to say, so he didn't say anything, just looked at the cup in his hands.\n\n\"I will want a detailed account of this place, the lake, Dun Crin, a map of the waterways in and out. Everything you remember. And numbers– people. Edana of course. Who else?\"\n\n\"Roisin and Lorcan. They were in the boat with Edana.\"\n\nRhin pulled a face at that.\n\n\"Halion.\"\n\n\"He made it here, then.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Aye. Vonn.\"\n\n\"Who's he? '\n\n\"Evnis\" son. '\n\nRhin and the giant exchanged a glance. \"Go on,\" Rhin said.\n\n\"Pendathran. Camlin, I guess, though I don't recall seeing him at the battle. But he's a sneaky bastard, probably hiding somewhere and shooting his arrows.\"\n\nJust then the sounds of a commotion drifted in through the tent entrance. It was pulled back, warriors entering, standing either side and another figure came in, another warrior, but this one battered and bloody, iron helm dented, a bloodstained bandage around one of his arms.\n\nMorcant.\n\nHe saw Rhin and almost ran to her, dropped to one knee before her and kissed her hand. She seemed to like it, by the look on her face.\n\nShould I have done that?\n\n\"My Queen,\" Morcant breathed, \"I am overjoyed to see you.\"\n\n\"Well, I'm quite pleased to see you, \"Rhin said, the smile still flickering upon her lips. She wrinkled her nose.\"Though you could smell better. '\n\n\"The marsh,\" he said, gesturing, looking offended.\n\n\"Of course. Your smell I can cope with, for the moment. We were just talking to the first survivor of this disaster to return to us.\" Rhin waved at Rafe. \"You can go now, by the way,\" she said to him. \"I would talk with Morcant awhile. She stroked Morcant's cheek, running a finger along one of the scars he'd earned in the court of swords.\n\nRafe was more than happy to leave. He stood up and bowed clumsily, then left the tent." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He collected a skin of watered wine from the kitchens, a shoulder of cold lamb, and walked away from the crowds. Scratcher and Sniffer soon found him and he wandered, somewhat aimlessly, thinking back on Rhin's questioning and the battle. He reached the river where all of the boats had been moored, where they had set off nearly a moon ago, full of confidence, maybe arrogance. He walked on, following the riverbank, knew where he was going now.\n\nHe turned away from the riverbank and walked away into the marshes, stopping eventually at the husk of a dead tree. He walked round behind it to where its roots had cracked the ground, got down on his hands and knees and reached into a dark hole beneath a root. His hand scrambled around and then he felt it, pulled out his kit bag.\n\nHe sat with his back to the dead tree, drank some of his wine, ate some of the cold lamb, threw strips of fat to the two hounds and just enjoyed the feeling of being relatively safe, fora few moments.\n\nWhat now, I wonder? Probably back into the marshes with this new warband, have another crack at Edana, but maybe with giants on our side this time.\n\nHe opened his kit bag, pulled out his coat of chainmail. He'd chosen not to wear it– stupid, maybe, as he'd been going into battle, but the thought of wearing a mail shirt while in a boat, travelling across rivers and lakes. No, the thought of drowning held a special terror for him.\n\nThen he took out the box, turning it in his hands. He tried the lock again, but it would not shift. He shook it, something solid rattling around inside, took out his knife and wiggled it in the lock." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It would not open. He pressed harder and harder, in the end his knife slipping and cutting the palm of his hand. A flash of anger and he threw the knife, then stood with the box in both hands.\n\nCan't carry this stupid lump of wood around with me wherever I go.\n\nHe raised it over his head and smashed it down upon the tree root, as hard as old bones.\n\nThere was aloud crack and the lid flew open.\n\nPleased with himself, he sat back down again, the hounds coming over to be nosey, and he looked inside.\n\nA cup satin the box, not particularly fancy, dark. He lifted it up to the light and was surprised by how heavy it was.\n\nIt's made out of some kind of metal. He twirled it in his hand, saw it was mostly black and smooth, here and there a paler vein running through the metal. Around its rim old runes curled in a scrawling script.\n\nWell, I've carried a cup five hundred leagues across the Banished Lands. He laughed to himself and hefted it to throw it in the river, then paused. Looking at it, he suddenly felt thirsty.\n\nMight as well have a drink from it first, let it earn its keep.\n\nHe poured some of his wine into the cup, swirled it around a little, then drank it down. He'd intended to only take a sip, but then he was smacking his lips and the cup was empty.\n\nMaybe it's a magic cup, he thought, one that makes everything taste nicer. P'raps I won't throw it in the river.\n\nHe could feel the wine in his belly, a warm glow. Ashe thought about it the sensation grew, felt as if it was spreading through his veins, warm and wonderful, like tendrils of gold." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He groaned in pleasure.\n\nThe sensation grew, spreading to the far corners of his body– toes, fingers, into his head, behind his eyes, swirling, intoxicating, better than the finest usque his da had ever let him sip. He heard laughing, realized it was him, and then he felt grass on his cheek. The cup rolled out of his fingers, into the grass.\n\nWaves of pleasure pulsed through him, continued to grow, becoming uncomfortable in their intensity, too wonderful, an itch behind his eyeballs, feeling as if his heart was swelling in his chest. He groaned again, but not from pleasure this time. From fear, pleasure turning to pain. He curled his legs up to his chest, writhed and groaned and squirmed, the dogs sniffing and whining around him, ears back, licking his face.\n\nThen he screamed, his whole body going rigid, sweating, every muscle in his body locked in an endless spasm. He tasted blood, realized he'd bitten his tongue. Darkness swooped down upon him, his vision blurring, the world around him fading, and then he knew no more." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Corban marched along the dank tunnel, torches lodged high in sconces punctuating the darkness, the thud of his boots and whisper of Storm's footsteps echoing ahead of him.\n\nHe felt as if he was going insane.\n\nThe enormity of what Meical had just told him kept hitting him, rolling over him like endless waves upon a beach.\n\nHis first thoughts had been for his friends, of telling them. Of telling Gar.\n\nHe has lived his whole life devoted to the prophecy, and tome because of it. His father died because of it. It will destroy him.\n\nHow can I tell everyone else? So many who have lost so much for this strategy, as Meical called it.\n\nWhat will they think?\n\nWhat will they do?\n\nWill they all leave Drassil? Go back to their homes? Give up?\n\nAnd then, hitting him like a hammer.\n\nWhat will I do?\n\nThe truth was that right now he did not know. All he knew was that he needed to be away from Meical. His rage had scared him in the great hall, knowing that he was only heartbeats away from drawing his blade on the Ben-Elim. And, despite everything, he did not want to see Meical dead. Or even try to kill him. There had been something raw and honest in Meical's confession, and as he'd listened to the Ben-Elim Corban had even felt an edge of sympathy for him– completely overwhelmed by all-outrage right now, but he knew it was there nevertheless.\n\nHe looked at Storm beside him, rested a hand upon her back and carried on walking.\n\nFigures stood highlighted beneath the next pool of torchlight, two men, swords at their hips, one with a spear. Corban had lost track of how long he had been walking, just knew that his anger had started to recede– not fade or disappear, but at least to stop bubbling and spluttering in his mind like a thousand angry hornets kicked from their nest. And his stomach was growling, telling him to find some food." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The figures loomed closer– two guards set on the first trapdoor into Forn. He recognized them as he drew closer, the two oarsmen Atilius and his son Pax. Corban waved them a greeting as he drew near, and they both looked pleased when he addressed them by name.\n\nBoth of them bore marks from the battle before Drassil's walls: Pax had linen bandaged around his head and Atilius had a raw scar running down the length of his forearm, the stitch-holes still visible from where they had recently been cut and pulled.\n\nThey both were talkative, smiling and asking about Dath.\n\nHe was handbound yesterday! Was it only yesterday? A lot seemed to have happened since then. Corban found it hard talking to these two men. He'd grown accustomed to people wanting to talk to him and always tried to take a few moments to speak with anyone who wanted to, but that had been before.\n\nBefore I learned of the great lie. He felt ashamed before them, warriors who had risked their lives before Drassil's walls, all in the name of a prophecy and a Bright Star. They looked at him, thinking he was something that he knew he wasn't.\n\nI need some air.\n\n\"Would you open the gate for me?\" he said. \"I could do with some sunshine upon my face.\"\n\n\"Aye, lord,\" Pax said, running up the slope that led to the hidden door.\n\nLord! Corban thought as he and Atilius followed more slowly.\n\n\"Any news on the next warband?\" Atilius asked him. He was an old soldier, a warrior of Tenebral, and clearly used to war.\n\n\"No,\" Corban said.\n\n\"We'll show them, if they ever reach here, ' Pax said as he threw the bolt, his da moving to help him lift the oak crossbar." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I don't doubt it, \"Corban said as the door was pushed open and broken sunlight streamed in.\"My thanks, ' he said as he stepped out into the fresh air, Storm loping off to sniff at a patch of dogwood.\n\n\"My lord?\" Pax said nervously.\n\nNot that again. \"Aye,\" Corban sighed.\n\n\"Where are your shieldmen?\" Pax looked about the forest. \"Forn is not safe.\"\n\n\"They're all sleeping off hangovers, \"Corban said with a wan smile.\"But Storm is with me, and besides, I won't go far,\" he said to the two men. \"I'll stamp on the door when I'm ready to comeback down.\"\n\n\"All right then,\" Atilius said and they pulled the trapdoor closed. Pax stuck his head out just before it shut and threw something to Corban– a water skin and something rolled in linen. Corban smiled and then the door was closed, turf fixed to its top making it look like an ordinary patch of woodland.\n\nHe walked fora little while, drawn to the sound of running water, and soon he came upon a steep-sided river, fast flowing and narrow, its water foaming white and loud as it carved its way through a miniature ravine. Corban climbed a gentle rise that suddenly steepened until he emerged into a grassy glade on the brow of a hill, to the south the walls and towers of Drassil visible through the trees, behind and above the fortress the great tree spreading like a guardian of bark and branch. The sun was warm upon his face in this glade. He lay on his back and looked up, enjoying the sensation of not having a canopy of branches above him fora change. Cloud like faded gossamer veiled the sky, softening the sharp blue glare of spring." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "From here the troubles of life seemed to fade, just a little, the storm of shock and despair that had been so overwhelming a short while ago receding to calmer waters. He propped himself up onto an elbow and unstoppered the skin Pax had thrown him. It was watered wine, not water, a little reminder of yesterday's celebration, and it tasted very good to his dry throat. Wrapped in linen was a chunk of cheese and a thick oat biscuit, which he shared with Storm. She sat and stared at him, perfectly still except for the drool dripping from one of her fangs. He threw her another bit of cheese and she leaped to catch it, jaws snapping, then padded over and bashed him with her head, knocking him onto his back again. She stood over him and licked his face.\n\nHe pushed her off and rolled over, felt a pinch in his arm and looked down to see his arm-ring, dark iron and silver thread curling around his upper arm, a thing of beauty. He remembered the night it had been given to him, Meical slamming his sword into the ground.\n\nWe are what we choose to be, Meical had said to him that morning.\n\nThe question is, what do I choose to be?\n\nHe thought over Meical's words to him, every sentence, poring over them. He noticed the air starting to cool about him, a strong wind coming up from the south.\n\n\"Time to go back,\" he said eventually to Storm. \"I can't sit here forever. And I have an announcement to make. '\n\nMeical's confession still hurt, almost more than he could bear, like a wound that had pierced deep– unreachable, unhealable– but he knew that he could not just hideaway in the woods, that he had to go back, if not for his sake then at least for those others who had believed the lie and followed him. And there was more to this God-War than titles and the strategies and games of immortals. There were people. Kin. Friends." }, { "from": "human", "value": "I may not be the great warrior prophesied to come and save the world that I once thought, but I am a man who has lost his mam and da to war." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lost my home, my King, my friends. I will not just walkaway from that. Calidus and Nathair are still a great evil, and they still need to be stopped. I will not turn my back on that fight, avatar of a lost god or not.\n\nAshe stood, Storm looked northwards, down the incline and into the shade of the trees. She growled. At the same time a sound drifted up to him on the wind from the south. From Drassil. The wild blasts of horns. He strained to listen and thought he heard voices, screaming, the clash of iron.\n\nBeside him Storm's growl deepened, turning into a snapping snarling, the ridge of her hackles standing. Corban spun around, felt the ground tremble, saw branches shaking as something huge approached through the forest.\n\nHe told his feet to move but fora moment remained transfixed to the ground. Then amass of fur and jaws and teeth emerged from the gloom and the treeline: a great bear with a blond-haired, pale-skinned giant upon its back. He was wrapped in fur, a war-hammer slung across his back.\n\nThe giant from Gramm's hold that slew Tukul. Ildaer, warlord of the Jotun.\n\n\"I know you,\" the giant grated at him.\n\nOther bears emerged from the forest, two, four, five of them, each with a rider upon their backs.\n\nCorban snapped a command at Storm as he turned and ran." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Coralen kicked Akar's feet out from under him, saw him drop and attempt the roll that Sumur had executed so perfectly in front of them all during his duel with Corban, but Akar was a fraction slower and Coralen aimed a little higher, accounting for the attempted roll before it had fully begun.\n\nThe result was a dead Akar, or he would have been, if her sword had not been made of wood. He rose with a wince and a courteous nod, which she hardly even noticed. She was thinking about Corban.\n\nI kissed him. Kissed him. And what does he do? Nothing. Even in her head the word was a snarl.\n\n\"Again,\" she said to Akar. She didn't notice that he looked disappointed to be asked.\n\nTheir weapons clacked a staccato rhythm as they moved with the tempo of their contest. Akar was technical, fluid, perfect, like all of the Jehar; Coralen was movement and fury, but she was without her wolven claws, using just a practice sword. Akar broke through her guard with a feint and lunge and punched his blade against the flesh a fraction below her ribcage.\n\nYou just killed me.\n\nThat made her mad and she grabbed his blade, dragged herself up it and sawed her own weapon against Akar's throat.\n\n\"What was that?\" he asked as he stepped away.\n\n\"You killed me, but not instantly. I was practising taking my enemy to the bridge of swords with me.\"\n\nHe smiled at that and nodded his respect, then touched his hand to his throat, fingertips coming away bloody. Even though her blade was made of wood she'd managed to draw blood.\n\n\"I am not your enemy,\" Akar said." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What?\"\n\n\"I am not your enemy,\" he repeated, \"and I do not wish to die whilst training on the weapons court.\"\n\n\"Sorry,\" she muttered.\n\nShe'd been first on the weapons court this morning, expecting to see Corban, fully intending to give him as many bruises as was physically possible during a morning's training. When he had not turned up it made her angrier, her only option to take it as a personal insult.\n\nHe is avoiding me.\n\nAkar had been the first unfortunate man who had asked her if she wished to spar with him.\n\nThis is not working. I need to see Corban and tell him what I think of him. What I think of a man who gets kissed by a woman and then avoids that woman fora ten-night. And especially when that woman is me. Me, who's punched and kicked and bitten a score of men that tried to kiss me, and now...\n\nShe screamed internally.\n\nCoralen strode from the court, slamming her practice blade into a wicker barrel as she left. She strode through the wide streets of the fortress, heading for the great hall, her eyes scanning for Storm as she went. If Corban was not in there she would try his chamber.\n\nShe reached the great hall and walked through the open gates. This chamber still managed to fill her with a sense of awe. It was just so huge, the branches snaking across the roof high above. She stood on the steps that led down onto the main floor and took it all in. She thought of Dath and Kulla at last night's festivities and smiled, then remembered them kissing, which reminded her of something else, and she scowled.\n\nShe saw Meical sitting on a bench atone of the tables, alone and with his head bowed." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It's the first time I've seen him still. He is usually doing something every moment of the waking day. Maybe he's seen Corban.\n\nA horn blast echoed through the chamber, off from the right. She looked about, not seeing anyone, frowning, then realized what it was.\n\nOne of the tunnel alerts.\n\n\"To arms!\" she bellowed. \"Foe in the tunnels. To arms, to arms.\" She was running, a sword in her fist without realizing how it got there, searching for the tunnel with the horn-blower. The blasts kept coming, people taking up her cry, Coralen hearing it spread through the chamber and out of the gates into the courtyard beyond.\n\nMust close the tunnel, seal the doors.\n\nGlancing left and right, she saw Meical running, speeding after her, others heading for the gates. Then she saw the tunnel. A warrior was standing at its rim blowing on his horn, others heaving on the huge trapdoor. A giant joined them to help, but then the horn-blower was shouting at them, gesturing for them to stop.\n\nThen Coralen was there. Strange sounds echoed out of the tunnel, hooves and feet and what sounded like a great wind.\n\n\"Close it,\" she yelled at the men and giant standing with ropes on the huge trapdoor, holding it hovering.\n\n\"No,\" the horn-blower shouted at her, a huntsman from Narvon who had joined her team. \"We have scouts in there– my brother is down there.\"\n\nCoralen paused a moment, looking into the tunnel. It sloped down gently, a hundred paces in two pools of torchlight revealing only emptiness. In theory any enemy in the tunnel should beat least half a day away, the scouts inside equipped with horns and fast mounts to spread the alert as quickly as possible. But she didn't like the sounds coming out of that tunnel." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They could be along way back– sound travels far in those tunnels, especially if it's made by those in a hurry.\n\nThen the clatter of hooves separated from the others, growing louder with every moment, and suddenly a rider was visible in the tunnel, galloping through the torchlight, hurtling up the slope towards them. His mouth was moving, shouting, but nothing could be heard over the crashing of his mount's hooves and the strange sound rushing up behind it, a scraping, grinding sound, like a thousand knives scratching at stone.\n\n\"Close the gates,\" the rider screamed as he exploded from the tunnel, Coralen rushing to take his reins, his horse sweat-streaked and foaming at the mouth. The rider's eyes were wide with panic.\n\nCoralen was planning on asking a few questions but instead she turned to the men holding the huge trapdoor and yelled and screamed at them to close it. Its hinges creaked as it began to comedown.\n\nA huge roar boomed through the tunnel, bursting up into the chamber like a blast of wind in the worst of storms, a physical thing that rattled chests and burst eardrums. In the tunnel something appeared, something huge, a flat muzzled head with small eyes, long fangs, thick powerful legs with razored claws.\n\nNo.\n\n\"DRAIG!\" screamed Coralen and the door came crashing down, all efforts at lowering it with control gone. Coralen had one last glimpse inside the tunnel, the draig looming close, someone upon its back, and behind it warriors, some mounted, others running, iron glinting, then the door was down, a cloud of dust billowing up.\n\nMen were at the bolts, trying to throw them across, the giant and others reaching for the great oak beam that slotted through iron collars across the door." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Someone grabbed her arm and spun her. Meical.\n\n\"What did you see?\" he asked, voice calm, controlled.\n\n\"A draig, a rider upon its back.\"\n\n\"Nathair rides a draig,\" Meical said.\n\n\"Aye, it was him,\" Coralen breathed. She would never forget the sight from Murias. \"And the Kadoshim are with him, hundreds of them.\" She looked up at the scout rider. He was wild-eyed, in the grip of panic. Gripping his wrist, she shook him.\n\n\"How are they so close?\" Coralen asked him. \"Where are the other scouts?\"\n\n\"They move faster than the wind,\" the scout said, \"that draig...\" His face spasmed, remembering something terrible. \"They caught up with the other scouts, ran them down.\"\n\nThe giant slid the oak beam through the first iron collar. Warriors were everywhere now, a few hundred at least, iron in their fists but most not in their war gear. More were pouring into the chamber as the horn blasts spread warning through the fortress.\n\n\"Where's Ban? ' Coralen asked Meical, grabbing his arm as he turned away.\n\n\"He...\" Meical paused, a mixture of grief and guilt crossing his face. \"He took Storm down one of the tunnels-\"\n\n\"What!\"\n\n\"Not this one– this one goes south, yes?\"\n\n\"Aye.\"\n\n\"No, the one by Skald's chair. He is safe. '\n\n\"Why did he do that?\"\n\nThere was a huge, concussive boom on the trapdoor, shaking it, dust boiling from its edges, locks rattling, some of the bolts flying loose.\n\nIt's not going to hold. Coralen knew beyond any doubt." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Make ready,\" Meical yelled at the top of his voice.\n\nGar swept through the doors, a few score Jehar at his back, other people appearing from all directions– Wulf and a handful of axe-throwers, Javed with his pit-fighters, Coralen saw Brina and Cywen standing upon the stairwell that led to Corban's chamber, Dath and Kulla bleary-eyed and tousle-haired behind them.\n\nAt least he has his bow.\n\n\"Where is Ban?\" Gar yelled as he drew near.\n\n\"In the north tunnel; Meical says he's safe, ' she said, nodded a greeting to Enkara, who was along with him, her leg not fully recovered from when her horse had fallen upon it.\n\nAnother impact upon the trapdoor, the oak beam the giant had slid across splintering with a piercing crack, another dust cloud rippling outwards.\n\n\"Back, get back,\" Coralen cried, trying to herd them all away from the trapdoor. They are too close: if the doors break, a hundred men will be slain in the explosion.\n\nMeical and Gar added their voices, then others, and slowly the milling, confused mess edged backwards, forming a ring about the trapdoor, leaving a space often or twenty paces.\n\nAnd that will be our killing ground, Coralen snarled to herself, bouncing on the balls of her feet, eager now. Wish I had my wolven claws. Have to do it the old-fashioned way. With her left hand she drew a knife from her belt.\n\nThere were a few moments of silence, dust settling, armour creaking as everyone waited.\n\nThen the trapdoor exploded in a deafening burst of wood andiron, a dust cloud billowing out to envelop them. The draig within the tunnel roared its fury and crashed into the chamber, shadowy figures swarming behind it." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Then all became chaos.\n\nThe draig ploughed away through the ring, eviscerating a dozen men too foolish or too brave to leap out of its way, Nathair hacking from side to side with a longsword. A horde of enemy surged after the draig, breaking through the immediate ring and hurling themselves into the warriors who were gathering deeper into the chamber. Meical did not wait for the enemy but strode into the dust cloud behind the draig, one man sealing the gap against so many, his sword a dull gleam as he was obscured; moments later a shadow-demon screeching into existence in the air, and Coralen knew Meical had his first kill.\n\nGar ran in after him, bellowing, \"TRUTH AND COURAGE!\" and Coralen followed, screaming at the top of her lungs, all those in the circle adding their voices and surging forwards.\n\nKadoshim were everywhere, but among and behind them emerged other warriors– ones clothed like the pirates they had stolen the ships from in Narvon, in kilts and vests of leather with short swords and bucklers. Coralen liked them; they were much easier to kill than the Kadoshim. In what felt like no time at all her sword and knife were slick with blood and half a dozen men were dead or dying in her wake.\n\nThe Kadoshim were shrieking like the demons they were, frenzied in their killing, and wherever they went the people of Drassil fell. A handful of paces ahead of Coralen Gar and Meical stood like an island against them; almost every other heartbeat a shadow-demon formed like a black marker above them.\n\nA face surged out of the press at her, iron rings in an oily beard, an iron-bossed buckler punching at her face. She swayed to one side, slashed the arm behind the buckler with her sword, stepped in close and punched her knife into a belly, ripped sideways as she stepped away, giving the warrior a shove in the chest to send him stumbling backwards, leaving a trail of his intestines on the floor. Another warrior stabbed at her, blinked when she was no longer where he expected her to be, then choked on his own blood as she raked his throat with her knife." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Then a Kadoshim was coming at her and she was retreating, slashing with sword and knife, opening a wound across its thigh, a wrist, along the ribs, but it did not seem even to feel the injuries, let alone be slowed down. Blood seeped from the wounds, but slow and thick, not sheeting like she expected. Step by step she retreated, forced steadily out of the ring, towards Skald's throne and away from the warriors who fought desperately to contain the warband that was forcing its way up and out of the tunnel. A sliver of fear worked its way into her belly as her defences became frantic and ragged. She felt her body weakening, her lungs burning as the Kadoshim pressed on, unrelenting, blow after blow merging into one seamless, constant attack. She blinked what she thought was sweat out of her eyes, but it was blood, a cut over her eye appearing that she hadn't even felt and the blood wouldn't stop flowing. The sliver of fear grew.\n\nI may die here. How did Corban make fighting these things look so easy?\n\nThen a warrior swept around her, black-clothed, wielding a curved sword, Akar. He spun around the Kadoshim, coming to a standstill with his back to them both, sword held out to his side in a two-handed grip, dripping black globs of blood. The Kadoshim staggered on a few steps and its head rolled to the side, then toppled to the ground with a thud, its body following a few moments later, mist like black ichor forming in the air, hissing its rage at the world and then evaporating.\n\nCoralen nodded her thanks to Akar and then he was gone, a dozen Jehar moving with him, chopping into the tide of Kadoshim and Vin Thalun that were flowing from the tunnel." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She ripped a strip of cloth from her shirt and tied it around the cut on her forehead, took a moment to look about the room.\n\nMore warriors were still entering the chamber. She glimpsed the child-king's shieldman, Tahir, leading scores of Isiltir's red-cloaks in a charge down the steps at Nathair upon his draig.\n\nThe ring that had formed around the trapdoor was getting steadily pushed back, thinning and starting to fray as more enemy kept emerging from the tunnel, though the numbers of the fallen enemy seemed uncountable, piles of them stacked in an ever-widening circle.\n\nWe cannot hold them much longer.\n\nEven as she watched, a break came in their circle and Kadoshim and Vin Thalun poured through it like a flood, spreading into the chamber, turning back to attack the defenders from behind.\n\nCoralen looked about wildly, trying to find her friends in the chaos, having a mind to fight beside them if this was going to end the way she thought.\n\nI wish I'd spoken to Ban. Please, Elyon, let him be safe. Let him live.\n\nA great roar echoed through the chamber, fora moment drowning out the din of battle, and Coralen looked to see Balur One-Eye standing upon the steps before the gate, black axe in his hands, Ethlinn and the might of the Benothi behind him. With another roar he strode down the stairs, began to run towards them, the Benothi following like an avalanche, the ground trembling. They hit the Kadoshim and Vin Thalun that had broken through the circle, scattering them like straw dolls, axes taking Kadoshim heads, war-hammers crushing Vin Thalun to pulp, and behind them the defenders started to rally. Coralen saw Dath had gathered a dozen archers to him and they were lined along the staircase that led to a higher floor, raking the enemy with flights of arrows. To the other side Wulf had rallied his axe-men to him and they were hurling blades at Nathair's draig and the enemy that thronged around him. Elsewhere she glimpsed Javed, soaked in blood, a knife in each hand, Vin Thalun dead or dying all about him. He was smiling viciously, his pit-fighters about him carving a bloody swathe through a knot of Vin Thalun warriors. Coralen felt anew surge of hope and with it energy, and she leaped back into the battle, wanting to find Gar and stand beside him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He was still standing close to Meical, the two of them blood drenched and ringed by a tideline of corpses. Coralen joined them, protecting one and then the other as Vin Thalun and Kadoshim hurled themselves at the two warriors. She stabbed and hacked and chopped until her arms grew heavy and her hands slippery with blood.\n\nOthers joined her, spreading in a half-circle to guard the flanks of Gar and Meical– Enkara and Hamil, Akar and a dozen other Jehar.\n\nThe flow of enemy from the tunnel started to slow, one last wave surging towards them. Coralen turned a blow with her knife and buried her sword in a Vin Thalun chest, blade sticking between ribs as she tried to tug it free. Another Vin Thalun saw and lunged at her, sword plunging towards her unprotected side.\n\nSomething smashed into his chest, hurling him away from Coralen in an explosion of blood. He hit the floor and rolled, Coralen seeing one of Laith's throwing knives sticking from his chest. Laith bounded up, afresh knife in each hand, covered in cuts and other people's blood. Farrell was with her, his war-hammer slung across his back, the giant dagger in his hands slick with blood.\n\n\"Better for Kadoshim,\" he growled. \"Where's Ban? '\n\nBefore she could answer anew sound rose from the tunnel. Battle lulled around them and many paused to look. A rhythmic thump rumbled out of the tunnel, reverberating in pulsing waves. Aline of new Kadoshim emerged, flies buzzing about them, a warrior at their head, tall, lithe, gripping a longsword and clothed in mail, but Coralen's eyes were drawn to his face, parts of it burned charcoal black and peeling, silver hair growing in tufts on his head, elsewhere singed to stubble or burned clear." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Calidus,\" Meical snarled.\n\nBehind him and the new Kadoshim marched more warriors, these in disciplined rows with long shields and short swords in their hands, iron caps on their heads. Coralen remembered them from Domhain, when she had been part of a night raid against Rhin's invading force. They had been the only force that hadn't panicked, and days later she had been told that their wall of shields had broken Domhain's warband.\n\nHundreds of them were marching from the tunnel, an endless column of men twenty shields wide. Coralen felt her heart sink.\n\nCalidus saw Meical, sneered and strode straight at him. Meical stepped to meet him, their blades clashing with blinding speed; the sheer sense of power rolling off their blows was staggering. Then one of the Kadoshim was lunging in, something different about him from the rest, flies swarming around him. He lashed out at Meical, caught him a glancing blow and sent him crashing to the floor, rolling backwards. Calidus followed and Enkara stepped between them, sword raised high, turned Calidus'blow as it swept towards Meical, a backswing from Enkara slashing across Calidus\" eyes and sending him reeling. Behind her Meical pushed himself to his knees, then the other Kadoshim was lunging at Enkara. He had no blade in his hands, just grabbed her, somehow swaying past her curved sword and gripping her wrist. He gave a savage yank and her sword was spinning away, Enkara pulled close to him. With one hand he gripped her face and twisted.\n\nCoralen heard Enkara's neck snapping from twenty paces away, the Kadoshim discarding her lifeless body to the ground." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Coralen screamed and ran at him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Cywen burst into the hospice, chest heaving, lungs burning. People were sitting up in their cots, some shuffling about on crutches, others trying to pull boots on and find weapons. They all froze and stared at Cywen.\n\n\"Out of here,\" she gasped, then louder, \"the enemy are in the great hall. If you can wield a blade, go do it, if not, you need to get somewhere safer.\"\n\nThe room burst into motion. Brina stumbled in behind Cywen.\n\n\"Thanks for helping... an old... lady,\" Brina said.\n\n\"Sorry,\" Cywen said.\n\nThey'd both stood in the great hall, staring dumbstruck as the draig had smashed its way through the trapdoor and the warband of Kadoshim and Vin Thalun had come boiling out of the ground. It had not taken long to realize that the warriors of Drassil were hugely outnumbered and infighting the Kadoshim, unlike the battle beyond the walls, were battling against a foe that was at least their equal. Added to that, the Kadoshim seemed to be limitless in their numbers and supported by a screaming horde of Vin Thalun pirates. As the circle of defenders trying to contain them had broken down Brina and Cywen both looked atone another and realized the same thing– the hospice.\n\nIf the Kadoshim reached here it would be a bloodbath.\n\nSo they had run through the streets of Drassil, chaos everywhere, Cywen pulling ahead of Brina.\n\nStill breathing hard she started to help people from cots, tugging on clothes, dishing out seed of the poppy. Brina was stuffing herbs and vials into a bag. Once the hall was close to empty Cywen saw the other thing that she'd come here for– her two belts of throwing-knives." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She slipped them over her head and ran her fingers along a row of leather-wrapped hilts, their comfortable weight reassuring.\n\n\"Ready?\" Brina asked her, a slim spear in one hand, bag slung across her shoulder. Cywen raised an eyebrow at the spear.\n\n\"As much to help me walk and keep up with you as anything else,\" Brina snapped.\n\nAnd then they were heading back to the great hall, slower this time, the din of battle growing louder with each step. Men and women were running in all directions, panic thick in the air. Battle had spilt into the courtyard before the great hall, knots of combat here and there, Kadoshim and Vin Thalun a constant trickle through the half-open doors. Cywen saw a Kadoshim leap through the air, covering at least twenty paces to crash into a handful of Wulf's men, scattering them. As Cywen ran past she saw the Kadoshim squatting upon a body, jaws slick and dripping with blood, the throat of the warrior beneath it torn and ragged.\n\nAs they approached the hall's half-open doors, running up the few steps that led from the courtyard, there was a deafening roar and something slammed into them from the other side, one door crashing from its hinges, falling with a resounding boom upon friend and foe alike. The draig surged out from the wreckage, Nathair upon its back, the beast powering into the courtyard, its head swinging from side to side, jaws lunging, snapping. It veered away from them, chasing amass of fleeing warriors, leaving the gates momentarily empty.\n\n\"Now,\" Brina said, running towards the entrance.\n\nA Vin Thalun ran at them as they reached the open gateway. Cywen put a knife through his eye, dropping him in a twitching pile. She paused to retrieve her knife, then ran through the entrance, colliding with Brina's back." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Then she saw why the healer had stopped at the top of the stairs that led down into Drassil's great hall, staring down into the enormous chamber, the sight almost breaking her heart.\n\nThe hall stank like a slaughterhouse, the dead and dying everywhere, all manner of noise filling the air, battle-cries, death cries, men and women screaming, mewling or weeping with pain, the clash and grate of iron on iron, giants bellowing defiance, the Kadoshim's ululating screeches.\n\nThe trapdoor that the enemy had emerged from was abandoned, the ring of Drassil's warriors broken, reduced to knotted islands in a sea of the enemy. And marching through the middle was the shield wall of Tenebral's eagle-guard, thousands strong, pushing through the surge and press of battle with irresistible force.\n\nVeradis. Is he down there?\n\nEven as Cywen stood and stared, horns rang out from the shield wall, and before her eyes it split, not in panic, but in organized motion, parting to form new, smaller squares that branched off into a sweeping arc, systematically clearing the battle before them.\n\n\"This is over,\" Brina said beside her.\n\nThe words still in the air Cywen heard a great roar from the far side of the chamber, saw the Benothi giants, felt a flare of hope, but that was instantly dashed as she saw a handful of them retreating, carrying a slumped form between them, silver hair hanging and matted with blood.\n\nBalur One-Eye is fallen.\n\n\"Aye,\" Cywen grunted.\n\nElsewhere she saw warriors of Drassil starting to break and run, here and there a more organized retreat– Wulf and his axe-men had joined with Javed's pit-fighters and were disappearing around the curve of the great tree's trunk; closer to her a hundred or so red-cloaked warriors were retreating slowly, a forest of long spears holding back the press of the enemy." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"We need to find Ban and get out of here.\"\n\n\"Where do we go?\" Cywen mumbled, the shock of defeat washing through her like a poison, murdering her will, draining her spirit.\n\nIt cannot be.\n\n\"There,\" Brina said, pointing with her spear.\n\nThe trapdoor before Skald's throne was a surging sea of battle, bodies rising and falling like storm-racked waves. At the centre of it Cywen saw her friends. Gar and Meical were standing together, dealing death. Even as she watched screaming shadow-demons burst into momentary existence and then faded about them. Cywen caught a flash of red hair, saw Coralen fighting like a lunatic banshee of legend, close to her Farrell and Laith, Dath and Kulla, a few score others, mostly Jehar. She realized that their numbers were dwindling– not because they were falling to enemy blades, but because they were disappearing one by one into the smaller door of the tunnel's trapdoor.\n\nThey are escaping.\n\n\"We need to get to them, now,\" Brina hissed, grabbing Cywen and pulling her down the stairs.\n\nThey were moving against the tide, most now trying to reach the gates. Cywen pushed, shoved and slipped between people, one hand in Brina's. They reached the bottom of the stairs and broke into a run. Cywen used two of her knives on Vin Thalun who fixed their eyes upon her or Brina, leaving her blades in their corpses, and then they were at the mass that was pressing against Meical and the rest.\n\nBrina skirted it, running around to the flanks of the half-circle that was closing like a fist upon their friends. Brina buried her spear in the back of a Vin Thalun; another turning, seeing her, raising his sword, fell gurgling with one of Cywen's knives in his throat. They moved into the press, Cywen catching a glimpse of Laith ahead of her, and Farrell." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Then a Kadoshim was before them, its mouth open in a feral snarl, black eyes fixed on them, curved sword rising. Brina buried her spear in soft flesh, just above the rim of its chainmail shirt, below its throat. The blade sank deep– dark, almost black blood welling around the wound like cold porridge. The Kadoshim slashed at the spear, snapping the shaft, leaving the blade in its flesh. It seemed unconcerned about that, advancing on Brina as she stumbled back.\n\nCywen threw knives, one, two, three in quick succession, the first crunching into its skull, second bouncing off of the mail shirt, and third piercing its links to sink into the Kadoshim's belly. It took no notice.\n\nI can't take its head with a knife. She drew the sword at her belt and hacked two-handed into the creature as it sliced at and just missed Brina's face.\n\nCywen's sword sliced into its neck, flesh parting, blade grinding against bone.\n\nThat got its attention.\n\nIt turned its black eyes upon her and lunged, wrenching her sword from her fingertips, leaving it embedded in the Kadoshim's neck. It ignored that as well, seemingly intent upon Cywen's death. A hand snaked out and grabbed one of her knife-belts, dragging her closer to the Kadoshim's sword-tip. Then Brina was there, in the corner of Cywen's eye, arm raised, and she was shouting something in giantish. Amongst the garbled words from Brina's lips Cywen heard the word lasair, for fire, then Brina threw something– a vial that exploded in the Kadoshim's face– and it erupted into fire, spreading in heartbeats down the Kadoshim's neck and consuming its torso, flames hungry and devouring, the instant smell of charring flesh and burning hair billowing outwith waves of heat and smoke." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Cywen threw herself backwards as flames snaked along the Kadoshim's arm. She slammed onto the ground, saw the Kadoshim stagger away, reeling like a drunkard to crash into a Vin Thalun, the flames leaping onto him and in moments he was a human torch. Both Vin Thalun and Kadoshim collapsed to their knees, screaming, toppled to the ground, limbs thrashing, the Kadoshim stiffening and then going still, the now too-familiar sight of a shadow-demon appearing in the air above it.\n\nSo, the Kadoshim are not fans of fire, either, although it's not the instant victory the taking of ahead gives.\n\nCywen staggered to her feet, Brina nodding with a satisfied expression upon her face.\n\nA slavering, screeching howl drew their attention and they both spun to see a handful of Kadoshim running at them. Brina's hand frantically scrabbled inside her bag and pulled out another vial.\n\nI thought they were medicines– what has shebeen up to?\n\nMore giantish words issued from Brina's mouth and she hurled the vial at the first Kadoshim, just a few paces from Cywen now. There was a blinding flash, a concussive explosion and then Cywen was flying through the air; the last thing she saw before darkness closed in upon her was Brina's face, an expression of profound surprise upon it.\n\n\"Well, what a pleasant surprise,\" she heard a voice say, somewhere above her. She opened her eyes, decided that was a mistake, pain thumping in her skull, and closed them again.\n\nA boot kicked her in the ribs, more pain indifferent places now, all clamouring for attention." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She opened her eyes again, looked up into a burned face, but still familiar.\n\nCalidus, ' she said, voice hoarse. As she said his name he reached up and tugged at a blackened strip of flesh on his lip, it came away with a soft tearing sound. He grimaced and flicked it away.\n\n\"Indeed,\" he said. \"And what a pleasure it is to see you again. A feeling that I'd imagine is not mutual. ' He smiled, a ghastly expression with half a lip missing.\n\nShe didn't bother replying, just pushed herself to her knees, realized her hands were bound in front of her.\n\nShe was still in the great hall, sitting on the wooden trapdoor she'd been so desperately trying to reach, though now it was mostly populated by the dead. Further away she saw Meical, pressed and held to his knees by three Kadoshim. He was covered in blood, noway of knowing if it was his own or his enemies\". Cywen suspected mostly the latter.\n\nCalidus walked away from Cywen, towards Meical.\n\n\"Hasn't turned out quite as you'd hoped, has it?\" Calidus said cheerfully.\n\nMeical just looked at him, stare flat, emotionless.\n\n\"So. Let's get to the heart of this. Where is your puppet? Your champion? Your Bright Star? '\n\nJust more silence from Meical.\n\nA group of Kadoshim strode up, one stepping forward, flies buzzing about him in a cloud. He held something out in his hands. A black axe. Cywen had to stop herself from grinding her teeth when she saw it.\n\nThe starstone axe, taken from Balur.\n\n\"Excellent,\" Calidus grinned. \"Most satisfying. That makes two Treasures in one day.\" He glanced at Skald's spear, still sunk into the great tree, the giant's skeleton draped about it. \"Now, all I need to make my day perfect is your Bright Star's head on a spike. So... '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There was a crashing, pounding rumble from behind Cywen, the now-familiar scrape of a draig's claws on stone.\n\n\"Where is he?\" Nathair cried from the draig's back as he drew near, glaring down at Meical.\"Where is your Bright Star? '\n\n\"I was just asking the same question,\" Calidus said. \"And now it's about time for an answer. '\n\n\"Safe,\" Meical said. \"He will come for you– he is a force of nature, Elyon's own wrath. You'd both best be looking over your shoulders from now on.\"\n\n\"Oh, please.\" Calidus laughed.\n\n\"This is far from over,\" Meical growled.\n\n\"Ah, now that's where you're wrong.\" Calidus sighed. \"At least for you. I must admit that I'd hoped for more, Meical, and I'm sad to say it, but you're boring me. Legion, take his head. '\n\nMeical struggled in his captors'grip, but the three Kadoshim held him fast, two dragging his arms wide, the other pushing on his back with a booted foot until Meical's cheek ground into the stone floor.\n\nThe Kadoshim holding the axe raised it high and swung it down. There was a crunch and a resounding crack as the axe cut through Meical's neck and buried itself in the stone floor beneath him. His severed head rolled in a half-circle, eyes bulging. A mist formed in the air above his twitching torso, astern-faced warrior, great white wings spread about him.\n\n\"See how it feels,\" Calidus said.\n\nThe wraith-like Ben-Elim glared at Calidus, then let out a bellowing, mournful roar– rage, frustration, defeat mixed together. The great white wings beat once, the air momentarily a gale, and then it was gone, evaporating." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Calidus turned to face Cywen, a triumphant smile fading from his scorched features.\n\n\"Now tell me, you little bitch,\" he snarled. \"Where is your brother?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Corban ran, the blood pounding in his skull, branches whipping his face. Storm was a blur through the trees just ahead of him.\n\nHe'd rundown the hill and headed deep into thick underbrush, hoping it would halt the passage of the giant bears. By the sounds of crashing and snapping behind him his plan hadn't worked. He ploughed on, vine, root and thorn snaring and snatching at him. He stumbled, rebounded from a tree, carried on, the crashing behind him louder, closer.\n\nI need to try something different.\n\nHe veered right, burst out of the undergrowth into a patch of soft forest litter and wide-spaced trees, put his head down and sprinted.\n\nThe sounds of bears and giant cries faded behind him, each stride opening the gap between them. He tried to workout his position, the direction he should be running in, heard the sound of running water to his left– the river– and headed towards where he thought the trapdoor lay.\n\nSounds faded behind him.\n\nI'm going to do it.\n\nThen there was aground-trembling explosion of undergrowth, sounding like whole trees were torn and uprooted, the pounding of huge paws and then a roaring that staggered him, sent him stumbling, then falling from his feet.\n\nHe rolled on the ground, glimpsed claws and fangs and fur bearing down upon him, the pale skin of a giant somewhere high above, heard more bears bellowing, further away, to left and right. Then he came to a halt, litter and leaves in his hair, up his nose, in his mouth. He reached for his sword.\n\nAhead of him he saw Storm skid to a halt, turn and look back for him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"On,\" he commanded.\n\nShe did not move.\n\n\"ON,\" he shouted.\n\nStill she stood and stared at him.\n\nRun on. Please. Go, he willed her.\n\nA bear and giant crashed out of the forest behind him.\n\nStorm snarled, legs bunching, and ran back towards him, her head low, a vein bulging in her chest as muscles pumped in contraction and extension.\n\nHe rolled to one knee, drew his sword, then Storm was bounding past him, legs coiling to leap at the bear converging upon them, her jaws gaping.\n\nThey slammed together, bear and wolven, a collision of flesh, bone, fur, tearing teeth and ripping claw. Storm sank her fangs deep into the bear's shoulder, her claws scrabbling for purchase, the momentum pulling her loose, tearing her free, leaving a great fold of flesh torn and flapping on the bear's flank. It bellowed in pain as Storm fell to the ground, the giant's war-hammer swooping through air, missing her head by a handspan. She rolled on the ground, gathered herself for another leap.\n\nThen Corban was up and running, the bear's charging momentum carrying it on, leaving Storm behind, surging straight at him. Corban swerved to the side, swayed out away from a slashing paw and talons and hacked two-handed with his sword, all his strength smashing it into the fur and flesh of the bear's side, blood spraying, ribs crunching and cracking. There was a stirring of air above him and he swayed backwards, dropped to a crouch and a war-hammer hissed over him, the giant wielding it snarling in frustration." }, { "from": "human", "value": "If the wound Storm inflicted had caused the bear pain, this one gave it agony." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It screamed its torment and halted its charge, sliding, tearing up the ground, crashing into a tree, the timber splintering and spraying, then the bear was rolling and its rider was sent flying through the air, hurled into the gloom and undergrowth. Storm bounded forward, leaping onto the bear as it lay on its side, trying to rise, blood frothing from its nose and mouth. She sank her teeth into its throat, the bear thrashing, trying to rise, but its lungs weren't working properly, its legs scrambling for purchase. Then Storm shook her head, a violent twist and there was a wet tearing sound and a gouting fountain of blood and the bear was sinking into death.\n\nCorban ran to Storm, put a hand on her shoulder.\n\n\"Good girl,\" he murmured. \"Now let's get out of here. '\n\n\"That's the second bear of mine that you and your kind have slain, ' a voice said from the shadows.\n\nIldaer, warlord of the Jotun, emerged from the gloom, his war-hammer held loosely in one hand, his huge frame wrapped in leather and fur. At the same time two more bears and their riders crashed into view, lumbering towards them.\n\n\"I remember you,\" Ildaer said, moving closer. \"You stood over your friend at Gramm's hold. '\n\n\"Why are you here?\" Corban asked, eyes scanning the forest for routes of escape.\n\n\"To give Jael my aid,\" Ildaer said. He paused and cocked his head, listening to the faint sounds of battle that drifted up from Drassil.\n\n\"Jael is defeated, his warband broken,\" Corban said.\n\n\"Then who is it that attacks you now?\" Ildaer asked." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Corban looked nervously towards Drassil.\n\n\"I don't know. '\n\nI must get back there.\n\nIldaer's eyes looked Corban up and down.\"You have anew arm-ring since Gramm's hold, I think.\" He cocked his head to one side, frowned. \"Are you their lord?\"\n\n\"Come any closer and I'll be your death-giver, ' Corban said.\n\n\"Ah, I like that.\" Ildaer nodded, looking at his warriors about him. \"Good spirit.\"\n\nThere was a hissing sound and a spear punched into Ildaer's shoulder. He cried out and staggered back, fell against a tree, slid down it.\n\nTwo men burst out of the trees behind Corban: Atilius and Pax.\n\n\"Corban,\" Atilius yelled, and Corban didn't need calling twice, he turned and scrambled over the dead bear, slid down the other side and set off running, Storm bounding beside him, red tongue lolling. They caught up with Atilius and Pax in a dozen strides and then they were all sprinting through the trees.\n\nThere was some shouting and snarling behind them, then more crashing as bears lurched into motion.\n\n\"This way,\" Atilius said and veered left, taking them into thicker cover, squirming beneath and around a clump of huge trees that had fallen in some great storm, roots exposed like the husks of great wyrms.\n\n\"Bears can't follow us here, ' Atilius said. Beyond the fallen trees lay a thicket of long-thorn, Corban discovering how aptly it was named as he tried to navigate his way through, following a narrow fox trail that Atilius seemed to know well, the sound of water growing louder all the time. It was along time later when they spilt into an open glade that edged a sharp drop to the river. They all paused to fill their lungs, Atilius passing Corban his water skin. Storm stood staring into the undergrowth." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"My... thanks,\" Corban breathed.\n\n\"We heard the bears,\" Pax said. \"Didn't know what they were when we heard them, mind, but we knew it wasn't good, and that you were out here somewhere.\"\n\n\"We need to get back to Drassil,\" Corban said, suddenly remembering the horns he'd heard from the hill, the sounds of battle.\n\n\"Aye. We'll follow the river, takes us close to the trapdoor, ' Atilius said.\n\nStorm growled.\n\nThere was a whistling, sound, a whump, whump, whump, as of something huge spinning through the air. They all had a moment to lookup, then Atilius was hurtling backwards, blood and bone spraying in his wake, crunching into a tree, where he remained, pinned by the giant axe that had carved him near in two.\n\nPax screamed and a giant thundered out of the undergrowth.\n\nCorban grabbed Pax, shook him, the lad's eyes fixed on his da's body.\n\n\"Drassil. Pax, you have to get back to Drassil. Get help if you can.\"\n\nPax looked at him, crying, then nodded and ran.\n\nCorban drew his sword and turned to face the giant.\n\nIt came howling into the glade, pulling a dagger as long as his sword from its belt, eyes flitting to its axe in the tree. Corban did not wait for it, moved forwards, Balur and Tahir's voices sharp in his mind– deflect the blow, nudge it, guide it, use your speed, your size as an advantage.\n\nThen Storm leaped, jaws clamping around the giant's wrist, blood spurting, the dagger falling. Corban lunged in as the giant raised a fist and punched Storm in the head. She didn't let go and then, before the giant even saw him, Corban was burying his blade in its belly, angling his blade high, under the ribs, slicing through a lung. Blood sluiced and it was sinking to its knees. Corban ripped his blade free, cut its throat and kicked it backwards." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Partner with the author and carry on with the tale.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, demons\nAuthor: John Gwynne\nTitle: Ruin\nChapter: 100" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"My... thanks,\" Corban breathed.\n\n\"We heard the bears,\" Pax said. \"Didn't know what they were when we heard them, mind, but we knew it wasn't good, and that you were out here somewhere.\"\n\n\"We need to get back to Drassil,\" Corban said, suddenly remembering the horns he'd heard from the hill, the sounds of battle.\n\n\"Aye. We'll follow the river, takes us close to the trapdoor, ' Atilius said.\n\nStorm growled.\n\nThere was a whistling, sound, a whump, whump, whump, as of something huge spinning through the air. They all had a moment to lookup, then Atilius was hurtling backwards, blood and bone spraying in his wake, crunching into a tree, where he remained, pinned by the giant axe that had carved him near in two.\n\nPax screamed and a giant thundered out of the undergrowth.\n\nCorban grabbed Pax, shook him, the lad's eyes fixed on his da's body.\n\n\"Drassil. Pax, you have to get back to Drassil. Get help if you can.\"\n\nPax looked at him, crying, then nodded and ran.\n\nCorban drew his sword and turned to face the giant.\n\nIt came howling into the glade, pulling a dagger as long as his sword from its belt, eyes flitting to its axe in the tree. Corban did not wait for it, moved forwards, Balur and Tahir's voices sharp in his mind– deflect the blow, nudge it, guide it, use your speed, your size as an advantage.\n\nThen Storm leaped, jaws clamping around the giant's wrist, blood spurting, the dagger falling. Corban lunged in as the giant raised a fist and punched Storm in the head. She didn't let go and then, before the giant even saw him, Corban was burying his blade in its belly, angling his blade high, under the ribs, slicing through a lung. Blood sluiced and it was sinking to its knees. Corban ripped his blade free, cut its throat and kicked it backwards." }, { "from": "human", "value": "He turned to follow Pax and something crunched into his knee, pain exploding, stealing his breath away." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He dropped like a felled tree, saw a giant towering over him, war-hammer in its hand, another behind it holding a thick spear.\n\nHe rolled away, used his sword to lever himself onto the knee of his good leg, raised his sword.\n\nThe giant with the war-hammer laughed and kicked him in the chest. Corban heard ribs snapping, a thunder-clap in his head and he was rolling over and over.\n\nThe giant advanced. Corban's hand searched for his sword hilt, couldn't find it, pain pulsing from his chest and leg.\n\nThen Storm was standing over Corban, crouched low, snarling. The giant hesitated, the one behind with the spear moving into view. Before either could move, Storm was leaping, slamming into the first giant before he could swing his hammer. Her jaws snapped for his throat, teeth ripping, both of them crashing to the ground, rolling.\n\nCorban got to his feet, couldn't put any weight on his damaged leg, found his sword and used it as a crutch to hobble after them.\n\nThe giant was punching Storm as they rolled, repeatedly, heavy fists crunching into her ribs. Corban heard a crackling sound, then snapping. Storm whined, then her jaws were finally clamping around the giant's throat. She gave a savage wrench of her neck and head and blood jetted, the giant slumping, then lying still, Storm sinking across him. She whined as she tried to stand, then the other giant was standing over her, spear rising, Corban a dozen paces away. The spear came down, punching into Storm above the shoulder, angling down into her chest, at the same time Corban hurling himself at the back of the giant's knees, toppling him to the ground, leaving his spear in Storm." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Corban howled with rage and fell onto the giant, his pain threatening to overwhelm him." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He dragged his blade up as the giant tried to rise, stabbed it into the giant's groin, severing the artery high in the inner thigh. He collapsed upon the dying giant, struggling to breathe. He'd never felt pain like it, pulsing through him, a sharp spike in his chest every time he took a breath, but only one thought filled his mind.\n\nStorm.\n\nHe left his sword buried in the giant, did not have the strength to tug it free, rolled onto his front and saw Storm lying flat and still, the spear protruding from her chest. He dug his hands into the ground, pulled, dragged himself towards her. He was sobbing, his vision blurred by the hot tears streaming down his cheeks. He must have been saying her name as well, for she raised her head and looked at him, whining pitifully. Her tail thumped weakly on the ground, blood foaming from her mouth. Her front legs shifted, paws scratching in the dirt, and she moved, just a fraction. Then she did it again, and again, dragging herself towards him.\n\nThat was how they met, both battered, bloody, bones broken, upon a grassy ridge above a white-flowing river. Corban gripped the spear buried in her chest and pulled it free, Storm yelping. He threw it away, tried to stem the flow of blood that pulsed from the wound with his hands. Storm licked his face and then laid her head upon his shoulder. He buried his face in the fur of her neck and held her close to him.\n\nThere was crashing in the undergrowth, giant voices.\n\nHow long have I slept?\n\nCorban groaned, lifted himself from Storm's side. She was still breathing, though in short, sharp breaths, not the long, deep movement of her chest that he had slept against so many times. She lifted her head to look at him with glazed, pain-filled eyes." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Hold on, girl. After everything I've lost I'll not lose you as well.\n\nThe voices again, closer.\n\nGot to move.\n\nHe tried to stand, pain exploding in his chest and leg, collapsed, almost fainted with the effort.\n\nRight. Walking's out of the question, then.\n\nHe listened to the sound of the river.\n\nThe thud of feet in the undergrowth, so close.\n\nIf they find us, they will kill us.\n\nHe gritted his teeth and pushed against Storm. Pain was pulsing in huge, rolling waves from his leg and chest. He ignored it, pushed again, strained harder. Storm whined, high-pitched, almost snapped at him. Then they were both slipping over the cliff edge, sliding down slick, sharp rocks, falling, then splashing into ice-cold water. The current took them, Corban clinging to Storm, desperately trying to hold her head above the water, spluttering and choking himself. He bounced off a rock, spun, his head ducking under the water, fora moment not knowing which way was up, then he was clear, gasping air.\n\nThe water calmed a little, carried them on until the current spat them out onto a rocky shelf, the steep sides rising over them, not much higher than one of the bears they'd been running from. Corban checked Storm, saw she was still breathing, then collapsed against her, utterly exhausted.\n\nHe woke with dawn, wet and shivering. Storm's breath came in a wet rattle. She opened her eyes when he moved, just lay with her head on the rock, too weak to move, looking at him.\n\nHe stroked the fur of her cheeks, above her amber eyes, remembered that first day when he'd saved her as a cub, Evnis looming over him, demanding her death. How he'd refused. And since that day she'd been his constant companion, his guardian, protector, friend." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He put a hand on her chest, felt her heart fluttering.\n\nI have to get help for her. She needs a healer. She needs Brina.\n\nHis leg felt numb so he risked moving it. Pain erupted and he rolled over and vomited in the river.\n\nThen he was lurching upwards, being dragged, hanging suspended over Storm, her head rising a fraction, eyes tracking him. He lurched up again, dangling in the air, something hooked under his belt.\n\nAnother lurch and he was looking at two giants, one with a rope in its hand, attached to an iron hook that it removed from Corban's belt.\n\n\"You were right to follow the river,\" one said to the other.\n\n\"Let me go,\" Corban coughed.\n\n\"Ha, I think not,\" the giant said in common tongue. \"You have led us a merry chase. The others are searching for you allover Forn.\"\n\n\"We should put a spear through his heart,\" the other one growled.\n\n\"Ildaer wants him,\" the first giant said.\n\n\"What about that?\" The other giant jutted its chin at Storm.\n\n\"I'll not be going down there, \"the first giant said with a shake of its broad head.\"Besides, there's no need. She is finished.\"\n\nAs the two giants dragged Corban up the slope and through a glade, pain lancing through his leg and chest with every movement, every breath, he heard Storm howl behind him. It was a rattle, weak and fluid, yet long and mournful, and Corban felt his heart was being ripped apart.\n\nThey took him deeper into the forest, and soon Corban discovered the one thing that broke his heart more than listening to Storm's weak and fading howls." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The moment when she stopped howling." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "My name's Gant and I'm sorry for my poor writing. I was a mercenary soldier who never took to it till Kailen taught us. It's for him and all the boys that I wanted to put this down, a telling of what become of Kailen's Twenty.\n\nSeems right to begin it the day me and Shale got sold out, at the heart of the summer just gone, down in the Red Hills Confederacy.\n\nIt was the day I began dying.\n\nIt was a job with a crew to ambush a supply caravan. It went badly for us and I took an arrow, the poison from which will shortly kill me.\n\nI woke up sodden with dew and rain like the boys, soaked allover from the trees above us, but my mouth was dusty like sand. Rivers couldn't wet it. The compound I use to ease my bones leeches my spit. I speak soft.\n\nI could hardly crack a whistle at the boys wrapped like a nest of slugs in their oilskins against the winds of the plains these woods were edged against. I'm old. I just kicked them up before getting my bow out of the sack I put it into keep rain off the string. It was a beauty what I called Juletta and I had her for most of my life.\n\nThe boys were slow to get going, blowing and fussing as the freezing air got to work in that bit of dawn. They were quiet, and grim like ghosts in this light, pairing up to strap their leathers and get the swords pasted with poison.\n\nI patted heads and squeezed shoulders and gave words as I moved through the crew so they knew I was about and watching.\n\n\"Paste it thick,\" I said as they put on the mittens and rubbed their blades with the soaked rags from the pot Remy had opened." }, { "from": "human", "value": "I looked around the boys I shared skins and pipes with under the moon those last few weeks." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Good crew.\n\nThere was Remy, looking up at me from his mixing, face all scarred like a milky walnut and speaking lispy from razor fights and rackets he ran with before joining up fora pardon. He had a poison of his own he made, less refined than my own mix, less quick, more agony.\n\nYasthin was crouched next to him. He was still having to shake the cramp off his leg that took a mace a month before. Saved his money for his brother, told me he was investing it. The boys said his brother gambled it and laughed him up.\n\nDolly was next to Yasthin, chewing some bacon rinds. Told me how her da chased her soak of a mother through the streets, had done since she was young. Kids followed her da too, singing with him but staying clear of his knives. She joined so's she could help her da keep her younger brother.\n\nAll of them got sorrows that led them to the likes of me and a fat purse fora crossroads job, which I mean to say is ado-or-die.\n\nSoon enough they're lined up and waiting for the Honour, Kailen's Honour, the best fightbrew Kigan ever mixed, so, the best fightbrew ever mixed, even all these years later. The boys had been talking up this brew since I took command, makes you feel like you could punch holes in mountains when you've risen on it.\n\nYasthin was first inline fora measure. I had to stand on my toes to pour it in, lots of the boys taller than me. Then a kiss. The lips are the raw end of your terror and love. No steel can toughen lips, they betray more than the eyes when you're looking for intent and the kiss is for telling them there's always someway to die." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Little Booey was the tenth and last of the crew to get the measure." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I took a slug myself and Rirgwil fixed my leathers. I waited for our teeth to chatter like aristos, then went over the plan again.\n\n\"In the trees north, beyond those fields, is Trukhar's supply caravan,\" I said. \"Find it, kill who you can, but burn the wagons, supplies, and then go for the craftsmen. Shale's leadin'his crew in from east an\" we got them pincered when we meet, red bands left arm so as you know. It's ado-or-die purse, you're there \"til the job is done or you're dead anyway.\"\n\nIt was getting real for them now I could see, a couple were starting shakes with their first full measure of the brew, despite all the prep the previous few days.\n\n\"I taught you how to focus what's happening to you boys. This brew can win wars and it'll deliver this purse if you can keep tight. Now move out.\"\n\nNo more words, it was hand signs now to the forest.\n\nJonah front, Yasthin, Booey and Henny with me. Remy group northeast at treeline\n\nWe ran through the silver grass, chests shuddering with the crackle of our blood as the brew stretched our veins and filled our bones with iron and fire. The song of the earth was filling my ears.\n\nAhead of us was the wall of trees and within, the camp of the Blackhands. Remy's boys split from us and moved away.\n\nSlow, I signed.\n\nJuletta was warm in my hands, the arrow in my fingers humming to fly. Then, the brew fierce in my eyes, I saw it, the red glow of a pipe some seventy yards ahead at the treeline." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Two men. On mark.\n\nI moved forward to take the shot and stepped into a nest of eggs. The bird, a big grey Weger, screeched at me and flapped madly into the air inches from my face, its cry filling the sky. One of the boys shouted out, in his prime on the brew, and the two men saw us. We were dead. My boys' arrows followed mine, the two men were hit, only half a pip of a horn escaping for warning, but it was surely enough.\n\nRun.\n\nI had killed us all. We went in anyway, that was the purse, and these boys primed like this weren't leaving without bloodshed.\n\nAs we hit the trees we spread out.\n\nEnemy left, signed Jonah.\n\nThree were nearing through the trunks, draining their own brew as they came to from some half-eyed slumber. They were a clear shot so I led again, arrows hitting and a muffled crack of bones. All down.\n\nIn my brewed-up ears I could hear then the crack of bowstrings pulling at someway off, but it was all around us. The whistle of arrows proved us flanked as we dropped to the ground.\n\nThe boys opened up, moving as we practiced, aiming to surprise any flanks and split them off so a group of us could move indirectly to the caravan. It was shooting practice for Trukhar's soldiers.\n\nI never saw Henny or Jonah again, just heard some laughing and screaming and the sound of blades at work before it died off.\n\nI stayed put, watching for the enemy's movements. I was in the outroots of a tree, unspotted. You feel eyes on you with this brew. Then I saw two scouts moving right, following Booey and Datschke's run." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I took a sporebag and popped it on the end of an arrow. I stood up and sent it at the ground ahead of them.\n\nFrom my belt I got me some white oak sap which I took for my eyes to see safe in the spore cloud. I put on a mask covered with the same stuff for breathing.\n\nThe spores were quick to get in them and they wheezed and clutched their throats as I finished them off.\n\nI was hoping I could have saved my boys but I needed to be in some guts and get the job done with Shale's crew.\n\nHorns were going up now, so the fighting was on. I saw a few coming at me from the trees ahead. I got behind a trunk but I knew I was spotted. They slowed up and the hemp creaked as they drew for shots. There were four of them, from their breathing, and I could hear their commander whispering fora flanking.\n\nI opened up a satchel of rice paper bags, each with quicklime and oiled feathers. I needed smoke. I doused a few bags with my flask and threw them out.\n\n\"Masks!\" came the shout. As the paper soaked, the lime caught and the feathers putout a fierce smoke.\n\nMy eyes were still smeared good. I took a couple more arrowbags out, but these were agave powders for blistering the eyes and skin.\n\nTwo shots to tree trunks spread the powders in the air around their position and I moved out from the tree to them as they screeched and staggered about blind. The Honour give me the senses enough to read where they were without my eyes, better to shut them with smoke and powders in the air, and their brews weren't the Honour's equal. They moved like they were running through honey and were easy to pick off." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was then I took the arrow that'll do for me. I'd got maybe fifty yards further on when I heard the bow draw, but with the noise ahead I couldn't place it that fraction quicker to save myself. The arrow went in at my hip, into my guts. Somethings give in there, and the poison's gone right in, black mustard oil for sure from the vapours burning in my nose, probably some of their venom too.\n\nI was on my knees trying to grab the arrow when I saw them approach, two of them. The one who killed me was dropping his bow and they both closed with the hate of their own fightbrew, their eyes crimson, skin an angry red and all the noisies.\n\nThey think I'm done. They're fucking right, to a point. In my belt was the treated guaia bark for the mix they were known to use. No time to rip out the arrow and push the bark in.\n\nThey moved in together, one in front, the other flanking. One's a heavy in his mail coat and broadsword, a boy's weapon in a forest, too big. Older one had leathers and along knife. Him first. My sight was going, the world going flat like a drawing, so I had to get rid of the wiser one while I could still see him, while I still had the Honour's edge.\n\nKnife in hand I lunged sudden, the leap bigger than they reckoned. The older one reacted, a sidestep. The slash I made wasn't for hitting him though. It flicked out a spray of paste from the blade and sure enough some bit of it caught him in the face. I spun about, brought my blade up and parried the boy's desperate swing as he closed behind me, the blow forcing me down again as it hit my knife, sending a smack through my guts as the arrow broke in me. He took sight of his mate holding his smoking face, scratching at his cheeks and bleeding. He glanced at the brown treacle running over my blade and legged it. He had the spunk to know he was beaten. I put the knife in the old man's throat to quiet my noisies, the blood's smell as sweet as fresh bread tome." }, { "from": "human", "value": "I picked up my Juletta and moved on." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The trees were filling with Blackhands now. I didn't have the time to betaking off my wamba and sorting myself out a cure for the arrow, much less tugging at it now it was into me. I cussed at myself, for this was likely where I was going to die if I didn't get something to fix me. I was slowing up. I took a hit of the Honour to keep me fresh. It was going to make a fierce claim on the other side, but I would gladly take that if I could get some treatment.\n\nFinally I reached the caravan; smoke from the blazing wagons and stores filled the trees ahead. The grain carts were burning, so Shale, again, delivered the purse.\n\nThen I come across Dolly, slumped against the roots of a tree. Two arrows were thrusting proud from her belly. She saw me and her eyes widened and she smiled.\n\n\"Gant, you're not done... Oh,\" she said, seeing the arrow in me. I might have been swaying, she certainly didn't look right, faded somewhat, like she was becoming a ghost before me.\n\n\"Have you a flask Gant, some more of the Honour?\"\n\nHer hands were full of earth, grabbing at it, having their final fling.\n\n\"I'm out Dolly,\" I said, \"I'm done too. I'm sorry for how it all ended.\"\n\nShe blinked, grief pinching her up.\n\n\"It can't be over already. I'm twenty summers, Gant. This was goin' to be the big purse.\"\n\nA moment then I couldn't fill with any words.\n\n\"Tell my father, Gant, say...\"\n\nI was raising my bow. I did my best to clean an arrow on my leggings. She was watching meas I did it, knowing." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Tell him I love him, Gant, tell him I got the Honour, and give him my purse and my brother a kiss.\"\n\n\"I will.\"\n\nAs I drew it she looked above me, seeing something I knew I wouldn't see, leagues away, some answers to her questions in her eyes thrilling her. I let fly, fell to my knees and sicked up.\n\nWhere was Shale?\n\nMy mouth was too dry to speak or shout for him, but I needed him. My eyes, the lids of them, were peeling back so's they would burn in the sun. I put my hands to my face. It was only visions, but my chest was heavy, like somebody sat on it and others were piling on. Looking through my hands as I held them up, it was like there were just bones there, flesh thin like the fins of a fish. My breathing rattled and I reached to my throat to try to open it up more.\n\n\"Gant!\"\n\nSo much blood on him. He kneeled next tome. He's got grey eyes, no colour. Enemy to him is just so much warm meat to be put still. He don't much smile unless he's drunk. He mostly never drinks. He sniffed about me and at my wound, to get a reading of what was in it, then forced the arrow outwith a knife and filled the hole with guaia bark while kneeling on my shoulder to keep me still. He was barking at some boys as he stuffed some rugara leaves, sap and all, into my mouth, holding my nose shut, drowning me. Fuck! My brains were buzzing sore like a hive was in them. Some frothing liquid filled up my chest and I was bucking about for breath. He poured from a flask over my hip and the skin frosted over with an agony of burning. Then he took out some jumpcrick's legbones and held them against the hole, snap snap, a flash of blue flame and everything fell away high." }, { "from": "human", "value": "There was a choking, but it didn't feel like me no longer." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It felt like the man I was before I died.\n\n\"Let's see it.\"\n\nAchi flicked it across the table, a pebble across wood, but this stone was worked with precision, as round as a coin, black and thick as a thumb. There were no markings on it, a hairline of quartz the only imperfection of the material itself. The ocean had polished it, my face made a shadow by it. It was the third I'd seen in the last few months.\n\n\"The Prince, from your old crew, his throat was cut,\" said Achi.\n\nAchi drained his cup, leaned back in his chair and yawned, the chair creaking, not built for such a big man still in his leathers, filthy and sour-smelling from the weeks sleeping out.\n\n\"How are the boys?\" I asked.\n\nHe opened his eyes with a start, already drifting away to sleep. I smiled at his irritation.\n\n\"Sorry, sir, all good. Danik and Stimmy are sorting out the horses, Wil went looking fora mercer, wants to get his woman something as we been away awhile.\"\n\n\"Stimmy's boy is on the mend, I had word from the estate. Let him know if you see him before me.\"\n\nAchi nodded and yawned again.\n\nI looked again at the black coin in my fingers. Such coins were given to mercenaries who betrayed their purse or their crew. But who had The Prince betrayed?\n\nWe called him The Prince because there was a time when he was inline fora throne, last of three, least loved and cleverest. His homeland chose its emperors in away as ridiculous as any; which of the incumbents best demonstrated martial prowess. His sister won their single combat on the day their father died and was thus made queen, but his sword wasn't what made him worthy of the Twenty." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Prince did the politics his sister could not. War allows only two dimensions, yours and theirs, a limit his sister was not capable of seeing beyond. Nations require the management of more factions than cut diamonds have facets and I met nobody that could exploit his empire's politic more adroitly than The Prince.\n\nI plucked a white grape from the bowl, milky and juicy as a blind eyeball. Achi peeled eggs, head bowed. The bargirl came in and cleared away the plates. She offered a quick smile before retreating to the noise of the inn below us.\n\nI recalled the two other black coins I'd seen recently, as perfectas this one, which The Prince showed me in his cabin aboard one of the Quartet's grand galleys only a few months ago. The Quartet were an influential merchant guild across most of the Old Kingdoms.\n\nI had travelled to see him after he'd sent an escort to get me.\n\n\"These coins were found with Harlain and Milu,\" he said, \"I will try and find out more.\"\n\n\"How did they die?\" I asked.\n\n\"Harlain returned to his homeland, Tetswana, became their leader, the Kaan of Tetswana no less. It was the gathering before the rains. Leaders and retinues of nine tribes. Seventy or so dead, the coin in his hand only.\"\n\nHarlain would not join us at Snakewood, the last time any of the Twenty were together. He had wanted to leave us sometime before the end. Paying the colour had taken from all of us, but it took his heart. It was only as we embraced fora final time and I helped him with his saddle that I realized I hadn't heard him singing for some months. I was glad he made it home." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Milu?\" I asked.\n\n\"He became a horse singer out in Alagar. They found him lying at the side of a singer's pit. Someone had been with him, footprints in the sand around his body, the coin in his hand.\"\n\n\"Poison?\" I asked.\n\n\"Almost certainly. Noway of placing it.\"\n\nMilu had also been at Snakewood, but stayed only fora drink and to buy supplies before leaving with Kheld. They had lost heart as much as Harlain had; no talk of purses or wherein the world was at war; they did not discuss, as did Sho or Shale, how my name could be put to work to bolster the gold of a purse.\n\nI never tired of watching Milu work, bringing the wild horses to his side, training them to hold firm in the charge. It seemed that he, like Harlain, had been able to let goof the mercenary life before the colour took everything.\n\n\"Their deaths are connected, Kailen. It must be the Twenty.\"\n\n\"You've heard from nobody else?\"\n\n\"Only that Dithnir had died. He went back home to Tarantrea, one of their envoys that negotiates with the Quartet I represent knows me well and shared the news with me. I asked about a coin but there was none. Apart from that I keep in touch with Kheld when I'm in Handar, but the rest, no idea.\"\n\nI breathed deeply of the morning breeze that blew across the deck and slapped at the fringes of the awning we were beneath. Dithnir was a bowman, almost a match for Stixie, shy and inadvisedly romantic with whores, cold and implacable in the field." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I remember Snakewood,\" said The Prince.\n\nOur eyes met briefly. \"No. That was dealt with.\" I'd said it more sharply than I'd intended. Why did I feel a thread of doubt?\n\nHe reached across the table, took the carafe and refilled our glasses.\n\n\"Your estate is improving,\" he said, holding up his glass fora toast.\n\n\"Yes, these vines were planted two winters ago, they'll improve. I only wish for Jua's cooler summers, perhaps an estate nearer the hills. How is the Quartet? I hear you have brokered a treaty with the Shalec to cross their waters. Not even the Post could manage it.\"\n\n\"Why would I toil through its ranks to High Reeve or Fieldsman when I can be a Partner with the Quartet. The Red himself could learn something from The Quartet regarding our softening of the Shalec, but I'm glad he hasn't, I'm lining my pockets beautifully. Remarkable as the Post runs so much trade elsewhere. They can bid lower than us at almost every turn; we can't match the subs, but we can work with lower margins, give Shalec a fee on the nutmeg, a pittance of course. Every investor north of the Gulf believes the Post controls the winds.\"\n\n\"While the Post can sub dividends over fewer summers than anyone else, the flatbacks will flock,\" I said, \"but enough of trade, congratulations Prince, I'm glad to see things are going well, being a Partner suits you. Will you get a message tome if you find Kheld. It would be good to know he's still alive.\"\n\nHe nodded. He had been the difference at Ahmstad, turning three prominent families under the noses of Vilmor's king, extending the borders and fortifying them in a stroke. The mad king is still being strangled in the noose The Prince tied. His death proved that whoever of us was alive was in danger. I signed our purses. This could only be about getting at me." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Achi had fallen asleep.\n\nI poured him some of the dreadful brandy that was the best the Riddle had to offer.\n\nShale and Gant were taking a purse only weeks south. If they were still anything like the soldiers of old I would have need of them. Achi's crew would be glad to be going back to Harudan. I needed good men with my wife, Araliah. Still, there was one more thing I needed to ask of Achi himself, one person I needed to confirm was dead.\n\nAn account, by a Fieldsman in the guise of a bodyguard to the Ahmstad Ladus (chief), of the negotiation by which Kailen and The Prince secured a bloodless victory for Ahmstad over Vilmor.\n\n-Goran\n\nReport: Candar Prime, Q4 649 OE\n\nEastern Sar Westmain routed\n\nConfidential for The Red only\n\nFieldsman 71\n\nYou are aware of Vilmorian expansionism under their King Turis. They have been amassing an army for assaults on two fronts, the Luzhan Province and Ahmstad.\n\nA clan leader for Ahmstad brought a mercenary known as Kailen to their war council. To say the Ladus was displeased was to put it mildly. The clan leader, Hasike, asked that the Ladus hear him out.\n\nWhat follows is a transcription of the meeting as best as I can relay it. It is evident that Kailen, and his fellow that he called The Prince, displayed a formidable understanding of both sides of the potential conflict. He is a most unusual mercenary and a compelling speaker, though of course this does not come across half so well in my approximation of the meeting." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"May I ask the Ladus the size of the army he is amassing?\" said Kailen.\n\n\"The clans represented here have committed tome near eighteen thousand men and women. Do I speak right?\" Raised voice, eliciting approval and some banging of cups.\n\n\"And what would the Ladus say losses of such men might be, were Vilmor to bring to bear an army estimated at twenty five thousand?\"\n\n\"Where do you get such numbers soldier?\"\n\nThe Prince speaks then. \"We served with Vilmor, as you no doubt already know. They have seventy six fiefs, variously providing twenty to two hundred men and women.\"\n\n\"With these numbers, in open battle, the losses would be?\" This was Kailen.\n\n\"Significantly higher on their side.\" More cups were banged at this point.\n\n\"Ladus,\" said Hasike, somewhat frustrated, \"who bears the brunt of their aggression? My clan. We are your border with Vilmor.\"\n\n\"As we border the Wilds,\" said another, \"but we do not cry to the Ladus over it.\"\n\n\"The Wilds do not bring in twenty thousand men in front of a fortified supply line,\" said Kailen.\n\n\"Bang your cups and brag if it pleases you, but you stand over a map that shows clearly where Vilmor will push, through Hasike's land and to the heart of Ahmstad.\"\n\nThe Ladus raised his arms to quieten the shouts.\n\n\"My council waits with bated breath for the wisdom of a Harudanian mercenary on its own affairs. I question your fitness to be part of this council Hasike, that you have brought to our gathering men paid to chop up soldiers when what we need is to outwit Turis's generals.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You ought consider Hasike wise, Ladus. I will gladly demonstrate why.\" Remarkably, the mercenary sounded angry. I had expected him to be run through at that point, for the Ladus enjoyed nothing more than disemboweling everyone from servants to his own family for slights of honour or even dark looks.\n\n\"You have not begun to muster from your war communes, the sheriffs and quarters are still securing your supplies: wood, cattle, grain. The men at this table await their levies, and the last time I fought Ahmstad I would not hold such hope for the weak and ill equipped majority that are enrolled. Hasike's lands will be pillaged and burned, some fifth of your tithe in buffalo, a seventh of all your kannab crops.\" He had the room now, though the Ladus's fist was white as it gripped the handle of his axe.\n\nKailen swept the arranged blocks from the map and reset them. He laid out the routes the Vilmorian army would take, the challenge for the Ahmstad forces, and every way that he laid out their options they were to expect heavy losses, even in victory.\n\nThe room was silent, for each anticipated deployment and stratagem had been devised and its consequences presented soundly.\n\n\"I have a question,\" said the Ladus, \"if we are likely to lose, why have you sold Hasike your services? Do you and your friend of some dubious royal lineage plan to defeat Turis with your own hands?\"\n\n\"No. For one hundred and fifty gold pieces my friend of dubious royal lineage will explain why you need not raise a sword to defeat the forces of Vilmor, gain yourselves land and new allies and weaken Turis significantly.\"\n\nThe Ladus erupted with laughter. \"If I'd wanted a fool I would have left my first consort alive. I suppose you wish to be paid before you share your grand plan with us as well?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Listen to him, for my people's sake,\" said Hasike.\n\nThe Ladus was always a big and intimidating man, easily afoot taller than anyone else in a room, and I'd seen him press and win, time and again, from Hasike for more cattle for the northern Ahmstad clans he favoured. Hasike was desperate. The Ladus took a deep breath.\n\n\"Fifty gold pieces. If I like what I hear you'll get your hundred more, if not you'll swallow them and I'll cut them out of your belly.\" He turned his head slightly towards where I stood with his treasurer, and a nod commanded the treasurer to count out the coins. Kailen took the proffered pouch as calmly as a man receiving payment for food, suggesting that, uniquely in my experience, his purses were of a not dissimilar amount.\n\nKailen's man, The Prince, was, I learned shortly afterwards, called so because he was an heir to the throne of Old Ceirad. He had the Old Kingdoms aristocracy in every bone, an educated, persuasive speaker. He also used Ladus's map and his blocks to explain his argument.\n\n\"Vilmor, as I have said, is comprised of seventy-six fiefs. Your lands border eleven of those fiefs. Of those eleven there are three that matter. These three share a common ancestry with Hasike's clan. You will have noted how peaceful the border is there, compared to the Wilds and Razhani borders. Only Lagrad is more peaceful, and precisely because of your longstanding treaty.\n\n\"These three fiefs, comprising two clans, do not, shall we say, dine at the top table with Turis and the bigger fiefs. Indeed, he has seen fit to put to a vote the redrawing of the fiefdoms in favour of a cousin whose land lies behind theirs. His mistake, as I see it, has been to give his cousin the oversight and control of levies, in the name of Turis, to see to the construction of the forts that now press against your borders, in those three lands." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"As many of you in the room will testify, if the Ladus here designated Hasike or anyone else to command your own men to build forts in the Ladus's name, irrespective of the cost to your lands and your harvests, you would be displeased.\" This earned a few grunts of approval.\n\n\"Two castles have been built, at great cost to those fiefs, seven other wooden forts and the construction of bridges through some of the marshlands that edge your borders give Vilmore the advantage of which we speak.\n\n\"I would suggest that the hundred gold pieces not be paid now, as I summarize our plan, but upon its execution. Will you bind to that, Ladus?\"\n\nYou now understand how interesting these two mercenaries are. The Ladus is a great warrior, but a vain and ridiculous man. They understood this, as they must have understood Hasike's position as well as the intelligence they had gathered on the border before they approached Hasike and the Ladus. I was struck at that moment by the thought that one hundred and fifty gold pieces was not as preposterous as it initially seemed. Nor did Kailen's demeanour shift fora moment at this change in the agreement, as though it too had been rehearsed.\n\nThe Ladus looked about the room, and I noted Kailen's satisfaction. He had concluded much as I did, that this gesture indicated Ladus did not have the initiative or command here. He sought the faces of his clan leaders for their view on this offer, though it would have been madness to refuse.\n\n\"Explain your plan,\" he said.\n\nThe Prince continued. \"Enfeoff the three clans, at the cost of one quarter of Hasike's own lands and four of his herds. Make also a gift to each clan of five hundred gold pieces, along with two hundred jars each of cocklebur seeds and the recipes for them. Commit also to fund a war commune there and give them a place on the council. In return...\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There were cries of'Disgrace!\" and others much more colourful, but The Prince continued over them.\n\n\"In return you have extended your borders, united four clans that Hansike will soon get control of, gained two castles and a number of forts and weakened Turis considerably on this front.\"\n\nThough the hubbub continued a moment, the Ladus raised his hand for silence.\n\n\"Hasike?\" he said.\n\n\"I believe with some suitable marriages, the war commune in what remains of my territory and my family's lineage in respect of these clans, I and my sons after me will take overall control of these lands, though I expect, as The Prince has said, that they will accede to our offer willingly. I can commit from my own men enough, with Kailen's help, to secure the castles while we secure the lands.\"\n\nThe Ladus nodded. Hasike had improved his standing immensely. He took sometime, looking over the map, lost in thought.\n\n\"Return with the agreements and I will have the payments ready, both for those clans and these two mercenaries.\"\n\nThe territory was duly won, Kailen and The Prince were proved right.\n\nI understand from some of the soldiers that I'd questioned regarding them that Kailen commands only a crew of twenty, and they have been making a name for themselves wherever they've signed. They have not yet signed a purse fora general that lost a battle.\n\nI recommend an introduction, we may learn much from this remarkable man." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Extend the plot as the writer's co-author.\nTags: fantasy, progression fantasy, cultivation\nAuthor: Will Wight\nTitle: Skysworn\nChapter: 5" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Renfei finished buckling on the green plates of her Skysworn armor, clipped the dark hammer to her belt, and sent a whisper of spiritual awareness to test the Thousand-Mile Cloud preserved inside her armor. It was fully powered and ready to deploy.\n\nAnd so was she.\n\nShe pulled her hair back and tied it into a tail, then walked to the door. As she expected, Bai Rou was waiting on the other side. He had to bend down to see her through the doorframe.\n\n\"Ready?\" he asked.\n\n\"Time's up,\" she responded. \"Let's go get him.\"\n\nBai Rou, her partner in the Skysworn, was two feet taller than she was and twice as broad. He always wore a hat woven from dried stalks, which cast a shadow across his face. Only his eyes shone from within the darkness, bright yellow-his Goldsign. He wore the same armor she did, though his was three sizes bigger and he carried no hammer.\n\nThey had to travel down cramped hallways lit only by flickering, damaged rune-lights-no one had done the maintenance on these scripts for years.\n\nFortunately, their destination was nearby.\n\nThey reached the end of the hallway in a minute, in front of a... well, it wasn't a door. More like a thick metal plate bolted to the wall, with a script in the center.\n\nThis script wasn't derelict, like the others. The custodians of the prison knew better than to allow actual security to lapse.\n\nFrom inside a pocket at her belt, Renfei pulled out her half of the key-a ceramic half-disc etched with one part of a script-circle. Bai Rou handed over the other half, and she fit the two halves of the disc together." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "When the script was completed, she let her madra flow through it. Another security measure: this key was created anew for each new jailer, and would shatter if power from the wrong Path flowed through it.\n\nShe pressed it against the circle on the metal slab, and power spun through the door. The metal lit up in lines, as hidden scripts activated.\n\nThe bolts around the edges, each marked with a script-circle of its own, began to spin out of their mounts. An instant later, they pinged to the ground, followed by the thick metal plate swinging soundlessly open.\n\nRenfei walked through the doorway, Bai Rou ducking after her.\n\nThey found themselves in a room of twisting mist. Images seemed to swirl and die within the mist, as sounds haunted the very edges of her hearing. She heard something like children whispering, a gong sounding, the cries of a thousand birds.\n\nIt was easy to ignore the illusions, as she and Bai Rou carried ward keys to this formation. The two of them saw only mist and heard only distant sounds, but anyone without ward keys would be snared in convincing visions.\n\nThey walked across a narrow bridge with no railing, a sheer drop on either side.\n\nThough it looked bottomless, Renfei knew that more than simply air and darkness waited beneath. Anyone trapped in the tricks of this world would live only long enough to hit the bottom, whereupon they would be devoured by what waited there.\n\n\"This is too much,\" Bai Rou said, his deep voice drowning out the whispers.\n\n\"Too much to secure him,\" Renfei replied. \"But not enough to keep him isolated.\"\n\n\"Not enough?\"\n\nShe sighed. \"You know it won't be.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The next door was wooden and opened to a simple physical key and lock. She opened into a dark stone room, lit only by light spilling in from the room of illusions. A pair of crimson lions waited at the end of the room, embers burning in their eyes, flames building in their throats. Remnants, sealed to the defense of this room.\n\nThe Remnants had been Truegold when they were imprisoned here, but were fed weekly to make them even more formidable. If she and Bai Rou had to fight their way through, they might be able to do it, but they would have to pay a heavy cost.\n\nFortunately, the Remnants recognized them and parted, allowing them to walk through. That didn't lessen the tension-their heat pressed against her like she was locked in an oven, and their burning gazes made them look anything but tame. She brushed her fingertips against the hammer at her waist.\n\nRemnants could be bound, but they weren't predictable. These looked like swirls of bright color painted onto the world, their eyes like balls of fire. They glared at her, and she found herself wondering if they might make a fight of this after all.\n\nShe could feel Bai Rou's madra, like water and nightmares, gathering behind her. She realized she was cycling her own Cloud Hammer madra, and picked up her pace.\n\nThe next door was made of heavy stone, moved by brute strength. This might be the least secure entrance, but it was made so that it only opened slowly. Anyone who tried to ignore the lions and open the door would find themselves trapped and delayed.\n\nThis room was thick with water aura, a pale green waterfall splitting the hall in two. It wasn't water, not really-instead, it was liquid madra, water fused with the essences of death and venom. A truly vile combination." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A construct provided by the prison allowed them to pass through this one-a personal shield that repelled this exact Path of madra. Renfei was still nervous as she walked through the green waterfall, even though she could feel the shield intact. Bai Rou might survive contact with this liquid, though even he wouldn't enjoy it, but she would die without a doubt.\n\nThe next room was full of security constructs. The floor was a web of etched circles, and brightly colored devices made of Remnant parts stuck from every wall and the ceiling. Eyes on purple stalks pushed away from amass of muscle-like madra stuck to one wall, examining them. The ceiling bristled with spiked tails, clenched claws, sparking fangs, and pieces she couldn't identify. She could, however, sense the power of the Striker bindings in all of them.\n\nIf the scripts beneath them were triggered, the constructs would unleash enough power to vaporize an Underlord.\n\nHer heart rate picked up every time, but they were once again allowed to pass.\n\n\"No sign of entry,\" Bai Rou noted, as they approached the last door.\n\n\"There wasn't last time either,\" she said.\n\n\"This is different.\"\n\nRenfei had to admit that she couldn't imagine these defenses being penetrated. Their prisoner wasn't too dangerous on his own-he was locked in more as apolitical statement than to protect others from him. The Skysworn had received orders to keep him isolated, but that had proven more difficult than they anticipated. Everywhere they put him, no matter how secret or protected, had been infiltrated within days.\n\nThis time, with the approval of their Underlord, they had placed him in the most isolated facility that could hold him without killing him. Having just passed through the security herself, she had to admit, she couldn't imagine how someone could pass through each of those measures without the keys. Or without blowing a hole through each wall in sequence." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Maybe this time will be different, she thought.\n\nIt wasn't.\n\nThis cell was originally designed for top-level security threats that couldn't be executed by usual means. Its door was shot through with halfsilver veins, and the room itself was broad and brightly lit. There was a separate prison in the center of the room: a box of bars, at least twenty feet away from each wall. The box itself was fairly roomy for one prisoner, with abed, a chair, and a pit with a water construct that flushed away his waste twice per day. The only thing a prisoner wouldn't have was privacy-anyone who entered the cell would see everything from every angle, through the gaps in the bars. Even the bars had flecks of halfsilver in them-the empire spent a fortune furnishing this place, and a smaller fortune powering and maintaining it.\n\nWei Shi Lindon Arelius stood outside those bars, his white sacred artist's robe scuffed and torn. He was on the balls of his feet, madra flowing through his body in an Enforcer technique, and blood trailed down from a split lip.\n\nHis eyes weren't black-and-red, as they had been when Renfei had first seen him. Now he didn't look quite so horrifying, but he had that rough look to him that she associated with lawbreakers. He looked like the kind of young man who started fights for fun.\n\nOver her interactions with him in the last several months, she had grown to realize that he was practically the opposite. A troublemaker, certainly, but of a very different type.\n\nHe was supposed to be inside his cage, but she didn't wonder how he'd gotten out.\n\nInstead, she wondered-not for the first time-how all these other people had gotten in." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Yerin Arelius stood opposite Lindon, a pale sword held casually in one hand." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Skysworn had obviously interrupted a training session between them-they were facing one another, and Lindon had a few more cuts than just his lip.\n\nShe had not taken a single injury that Renfei could see. At least, not in this fight. Yerin's whole appearance was a map of battles won and lost, her skin crisscrossed by thin scars, her black robes sliced and tattered, her haircut straight above her eyes. A pair of silver arms stretched up from behind her, flattening into sword-blades that poised over each shoulder: her Goldsign. A red rope of living madra had been wrapped around her waist, with a complicated knot at her back, and Renfei instinctively kept her spiritual awareness away. The rope was rank with blood aura.\n\nA huge black turtle waited in the back of the room, as long as a horse from tip-to-tail, and the peak of his shell as tall as a man. Orthos regarded her with black eyes that burned with circles of red, and then snorted out a puff of smoke, ignoring her. Dull red light smoldered in the facets of his shell, and smoke drifted up from him as though from a dying fire. As she watched, he stretched his neck out and took a bite from the nearby stone.\n\nFisher Gesha was the only one to greet the Skysworn with respect, drawing herself to her feet and bowing over her fists pressed together. The old woman was tiny and almost impossibly wrinkled, her hair drawn up into a tight bun. She carried a sharp-edged hook of goldsteel strapped to her back, and the weapon was almost as large as her entire body. From the bottom of her robes, long purple spider legs stretched out, evidence of her drudge. The Fisher Goldsign, a web of madra between her fingers that slowly gave them webbed fingers, was difficult to make out at this distance." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Renfei had checked Gesha's background after finding her with Lindon that first time. The woman was an ordinary Highgold Soulsmith, having spent her entire life in the remote Desolate Wilds out west. If there was anything strange about her, it was finding her in the Empire proper.\n\nBody parts of vivid color, so bright they looked unreal, had been spread out on the floor behind Fisher Gesha. She had abandoned these Remnant parts when Renfei came in, and the pieces behaved oddly when left alone: one claw scuttled in circles, a sapphire lock of hair started to fade as though it were starting to vanish, and a loop of twisted violet entrails reached out a questing tendril as though to slither away.\n\nWas she hereto work as a Soulsmith, or had she just turned to her specialty to pass the time?\n\nA man leaned back from an easel and a half-finished swirl of color, holding a brush in one hand and a shallow clay bowl of paint in the other. With a brilliant smile, he turned to her.\n\nSteadying her breath and the flow of her madra, Renfei met his eyes.\n\n---\n\nEithan Arelius wore a brilliant blue outer robe, though he had tucked along towel into his collar to protect his clothes from the stray splatters of paint. His blond hair flowed freely down his back, his smile was brilliant, and his eyes were as bright as if he had just spotted along-lost friend.\n\nA tiny blue spirit clung to the top of his head, tilting its head to regard Renfei and Bai Rou with childish curiosity. It was like a girl the size of a hand, blue as the deep ocean. She looked human in fine detail except for her legs, which trailed off into a shape like a dress." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Ah, the Skysworn! What a pleasure you could join us today!\"\n\n\"How?\" Bai Rou asked, astonished.\n\nEithan waved his brush. \"Well, I took painting lessons as a child, but I admit it's not coming back tome as quickly as I would have hoped.\"\n\n\"How are you here?\" Renfei said. She couldn't let him escape this.\n\nNo matter where they had taken Lindon, from the most ordinary dungeon to the safe house of their Underlord himself, they had found Eithan Arelius and the others waiting for them. None of the security measures had ever been disturbed, and there was no sign that it had cost them any effort at all.\n\nThe bloodline powers of the Arelius would explain how he had found them in the first place, but even that explanation strained belief. They had moved Lindon to different cities, sometimes. And even if you assumed Eithan had simply sensed and followed them every time, even an Underlord shouldn't have been able to break the security on this place. It was made to hold Overlords.\n\nThere was a trick here, and Renfei didn't dare to hope Eithan would share it with them. If he deigned to tell them how he'd done it, perhaps the Skysworn would have an excuse to save them from the anger of their Captain. He was not happy that Eithan Arelius could come and go as he pleased anytime, anywhere.\n\n\"Well, we were in the neighborhood when I happened to notice that Lindon was in need of some company. What kind of Patriarch would I be if I didn't serve the least of my family in this fashion?\"\n\nUnderlord Arelius didn't serve the least of his family at all, as far as Renfei could tell. He focused his attention on a few individuals, and recently Lindon was his pet project. It must have taken a great investment of time and resources to raise him to Lowgold in the Path of Black Flame. And after only a few months, Yerin had broken through to Highgold as well. An early advancement-she couldn't be more than eighteen." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Supposedly, she had been the disciple of a Sage before Eithan had found her, but Renfei regarded that rumor with a skeptical eye." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There were only three Sages on the entire continent, as far as she knew, and Sages never took disciples. Everyone knew that.\n\nRegardless, Yerin and Eithan were part of some plot, and Renfei had the sick feeling that she and the Skysworn were playing their role just as Eithan had planned.\n\n\"Tell me how you avoided our security,\" Renfei said coldly, refusing to let him evade. She couldn't intimidate this man, not even with the weight of her office-Underlords were too valuable to the Empire to have their freedom restricted, barring great offenses. But she exerted as much pressure as she could to squeeze some kind of answer out of him.\n\nThe natural spirit perched on his head shrank back as though frightened of Renfei's voice, but Eithan's smile brightened if anything. \"Ah, but I think there's more pressing business, isn't there? You can't be here for my stimulating conversation.\"\n\nLindon had his head respectfully down, but now he looked to her. \"Is it time already?\" he asked. \"I thought I was to have two more days.\" She supposed he was nervous about the answer, but with his tight jaw and wide eyes, he looked more like he was spoiling fora fight instead.\n\n\"We must take you to the arena ahead of the others,\" she explained, turning from Eithan and trying to suppress her frustration with the Underlord. If he would just cooperate, he could make life easier for her, but no. The higher-ups of the clans did what they wished, without concern for those beneath them. It was a large reason her parents had sent her to join the Cloud Hammer sect, as a child.\n\nThe cloud hovering over her head was boiling, she was sure." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"We can't disclose the location of the venue ahead of time,\" she said. \"To prevent tampering. We will notify the respective Underlords when the venue has been prepared, and then give them time to travel there.\"\n\nThese were standard procedures when the representatives of two great clans or families dueled with real stakes, but since both Underlords had personal pride in this, the Skysworn had to have an Underlord of their own to ensure parity. That was a large part of the reason her Captain was in such afoul mood lately; he hated having to waste his time supervising a fight between children.\n\nThat, and he had to deal with Eithan Arelius.\n\nLindon turned to the others, and even on his contentious face, there was a look of uncertainty. Yerin walked up and tapped him on the chest with her fist. \"Your path's as straight as a good road,\" she said. \"Kill him if you can. Try not to die.\"\n\nThe words sounded casual, but Renfei detected a tremble in Yerin's spirit. For the briefest instant, her madra was disrupted in its flow.\n\nA smile pulled at Lindon's lips, as though Yerin had said something touching, but Orthos bulled in a second later. \"Destroy him!\" the turtle said, through a mouthful of gravel. \"Scatter his ashes around the arena! Crush your enemy, drive him before you, hear the lamentations of his-\"\n\n\"I will do what I can, Orthos,\" Lindon said, resting his hand on the turtle's head.\n\nThe sacred beast snorted, pulling back. \"Cycle Blackflame and say that tome again.\"\n\nLindon complied, his spirit going from a tranquil pool to a rolling chaos of dark fire in an instant. Renfei pulled her awareness back slightly-destruction was a difficult power to sense too closely. It always reminded her of insects swarming over their prey, and gave her a headache." }, { "from": "human", "value": "His eyes now matched Orthos', giving his features a sinister cast." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He had a solid build, such that he looked older than he really was, and the eyes gave him a menacing edge.\n\n\"I will do what I can,\" Lindon said again, but Orthos snapped at the air between them.\n\n\"No! The dragon destroys! Victory is not good enough, you have to finish him.\"\n\nLindon straightened himself, his Blackflame madra suddenly boiling. \"I'll send his ashes back to the Jai clan in ajar.\" His dark eyes faded, and he smiled sheepishly. \"... if I can.\"\n\nOrthos snorted. \"We need to have a Soulsmith make you a spine.\" He wandered away, muttering to himself, and Fisher Gesha approached next.\n\n\"All right,\" she said, slapping her palms together. \"To business, hm? Which would you like to take?\"\n\nTo Renfei's surprise, she led Lindon to a huge trunk at the corner of his cell. Renfei hadn't noticed it before; she had been too preoccupied watching the people. That was a mistake, and she chided herself for it. She had worked for the Skysworn long enough to know that it was the detail you missed that killed you.\n\nThe Fisher threw open the chest, pulling out devices of bright color: constructs and weapons. The products of a Soulsmith.\n\n\"Well, hurry it up,\" she said. \"Tell me what you want.\"\n\n\"Everything,\" Lindon said. He sounded much more certain than when he had spoken with Orthos.\n\nFisher Gesha's eyebrows shot up. \"Everything? You want to fight with your pockets bulging like a squirrel's cheeks?\"\n\n\"Everything,\" he said again.\n\nWhen he was finally ready to leave, he turned to the Skysworn with a bright blue band around his head, a purple bracelet on one wrist, a black bracer on the other, three rods of varying length and color at his waist, a gelatinous red mass that pulsed like a heart stuck to his chest, a bright green dagger in an ankle sheath, and-sure enough-his pockets swollen, spilling multi-colored light into the air." }, { "from": "human", "value": "He looked like a clown." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "More weapons did not mean a more prepared warrior, and everyone present had to know that.\n\nShe looked to the others as though they would stop him, but even Yerin looked resigned. Eithan beamed as though watching his proud son leave for the first day at a School of sacred arts.\n\n\"We will send a messenger to contact you when the fight is ready to begin,\" Renfei said. \"Each Underlord is of course allowed a retinue, though we hope that you will conduct yourself with honor, as befitting your respected rank and station.\"\n\nEithan turned back to his painting. It depicted a tall, lonely mountain, jutting from the surrounding landscape like a gray spear. The top was flat, as though the summit of the mountain had been sliced off, and it was capped by an ancient stone building supported by columns.\n\nRenfei stared at the picture. She was afraid her mouth might be hanging open.\n\n\"See you there!\" Eithan said.\n\n---\n\nOn the top of a gray mountain, Lindon waited, cycling Blackflame madra to fight off the chill of the relentless wind. The gusts shoved at him, stronger than he would have thought possible-even with his Iron body reinforced by Lowgold madra, he had to bend down and grip the edge of a nearby boulder to stay in place.\n\nThe power of wind was strong here, covering his spiritual sight in green swirls. A Jade wouldn't be able to survive alone under these conditions; they would eventually exhaust their madra fighting against the wind and be shoved off the sheer edge of the nearby cliff.\n\nLindon had grownup in Sacred Valley, surrounded by mountains, and this mountain was a strange one. It had been sliced off at the top as though by a sword, so it now terminated in a flat plane. Avast stone structure had been built at the center, squat and ancient, supported by granite pillars." }, { "from": "human", "value": "It was impossible to reach this place without flying, and even the Skysworn who had carried them hereon their Thousand-Mile Cloud had been forced to fight their way up." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sacred eagles with emerald talons had harassed them all the way.\n\nLindon didn't even know wherein the Blackflame Empire he was. South, they said, but he had noway to tell.\n\nHe had traveled with the Skysworn fora full day, spent the night huddled in a tiny valley, and then taken off again the next day at dawn. When they finally reached this barren peak, the two green-armored Truegolds had stuffed him into a room carved into the base of the mountain for two more nights, leaving him to marinate in nerves.\n\nToday, of all days, they'd taken him out only to abandon him on the edge of the cliff while they checked inside the'sanctuary,\" as they called it, for potential tampering.\n\nThe Blackflame madra warmed his spirit and his flesh, protecting him from the cold of the wind, but he shivered anyway.\n\nThe day had finally come.\n\nHe hadn't seen Jai Long for months, not since the Skysworn had taken him away to prevent him from causing a panic with his identity as a Blackflame. At first, he had almost been relieved, thinking that his imprisonment meant the duel would be canceled.\n\nThen Eithan had shown up and told him otherwise.\n\nEithan had brought Yerin and the others to him more than ten times, and each time the Skysworn either moved him or increased security. It never seemed to matter.\n\nLindon stared up at the stone columns, wind whipping at his hair and his outer robe. Though his heart pounded and his breath was coming faster, he felt a strange calm.\n\nThe others, especially Yerin and Fisher Gesha, had done everything they could to prepare him for this day. He was as ready as he could be." }, { "from": "human", "value": "There were still no guarantees, of course." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But this was just another obstacle he had to overcome. Just one more step.\n\n... of course, he was still armed to the teeth.\n\nThe constructs felt strange against his skin. The blue headband tickled, the purple loop around his wrist squeezed, the mass on his chest pulsed in time with his heartbeat. He had helped Fisher Gesha make everyone of these constructs... though perhaps'helped\" was too strong a word. She had provided the bindings and the dead matter to make the constructs, and he had simply assisted her and maintained them afterwards.\n\nTheir essence bled into the air, like tiny motes of colored light rising from the surface of the constructs as their madra dissolved. Lindon couldn't help but worry when he saw that. They would degrade overtime, and probably wouldn't be useful in any fight after this one, but they should last at least that long. Still, he couldn't help feeling like they'd crumble at any second.\n\nHe looked up as two figures walked out of the cavernous entrance to the sanctuary. Bai Rou loomed over his partner, his green armor making him seem as steady as a statue, his glowing yellow eyes in the shadow of his hat striking and intimidating. He seemed to radiate menace.\n\nHe was overwhelming, but Lindon preferred the impression Renfei gave: she was calm, composed, ready to act at a moment's notice. Her black hair was pulled back in a tail, a gray cloud hovering inches over her head, hammer bouncing on her hip. She didn't seem threatening, just in control.\n\nThat was how Lindon wanted to feel.\n\nShe met him with a direct, unblinking gaze. \"We're to confiscate your weapons,\" she said.\n\nLindon's hands instinctively moved to cover his pockets. The Skysworn had taken his pack when they first captured him and had yet to return it to him, and he felt almost helpless without it. The constructs returned some measure of that control." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Jai Long will have a weapon,\" he said reasonably. \"Surely you won't deny me mine, if this duel is to be entertaining at all.\"\n\nHe had some strategies he could attempt against Jai Long. Eithan put Lindon's chance of winning at thirty or forty percent. \"Those aren't the worst odds I've ever bet on!\" he'd said.\n\nBut Lindon's chances went down significantly if he had to walk in unarmed. All of the ideas he'd come up with for rigging the fight had involved altering the arena in someway, but it seemed that the Skysworn had anticipated him. Unless he could still get sometime alone with the stage...\n\n\"We will return any weapons appropriate to your stage of advancement,\" Renfei said. \"We can't have you bringing an Underlord weapon into a fight between Golds.\"\n\nLindon shifted so that his outer robe covered up the pulsing mass attached to his chest. It had been worth a try.\n\nThey peeled the constructs off him one at a time, and though he put up a few more halfhearted attempts at bargaining, he didn't struggle. They would sense any object of power he had on him, regardless of how he tried to hide.\n\nThis was within his expectations. During one of their planning sessions, Eithan had warned him that they would likely confiscate anything too powerful, though he had hoped they would match his weapons to the level of his opponent. In that case, Lindon would have been left Highgold and Truegold tools as well.\n\nRenfei did give him a reproachful look when she discovered that one of his launcher constructs was made from Underlord-grade parts. As was the artificial heart on his chest. And the band around his forehead." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Two more of his constructs were Truegold, and four were Highgold. They sealed all those into a scripted box that Bai Rou produced, but kept the Lowgold devices in a sack. Those would be returned to him quickly, he assumed. He hoped.\n\n\"Your first core is...\" Renfei flicked her spirit through Lindon's, and he froze, wondering if she would see past the first of his surprises. But she said\"... Jade,\" and he relaxed. \"Your second core is Lowgold, so you goon record as a Lowgold. You can take in weapons appropriate to your stage.\"\n\nAs expected, they missed Suriel's marble. The glass ball sat tucked into his pocket, burning with a steady blue candle-flame. Had they looked inside, they would have seen it, but they had done all their searching with their spiritual sense.\n\nThey also left him his badge, which was heavy and cold against his chest. It was made of gold, etched with a hammer, and it reminded him of home. Nothing reminded him that he was a sacred artist of Sacred Valley like that badge.\n\nThe two Skysworn ushered him inside, and Lindon took a deep breath.\n\nAs far as he was concerned, the duel had begun. From hereon out, he had to take any advantage he could.\n\n\"What about my sacred beast?\" Lindon asked them. \"I have a contracted partner. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe sacred artists are allowed to do battle alongside their partners.\"\n\nBai Rou gave a single, deep laugh.\n\n\"Traditionally, contracted partners are allowed to duel as a single unit,\" Renfei confirmed. \"However, Orthos is too far above you. That makes you his partner, and if he were to participate, this would be officially recorded as a duel between Jai Long of the Jai clan and Orthos, guardian of the Arelius family. This is not what we were permitted to allow, nor what either side wants.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They walked through the entrance, the wind cutting off as though sliced with a knife, and Lindon started to sweat. It was quite cool inside, but every possibility they denied him reduced his chance of winning.\n\nThis was still within his predictions, though. At least they'd left him some weapons.\n\nThe hall was avast, empty space, and Lindon suspected it was rare to see a visitor in a year. Dust had piled up in the corners, cobwebs on the ceiling, and the stone was worn with the passage of time. More, there was no sign of any inhabitants other than the fresh boot-prints in the dust that must have been left by the Skysworn.\n\nA single heavy, wooden door waited at the end of the hall, and Bai Rou pushed it open. Yellow eyes bright, he ushered Lindon inside.\n\nOr rather, outside.\n\nThe room was fairly spacious, but the far wall was open. Only pillars held up the ceiling, and the spaces between them were filled with views of a snowy mountain range. The sight brought back a sudden, unexpected longing for home.\n\nWind rushed in again, though not as fierce as it had been on the edge of the cliff. This room was about a hundred yards square, and had no furnishings at all. Besides the wall behind Lindon, with its single door, everything else was open to the sky.\n\nThe Underlords were already waiting." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Eithan stood on Lindon's right, and he gave a cheery wave when he saw Lindon, his smile as bright as ever.\n\nOpposite him was Jai Daishou, the Patriarch of the Jai clan. An old man, he wore white robes with highlights of blue, and his white hair ran in a straight river down his back. Thanks to the Goldsign of the Path of the Stellar Spear, his hair was a collection of metal strands that reflected bright in the sunlight. He gripped a blue-hafted spear in his right hand, grinding its butt against the stone of the floor.\n\nHe had deteriorated since Lindon had last seen him.\n\nThe last time, Jai Daishou had looked like a fit man in his eighties. His back had been as straight as his spear, and his eyes were sharp. Now, his back was curved as the branch of an old tree, and his eyes were half-lidded, as though it was a strain to keep them open. He held his spear, not like he was ready to use it, but as though it was the only thing holding him up.\n\nHe may have been an Underlord, but he had one foot in the underworld. Lindon had spent long hours hoping he would die before this duel-if he was gone, the Arelius family would have nothing at stake here. It would purely be a duel between Lindon and Jai Long.\n\nIn that case, the Skysworn wouldn't have checked the surroundings for traps. Lindon could have cheated to his heart's content.\n\nThey must have just arrived, because Eithan didn't greet his opposite until Lindon was close enough to hear. \"Jai Daishou! You're in good health, it seems. Better than last I saw you.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Jai Underlord's hand shot up to his chest, clawing at the center, as though his heart were seizing up at that moment. His wrinkled face twisted in hatred, but his voice was clear as he responded. \"This is a waste of my time. Without your tricks, this duel is already over. You should have had the boy's head delivered tome on a plate and saved us all a day's travel.\"\n\n\"I asked him about that,\" Eithan said. \"He told me he prefers his head where it is.\"\n\nThat was a true story. While Lindon had been practicing with Fisher Gesha, Eithan had looked up from his book and suggested that this whole thing could be resolved if they just delivered Lindon's severed head to the enemy. It would look bad for the Arelius, but losing an official duel would be worse, because there would be a public record of their shame.\n\nLindon had politely requested to keep his head attached.\n\nThere were three other people in the room, but Lindon had focused on the two Patriarchs first.\n\nAnother old man stood in the center, equally distant from both Underlords. He wore the green armor of the Skysworn, but there was something on his back sticking up from his shoulders. Was he wearing a backpack?\n\nHe wasn't as ancient as Jai Daishou seemed to be, but he still looked like he could be Lindon's grandfather. His build was still powerful, and he wore his green Skysworn armor more naturally than Renfei or Bai Rou, as though he had been born in it. Its plates were so scuffed and dented that the armor might well be as old as he was.\n\nHis gray hair was long and matted, hanging down in tangled curtains. A large patch of his face was scarred and twisted, as though it had been burned, and he wore a large sword strapped to his back." }, { "from": "human", "value": "His scratched armor, dirty hair, and scorched face didn't make him look weak to Lindon." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was the opposite, if anything. He looked like a man who belonged on a battlefield.\n\nThe old man chewed on a leaf that stuck halfway out of his mouth, regarding Lindon with a weary expression. \"All right, all right. On behalf of the Blackflame Empire, I witness this duel between Jai Daishou of the Jai clan and Eithan Arelius of the Arelius family. As an Underlord and Captain of the Skysworn sect, I, Naru Gwei, certify upon my word of honor that no tampering has occurred at the venue before my arrival, and I will not tolerate any further interference by outside parties during the duel itself.\"\n\nEvery word was hammered in like a nail, as though he were reciting something while desperately wishing he could be anywhere else.\n\n\"It's a joy to have you here, Gwei,\" Eithan said happily. \"Of all the duel adjudicators in the Empire, you're still the highest-ranked, aren't you? It's honestly a pleasure, a pleasure, to have such an esteemed-\"\n\n\"Eithan, one more word out of you and I will personally beat you down into the center of the mountain.\" Naru Gwei gnawed on his leaf as he spoke, still looking as though he'd rather be in bed. \"I don't have any love for the Jai clan, but as for you, if I saw you on fire I'd hold an umbrella for you so the rain didn't put you out.\"\n\n\"I don't feel like that's entirely warranted.\"\n\nLindon's heart was already hammering as the duel loomed over him and he tried not to look at the red-masked man standing behind Jai Daishou, but his heartbeat quickened and his stomach soured when he realized that Eithan had antagonized the judge. What had he done? Would Naru Gwei interfere on Jai Long's behalf?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Wei Shi Lindon Arelius,\" the Skysworn Captain said, \"go stand next to your Underlord and face your opposite. Wipe that smile off your face, Eithan. Heavens above, it sickens me to look at you.\"\n\nLindon stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Eithan... but slid away slightly. The less he could associate himself with Eithan in the judge's mind, the better. For Eithan's part, he looked as though he were enjoying himself immensely.\n\nWith no other choice, Lindon finally looked at the two people standing behind Jai Daishou.\n\nHe didn't mind seeing Jai Chen. About his age, she was small and pale, with soft black hair that tumbled down past her shoulders. Her wide eyes were fixed on the judge in an expression of concern, but when she saw Lindon looking at her, she turned to him. She was dressed in powder-blue robes cut longer and looser than the traditional sacred artist's robes, and her sleeves hid her hands until she raised one in his direction.\n\nShe didn't smile-she still looked worried-but at least she had acknowledged him. That was a friendly gesture, right? He hoped the Blackflame Empire didn't have a history of acknowledging enemies with the wave of a hand.\n\nHe smiled tightly, the closest to a friendly expression he could manage with his stomach twisting, and nodded to her.\n\nThen, for the first time since entering, he finally looked straight at his opponent.\n\nJai Long was already watching him.\n\nHis dark eyes glistened through a gap in the strips of red cloth that wrapped his head completely. He was tall and lithe, his robes dark blue, and he held his spear at his side." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Lindon brightened when he saw that spear-it wasn't a shaft of pure white, the signature weapon of the Jai clan's ancestor." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "That spear could steal madra, and this one was a mundane weapon of wood and metal.\n\nJai Long raised his own hand to Lindon, which returned concerns that perhaps this gesture was meant to show respect to an enemy. He couldn't see anything of his opponent's expression beneath the mask, but he decided to take the gesture as cordial and raised his own right hand.\n\nNaru Gwei looked from Lindon to Jai Long, ensuring their attention was on him, before he took the leaf out of his mouth and spoke. \"This is a duel for pride. As such, the champions will fight to death or incapacitation. I am hereto ensure that the Underlords cannot interfere, so fight without reserve. The bounds of your battle shall be confined to this room; if it seems you will breach those bounds, I will return you by force.\"\n\nHe slid the leaf back into his lips and continued talking, but now it no longer sounded like he was quoting. \"Even though this is a... Lowgold with a second, weaker core... against a Truegold, it's still a fight between two great families. It will reflect official rankings, as well as the reputation of both powers. If you can resolve your differences, do so now.\"\n\nHe didn't sound like he had much hope for that to happen.\n\nLindon thought back to what he'd heard from the others over the intervening months of his imprisonment. The Arelius family was dangerously under-funded since the attack of the Jai clan, but the Jai clan's reputation was at an all-time low. Some merchant organizations refused to deal with the Jai clan anymore, either because of their weakness or because of the poor form they'd shown in suddenly attacking the Arelius family's workers.\n\nAttacking them and failing was the real sin, as Lindon understood it. If Jai Daishou had succeeded in killing Eithan, and the rest of his fighters had crippled the Arelius family workforce, the other Underlords of the Blackflame Empire would have considered it a clever move." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "On top of all that, their Underlord didn't have long to live. In this case, it would only take one pebble to start an avalanche that buried them.\n\nBut it was down to Lindon to be that pebble.\n\nHe gathered himself, mentally running down the four construct-weapons that he had been allowed to keep. They would be of limited use compared to the ones he had been denied, but his plans would still work with them. He hoped.\n\n\"Step to the center of the room and face your enemy,\" Naru Gwei said, walking over to the open side of the room. He crossed his arms and leaned one shoulder against a column, not seeming to care about the sheer drop behind him. \"Everyone else, backup. I'll be protecting the duel from you, not you from the duel.\"\n\nEithan not only backed up, but sat down, propping his back against the wall and stretching his legs out in front of him, crossing one ankle over another. He looked like he was making himself comfortable at a picnic.\n\nCasting worried glances at the participants, Jai Chen followed Jai Daishou as he slowly made his way over to another end of the room.\n\nThey left Jai Long and Lindon with plenty of open space around them. And nothing to watch but each other. For Lindon's part, his enemy seemed to swell and fill the entire world.\n\nIt felt too soon.\n\nIt had been a year, an entire year since he stood at the peak of the Transcendent Ruins. That didn't feel real. Where had the time gone? It couldn't possibly have been a year; he felt cheated.\n\nSuddenly, he felt like running to Eithan and begging out. Someone had made a mistake-he wasn't ready yet. He needed more time." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Exchange greetings,\" Naru Gwei commanded.\n\nJai Long pressed his fists together, holding his spear in the crook of his elbow, and gave a shallow bow. His eyes didn't leave Lindon.\n\nMechanically, Lindon's body returned the gesture. His mind was still floating in disbelief. Was he really here?\n\n\"I have to thank you for healing my sister,\" Jai Long said. \"You killed my brother, but you gave me my sister back. For my part, we're even.\"\n\nThat jostled Lindon awake, and he rushed to speak. \"We can walkaway! I have no grudge against you.\"\n\n\"If it were up tome, I would have called it off already. I would never fight for the Jai clan at all.\" He spun his spear up to grip it in both hands, lowering himself into a stance and pointing the spearhead at Lindon. \"But it isn't up tome. I will be as gentle as I can.\"\n\nSome of Lindon's nerves retreated. If his enemy was taking it easy on him, then maybe he had a better chance than he'd imagined.\n\n\"Ready yourselves,\" Naru Gwei said. Lindon leaned forward onto the balls of his feet, flexing his knees, ready to run. Jai Long's fists tightened on his weapon. Madra spun through Lindon's channels even as wind spun through the open space.\n\nWhether he liked it or not, the time was here. And he was ready.\n\n\"Begin,\" the Skysworn Underlord said, and a thunderclap tore the air between the two fighters.\n\nLindon shot forward.\n\nI'd contend he thinks of you like a Blackflame, Yerin had told him. He'll want to hold off and block your first technique. Breakthrough it." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lindon activated the purple bracelet wrapping his right wrist, casting his hand forward. A bright purple line shot forward like a whip, its tip blue-white.\n\nBack in the Desolate Wilds, the Fishers had a technique they called the Snare. It used their connection madra to stick to prey, which they could then reel in with raw strength. Fisher Gesha had brought a Fisher Remnant from home, and when she and Lindon dissected it, they had found a Snare binding.\n\nWhen they made it into a construct, they built some modifications. Now, the technique inside the purple bracelet was called the Void Snare.\n\nJai Long had the speed to intercept the technique, of course. He was a Truegold. He swept his spear through it, but his weapon only passed through the line of Fisher madra and was stuck. The string had no physical substance, but drew objects toward Lindon.\n\nAnd the tip of the whip, the shining blue-white tip, struck Jai Long in the shoulder.\n\nInserting pure madra into an opponent's body wouldn't work exactly like the Empty Palm. That technique was designed to disrupt an enemy's body, interrupting their control over their entire spirit, and it had to land on the core.\n\nThis was more of a localized pulse, like the sting of a needle compared to the stab of a sword. When the tip of the whip hit Jai Long's shoulder, it discharged its payload of pure madra.\n\nThe power in his shoulder was disrupted. Not enough to prevent him from using his sacred arts, but enough to keep him from breaking the line for just a moment.\n\nA moment was enough. With all his strength, Lindon pulled.\n\nHis strength was nothing next to Jai Long's, and of course the Truegold resisted. But Lindon wasn't trying to pull his enemy to him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Quite the opposite.\n\nLindon pulled himself forward, launching himself toward his opponent.\n\nStruck by the Void Snare, it took half a breath before Jai Long could muster his madra and blow the purple line apart with white light. By the time he managed it, breaking the technique, Lindon was already inside spear range.\n\n\"A good fight is a short fight,\" Orthos said. \"A dragon uses his full strength, whether he's fighting a Sage or a mouse.\"\n\nEnd it quickly.\n\nLindon had already pulled the launcher from his waist: a crackling bar of living lightning that had once been the wrist-bones of a Remnant. The binding inside snapped with power; it wasn't just lightning, there was more to it, but Lindon didn't need to understand the Path of this strange Remnant to use its power.\n\nHe activated the construct, and an arrow of sizzling light blasted Jai Long.\n\nJai Long's motions blurred as he pulled his spear back, sweeping it vertically in front of himself, leaving a trail of white light on the air. That white light bloomed into a hissing serpent, which was instantly torn apart by the blast from Lindon's launcher.\n\nLindon could feel the construct snap as he used it-he wouldn't get a second shot. That was the risk of using a construct after having it exposed for so long to let its essence dissolve.\n\nFortunately, he didn't need a second shot. The launcher was just to keep Jai Long on the defensive; if he had used that speed to take a step backward and attack instead, he would have skewered Lindon through the gut by now.\n\nInstead, he had been prepared for an attack by Blackflame. He had been hit by unknown attacks from unexpected angles, and he was trying to treat Lindon \"gently.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He hadn't come into this fight with a willingness to kill.\n\nThat didn't mean he wouldn't end up killing Lindon if he was in a position to do so, or if things went wrong, but Lindon had been counting on that moment of hesitation to cause Jai Long to decide to defend instead of attack. That was Lindon's chance of victory, and he seized it.\n\nHe already had his next move ready.\n\nEven as his right hand cast the ruined launcher construct aside, his left had already withdrawn an object from his pocket: a rounded skull the size of his fist. It was the brown of old parchment and felt greasy in his hand. A single-use, simple construct.\n\n\"Warriors focus on weapons too much, you see,\" Gesha had taught him. \"Powerful treasures, legendary swords, yes? Ina duel, the winner is not the one with the strongest weapon.\"\n\nLindon dropped the Nether-drain Swamp construct at Jai Long's feet. The skull cackled as it struck the ground, filled with Lindon's madra. Now free from restrictions, the Remnant skull acted according to its nature: it exploded into a technique.\n\nThis technique covered the ground like brown paint in an instant, splattering on Lindon's legs, but covering Jai Long to the ankles. The paint stuck to the floor like glue, but Lindon had expected it-he tore free of the few drops that reached him.\n\nJai Long was not only caught off his guard, but the technique had originated between his feet. He was stuck fast, at least for the instant before the paint drew itself up into a thousand grasping, scaly brown hands, grabbing his legs and pulling him down toward them.\n\nHis eyes left Lindon as he jerked his head down. Now he was not only stuck, but the hands pulled at his feet, keeping him off balance, drawing his attention." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You may have noticed I don't have a Goldsign,\" Eithan had said. \"No Remnant, you see.\"\n\nJai Long's core was open. He was swinging the butt of his spear up, intending to crack Lindon in the head, but Lindon was already close enough.\n\n\"I reached Gold purely through accumulated power. We can do the same for you, if you like.\"\n\nWith just a thought, Lindon removed the veil around his Lowgold pure core.\n\nHe couldn't disable Jai Long completely. His Truegold madra was too difficult for Lindon's weaker spirit to disrupt. But Lindon could buy himself an instant with a much-weaker opponent. If he were still Jade, his technique would have slid harmlessly off Jai Long's spirit.\n\nBefore the butt of the spear reached him, Lindon slammed his Empty Palm into Jai Long's core.\n\nDriven along with the motion, his pure madra slammed like a spike into the heart of Jai Long's spirit. The madra washed through his channels, disrupting the natural rhythm of his soul, choking out his techniques. Madra that could not be controlled by a pattern was useless.\n\nThe spear smacked into Lindon's forehead, and his world flashed white. If Jai Long had Enforced the blow or his weapon, that could have been a lethal strike. But the Empty Palm had broken his Enforcer techniques.\n\nLindon stumbled back, agony stabbing through his head, his eyes blinded by pain and tears. He couldn't even be sure if the effect of his Empty Palm had lasted, or if Jai Long had shaken it off immediately.\n\nHe had to assume it had worked, so he focused his breathing on his core. The pain in his skull made it hard to focus, but if the Empty Palm had worked, it would only last for so long." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He had to make it count.\n\nIna breath, he reeled his pure madra back to one of his cores. The one that, in his spiritual vision, shone a soft blue-white.\n\nOn his next breath, he drew from his other core.\n\nBlack fire ran along his madra channels. His eyes warmed as they changed color, and Lindon focused. He couldn't have put much distance between himself and Jai Long, but the Truegold must be still off-balance from the spiritual disruption. Otherwise, the fight would have ended already.\n\nUnder Lindon's direction, Blackflame madra slithered like roots to every corner of his body. According to the ancient Enforcer technique, it ran into his skin, penetrated his muscles, and burned his bones. It felt like his body had begun to dissolve from the inside-out, and the heat was uncomfortable.\n\nHe ignited the madra, activating the technique.\n\nThe Burning Cloak sprung to life around him, the air blazing with a hazy, translucent shell of black-and-red fire.\n\nHis madra would run out quickly, with the Cloak active. The Enforcer technique burned his muscles, and his Bloodforged Iron body activated to restore him. The combined effect felt as though his limbs were constantly sizzling, and both the technique and the Iron body required madra.\n\nHe couldn't keep this up for long, but he didn't need to. He had an Enforcer technique, and for the moment Jai Long didn't.\n\nUnder the power of the Burning Cloak, Lindon kicked off the stone. He exploded with motion, covering the distance between himself and Jai Long in an instant.\n\nThere was along, frozen moment where Lindon's eyes and his opponent's met." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Then Lindon stabbed him.\n\nThis was the fourth and final construct he'd been allowed to keep. Made from only a Remnant's claw, with no binding involved, it was what she called a'dead construct.\" It had no abilities apart from the properties of the madra it was made of and any script you carved into it.\n\nIn the case of this dagger, there was no script. Its structure wasn't solid enough to be carved, and even if it were, the pressure of a script would have torn it apart immediately.\n\nIt was black as ink, the length of one of Lindon's hands, and shaped like along fang. It felt like a waterskin full of worms, stretching in Lindon's fingers, as everything except the tip was soft and pliant. The point was sharp as a spearhead, and it pierced Jai Long's robes at the chest.\n\nWith no Enforcer technique to protect him, the Truegold couldn't resist. Blood sprayed from him as his skin broke.\n\nThe dagger wasn't strong enough to penetrate any deeper, but that was enough. As it tasted Jai Long's blood, the dagger squirmed eagerly in Lindon's grip, worming its way into the wound and slithering into Jai Long's bloodstream.\n\nLindon leaped away, then let the Burning Cloak die.\n\nJai Long grunted, but he didn't scream as Lindon had expected. Instead he stood, gripping his spear, as he fought the foreign madra inside of him.\n\nIf Lindon hadn't broken his defense with the Empty Palm first, this would never have worked. The sheer power of Jai Long's spirit wouldn't have allowed the dagger inside.\n\nNow, the Path of Twisted Blood went to work." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Fisher Gesha had determined that the madra was harvested primarily from life, shadow, and blood aura, but it had been twisted even further by the Path's practitioner. The Remnant from which she took the claw had been sliding inside animals\" veins and twisting them from the inside out, breaking every bone in their body at once.\n\nShe hadn't been able to determine why it did so. Remnants didn't feed on blood or flesh, but on madra, so killing would only bean expenditure of its energy. Nonetheless, that was what every part of its body did, even when separated from the others. This Remnant's guiding purpose was to kill.\n\nThe same was true of its claw.\n\nAfter a moment, Jai Long's arms both twisted backwards. It looked like he was a toy a child had decided to break. His neck slid to the right, despite his obvious effort to fight. His legs were still snared by the grasping brown hands emerging from the swamp, but the rest of his body had begun to contort.\n\n\"You... fight... like... a coward...\" Jai Long's words were choked out one at a time, but they emerged tinged with rage from a tightening jaw.\n\nLindon didn't expect this weapon to actually kill Jai Long. The Remnant had been at the Highgold level, so Jai Long's madra would eventually exert control again.\n\nBut he had planned for one of two things to happen: either rendering the opponent helpless would count as a win, or it would give him an opportunity.\n\nLindon looked to Naru Gwei, but the Skysworn Captain was still watching through the filthy curtain of his matted gray hair, the burn scar around his left eye giving him a sinister cast. He chewed on a leaf and looked completely unconcerned. Not at all as though he were about to stop the match." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Reluctantly, Lindon gathered black fire into a ball between his hands.\n\nThe red-streaked black flame built, wild and difficult to control. It stressed his concentration and his spirit to gather, and only a few months ago he would have had to use some pure madra props to execute this technique at all. After practicing during his enforced isolation, he had improved... though a technique that required several seconds to gather would be of limited use in a fight.\n\n\"Surrender,\" Lindon said, voice strained with the effort of controlling the dragon's breath.\n\nA white light flashed beneath Jai Long's clothes. It was fitful and weak, struggling against the intrusion of the Path of Twisted Blood, but Jai Long's head snapped straight again. He dropped his spear, but pulled both his arms back under control. The brown hands holding his ankles started to dissolve, the Nether-drain Swamp dissolving under white light.\n\nLindon released the dragon's breath.\n\nHe had no grudge against Jai Long. The man was an obstacle, and one he had to pass to continue, but not quite a true enemy. And he would hate to think that he had healed Jai Chen only to kill her brother.\n\nHe hadn't asked for this duel. But over the intervening year, one thing had become clear: he was the weaker party. He didn't have the luxury of pulling his punches.\n\nIf he didn't come at Jai Long intending to kill, he couldn't win.\n\nThe dragon's fire blasted toward Jai Long, not soft and billowing like a cloud, but a tight bar of almost liquid-looking red-and-black flame. It skewed right, and Lindon had an instant to hope that perhaps it would only takeoff Jai Long's arm, but leave him alive." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Then there came a blinding flash of white.\n\nJai Long blocked the bar of red and black with a shaft of pure white madra. The spear was almost seven feet long, smooth, and etched with a web of scripts that Lindon could only see because of their bright glow. The spearhead accounted fora foot of its length, flat and white.\n\nThe Ancestor's Spear. He'd taken it from nowhere.\n\nLindon's heart dropped.\n\nHow had he gotten it back? Where had he gotten it? Lindon thought Eithan had taken it. Had his own Underlord returned it?\n\n\"I think you have a decent chance of winning,\" Eithan had told him. \"As long as Jai Long is only a Truegold.\"\n\n\"If he's an Underlord, then surely they won't continue with the duel,\" Lindon had said. \"It's only remotely fair in the first place because we're both technically Gold.\"\n\n\"It's true; if Jai Long has truly reached Underlord, he will become my problem. But there is a... third option.\"\n\nJai Long swept his spear through the dragon's breath, splashing tongues of Blackflame onto the stone floor and ceiling. They hissed when the stone dissolved as though under acid.\n\n\"Reaching Underlord requires a Truegold to clear three distinct stages. If he has cleared the second, weaving soulfire from aura, then he will defeat you instantly. The first stage, however, is opening a space in your soul.\"\n\nIn the same motion as he disrupted Lindon's technique, Jai Long retaliated. An arm-long snake of white madra was born, its jaws agape as it flew toward Lindon. He reactivated the Burning Cloak, cycling madra to his limbs." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"If he pulls a weapon out of nowhere, he's cleared the first stage. That means he has taken half a step into the Lord realm..\"\n\nLindon pivoted into a punch, spraying Blackflame out of the punch in a half-formed Striker technique. The force of the flame met the serpent, and the two clashed in a burst of light. But it wasn't enough to stop the Truegold attack.\n\nFrom the cloud of Blackflame, the serpent emerged, avoiding Lindon's fist and sliding over his hand.\n\nIt burned.\n\nLindon screamed as the snake slid over the back of his hand and up his forearm, scoring the skin and burning, slicing him like a red-hot knife. The technique's madra dissipated in a blink and the snake disappeared, but it had already traveled up to his elbow, leaving a twisting trail of blood all the way up his arm.\n\nHe held up his other hand in defense, though he had no technique gathered. It was just the instinctive panic of a wounded animal. It was hard to see through the pain, and the rising tide of fear that threatened to choke him.\n\nAll of his preparation had come to nothing. His weapons were gone. His plans had failed.\n\nHe was at Jai Long's mercy." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Jai Long moved in a flash. His red-wrapped face was only two feet from Lindon's own, his pale spear raised, poised to plunge down. Lindon scrambled backward, but the weapon wasn't pointed at his head or chest. Jai Long paused a moment to take aim at... his leg.\n\nHe was trying to spear Lindon through the leg. That was probably a mercy, but Lindon certainly didn't feel like it at the moment. His arm already felt like it had been chewed up and spat out, and now his enemy was trying to cutoff his leg. He almost fellas he scrambled to escape.\n\n\"Enough,\" Eithan said. His voice wasn't stern, but it echoed through the room like the command of an emperor.\n\nJai Long's spear froze. Lindon backed up another few steps, keeping a wary eye on the spear, but he still turned slightly to see Eithan.\n\nThe Arelius Underlord was standing now, hands in his pockets, a slightly pained smile on his face. \"It's clear the Arelius family has lost this duel. Congratulations, Jai Daishou. You have found a worthy replacement... though I'm sorry you had to use such a tight leash.\"\n\nLindon didn't understand that, but Jai Long tensed. Jai Daishou's wrinkled face twisted with disgust, and he barked at his champion: \"It isn't over yet. Kill him.\"\n\nJai Long tightened his grip on the spear as though straining against something. \"I carried out your command,\" he said, through gritted teeth. \"He surrendered; we're done.\" Jai Chen let out a breath of relief at almost the same time Lindon did.\n\n\"It's not a duel to surrender,\" came an aged, lazy voice from the cliff overlooking the drop. Naru Gwei's dirty gray hair drifted in the wind as he rested against the column, arms still crossed. He chewed on his leaf as though unconcerned." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Jai Long stopped." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He turned slowly, lifting the Ancestor's Spear.\n\nBehind him, Jai Daishou looked as though the heavens had opened and given him a gift.\n\nLindon clenched his jaw at the pain in his arm, but his Bloodforged Iron body had already started pulling madra to heal it. He cycled the Path of Black Flame, preparing the Burning Cloak.\n\nEithan raised both hands from his pockets. \"Hey now, let's not go too far. I've admitted my loss, Captain, openly and without reservation. I will accept the cost of losing.\"\n\n\"Not how it works, Arelius,\" Naru Gwei said, spitting out his leaf and replacing it with another. \"I'm the adjudicator. Surrender all you want, but the boy isn't killed or crippled.\"\n\nLindon could feel the world tightening around him. Jai Long gathered his madra, white light spreading from beneath his robes.\n\nHe wasn't going to get out of this. He couldn't cheat. He wouldn't catch Jai Long off guard again. Eithan couldn't save him.\n\nLindon was on his own. He was walking out of this killed... or crippled.\n\nHis Burning Cloak ignited.\n\n\"We've had our differences,\" Eithan said, his voice becoming more serious. \"Don't make this about me.\"\n\nThe Skysworn Captain turned back to the two champions.\n\n\"Fight,\" he said.\n\nJai Long blurred as he moved, and Lindon struck to the side with his good arm. It was a bad punch-he was off-balance, and his stance was sloppy; Yerin would have mocked him for it-but his knuckles met the edge of the Ancestor's Spear." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It sliced his skin.\n\nThe force of his punch knocked Jai Long's blow aside, so the spear swept harmlessly by his shoulder, but Lindon hardly noticed. The pain from this tiny cut was almost as overwhelming as the agony from his shredded arm.\n\nThis spear cut not just the flesh, but the spirit. Spiritual damage, as he had experienced several times before, was deeper and harder to ignore than physical pain. It cut him to his core, and his Blackflame core shivered.\n\nBlack-and-red light slithered down the spear, and Jai Long took a step back. He jabbed the spear backwards, thrusting the butt into the floor behind him. The Blackflame madra spurted outwith the motion, venting into the floor, scorching a pothole into the stone.\n\nSo that was how it worked.\n\nFisher Gesha still hadn't given him back the Soulsmith papers he'd taken from the Transcendent Ruins, but he'd been allowed to study them for the purpose of preparing for the upcoming match. Justin case Jai Long were to use the Ancestor's Spear.\n\nHe hadn't known how the weapon would work-if the spear took in madra that was incompatible with the user's Path, would it absorb the madra anyway? Thus perhaps ruining the user's core? That would have been a double-edged sword, and one Lindon could exploit. He had considered intentionally allowing himself to be cut, so that Jai Long would corrupt his own core.\n\nBut there was a safety valve built into the script of the spear. Fisher Gesha had theorized there would be, otherwise it wouldn't be a useful weapon in battle.\n\nThat was one more hope struck dead. His Blackflame core had dimmed slightly with that cut, and his Iron body was still trying to heal his right arm. He would run out of madra very quickly at this rate, even with both his cores raised according to months of the Heaven and Earth Purification Wheel." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Without that cycling technique, perhaps his Blackflame core would already be dangerously low." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He had expanded the capacity of both his cores to the point that he had almost made up for the weakness of splitting his cores in the first place: each core held almost as much madra as any Lowgold sacred artist's core should.\n\nBut he didn't have vast reserves to draw on, especially with his Bloodforged Iron body draining madra with every injury and every second he used the Burning Cloak.\n\nThat spear would be his downfall... and Jai Long could probably beat him without it.\n\nJai Long moved with such speed that Lindon couldn't track his movements. Only the explosive speed provided by the Burning Cloak let him keep up, and each of his dodges was a guess. He leaped to the left, hoping to avoid a thrust from the right, and the Ancestor's Spear sliced across his ribs. It took another chunk from his spirit at the same time.\n\nA stab above, a sweep from the left, and a probing attack at his legs. He guessed the first one was coming and ducked, accidentally hit the second with a blind punch, and missed the third completely. The white spearhead buried itself in his calf, and he screamed as he jerked his leg away.\n\nJai Long vented enough Blackflame from the butt of his spear to gouge a ditch in the rock, Lindon swaying with exhaustion on a body of pure pain. His Blackflame madra was about to run out, though his pure core was still fat and bright, and there was something wrong with his wounds.\n\nHis Bloodforged Iron body was still working on his right arm, but it hadn't sent any madra to the other wounds. Why not? Was it working on the worst injury first? No, the stab to his calf was deep enough that his shoes were already soaked in blood. Then..." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "In your capacity as the author's assistant, extend the narrative.\nTags: fantasy, progression fantasy, cultivation\nAuthor: Will Wight\nTitle: Skysworn\nChapter: 9" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The admission both made Lindon feel better and much, much worse. It tore open the bandage he'd wrapped around his anger, and he could feel tears welling up in the corners of his eyes.\n\n\"Why?\" he said. \"Why did you have to push him? I just... want to know it was worth it.\"\n\nEithan looked to the ceiling fora moment, considering, then looked back down to Lindon. \"What do you know about the Dreadgods?\"\n\n\"Nothing,\" Lindon said. \"I don't know that I've ever heard the word. Are they like dreadbeasts?\"\n\n\"Yes. Yes, they are.\" Eithan chewed on his words fora second, as though trying to gather his thoughts. Or trying to decide how much to tell Lindon. \"They are... disasters. Four monsters, big enough to blot out the sky, hungry for destruction, and so powerful that the most advanced sacred artists in the world have to join forces to drive them off. Drive them off, you understand. None of the Dreadgods have ever been killed.\"\n\n\"They're sacred beasts?\"\n\n\"Corrupted ones. Like the dreadbeasts of the Desolate Wilds, they were warped and twisted by their own powers.\"\n\n\"Where do they come from?\" Lindon asked, caught up in the legend. He briefly wondered if this was another tactic to distract him... but if it was, it was working.\n\n\"They're scattered allover the world. They burrow into a secure location and wait for decades... but when they wake up, they're hungry. Fortunately for humanity, no two have woken at the same time in centuries.\n\n\"But the last time they did, they destroyed the original Blackflame Empire.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "From Orthos and Eithan, Lindon had heard of the fall of the Blackflame family. But from what he could piece together, even that family had taken over the remains of another, more powerful Empire.\n\nAnd even that ancient nation had fallen to these Dreadgods.\n\n\"The original Empire was ruled by dragons, not men,\" Eithan said, with atone that suggested dragons building an empire was nothing unusual. \"As they advanced as a culture, they began to study civilizations even older than theirs. And they stumbled on a... vast, underground complex. It was abandoned even then, and it was so massive and so dangerous that not even the greatest of the dragons could map it fully.\"\n\nThat reminded Lindon of something, but before he could voice it, Eithan nodded to him. \"You've seen one of the shallowest corners of this massive labyrinth in the Desolate Wilds. What they called the Transcendent Ruins was, in reality, just a corner of this huge maze that stretches allover the Empire. There are entrances allover, but to have seen one is your good fortune.\"\n\n\"Two,\" Lindon said. \"There was one in my homeland.\"\n\nHe remembered the ancient tomb from the Heaven's Glory sect, and a stone door marked with four beasts.\n\nNow, that carving carried an eerie significance.\n\n\"Is that so?\" Eithan asked, surprised. \"Well, you're lucky indeed. And even luckier that you didn't explore too far inside. The dragons of the first Blackflame Empire found that out firsthand when they plundered weapons from the depths of the labyrinth. At first, they only took Highgold or Truegold devices, wanting to study them, but they became greedy for more when they learned that the weapons had such miraculous effects.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The Ancestor's Spear,\" Lindon said.\n\n\"One of the weakest objects in the maze. The spear wasn't even unique, you know, though it is enough to dazzle the eyes of anyone below Truegold.\" Eithan stared longingly into the distance. \"The labyrinth is a true treasure trove, but there's a reason we've left it undisturbed for so long, only nibbling at the corners every once in awhile in places like the Desolate Wilds. Because when the dragons delved deeper, withdrawing Lord treasures like the Archstone...\"\n\nHe paused, picking up from a different point. \" You should understand that the dragons left the doors open for years as they explored the labyrinth, making war on one another and settling petty grudges with their new weaponry. They didn't realize that something in that place drew the Dreadgods like wolves to fresh meat.\n\n\"Records of that disaster are very spotty, as you might expect. But the warnings they left are clear. Most of this continent was reduced to a blasted wasteland, from which it has not entirely recovered even to this day. Billions of people and sacred beasts died, and the former Blackflame Empire was nothing more than a Remnant haunt for generations.\"\n\nEithan slowly shook his head. \"We can't know how many dragons survived, but it wasn't more than a handful. The survivors returned all their weapons to the labyrinth, leaving dire warnings to future generations. To delve past the shallows of this maze is to invite death. They destroyed as many of the entrances as they could, and sealed up the rest.\"\n\n\"And Jai Daishou opened one?\" Lindon asked.\n\n\"Desperate men cannot see beyond their own desperation,\" Eithan said, with the air of a man quoting. \"There was an entrance to the labyrinth in his territory. He would have kept the door open for less than a day. A minor risk, he must have thought, though a risk to the entire Empire. When he brought out the Archstone, Naru Gwei and I knew what he had done. We knew that he had risked bringing the Dreadgods down onus once again.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "A wisp of Lindon's anger rose up again." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You pushed him to it.\"\n\nEithan held up a finger. \"I closed off his options to push him to do something foolish. Otherwise, I'd have been leaving my reputation entirely on the outcome of a single fight. I don't prefer to gamble without an overwhelming advantage.\"\n\n\"But you knew exactly what he had. You knew it was a hidden weapon, you weren't guessing.\"\n\n\"Yes, well, I was watching when he opened the door. I was shocked he would go so far as to risk the wrath of the Dreadgods, but there it is. That was my plan: to get him to incriminate himself in front of the Skysworn. Even if he had survived, with Jai Long victorious, his reputation-and that of the Jai clan-would never recover. They are the lowest-ranked of the great clans, and the Arelius are ranked number one among the major families. They will lose their spot in the Empire, and we will take it.\"\n\nHe grimaced, looking uncertain for just a moment. \"I am... sorry that you lost what you did. Only know that you were apart of something greater. The Arelius family will rise because of you, and you can only benefit from that.\"\n\nLindon nodded, but his gut was still a little twisted. He shouldn't be complaining about a lost arm. Back in Sacred Valley, if Eithan had offered to raise him to Gold in exchange fora lost arm, he would have handed the man a saw himself.\n\nBut this didn't feel like he'd sacrificed something fora greater goal. It felt like he had been a pawn in the plans of the powerful.\n\n\"The Dreadgods,\" Lindon said at last, trying to change the subject. \"Are they coming for us?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Most likely not,\" Eithan said. \"But just in case, the Emperor is gathering his Underlords to him.\"\n\n\"Will you fight them?\"\n\nEithan let out a bark of a laugh. \"As an Underlord? No, they could evaporate my blood from a hundred miles away. We'll be working to keep the populace under control in a state of emergency, should we see signs of a Dreadgod's approach. And we'll be messengers to the people that might actually help.\"\n\nBefore Lindon could ask who, Eithan explained.\n\n\"The Monarchs. They're the most powerful individuals in our world, though the best they could hope for would be a stalemate. None could win a fight against a Dreadgod alone. Not Seshethkunaaz, not Akura Malice, not the Eight-Man Empire or the entire Ninecloud Court.\"\n\nLindon's breath caught. He remembered two of those names, but he had never expected to hear them from Eithan.\n\nHow much did Eithan know about them? Monarchs, he'd said. Lindon had never heard the term applied to sacred arts. It sounded like there was a whole group of people at that stage, not just the three examples Suriel had shown him.\n\nHe took the thought to its natural conclusion, and a fist seemed to squeeze his lungs. Suriel had given him the names of three people with the power to save Sacred Valley: Sha Miara the Queen of the Ninecloud Court, Northstrider the dragon-eater, and the Eight-Man Empire.\n\nIf those were the most powerful people in the world, that meant whatever was approaching Sacred Valley was even more horrifying than he had imagined.\n\nIt might not be one of these Dreadgods, but it would be something equally destructive. He couldn't even imagine it." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I've heard of them before,\" Lindon said.\n\n\"I would imagine so. They're very famous.\"\n\n\"No, in a vision. Suriel showed me. She said... they were the ones that could save my homeland.\"\n\nEithan nodded slowly. Over the months, he had scraped most of the details of Suriel's visit from Lindon. All without giving up the details of his own vision. But Lindon had never been specific enough to name the individuals Suriel had shown him.\n\nBut that brought up another point, and Lindon could sense an opportunity. He seized it.\n\n\"Speaking of visions...\" he began, and Eithan's back straightened.\n\n\"Later,\" Eithan promised.\n\n\"I lost an arm for your plans,\" Lindon said, the heat of Blackflame leaking into his voice. \"I have earned your trust.\"\n\nIt was perhaps the most firmly Lindon had ever spoken to Eithan, and a trembling part of Lindon's mind-the part that still remembered being Unsouled-begged him to apologize. But Lindon kept staring into Eithan's blue eyes.\n\n\"I owe you a full explanation,\" Eithan said. \"And I will give you one. The more you grow, the more I can share with you. For now, I beg you to trust me.\"\n\nThat was an irritating non-answer, but Eithan spoke more earnestly and openly than he almost ever did.\n\nReluctantly, Lindon nodded.\n\n\"That's good,\" Eithan said, and his grin returned. \"Cassias will be herein Sky's Mercy to retrieve you any day now. Rest. Fisher Gesha was right; you've trained like a madman fora year, but that's noway to live forever. There will be plenty of time to advance when I return.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"When will that be?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lindon asked. The idea of staying in bed for months horrified him. What if he fell behind his advancement?\n\n\"That depends,\" Eithan said, \"on whether or not there's a Dreadgod coming to kill us all.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sky's Mercy was a cloudship maintained by the Arelius family: a large blue cloud with a house in the center, flying through the air. Yerin had seen stranger things before-stranger cloudships, too-but there was something about a floating house that especially knocked her off-kilter.\n\nThere used to be a second building on the cloud, and Yerin missed the barn. She had more room. Instead, she and Cassias were inside a single bedroom-sized cultivation room, surrounded by wooden walls that had been reinforced by scripts so they didn't fall apart with every flying Striker technique.\n\nHe was showing her what it took to be the second-ranked Highgold in the Empire.\n\nShe kicked off from the wall, slashing the air in a Rippling Sword technique: a wave of silver madra that sliced through the air like an extension of her sword.\n\nCassias stood before her, back straight, one hand on his thin saber. He looked like Eithan's more serious younger brother: his golden hair was curly and short, his blue eyes calm, and he wore no smile.\n\nHe sidestepped her technique, raising his weapon to return a strike. But she had counted on that. She'd gathered enough aura around her sword, and she struck that aura with her madra as hard as she could.\n\nHer sword rang like a bell.\n\nA ripple ran through the sword aura in the room, exciting it, causing invisible cuts to appear on her robes... and then the wave of aura reached Cassias.\n\nWhen it hit his sword, the weapon should have burst into a wave of slicing sword-energy that cut him to pieces, but instead he gathered aura himself as he pulled his saber back. The aura she'd affected with the Endless Sword was drawn in like straw into a cyclone, and it swirled around his sword in a silver cloud visible to her Copper sight." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Then he stabbed forward, carrying all that aura with it.\n\nThe thrust stabbed across the room in an instant, piercing the air and passing an inch over Yerin's shoulder. A few strands of her hair fell away, and she shivered as she felt the air disturbed by her ear. His technique landed on the wall, where a script shone and dispersed the aura, leaving only a slight scratch on the paneling.\n\nCassias sheathed his saber and frowned. \"If you haven't recovered from last time, I'd be happy to wait.\"\n\nYerin's ankle was still sore, but nothing that would slow her down in areal fight. \"You never woke up with a dull edge? Happens to everyone, sometimes.\" Cassias had defeated her in no more than three moves each time today, and normally she could hold him off for six or seven. She was a Highgold now, technically his equal, but he had experience and skill that she couldn't match. Yet.\n\nCassias nodded, expression softening as though he understood. \"Don't worry. Eithan has taken too much interest in Lindon to let him die so easily. And in you too.\"\n\nYerin snorted in disbelief, but she turned her head so as not to meet his eyes. What did he know? Sacred artists risked their lives everyday. That wasn't enough to worry her.\n\nEven though people died all the time where they weren't meant to. Her master had died in Sacred Valley, maybe the safest place in the world. It wasn't the trap you saw that killed you.\n\nWithout her around, Lindon wouldn't know what to watch for. Would Eithan lookout for him?\n\nCassias pulled an intricately carved wooden device out of his outer robe and checked it, tucking it back inside after a glance. \"It's almost time. Before we go, Yerin, would you mind if I asked you a personal question?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"How personal?\"\n\n\"No one pushes as hard as you do without a goal. Pardon me if I'm overstepping my bounds, but I'd like to know what destination you have in mind.\"\n\nShe'd started wondering that herself recently.\n\n\"To become a Sage,\" she said.\n\nHis eyebrows lifted. \"I wouldn't have thought you were so ambitious.\"\n\n\"Most Sages don't take disciples. Not real ones, anyway. They don't want to pass on their Path. My master trusted me, and now he's gone.\" She ran her handover the hilt of her master's sword. \"I'm not letting his Path go to waste.\"\n\nCassias moved to the door, gesturing for her to follow. \"That's a noble goal, and an impressive one. I meta Sage as a child, back in my family's homeland. It was a humbling experience. But it took him centuries to reach that height. Most people can't handle the pressure of training at that level, day after day, year after year, with no guarantee that they'll ever make it.\"\n\nThey passed through the door on the second floor of the house, moving to the stairs. Through the tall arched windows, she caught a glimpse of the deep blue Thousand-Mile Cloud that was their foundation, as well as the islands of white that surrounded them.\n\n\"Never understood that myself,\" Yerin said, vaulting over the railing and landing on the first floor instead of taking the stairs. Cassias took them carefully, one at a time. \"Don't know what I'd do if I wasn't practicing the sword. You think I'd rather put down roots, or what?\"\n\n\"That's not what I meant to imply,\" Cassias said, unbuckling his belt and tossing it and his sheathed saber onto a nearby rack designed for the purpose. \"Only that it often helps in a fight if you have something to fight for.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Preserving her own life had always been enough to push Yerin along in fights. Should be enough for anybody.\n\nBut that wasn't always the truth, was it? She wanted more than that.\n\nThe Sword Sage had always said the pursuit of perfection in the sacred arts was a lonely pursuit, and anything else was a distraction. She'd come to think that advancing alone wasn't just boring, it was painful.\n\nWhich had made it such a stab to the gut when Eithan told her she couldn't come to watch Lindon fight. Especially when he'd taken Fisher Gesha, of all people.\n\n\"She won't be allowed to watch either,\" Eithan said. \"I'm bringing her for her unique talents. And I can't carry two people.\"\n\nThat had sounded like an excuse to Yerin.\n\nCassias stepped up to the wooden console at the front of the room, before a massive wall of paneled glass. He looked out, through the clouds, over a series of strange mountains that rose from the ground like a forest of spears. One of the closer ones had something that looked like a temple on the top.\n\n\"I only ask you to consider... expanding your interests,\" Cassias said, moving his hands over the script-circles on the wooden panel. They lit up, and Sky's Mercy shuddered in response. \"Even your master was a famous refiner, in addition to being an accomplished swordsman. Many experts find that splitting their focus can actually increase their results.\"\n\nYerin folded her arms, considering. She did spend all her time practicing the sacred arts in someway. Made it hard to care about anything else, when that washer world.\n\nProblem was, she didn't know anything about the world outside of her training. It was the only thing the Sword Sage had raised her to do." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She needed a breath or two to think, but the floor shuddered again, and Orthos came stomping in.\n\nThe turtle was so tall and wide that he couldn't pass through most of the doors in the house without tearing holes in their frames, so he stayed in the corner of this main room. He'd walkout of the larger outer doors when he needed to relieve himself or vent his madra, standing on the Thousand-Mile Cloud. But he was tender as a newborn chick when it came to heights, so Yerin usually had to guide him out so he could close his eyes.\n\nFora massive, black reptile with a shell that smoldered with dragonfire, he didn't have much of a spine. Even now, he glanced from side to side with his black-and-red eyes wide. \"We're not on the ground yet?\" he demanded in a deep, rumbling voice. \"We were supposed to land. Why haven't we landed?\"\n\nCassias turned around, his hand reaching into his pocket. Beneath his outer robe, he wore a shirt and pants, which still looked strange to Yerin in a fight. Everyone she knew fought in either a sacred artist's robes or armor.\n\n\"I apologize, Orthos,\" Cassias said. \"I should have given you your medicine already.\"\n\nOrthos shifted from one leg to another like a wobbly stool, his eyes flicking from one window to another, staring at the clouds. \"We're not... it's not... why are we so high? Hm? Why do we have to be all the way up here?\"\n\nCassias held out a violet pill streaked with blue. \"Take your medicine, Orthos. It won't belong now. We're on approach. When you wake up, you'll be with Lindon.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"He was weak,\" Orthos mumbled, stretching out his head to snap up the pill in Cassias'hand. \"So weak. He's probably dead. I'll be going back to the way... I was...\"\n\nIn seconds, he drifted off, withdrawing his head and his limbs into his shell. Now there was a great black mound in the center of their living room, smoke drifting up from him as though from a dying fire.\n\n\"He's cheerier than a ray of sunshine,\" Yerin said. She'd already heard about Lindon's bout of weakness following his duel, but Orthos admitted that he might feel the same way if Lindon had died. He'd never felt a contractor's death before. He thought Lindon's madra had recovered since, but he couldn't be sure-maybe he was just getting used to the sensation.\n\nSo she couldn't shake a little worry. Not enough to distract her, of course, but some.\n\n\"Well, at least the pills still work,\" Cassias said, eyeing Orthos'sleeping form. \"They've kept his madra quiet as well, even when he's awake.\"\n\n\"He hasn't torn the house apart. That's a prize and a half, if you ask me.\"\n\nCassias turned back to the console. \"That was our last pill, so we'll have to rely on Eithan and Lindon for the trip back. One breath of dragon's fire, and we'll hit the ground like a meteor.\"\n\nHe had angled the house down slightly, so that the cloud was now drifting toward the temple at the top of the mountain. She walked up to stand beside him.\n\n\"That it?\"\n\n\"Eithan's down there,\" Cassias confirmed. \"I believe I saw some Remnant parts set out in a room as well, so Fisher Gesha must have setup.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "That, or some Remnants died in a cave. And she noticed he didn't say a word about Lindon, one way or another.\n\nShe turned to go find a seat-she'd learned it was best to be sitting during a landing. As she did, she felt a surge of power miles away to the south, the opposite direction of the mountain. Only a few miles, and it gave off the familiar feeling of blood madra.\n\nAt least it wasn't any closer. A sudden battle between experts could be like an earthquake in a ceramics shop. Maybe that fight would-\n\nHer Blood Shadow unraveled.\n\nThat quickly, the knot tied behind her slipped free. The seal her master had left for her was gone. No warning.\n\nHer belt loosened, uncoiling like a serpent.\n\nNo time to panic. She dropped to the floor with Orthos' heat behind her, focusing on her spirit. A bloody red light was already stretching deep into her, its roots questing for the silver light of her core. She pushed her madra through its cycles, her breath coming too fast, silver light forcing back the red.\n\nIt wanted to slither inside. Infect her.\n\nAnd her master's protection was gone.\n\nThe thought made her breath come even faster, but she calmed herself before she lost control over her madra, pushing back, forcing the Blood Shadow to retreat. She was a Highgold now, and it hadn't quite caught up yet. She was still ahead of it. She could still keep herself under control.\n\nSomething shifted on her waist, and she snapped her eyes open.\n\nThe Shadow reached for Cassias.\n\nIt stretched out from her like a questing limb, the end of its blood-covered length splitting into fingers. A hand. It was actually reaching for Cassias now, its fingers grasping for the back of his head. Its fingertips were sharp as knives-shaped by her sword madra." }, { "from": "human", "value": "She croaked out some kind of warning, but it was hard to talk while every part of her was straining to hold back her uninvited guest." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She even seized it with both hands, trying to pull it back, but it dragged her seated body a few inches across the floor.\n\nThe parasite's knife-edged hand closed on Cassias\" golden curls.\n\nAnd without turning around, he slid away.\n\nWith one punch, he drove a spike of silver madra from his fist and into the center of the crimson palm. Blood madra spattered on the ceiling and then dissolved into essence with a hiss.\n\nYerin was still trying to push out her warning, sweat streaming down her face, but she finally closed her mouth. An Arelius might as well have eyes in the back of his head.\n\nThe Shadow moved again, a blur of red, and Cassias stood his ground. Both of his hands struck, blasting pieces away from the Blood Shadow.\n\nBut when the exchange ended, there was a scratch on his arm. It oozed a single drop of blood.\n\n\"Getaway,\" she managed to grunt out, hauling on her uninvited guest. \"Blood!\"\n\nCassias looked from her to the parasite and dashed back without asking questions, but the drop had already fallen to the ground.\n\nThe Blood Shadow fell on it like a hawk taking a fish, slapping its palm down on the droplet on the floor. Blood aura and madra flared, twisting with one another into a horrible and complex technique, even as the parasite relaxed. It retreated, allowing her to haul it back a few feet.\n\nShe knew why. She had seen this technique before.\n\nIt had destroyed her home.\n\nAs though that single drop of blood had been a seed, a creature sprouted in seconds. It was a doll of pure crimson, formed as though from solid blood, shaped like a man but only half the height. It had no features on its head, but it turned to Cassias like a hunting dog. It loped toward him, using its arms for balance, like an ape." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Her master had called them bloodspawn, and they were the stuff of her nightmares.\n\nShe shouted a warning to him, still hauling on her Shadow. Cassias kicked off, away from the console, a flash of silver driving a hole in the floorboards. His Silver Step technique brought him forward with such speed that he vanished, reappearing behind his opponent. He slashed his hand back, trailing silver light, passing through the bloodspawn's head.\n\nIts head was blasted apart, but it was made of ooze. It latched onto him, grabbing him by both shoulders and across the chest.\n\nEach bloodspawn was different, but this one had been grown by a Shadow that fed on her madra. She knew what would happen next, but it still caught her off-guard with its speed.\n\nIt sharpened into a forest of blades, like it had sprouted razors.\n\nCassias let out a sound like a grunt, soaked in his own blood in an instant. The bloodspawn dissolved, having poured its own power into the technique, but the wounds remained. His shirt was shredded, and a stain slowly spread over his chest. He staggered, even as a sheet of blood fell from his wounded scalp and covered his eyes like a waterfall.\n\nHe looked up to the window, where the mountain temple had grown huge in his sights. He stumbled to the controls, leaving a bloody handprint on them, starting to level off their flight.\n\nGuilt squeezed Yerin's gut. This washer fault.\n\nBut no, she had to focus. If she let the Blood Shadow takeover her spirit, things would only get worse.\n\nShe tightened her grip on the parasite, both physically and spiritually. But it seemed to sense Cassias' wounds... or perhaps the blood aura." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It surged toward him, transforming into a razor-edged mace that smashed down at his back. She managed to shout a warning this time.\n\nHe turned with both his hands raised, filled with silver light, driving forward with spikes of sword madra. The technique blasted into the Blood Shadow, splattering power onto the walls, and turning its course aside. He was able to take one unsteady step to the side, avoiding its strike.\n\nBut it smashed straight into the console, blasting it to splinters.\n\nThe parasite had lost much of its strength in confronting Cassias, so Yerin was able to level herself to her feet... but all she could see was the mountain in the window. Growing closer and closer.\n\nThe Blood Shadow drew itself back in, like a pet falling asleep, twisting itself around not only her waist, but her shoulders and hips as though it would never let go.\n\nShe shuddered, but at least she was in control over herself now. She dashed forward, seizing the wounded Cassias. He struggled against her fora moment, but he was too weak.\n\nYerin ran out the door, dashing onto the deep blue cloud as wind tore past them. She cast a glance back at Orthos, but he was withdrawn into his shell-she hoped it would be enough to protect him from the crash. Whether it was or not, there was nothing she could do.\n\nShe leaned over the edge of the Thousand-Mile Cloud and forced herself to wait. Her every instinct told her to jump out now, abandoning the doomed house, though it would splatter her like a... well, like anything dropped from this height.\n\nThe temple loomed closer, and she refused to blink, staring straight into the wind as they approached." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "When the edge of the mountain was finally beneath her, she jumped.\n\nWith Cassias over her left shoulder, she drew her master's sword, slashing at the air in the only Forger technique she knew. She Forged a blade beneath them-it would be thin enough to see through if viewed edge-on, but of course she didn't want to fall on the edge of the blade. They fell onto the flat side.\n\nHer master had used a variation of this technique to fly. She only hoped she could do half as well now.\n\nShe couldn't. The sword shattered like glass and they tumbled down toward the rock, barely slowed at all.\n\nShe tried again, crashing through it once more, and then she drew her sword back to try a third time.\n\nThey hit the stone.\n\nShe couldn't feel her limbs. A disturbing sense of cold passed through her, and darkness pressed into the edges of her vision. A roar sounded nearby, and some part of her guessed that had to be the house crashing.\n\nBefore she lost consciousness, she realized there was one thing she could still feel: the power rising from behind her, like a blood-red sun. It was getting closer.\n\nSomething was coming, and it had given her Blood Shadow its strength.\n\n---\n\nPai Ren had joined the Skysworn to seethe world lookup to him.\n\nNot only was the green armor of the Skysworn among the most respected uniforms you could wear in the Blackflame Empire, you also got the chance to fly. People watched him from below as he flew over, and they looked up at him in jealousy. Until today, he had considered it the best decision of his life so far.\n\nNow, he thought it might be the worst-and last-decision he ever made." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Death had come to Lastleaf Fortress, where he had been stationed. He was only investigating the Empire's southern border. It was a standard inspection, and the sacred artists in Lastleaf had welcomed him like an honored guest. He had spent the last three weeks feasting on the products of the southern jungle, which he had been honored to visit.\n\nNow, somehow, the sun had been stained red. He stood on his personal Thousand-Mile Cloud, looking out over the rest of the fort below him, horrified. Blood aura choked the air, so that he had to close his Copper sight and withdraw his spiritual sense, lest he lose his lunch.\n\nThe fortress was avast complex, wider than it was tall, spread out beneath him in layers like the rings of a tree. Each ring was walled, and the strongest sacred artists lived in the heart of the fort.\n\nThe sacred arts of this School, the Path of the Last Leaf, turned trees into deadly weapons. Vines and trees had been planted within the fortress for the purposes of cycling aura, dotting each layer. The innermost layer was almost a forest.\n\nOrdinarily, there was a natural flow of students and experts flowing throughout the fortress, passing between walls and going on a thousand different tasks. It had been soothing to watch.\n\nToday, it was a horrifying scene of carnage.\n\nBeneath him, the artists of the Lastleaf School tried to stand in desperate pockets against an army of... not Remnants, exactly, nor sacred beasts. Were they constructs? He couldn't be sure.\n\nHe'd call them monsters.\n\nCreatures of blood, born of blood. Every wound created another one-a faceless, shambling creature that sacrificed itself in order to kill another sacred artist. They would latch onto a Lastleaf artist, split into a thousand crimson vines, and then strangle the manor woman to death." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It looked disturbingly similar to a technique from the Path of the Last Leaf, as though these blood-creatures used the sacred arts of those they killed. Or perhaps they took the sacred arts from the blood when they were born.\n\nRen's mind tried to unravel the puzzle even as his body stood, frozen and horrified, stuck to his Thousand-Mile Cloud. He was a Truegold, stronger than most in the Empire, but he couldn't imagine himself doing anything about the tragedy he saw unfolding beneath him.\n\nA trio of women stood with weapons in hand, standing against a tide of crimson creatures. One slashed a green sword, and leaves were Forged from nowhere, slashing against them. Another raised a construct device, which flashed green, to no apparent effect he could see. A third swung a hammer, smashing a single monster to a splatter. A wave of creatures overwhelmed them in seconds.\n\nHe could probably have heard their screams, if they didn't blend into everyone else's.\n\nA couple pulled their child between them, running from a line of red monsters. They wouldn't make it.\n\nAn elder directed a tree to raise its branches in a fist, smashing down on the blood-creatures and reducing them to paste. A group of disciples huddled behind him, frightened, but there seemed to be anew batch of enemies born from every human death. There was no end to them, and the elder's madra could only last so long.\n\nSimilar stories played out allover the fortress, such that he found it harder and harder to focus on any individual detail. It was just amass of horror, like a nightmare spread out beneath him.\n\nHe could descend on that elder who was holding out. Perhaps save a disciple or two on his cloud." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But...\n\nHe glanced behind him, where the red light had condensed into a shaft of what looked like abeam of crimson sunlight. He had withdrawn his perception already, but he still felt something from back there: dread. Horror. Overwhelming power.\n\nThere was something only a mile or two south of this fortress, something ancient and powerful. It had caused this, he was sure.\n\nAnd if he died here, the Skysworn would never know about it.\n\nThere was a sealed box on his thigh, scripted and reinforced so that it was almost impossible to open by accident. Among the Skysworn, it was considered shameful to open this box.\n\nHe flooded it with his madra, unlocking it. It popped open, causing a stone to fall into his gauntleted hand.\n\nThis green egg-shaped stone was, in fact, a simple construct. He crushed it, releasing the power inside.\n\nThe power gathered into a small, winged creature like a four-winged hummingbird made entirely out of green light. The construct flitted around his head for one lap and then streaked into the distance, heading for Skysworn headquarters.\n\nThe messenger would alert the Underlord, drawing reinforcements, but it couldn't carry any detailed information. He would have to tell that story himself.\n\nHe retreated into the sky, urging his Thousand-Mile Cloud forward. Away from that disturbing shaft of red light... and from whatever it was shining on.\n\nAshe flew away, he spotted someone standing on the outer wall. A young man, with utterly pale skin and black hair that fell down almost to his waist. Even among the brutal scenes below, he stood out. Ren slowed, wondering if he should pick the boy up. He didn't look older than eighteen, but something warned him off." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The young man wasn't watching the fighting around him. His eyes were calm, and on the sky. Watching Ren.\n\nRen gained some distance, rising into the sky. The young man was wearing a shapeless black coat that covered him from shoulders to feet, but he reached out a hand.\n\nThe hand was solid red, as though it had been dipped in blood. With one sharp gesture, the young man made a fist.\n\nA lance of pain shot through Ren's heart.\n\nHe clapped a hand to his chest, his lungs freezing up, and the break in his concentration made his cloud shudder. An instant later, the script in his armor flashed, breaking off the blood Ruler technique that had almost killed him. The red aura was pushed away from him, his heart relaxed, and he heaved a huge breath.\n\nThis time, he flew as fast as he could. There was no thought in his head besides escape.\n\nHe made it a few more yards before something seized him around his ankle and dragged him off his cloud.\n\nBefore Pai Ren hit the ground, he screamed one last time. No one heard him.\n\n---\n\nLindon hobbled out into the sunlight to see what the noise was about. He and Gesha had been preparing his new arm when the mountain shook with an overwhelming crash.\n\nHe still hadn't fully recovered from the fight, his body still sore, his madra still weak. Little Blue had cleansed some of his madra channels, but they were still scraped raw. His body felt as though it was made of clay, and he was pushing it through each step with sheer willpower. Gesha had tried to keep him in his bed, assuring him that he needed his rest, and that she would investigate the noise." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But Yerin was supposed to arrive today.\n\nFisher Gesha held the door open for him, but she was distracted. Her bun of gray hair was in his face as she stared out the door.\n\nBefore he saw anything, he was distracted by the feeling of a huge power to the south. He looked that direction first, and it was as though the sunlight had been filtered through a lens of red glass only a few miles to the south.\n\nBut when he realized what was lying right in front of him, all thoughts about that distant power were pushed from his mind.\n\nThe wreckage of Sky's Mercy was strewn allover the side of the mountain, with dust and smoke rising from the debris. Blue wisps of cloud were still dissolving in the air, and here and there he could see something he recognized: a chair lying upside-down, a twisted piece of what had once been a dragon-headed banister.\n\nThen he spotted a figure in black robes, and he shot forward, his wounds forgotten. Yerin was lying thereon the stone, bloody and broken, with Cassias next to her.\n\nHis spirit told him Orthos was nearby, but only a quick glance assured him the turtle was fine: his limbs and head had been retracted into his shell, and he was sitting at the center of the wreck like a smoldering coal. If Lindon was reading his spiritual sensations correctly, his contracted partner was sleeping.\n\nBut when he looked at Yerin's condition, his throat tightened up. She was lying on her side, blood pooled beneath her head, with her legs twisted around one another. Her arms were limp, her fingertips twitching, her bare sword lying twenty yards away. At least she hadn't fallen on it. Even her belt had come undone, somehow, twisting around her body instead of coiling around her waist." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He knelt beside her, raising trembling fingers an inch away from her lips to feel for breath.\n\nAn instant later, he felt her exhale, and he released his own breath. As long as she was alive, she could be saved.\n\nCassias'corpse was a few steps away. Lindon only looked him over once before knowing he was a lost cause. He didn't need to check fora pulse; the man was covered in wounds and soaked in blood. No one could-\n\nCassias stirred, raising a hand to his head. Lindon jolted, hurrying over to the older man to help him sit up.\n\n\"Don't push yourself,\" Lindon advised. \"We're here.\" He had no idea what they would do, but it seemed important to soothe a man who had just survived a violent crash.\n\nWhen it seemed Cassias could sit upon his own, Lindon began to walk back to Yerin, but the Arelius seized his arm.\n\n\"Stay away,\" Cassias said, voice rough.\n\nHe was shaky from the crash. Lindon had seen this before, back in his clan, on people who had survived battles. He tried to pry himself away gently, but Cassias'grip was like an eagle's talon. He staggered to his feet, pulling Lindon away from Yerin.\n\nToward Eithan.\n\nEithan had, of course, made it here before Lindon and Fisher Gesha had even made it out of their rooms. But Lindon hadn't noticed until now that the Underlord had made no effort to help his family member or his disciple.\n\nInstead, he stood on the very edge of the cliff, staring at the red light in the distance." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Which, now that Lindon thought of it, seemed a little closer than it had been a moment ago.\n\nWind tugged at Eithan's hair, and for once he wore no smile. He stared into the red light like a man contemplating the approach of an advancing army.\n\n\"Her Blood Shadow has awakened,\" Cassias reported to Eithan.\n\n\"It's no wonder, considering what's coming,\" Eithan said, still looking to the south.\n\n\"We should remove it. We should have removed it before now, I can't imagine what you were thinking.\"\n\n\"No, you can't,\" Eithan said, pulling out his black iron scissors. With one swift motion, he sliced open the tip of his finger.\n\nThen, without warning, he turned on his heel and headed for Yerin.\n\nYerin's belt stirred and struck like a serpent when Eithan moved closer, which startled Lindon. Fisher Gesha scuttled away on her spider's legs, looking terrified, but neither Cassias nor Eithan seemed surprised. The Underlord simply let the end of the blood-colored rope strike him on the neck, where it did no more damage than a limp string.\n\nEithan pulled Yerin's robes apart.\n\nHe tore the cloth easily, exposing about afoot of her belly. There were thin scars even there, though not as many as on the skin of her arms and face. It was just her stomach, but Lindon still thought about looking away.\n\nBut the sight stopped him. The bloody rope that she had always worn like a belt stretched out from her navel, as though it was made of her intestines.\n\nOr, a more disturbing thought: as though it stretched into her core." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Eithan sketched in her skin with his blood, writing a circle of symbols around her navel. It must be a script, but Lindon recognized none of it. He took in a breath, and then a gray fire ignited the symbols. Soulfire: the power of an Underlord.\n\nLindon still didn't understand it, as Eithan refused to explain, but soulfire was the hallmark and the signature of a Lord. This script used it as power.\n\nAnd the red rope crumbled away. It wilted and shriveled like a dying plant, dissolving into what looked like flakes of dried blood before it finally evaporated to red essence.\n\nJust like that, it was gone. The circle of symbols on Yerin's stomach had been blackened, as though they had been burned into her flesh.\n\nShe woke up only a second later, coughing. She groaned. \"Somebody find the ox that trampled me.\"\n\nLindon hurried over to her, but Eithan had returned his gaze to the south. \"You'll feel worse in a moment,\" he said. His scissors were still in his hand. \"Battle is upon us.\"\n\nLindon was going to ask what he was talking about, then he saw the wall of red had pressed against the edge of the mountain. His eyes widened.\n\nThen red light swallowed them all." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was as though the sun had turned red.\n\nEven in Lindon's Copper sight, everything was dyed crimson. His stomach heaved, and bile rose in his throat-this felt like being submerged in a pool of blood.\n\nHe closed his spiritual sight before he lost himself, but what he saw in reality was even more disturbing.\n\nWhere Cassias and Yerin had been lying on the stone, creatures rose from their blood like Remnants from corpses. They were only half the size of a person, with featureless faces, and their bodies had been formed from gelatinous blood.\n\nThere were six of them in an instant, turning their heads toward Lindon and the others as though they could smell living flesh.\n\nThey lurched forward, but Eithan blurred through their ranks, his scissors sweeping through the air.\n\nBlood madra sprayed into the air and dissolved into essence, and all six of them deflated.\n\nFisher Gesha pointed a trembling finger at the sight. \"That! What is that? Hm? Did you bring those back with you?\"\n\n\"These are bloodspawn,\" Eithan said, shaking the last stains off his scissors as the liquid madra evaporated. \"They are the least of the Bleeding Phoenix's creations.\"\n\nGesha seemed to shrink into herself even more, though she didn't have much size to lose. \"The... the Bleeding Phoenix? Did you... are you saying...\"\n\nCassias grasped at his hip as though feeling fora sword that wasn't there. He frowned at the space, then fumbled at his other hip. Of course, there was still no weapon. The crash had shaken him.\n\n\"What happened here, Eithan?\" he asked, finally giving upon his saber." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Jai Daishou opened a door he should not have,\" Eithan said, moving his head as though watching something move through the air." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Something that Lindon couldn't see. \"Someone noticed.\"\n\n\"Dreadgods,\" Fisher Gesha repeated, shaking. \"Dreadgods...\"\n\n\"Bloodspawn rise from spilled blood,\" Eithan said. \"When it's still inside you, or on your skin, your madra still has control. The Phoenix's power can't do anything with it until it leaves the influence of your spirit.\"\n\n\"Unless the Phoenix itself rises,\" Cassias pointed out. He was leaning against the back of an upturned couch that had fallen from Sky's Mercy, and he still didn't look balanced.\n\nEithan nodded absently, still watching something in the air. \"A Dreadgod doesn't care for the protection of your meager spirit. This isn't its full attention, just aside effect of its awakening.\"\n\nMore bloodspawn formed from the drops spilling from Cassias and Yerin, but Eithan dispersed them with a couple of quick blasts of pure madra. Lindon needed to learn that technique.\n\n\"Forgiveness, but we should leave,\" Lindon said at last. He felt like he was stating the obvious, but no one else had said it. If the red light was the extent of the Phoenix's influence, they had to escape it.\n\nEithan responded without turning. \"I could take myself out of here. I could take Yerin with me, and perhaps Cassias. You, with your Thousand-Mile Cloud, could take Fisher Gesha. But what about Jai Long and Jai Chen.\"\n\nLindon started. They were still here?\n\n\"And what if we have to fight our way out?\" Eithan continued. \"Do we abandon our charges? If we are to run, we first have to clear some space.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Yerin rose unsteadily to her feet, clutching one arm as though it pained her. \"Then let's stop jabbering and do it,\" she said, hobbling over to her master's sword. Leaning over and picking it up was an agonizing production. \"Better than sitting here.\"\n\n\"Don't worry. They have come to us.\"\n\nA young man appeared beyond the edge of the cliff, his paleface framed by black hair that stretched down to his waist. He wore a dark, shapeless coat that covered his shoulders, and as he slowly rose up the side of the cliff, Lindon saw that the cloak covered even his feet.\n\nHe was standing on arising tide of blood.\n\nThe newcomer stepped from his red platform onto the edge of the mountain without a word, his gaze locked on Eithan's. \"Underlord,\" he said, his voice a whisper. He sounded as though that single word pained him.\n\n\"An emissary of Redmoon Hall, if I'm not mistaken,\" Eithan said. His voice was cheery, but he still wore no smile. His scissors were held ready in his right hand.\n\n\"I am Longhook,\" the emissary said. A gleaming red hook appeared at the end of his right sleeve, as though it were made of crimson-dyed steel. In that light, everything looked red, so its color could have been nothing more than a trick of the eye.\n\nThough he doubted it.\n\nThe hook slowly slid to the ground, revealing link after link of red chain. Ina moment, the hook hit the ground with a clink.\n\nEithan looked from his enemy's weapon to his own. \"Longhook, is it? You can call me Tiny Scissors.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Longhook didn't seem to appreciate the joke." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He stood like a statue carved from ice.\n\n\"What does your master want?\" Eithan asked, casually strolling away from the other members of the Arelius family.\n\n\"North,\" Longhook whispered. \"He wants the treasure of the north.\"\n\n\"By all means, go around us,\" Eithan offered.\n\nLindon wondered what Eithan was doing. Why was he trying to make a deal with the enemy? Eithan often preferred to talk his way around problems, but he had already said they would have to fight. And he had dispersed the bloodspawn with no problems. Why didn't he knock this newcomer off the mountain?\n\nGingerly, feeling as though he were submerging his arm in sludge, Lindon extended his perception.\n\nOnly an instant later, he understood the truth.\n\nLonghook blazed with the power of an Underlord.\n\n\"No,\" the emissary responded. \"Apiece of the treasure... here.\" His breath rasped, so many words apparently having been too much for him.\n\nEithan froze a moment, then his smile reappeared. \"Well then, I think we can come to an-\"\n\nIn the middle of his own sentence, he exploded into motion. The air clapped behind him when he moved, driving his scissors at his enemy.\n\nLindon couldn't follow what happened next, only the explosion of sound, a rush of wind, and a flash of red light.\n\nA column of stone exploded under Longhook's weapon, the hook having missed Eithan and slammed into the building behind him. Eithan avoided even the chain as though it were red-hot, vaulting over it, and slamming his fist into Longhook's chest. A ripple of colorless power surged out, blasting past the Redmoon Hall emissary." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "This exchange of blows was still too fast for Lindon to follow, but the emissary didn't seem slowed down by Eithan's attack at all. It ended in Eithan leaping backwards, and Longhook with one arm extended. It stuck out from his coat, and his arm was sheathed in solid red.\n\nWas that his Goldsign? Or was he covered in one of those bloodspawn?\n\nHe'd hauled his hook back to himself, and now he whipped it at Eithan. It struck with an impact that hurt Lindon's ears, carrying the sound of steel-on-steel as Eithan blocked with his scissors.\n\nThe impact sent him flying back toward the building on the mountain, and Longhook was after him in an instant.\n\nFrom start to finish, the whole exchange took perhaps two seconds.\n\nLindon stared after the crashes and explosions coming from inside the building. He shivered.\n\nHe couldn't have blocked a single one of those strikes. He would have died in an instant.\n\nHe'd started to think of Jai Long as close to Eithan's level, but the first step toward Underlord was nothing compared to the real thing.\n\n\"I say we leave,\" Lindon said, moving to help Yerin walk. She waved him away, though she winced at the motion and her arm was starting to swell. He stayed next to her, just in case.\n\nCassias was in even worse shape, his eyes distant. Fisher Gesha nodded to Lindon's words, scuttling off to the side entrance of the building-the sounds from Eithan's fight had already grown distant, but she was still careful.\n\nSlowly, Cassias shook his head. \"Not yet. There are more coming.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lindon scanned the ground, but no new bloodspawn had risen. It looked as though the blood from Yerin and Cassias' injuries had been exhausted.\n\n\"Not ours,\" Cassias said, and pointed to the edge of the cliff.\n\nWhere Longhook had first appeared, there were now a host of featureless heads popping over the edge. They clambered up with their malformed arms, but these seemed somehow different from the ones before.\n\nThe others had been slightly angular, with sharp features and long limbs. These were still made of blood madra, and still had no faces, but their bodies were twisted and gnarled. As though there were a skeleton of wood underneath. There was even a pattern in the flow of their crimson'skin,\" where Lindon caught an impression of fluttering leaves.\n\nHis guess was confirmed an instant later, when one of the bloodspawn exploded into a branch of crimson vines covered in scarlet leaves. The vines rushed across the ground for them, like a nest of hungry snakes.\n\nNext to him, Yerin shuddered. Her skin was even paler than usual-although that might have been the blood loss-and she clutched her master's sword in both hands. He had never seen her so panicked before.\n\n\"No, no, no,\" she said. \"Not this time.\"\n\nWith a desperate shout, she slashed her white blade at the grasping vines. Lindon heard a sound like a bell, and something sliced at the edges of his robes.\n\nThe vines splattered to liquid madra, which quickly began to dissolve.\n\nSo did the ranks of the bloodspawn.\n\nLindon caught her with his left hand as she sagged, exhausted, but his sudden motion pulled loose the scripted band around the stump of his right arm. Pain flared back again, dull but immediate, and his eyes lost focus." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He fell to his knees, taking her with him.\n\nShe shook fora moment, then her eyes fastened on the space where his right hand had once been. \"Your arm,\" she said, looking up to him with wide eyes.\n\nHe forced a smile. \"Better than my life, isn't it?\"\n\n\"Doesn't make it smiles and rainbows just because you lived,\" Yerin said. \"Heavens know, I'm sorry. I'm just...\" She looked back to the splashes of blood and shuddered again. \"I am sorry.\"\n\nIn mortal danger they may have been, but her sympathy warmed him even as it caught him unprepared. He thought she would say he should just bear it and stop complaining.\n\n\"I've been down that road,\" she said, rolling her sleeve up to reveal a scar around her left elbow. \"Lost both of them, to tell you true.\" Another scar ringed her right wrist. \"And chunks out of both legs so they hung there, useless as rust on a blade. It's no joke. Nothing worse than an itch on a limb you've already lost.\"\n\n\"How did you get them back?\" Lindon asked. As interested as he was in the powers of a Remnant arm, if he could get his own arm back...\n\n\"Master had a pill for everything. He could regrow a limb faster than a flower. Expensive, though, so he always made me work for it.\"\n\nShe stood on her own now, and despite the blood running down her face, she seemed more like herself now than she had only a moment before. Lindon's missing arm had shaken her out of whatever had taken hold of her.\n\nHe looked to the still-vanishing puddles of blood madra. \"Pardon, but have you seen these before?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She went still fora moment before giving him a single nod. That lost expression returned. \"I've seen them. Too much of them, when this showed up,\" she said, clapping a hand to her stomach. \"I guess it's time to-\"\n\nThen she seemed to realize her belt was missing. She stared down, dumbfounded, and felt around her waist. \"Where is it? It can't just... crawl off...\" She was starting to breathe quickly, and she squeezed her eyes shut.\n\nA moment later, her breath returned to normal, but her shoulders slumped. \"It's still there. Coiled like a worm in an apple.\" Her lips twisted in disgust. \"But somebody bottled it up. Eithan?\"\n\n\"Eithan.\"\n\nAnother explosion in the back of the mountain led to arising column of smoke. \"Let's go. We should be ready to leave when he wins.\"\n\nAnother bloodspawn poked its head up the cliff, and Fisher Gesha threw a web of purple light at it. It was jerked down the side of the mountain as though she'd tied a weight to its ankles.\n\nCarefully, Cassias stepped up to the edge of the cliff and glanced down. Almost instantly, he staggered back.\n\n\"We have to leave. Right now.\"\n\nHe marched back toward the entrance into the mountain, though every second or third step he swayed as though he stood on the deck of a ship.\n\nYerin and Gesha followed him, but a strange curiosity took hold of Lindon. He walked to the edge and peered down.\n\nDozens-perhaps hundreds-of bloodspawn were stuck to the side of the mountain. Some of them looked like gnarled trees, others like clouds of gas, and still others like amass of jagged crystals. Most of them weren't moving quickly, but they all crept up the side of the mountain." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But beneath them, covering the hills, was an ocean of writhing red figures. Lindon couldn't begin to guess how many there were. An army.\n\nHe ran back, hurrying after the others. There were so many. So many. And if they fought, new ones would be created every time a human was injured.\n\nThey would be overwhelmed in minutes, dragged down and torn apart by monsters.\n\nHis exhaustion and the mental burden of losing his arm seemed to retreat in the face of arising tide of panic.\n\nOne of the doors to the sanctuary had been blasted off its hinges. Red-stained sunlight streamed in through a hole in the ceiling.\n\nA bloodspawn was forming right in front of them, from a tiny splatter on the wall. It was transparent as red glass, and it seemed taller and thinner than the others.\n\nCassias drove a spike of silver madra through it, but the bloodspawn didn't seem to mind the hole in its chest. It held its arms wide, trying to catch the Arelius in an embrace.\n\nLindon moved up, cycling pure madra.\n\nHis madra channels still pained him whenever he cycled, and he had to improvise a different pattern to use his technique with his left hand. He usually used his right.\n\nBut a second later, he had driven an Empty Palm into the bloodspawn's midsection.\n\nIt popped like a bubble, spraying him with liquid madra. The madra burned slightly, tingling against his skin, but it started to evaporate almost immediately. No one commented; they were all on high alert as they moved through the red-lit halls, heading for the entrance to the complex below.\n\nSo many walls had been blown out by the battles between the two Underlords that Lindon wondered about the sanctuary's structural integrity. Ashe watched, a few boulders bigger than his head crumbled from a hole in the ceiling, smashing into the ground." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The wind, whistling through the walls, now sounded ominous.\n\nAfter an agonizing minute or two of navigating through the fractured halls, they finally came upon a door at the end of a hall. Debris was lying against it, holding it closed, but at least they hadn't run into another bloodspawn. Lindon would count that as a success.\n\nFisher Gesha lashed lines of purple madra to the debris, hauling them back with her power. With a single palm strike, Cassias shattered a block bigger than he was, though he had to lean against a wall and take a breath afterwards. He looked as though he'd bathed in blood, and his wounds were obvious. More than any of them, he needed to get out of here.\n\nYerin simply grabbed chunks of stone and hauled them away with her bare hands. Lindon switched to Blackflame and joined her, though the Burning Cloak was better for sudden, abrupt motions than for sustained strength. He ended up kicking stones away, then shattering the door open.\n\nHe was relieved when he saw the steady runelight of the script-circle in the stairway behind the door. It led down, toward the chamber where his pack waited. Once he retrieved Little Blue, his belongings, and his new arm-which was still in the process of being created-they could all leave. Fisher Gesha had some belongings of her own as well, which she couldn't leave behind. She wasn't even carrying her goldsteel hook.\n\nThey started heading down when Eithan crashed through the ceiling behind them.\n\nA red hook had been driven into his shoulder, and the Redmoon Hall emissary had hauled him down through the ceiling. Longhook was standing behind them, on the ground floor, and none of them had noticed him show up. Now he stood over Eithan's squirming body, holding his chain in two crimson hands." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Eithan forced his eyes open, though they were hazy with pain, and both of his hands were holding the hook in his shoulder. He craned his eyes back to see Longhook, though from his perspective the emissary must have looked upside-down.\n\nHe revealed a grin of bloodstained teeth. \"It's not too late for you to surrender,\" he said, pulling the hook from his shoulder with a sick, wet sound. He shuddered as he did so.\n\nLonghook had a cut along the side of his neck, and his coat had been sliced in a few places. But otherwise, he seemed the same as when he had first appeared.\n\nLindon gripped the edge of the doorway, rekindling the Burning Cloak.\n\nAloud voice in his mind urged him to rundown, grab his belongings, and leave. But Blackflame pushed him to action, which is why he kept it surging through him.\n\nHe had to help... without getting destroyed by a single casual backhand from an Underlord.\n\nHe gathered a dark fireball in his one remaining palm, focused on Longhook. Fisher Gesha shook her head frantically when she saw what he was doing, but he was staring at his target. Blackflame madra was known for piercing defenses. He had blasted off a Truegold's hand and threatened Jai Long. He could at least distract an Underlord for an instant.\n\nAs long as he didn't draw too much of his attention.\n\nEithan flipped up, slamming afoot into Longhook's face, but the emissary dodged and caught Eithan in the ribs with a red fist. The blow launched Eithan five feet in the air, where he twisted and fired a Striker technique down at his opponent." }, { "from": "human", "value": "A colorless wave washed over the Redmoon Hall emissary, and just a hint of it splashed on Lindon, destabilizing his technique." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "His ball of Blackflame swelled to twice its size in an instant as his control shook, and it was all he could do to compress it once again before it exploded.\n\nThe fight between Underlords had continued in along, ear-shattering roar of strikes and counterstrikes, but Eithan was clearly getting the worst of it. If Lindon couldn't do something, he was going to die.\n\nThen Longhook froze.\n\nAnd the world darkened.\n\nThe crimson light streaming in from the holes in the ceiling was cutoff, swallowing them in shadow. Lindon looked up, startled, only to see a deep green mass covering the sky. It rolled like distant storm clouds, or the surface of a lake seen from beneath...\n\nNo, those were clouds. A massive bank of green clouds.\n\nLonghook withdrew his chain, and it slithered back into his sleeve, the hook following. He turned to dash off, but there was another wave of transparent power. He stumbled.\n\nWhen it washed over Lindon, his Blackflame technique was snuffed out like a candle. The purple lights connecting Gesha to the rocks vanished, and Cassias and Yerin both sagged to their knees as the Enforcer techniques they used to keep themselves upright failed.\n\n\"So rude, to leave in the middle of a conversation,\" Eithan said, though his words were slurred and his smile was still bloodstained.\n\nLonghook's head swiveled on his neck independent of the rest of his body. His hook peeked out the edges of his sleeve again.\n\nThen a figure fell from above. It fell through one of the holes in the roof, folding its emerald wings, and landed with an impact that shattered stone.\n\nNaru Gwei looked up through the veil of his greasy, gray hair, burn scars twisting his face. His old, battered armor was no worse for his hard landing, and his wings folded up impossibly small as they vanished into slots in the back of his armor. He knelt with one hand pressed against the broken stone." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The other held his massive black sword.\n\n\"In the name of the Blackflame Empire, and by the authority of the emperor, you are under arrest,\" the old man said. His voice still sounded bored, if not sleepy.\n\nLonghook hurled his weapon. Not toward Naru Gwei; the hook shattered the far door, breaking the way out to the arena where Lindon and Jai Long had fought. The chain continued, impossibly long, until the end of the weapon hooked one of the columns still standing.\n\nWithout a word, he hauled on his chain, pulling himself down the hall so fast he may as well have been flying.\n\nNaru Gwei lifted his freehand from the stone, making a gesture as though grabbing something.\n\nLonghook froze like a bird trapped in mid-flight.\n\n\"I thought I said you were under arrest,\" the Skysworn said, rising to his feet.\n\nThe emissary of Redmoon Hall craned his neck with great effort to look back at them. No, not at them.\n\nHe looked straight at Yerin.\n\nYerin's head rocked back as she noticed, and she drew in a breath. With a barely perceptible motion, he nodded to her.\n\nThen he twisted his body, fighting Naru Gwei's Ruler technique, and moved his hands in a strange pattern.\n\nRed light twisted, and pain stabbed through Lindon's limbs. He fell to the ground, because the weight of his body was too much for the agony in his calves. Even Naru Gwei grunted, flinching back.\n\nA blood Ruler technique, Lindon was sure of it. He was using the power of blood aura to affect their bodies directly. Normally, it might be too weak to harm an opponent, but the power of blood was so strong it was twisting the light. He had more aura to work with than Naru Gwei possibly could." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Take the role of the writer's aide, proceed with the narrative.\nTags: fantasy, progression fantasy, sacred arts\nAuthor: Will Wight\nTitle: Soulsmith\nChapter: 7" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He let the vision fade, thinking. He'd heard of blood madra, which supposedly held all sorts of sinister powers over living bodies, so he assumed that's what was running from the dog's jaws. But what was the rest? If he had to give a name to the bulb over the shoulder, he'd call it'death aura,\" but that was based solely on the feeling it gave him. He'd never heard of death madra or any aura of death, and he wasn't entirely sure what such a power would do. Likewise, he had no clue what his mother would call the tight aura chains. Connection aura? Binding aura?\n\nThere were more aspects of vital aura surrounding the dog than just those, and the unity of all those different powers in one body meant something significant. He just wasn't sure what.\n\nBut it might be the clue that let them out of here, so he meditated on it. Cycling didn't take much of his attention, as he didn't have to pull aura from the atmosphere and could focus solely on his own madra. He retrieved the parasite ring from his pocket, slipping the scripted circle of twisted halfsilver onto his finger.\n\nInstantly, his madra turned sluggish, as though his madra channels had all halved in width. He had to force his madra to cycle, pushing it through the pattern described in his Heart of Twin Stars manual as though forcing syrup through a narrow tube.\n\nIt was twice as hard to cycle with the parasite ring on, but the exercise was supposed to strengthen his spirit twice as fast. He had just reached Copper, but that didn't mean he had time to rest. It was the opposite, as he saw it. He was years behind every sacred artist in his clan, so he had to work harder than anyone else to catch up." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Though it was harder now, cycling still didn't take much of his attention. It was a difficult task, but not a complicated one. His mind was free to ponder the mystery of the hideous sacred beasts with twisted auras.\n\nAs the day crept on, with dogs snapping and growling every few minutes, anew concern revealed itself: thirst. By late afternoon, he and Yerin had finished the last of the pathetic handful of water remaining in his bottle, and he had become painfully thirsty.\n\nIt was there that he missed his home so much that it hurt. He hadn't slept a full night since leaving Sacred Valley, he was only feet away from monsters held back by nothing more than a flimsy, invisible barrier, his entire body was cramped by a night crammed between rocks and roots, and the stress was wearing on his mind. Back home, no matter how badly the other members of his clan thought of him, at least he had all the water he could drink. And tea at every major meal. He could taste the flowery scent of his mother's tea, could even hear the whistle of the kettle...\n\nHis eyes snapped open at the same time as Yerin's, and this time the revolting appearance of the dogs didn't catch his attention. He craned his neck to the left, ignoring the dark shapes slithering through the bushes, until he saw it. A bright green shadow appeared under the afternoon sunlight, waving the claws of a centipede in the air and undulating like a snake.\n\nThe Remnants had found them.\n\nYerin braced herself on the trunk as she wobbled to her feet.\n\n\"It's nothing to worry about,\" Lindon said, trying to reassure them both. \"The circle is intended to protect us from Remnants, so it should work even better against them than against the dogs.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Yerin limbered up her right shoulder, wincing as though it pained her. \"Yep. They're not so strong as the dogs.\" She drew her pale white blade, and this time Lindon noticed the icy, razor-edged aura that clustered around the weapon so dense that he could barely seethe sword itself. \"But they're smarter.\"\n\nHe understood in an instant why she was concerned. The dogs hadn't left them alone because they couldn't break the circle, but because they didn't know how. These were the Remnants of a couple of Lowgolds-they would be stronger and smarter than any spirits Lindon had seen in Sacred Valley.\n\nThe circle might stop them fora while, but after enough time, the Remnants would toss some dirt over it. Lindon pushed himself, slipping off the parasite ring and gripping his halfsilver dagger instead. He'd withdrawn the weapon hours before, comforting himself with the thought that he could protect himself if the dogs managed to breakthrough.\n\nHe looked past Yerin, deeper into the scene, trying to catch a glimpse of the vital aura around the Remnants. But he was sidetracked, staring at Yerin's waist. Or, more accurately, at her belt.\n\nHe'd known it was some sort of construct Forged from red madra, and had wondered if she wore it as some kind of fashion on the outside. Maybe sacred artists in the rest of the world distinguished themselves with clothes made of Forged madra, instead of the badges.\n\nBut looking at it now... it was a dense rope of congealed red power, identical to the aura dripping from the dog's mouth but a thousand times more potent. He could practically taste the blood coming off of it, and it made him want to vomit. Visions of slaughter, of an army's worth of corpses, filled his vision." }, { "from": "human", "value": "How could she wear that?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was like having a river of blood wrapped around yourself.\n\nLindon retched, as suddenly as though someone had punched him in the gut, but nothing came up. He was glad for that, not only because he didn't have the water to spare, but because the sudden impact of the motion knocked him out of his Copper vision.\n\nYerin watched him from beneath her straight black hair, eyes understanding. \"Knew we'd come to this bridge eventually, but let's cross it later. Agree?\"\n\nLindon refocused and steadied his knife and his breathing both. \"No, that's not necessary. It's none of my concern, and I apologize if I've given offense.\"\n\nShe watched him fora second longer, then hefted her white sword and turned back to the advancing Remnants. \"We'll talk,\" she said.\n\nThen the acidic green Remnants were there, pulling themselves along on their centipede legs. The rotten dogs turned their tails to Lindon and hissed, lowering themselves as though preparing to leap and attack.\n\nIn response, the two Remnants made the motion of snapping their jaws open and shut, but there was no sound. They might as well have been the shadows of serpents biting at nothing. Afterwards, they did make a cry: the same whistling teakettle noise that had pursued Yerin and Lindon since their camp.\n\nLindon's spirits rose. This was something he hadn't considered; for some reason, he'd assumed the Remnants and the dogs would work together to breach the circle and devour the humans.\n\nOnly then did he realize how ridiculous that would be. One pack of predators didn't share prey with another. They would fight each other first, and in the chaos the humans might escape." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Some of the rotten beasts haunting the distant forest let out a chorus of growls. Another pair of corrupted dogs padded out of the underbrush, then another.\n\nHis optimism vanished, and Yerin's grip tightened on her sword. If the beasts joined together, it wouldn't be a fight with the Remnants so much as a brief extermination.\n\nTurning from Yerin, he focused on aura again. \"Allow me to break the circle,\" he said. \"When I do, you can keep them off us, and I'll get to the cloud.\"\n\nHer back was pressed against his, and he felt her nod. The area in front of him was clear, and he kept one eye on the impending battle between Remnants and rotten dogs. Ashe did, he slid closer to the script.\n\nThere was no reason they couldn't leap over the circle, leaving it intact-it wouldn't stop them. But it would affect any madra from Yerin used while it was active. If she tried to use a Striker technique from within the script, its power would be weakened. Maybe to the point of complete uselessness. And if she drew power into herself as an Enforcer, that power would be dispersed as she stepped over the circle.\n\nIn all, it was better to disperse the script before it became a trap for them. But he still felt like he was cutting a hole in his own boat as he slid even closer.\n\nWhen the vital aura around the rotten beasts flared up like dark fire suddenly fed dry timber, he grew sick. Their auras swelled, growing twice as dense and two or three times as large. Somehow, they were growing more powerful.\n\nThen he realized that every aura had inflated in the same way.\n\nThe world was awash in a chaos of color beneath his Copper vision, as the veins of yellow in the earth and the flows of green in the grass flared brighter... and then bent, like tree branches pressed down by a strong wind. The vital aura drained off in a phantom river, pouring away from its source, streaming deeper into the forest." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The flow looked like a rainbow river, and it left the world feeling dry and empty in its wake.\n\nEvery monster bolted. The Remnants left first, burbling and whistling as they followed the flow of the vital aura. The rotten dogs had an instant of confusion, in which they turned from their trapped prey to the rushing light, visibly torn. Finally, one of them gave a guttural bark, and all of them tore off. Even the dogs farther away from the warding circle followed, quickly overtaking the Remnants.\n\nIn the background, amidst the trees and undergrowth, the bigger rotten beasts left. They ran from the warded treelike they were fleeing a burning building, and in three breaths Lindon and Yerin were alone.\n\nLindon watched the physical world again, trading glances with Yerin. \"You don't happen to know what that was, do you?\" Lindon asked hesitantly.\n\n\"You're asking me, but who am I supposed to ask?\" She stood with her white sword held forgotten in one hand, staring into the distance.\n\nNow that the danger was over, Lindon's whole body went slack, and he leaned against the tree, panting. \"Were they scared away? Is there something worse coming?\"\n\nYerin gave him a look of surprise. \"What? No, it's plain to see what happened to the beasts. They follow vital aura, so they followed it away. Stone simple. But I'm coming up empty on what makes aura do that. Like it gathered together and then rushed off in a blink. Look; I don't know that I've ever seen vital aura so thin on the ground.\"\n\nLindon looked and found that she was right, though that came as no surprise. The world in his Copper vision was dim, as though the scene had been painted in washed-out colors. \"How is that possible?\" As he'd been taught, vital aura was like the madra of the natural world. It took on different aspects as it moved through the heavens and the earth, though it was all connected. Even when you harvested aura and cycled it into your madra, that was like taking a cup of water from the ocean. Sooner or later, it would return to the source." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lindon had never seen the ocean, but he'd read stories. This struck him as though the tide had left completely, leaving the shore bare and dry.\n\nYerin sheathed her sword and walked casually across his warding circle, not bothering to push the day's worth of dirt away from her tattered outer robe. \"Scripts can gather up a bunch of vital aura, not considering aspects. Or push it away, sometimes. But if a script is doing this... I'd contend it's ten miles across, engraved in bedrock, and powered by ten thousand Remnants.\"\n\nLindon didn't question it further. Whatever the event had been, it had saved them from having to fight their way out of an army of monsters. He seized his pack and hurried over to the Thousand-Mile Cloud. There hadn't been time for him to recover much madra, and he wasn't confident of his ability to fly it for any length of time or at any great speed.\n\n\"How has your spirit recovered?\" Lindon asked, hoping she'd be able to feed power to the cloud.\n\nShe hopped up and straddled the front of the cloud as though mounting a horse. \"I'm not bursting at the seams, but I'm well enough to ride this pony.\" She patted the cloud behind her. \"Come on up.\"\n\nLindon knelt first, running his hand along the side of the cloud. As he'd expected, the cloud was slightly smaller than it had been the previous day, its sides wispier. One day of missed maintenance wouldn't affect its performance much, but one weed wouldn't overrun a garden either. It was better to take care of the problem while it was small than let it grow larger.\n\nHe let his pure madra flow into the construct, feeling it seized by the script at the cloud's center. Madra pulled from his weaker core, and there was a slight delay as the construct processed the pure madra and used it to nourish its Forged cloud madra." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Like a plant growing a thousand times faster, the cloud grew thicker and perhaps half an inch larger. He even thought it may have bobbed higher, though that could have been his imagination.\n\nThe effort drained that core dry, as it had been mostly exhausted already, but he switched to the other and climbed up behind Yerin.\n\n\"You're a fussy one,\" she noted.\n\n\"I've always found that a little workup front makes things easier later on,\" he said, climbing onto the cloud and securing his pack between them.\n\nHe hadn't quite finished when she kicked the cloud up to speed, sending him lurching back and grabbing onto her shoulders for support.\n\n\"I think you may have seen hard work sometime in the past,\" Yerin called back, \"but you never came close enough to shake its hand.\"\n\nShe blasted through the forest, faster than they had usually gone on their way down from Mount Samara, black-leaved tree branches whipping by Lindon's ear. He leaned down behind Yerin so her Iron body could protect him, though her small back offered little shelter.\n\nOnly once he'd adapted to the speed did he recognize their direction. \"Apologies, but... are we chasing the monsters?\"\n\nBranches whipped her as they passed by, but she ignored him as though they were nothing more than a gentle breeze. \"Aura's heading this way fora reason. Mayas well find out where that is.\"\n\n\"We know one thing about where it's headed: there's an army of monsters there. That we know.\"\n\nHe felt her laugh. \"Where did we leave the guy who spilled blood to leave the only home he'd ever known? You're weak, but I didn't suppose you were a coward.\"\n\nThat prickled his pride, and he straightened. A foolish move, as he immediately took a branch to the face." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Spitting out leaves that tasted of copper and rotten vegetables, he responded. \"I'm not saying I won't go, I'm saying I'd like to be somewhat cautious.\"\n\n\"Oh, I'll be cautious.\" She steered the cloud to leap over a bush, rolling down a small hill as he clung to her arms for support. \"Somewhat.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Chapter 4\n\nIteration 217: Harrow\n\nIn the first strike, she exterminated humanity.\n\nSuriel's weapon activated as she whipped it down. It expanded in a microsecond, expanding from a meter-long bar of blue steel into a skeleton of blue metal containing a web of light. It looked like a bare tree, each of its branches arcing with power.\n\nWhile it was sealed, Suriel called her weapon a sword. Now that it was released, the weapon regained its identity as Suriel's Razor.\n\nIt had been handed down to her from her predecessor, along with the identity of Suriel, the Sixth Judge of the Abidan Court. More than a tool for destruction, the Razor was meant as an instrument of healing. An infinitely complex, incalculably powerful scalpel.\n\nHer mind ran along its familiar pathways even as she struck. First, she isolated the bloodline she intended to target. That feature was intended to remove pests in a home or a strain of virus in a body, but she could just as easily expand her focus.\n\nTo mankind. They were corrupted now, fused to and altered by the same chaos that destroyed their world.\n\nOnce her target was selected, she simply provided the energy, and the Razor did the rest. The Mantle of Suriel, a river of raging white flame that hung from her back like a cape, rolled with power as it drew on the Way. She funneled that power to her weapon, which flashed so brightly they would see it on the surface of the burning planet, kilometers beneath her.\n\nMillions of lights blinked into existence all through the atmosphere, a blanket of tiny stars. Each light flashed, spearing down to the surface, and then was gone." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Her connection to the Way slackened immediately, like a sudden flicker of weightlessness in the center of her stomach." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Humans anchored a world, their lives and their minds tying it to the Way, and when they were gone... chaos reigned. She had cut this world adrift.\n\n[Targets eliminated,] her Presence informed her, the voice feminine and impersonal inside her mind. [Ninety-nine-point-eight percent population reduction. Proceed with manual elimination?]\n\nIn her vision, points of green ignited allover Harrow, indicating those that had survived her purge. These were the scraps that remained pure, even with their world corrupted. The last remnant of Harrow's population.\n\nAbidan regulations stipulated that she complete the elimination, as the chaos could infect survivors at anytime, but she was Suriel. She had fought her way to one of the highest positions in existence in order to save the lives that couldn't be saved.\n\nShe denied her Presence's request.\n\nAll told, there were two million, one hundred six thousand, three hundred and forty-four survivors scattered allover the dying planet. A huge number of lives, but only a speck of dust next to the number she'd just killed. Days ago, there had been five billion people on this planet. After the violent merge of Limit and Harrow, only twenty percent of the population had survived. Now? A scarce fraction, a handful of sand, easily swept away.\n\nA weight settled onto her spirit, another slab of lead in a tower that was growing too high to manage. She knew the elimination was necessary, but she had still taken so many lives. How many had she killed now?\n\nHer Presence could tell her, but she didn't ask.\n\nThe previous Suriel, her predecessor, had not died in the line of duty. He'd passed the Mantle and Razor onto her when they grew too heavy for him, and then he'd walked away. He lived the life of a mortal now, his power forcibly veiled. She hadn't heard from him in millennia." }, { "from": "human", "value": "The things he'd done in the name of his office had burdened him, broken him, and he was the Phoenix." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "His job was to save lives, not to take them. How much heavier was the weight borne by Razael, the Wolf?\n\nOr Ozriel, the Reaper?\n\nThe world's problems had not ended with the destruction of mankind. If they had, the Reaper's job would not be necessary. Anyone with the power of an Abidan Judge were capable of eliminating a planet's worth of people, and most Iterations only had a single inhabited planet.\n\nBeneath where she floated, high in the outer atmosphere, the planet rolled invisible turmoil. Seas appeared and disappeared, caught between Limit and Harrow, continents flickered and boiled as though trying to decide on a shape, cities crumbled to dust and were rebuilt in seconds. Clouds spun in rapid circles, taken by chaotic winds, and fire raged across such avast territory that it was visible from space.\n\nNow, the difficult and painstaking part of her task began.\n\nGadrael, a compact and muscular man with dusky blue skin and tight-packed horns instead of hair, hovered nearby. His arms were folded so that the black circle on his forearm, the Shield of Gadrael, was pointed out. He wore the same liquid-smooth white armor as she did, and a Judge's Mantle burned behind him as well.\n\nHe watched the world beneath him die without the slightest crack in expression. \"Quarantine protocols will remain in effect for approximately six months Harrow time, after which my barriers will vent all fragments into the void and dissolve.\"\n\nThe role of the Reaper was to eliminate a world without leaving such fragments behind, which could give birth to the most dangerous elements in existence. The best she could do was a messy approximation.\n\n\"Acknowledged.\" She still didn't leave.\n\nShe had six months to save as many untainted lives as she could." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Of course, that was Harrow time, which was notoriously unstable. This world had drifted from the Way, which governed the proper flow of time. She felt as though she'd been here for minutes, but another world may have seen days pass.\n\nOzriel could have done this in moments, but he was gone. For the first time, she felt a hint of personal resentment for that.\n\n\"After this reprieve, Makiel expects you to throw your full effort into the search for Ozriel. He wants results within a standard decade.\"\n\nSuriel turned to him, temper hot. Calling the power of the Way both demanded and produced inhuman self-control, but Gadrael was testing hers. Her Razor thrummed in her hand, sparking and hot.\n\n\"Do I have autonomy in this matter?\" she asked coldly.\n\nHe had to see what she was doing, but he nodded once. \"You do.\"\n\nEverything about her blazed as she flexed her power-hair emerald, eyes purple, Mantle and armor white, Razor a flickering blue. She burned with the colors of a celestial glacier, until even Gadrael had to conjure barriers over his eyes.\n\n\"Then this falls under the purview of the Sixth Division, not the Second. If you interfere before I have finished my operation, I will consider you to have violated the Pact and take action accordingly. Let it be witnessed under the Way.\"\n\nShe couldn't kill him, as he may have been the hardest man in all existence to actually destroy, but there were any number of ways one Judge could make life difficult for another. Schisms among the Court of Seven were not common, but they were known to happen. Suriel would not risk the stability of the Abidan on a personal vendetta, but Gadrael-and by extension, Makiel-were threatening her authority." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "If she allowed that to happen, she would not be worthy to remain Suriel.\n\nA curtain of rich, layered blue tore open on the starry canvas behind Gadrael, and he stepped back into it, arms still crossed. \"Six months,\" he said, \"then you find the Reaper. We have set aside Iteration two-thirteen as a quarantine zone for your infected, so bypass Sector Control. A channel will be open for you.\"\n\nMakiel. He had known she would never leave the survivors, and had planned accordingly. Even before she'd come here, he had known.\n\nThe Way zipped closed, and Gadrael vanished.\n\n[Four hundred sixty-two Grade Six anomalies and counting,] her Presence said. [Pursuit recommended before expansion threshold is reached.]\n\nSuriel set thoughts of Gadrael aside. He was a loyal dog, collared and leashed, and she would gain nothing from a conflict with him. Makiel was the one writing the script, and his plans could span eons. She had to meet him face-to-face.\n\nBut first, she had a job to do.\n\nA world divorced from the Way gave birth to chaotic distortions. These were nightmarish monsters, entities that strained the rules of existence. If Harrow was allowed to fester over the next half a year, it could give birth to thousands of these abominations. Once they entered the void, they would drift, until even Makiel couldn't predict where they would emerge.\n\nShe had to destroy them now. At the same time, she had to reach as many of the two million survivors as she could, transporting them to Iteration 213. The world was known as Scour, the most inhospitable place she'd ever seen with a native population, but it should keep them alive." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "On the north pole, a black spire shattered the ice, shooting thousands of kilometers into space until it stood out like a rigid hair against the surface of the planet. A featureless black tower, an obelisk standing so tall it shouldn't be able to physically support itself. An anomaly.\n\nSuriel gripped her Razor and blasted forward.\n\nLike a dying animal, a world was most vicious at its end.\n\n---\n\nAs Lindon hurtled through the blackened forest on the Thousand-Mile Cloud, chasing after a legion of monsters, he contemplated their greatest danger: thirst.\n\nThey flew for the rest of the first day and past dawn of the second, and Yerin skirted every Remnant or rotten beast they encountered. But they had no more water, and the few times they stopped at a likely pond or creek, they found the surface stinking and corrupt.\n\nWhatever blight produced the black, rotten trees and the twisted dogs, it extended to the water. They didn't need to taste it to know it was poison.\n\nBefore long, Lindon's head pounded and his throat burned so that he could hardly talk. It frightened him how quickly he'd weakened without water.\n\nSo when the trees parted to show a pyramid in the distance, Lindon's first feeling was not a call to adventure or a sense of danger, but a heavy relief. A structure meant people, and people would have water.\n\nWhen Yerin slowed the cloud at the sight, Lindon wanted to strangle her.\n\nShe choked out a word, swallowed, and tried again. Her words were simple and quiet, as though she meant to save water by speaking as little as possible. \"That's it. Headed there.\"\n\nBetween the thirst, the lack of sleep, and the tension of the past few days, Lindon was having trouble thinking past the possibility of food, water, and shelter. He grunted something that sounded like'What?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Yerin stabbed her finger at the pyramid." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Aura.\"\n\nWith an effort that felt like crossing his eyes, Lindon focused on the aura around the pyramid. The edifice stood as high as Elder Whisper's tower back in Sacred Valley and a thousand times wider at the base, but it was assembled from layers of house-sized stone blocks. It was brown as mud, its first few layers obscured by black trees, but the visible portion was enough to dominate the landscape like a mountain jutting out of afield.\n\nA rainbow of vital aura rose over it, spiraling down into the structure like a narrow cyclone. The aura from miles around had been drawn here, which meant...\n\nHe finally caught up with Yerin's observation. If the aura was drawn here, then those trees at the foot of the pyramid would be swarming with Remnants and twisted beasts.\n\nHe nodded to show that he understood, even as she took the cloud a little higher. The cloud was meant to skim over the ground rather than fly, and it started to struggle at about ten feet above the earth. At fifteen, it stopped entirely, and Yerin's face tightened in focus as she held them there.\n\nFrom their new vantage point, they surveyed the land ahead of them. Two things stood out immediately.\n\nFirst, while they couldn't see any sacred beasts through the canopy, there was something swarming around the pyramid: people. Lindon glimpsed a distant crowd, the peak of a few tents, and even a wagon rumbling across a clearing. These people must hold the structure against the Remnants and sacred beasts. Maybe the pyramid was their home, and they were drawing in aura for some purpose.\n\nBut Lindon couldn't consider that for long, because the second feature of the landscape had snared his attention: a wide lake, bright as sapphires, just south of the pyramid. He could only seethe corner of it through the trees, but it was obviously not as tainted as the rest of the water around. His throat convulsed involuntarily at the sight." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"We have to get there,\" Lindon croaked.\n\nYerin didn't say anything to agree, she just pushed the cloud to its highest speed and slammed back into the ground, dashing through the trees at reckless speed. For once, Lindon didn't mind that he was almost sent hurtling off the back of the construct. He added his own trickle of madra to the cloud, hoping that it might coax a little extra speed out of their mount.\n\nIt wasn't entirely a surprise when they crested a hill and ran straight into a slaughter.\n\nLindon had long expected to catch up to the host of twisted beasts, and he'd smelled the heavy scent of blood even before they'd reached this hill. But he still wasn't prepared for the field of torn, dismembered, and disassembled creatures strewn over the ground.\n\nFor what must have been a mile across and many miles wide, the black forest had been cleared. Stumpy logs dotted the ground here and there, and the grass must have been lush before some battle mulched the soil. The people camped at the base of the pyramid would have wanted a clear perimeter, so they cleared the trees so that anything advancing on them would be visible. They posted guards, obviously waiting for any Remnants and sacred beasts to attack.\n\nAnd when that horde of creatures had rushed at them, the guards had turned this field into a butcher's shed.\n\nHalf of a corrupted bear-sized beast hung from a slowly dissipating Forged spear. A pack of six rotten dogs had been blown apart, bodies strewn in pieces around afresh crater. A pile of glowing green debris marked the death-place of one of those insectoid snakes that had been stalking Lindon and Yerin; one centipede leg was still scratching at the bloody mud even as motes of green essence drifted away from it. Similar scenes of destruction marred every step fora mile." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Across the clearing, a line of sacred artists stood in front of a low wall of spiked wooden logs. Even at a distance, Lindon could tell they were powerful.\n\nThere was a unique confidence, almost arrogance, in highly advanced sacred artists. The Patriarch of the Wei clan had carried himself like a lion among cats, and Yerin spoke as though she was destined to win and her enemies had already lost.\n\nThe warriors against the wall moved with the same awareness of their own superiority. One figure, carrying a huge hammer on its back, knelt to rifle through corpses as though sacred beasts may have held something valuable. A group of people carrying hook-curved sickles took turns kicking a rotten dog to each other. It was the size of a full-grown wolf, but the sacred artists kept it in the air as though it weighed no more than a leather ball. The twisted hound turned in midair, trying to bite each new human, but afoot always caught it in the side and sent it sailing away.\n\nSomeone in blue-and-white robes hung tucked between the wooden spikes, lounging at his ease, with something that appeared to be a bottle clutched in one hand. Yellow hair-possibly a wig-hung down over the wall. A figure in darker blue casually spun a spear in elaborate loops, the spearhead catching the light more brightly than steel should account for.\n\nLindon almost missed the movement, as it appeared just as relaxed and natural as the ones that preceded it. One second the blue-clad sacred artist was spinning the spear, and the next second he whipped the spear in Lindon's direction.\n\nThe spear didn't actually go flying through the air, but the light did. A Striker technique, Lindon realized instantly, but too late for him to do anything about it. Silver-white light the width of a finger screamed through the air, blasting for their Thousand-Mile Cloud." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Even Yerin was caught off-guard, judging by the way she jerked backward, but she still responded as befit a Gold. The bladed arm that hungover her shoulder flickered forward, catching the light. It slammed into the flat of her sword, deflecting slightly to the side as he'd seen her do with beams of Heaven's Glory madra.\n\nWith Heaven's Glory, though, there had been heat as a byproduct. It would have scorched him. This time, he felt no warmth from the light passing nearby... but a slit appeared in the sleeve of his outer robe, as though someone had sliced a razor across his arm and narrowly missed skin.\n\n\"Die and rot!\" Yerin shouted, and driven by her Iron lungs, the sheer volume of it pounded Lindon's skull. He winced and stuck fingers in his ears before the next words. \"You got a grudge with me, you come out and draw swords like a sacred artist.\"\n\nThe spear-spinning figure froze, then vanished. When it reappeared, it had moved close enough that Lindon could make out some detail: the spear artist in blue robes was a tall man with an even taller spear. His hair stood straight up as though he'd frozen it in sharp waves, and he rubbed the back of his neck with his freehand.\n\n\"You have my apologies, new friend. We've seen no one but monsters come from the west.\" He paused, then added. \"From a distance, anyone would mistake your cloud fora Remnant. Take that into consideration and forgive me, would you?\"\n\nHe clapped his hands together in what Lindon took as an apology, though he was still holding his spear between his palms.\n\nYerin hopped off the cloud, gesturing to Lindon. \"I'm hauling a Copper,\" she said. Her voice was still hoarse from thirst, but anger lent her words strength. \"You nick me with your spear and I'll survive, but how'd you apologize if you gutted a junior?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The spearman had walked closer, and now Lindon could make out the evident surprise on his face. \"Never seen a Copper so big.\" The stranger surveyed Lindon frankly, then turned back to Yerin. \"Is he, eh...\" He tapped the side of his skull.\n\nYerin stood absolutely straight, steel arm poised over her head like a scorpion's tail, one hand on her sword and her tattered robe blowing in the gentle wind. \"What do they call you?\" she asked.\n\nThe man in blue tucked his spear under one arm in a practiced motion, bending at the waist. \"I am Jai Sen, of the Jai clan whose honor echoes in every corner of the Blackflame Empire. To repay the insult I have caused you and your junior, I would take responsibility for guiding you through the camp of our Five Factions Alliance.\"\n\n\"Five Factions?\" Yerin asked, but Lindon had joined her by then, with pack on his back and Thousand-Mile Cloud drifting behind him.\n\n\"Water,\" he said, and Yerin pointed to him.\n\n\"He's right,\" she said. \"Water.\"\n\nJai Sen patted at the cloth wrap that belted his waist. \"Ah, forgive me. There's no drinkable water fora dozen miles outside the Purelake. I should have considered that you'd be thirsty.\" He pulled a stoppered waterskin out of his wrap and laughed. \"Half a minute into our acquaintance, and I'm already a bad host. Forgive-\"\n\nYerin had already snatched the skin from his hand. She guzzled it down, spilling water over her chin, and Lindon suddenly had the crazed, suicidal idea to jump for her and try to wrestle the water away." }, { "from": "human", "value": "But she tossed the half-full skin to him, breathing heavily, and he had scarcely caught it before squeezing it into his mouth." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It tasted stale and musty, as though the water had been wrung from the fur of a wet dog, but he didn't care. The relief as water cut through the desert of his throat was like shade on a hot day.\n\nHe had only taken one swallow before he choked, doubled over coughing, and had to wait until he recovered his breath to continue drinking. He finished the contents in seconds and bowed, presenting the empty skin back to Jai Sen. He would have thanked the man, but he didn't trust his own speech.\n\nJai Sen eyed him with interest. \"Clearly, you have been away along time. Where did you come from, I wonder?\"\n\n\"Our home lies to the west,\" Lindon began, his voice still rough, but Yerin cut him off.\n\n\"We're from beyond the Wilds,\" she said. \"We have no blood with you or your enemies.\"\n\nJai Sen waved that away as though it hadn't been what he meant at all, but he also looked relieved. \"There's no concern of that, none at all. The only enemies of the Jai clan are monsters and tyrants, and even the blind can see that you are an innocent and intrepid adventurer.\" His smile included both of them, but Lindon noticed that his words did not.\n\n\"Gratitude, honored Jai Sen, for your generosity,\" Lindon said, to improve his image in the eyes of this stranger. \"The Jai clan must be great indeed, to defend their home from such an army of beasts.\"\n\nSen smiled proudly, straightening up and planting his spear in the ground. \"You have a good eye, little brother. The Jai clan is not the only faction in the Alliance camp, but we have defended this land as though it was our own for hundreds of years. Since the Ruins rose and the dreadbeasts crash everyday like the waves of the sea, the Jai clan has slain more than any other.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Yerin shifted her blood-red belt. \"We're fresh across the border, Sen. Heard no whispers or mentions of these Ruins, though I think we've met your dreadbeasts.\" She kicked the severed head of a dog so far that it arced through the air and over a hill. Lindon winced and looked away, though Sen didn't seem to notice.\n\n\"Jai Sen, if you please,\" he said. \"I'm a blood member of the clan. It would be my honor to explain the history of the Transcendent Ruins to you, sister.\"\n\n\"Yerin,\" she said simply.\n\n\"And you, little brother?\"\n\n\"This one is Wei Shi Lindon,\" he said, bowing with both fists pressed together. \"Jai Sen's kindness to humble strangers is an honor to his family and a credit to his clan.\"\n\nThe blue-clad spearman laughed out loud and clapped Lindon on the back. \"If you keep talking like that, Wei Shi Lindon, I'll have to keep you around.\"\n\n\"If it pleases you, you may call this one Lindon, as his family does.\"\n\nJai Sen looked surprised fora moment, then sympathetic. He squeezed Lindon's shoulder with one hand. \"They'll take you back someday, little brother.\"\n\nIt seemed the older man had come to some awkward conclusion, but before Lindon could clarify, a hand on his back shoved him forward.\n\n\"Trot,\" Yerin said, including Jai Sen with a glance. \"This isn't where we want to rest.\"\n\nThe smell of blood and worse was beginning to choke Lindon, underscored by the stranger scents of decaying Remnants. He turned to give her a grateful look, but she wasn't watching him. Her eyes had landed on the other sacred artists." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Most of the strangers were looking in their direction with interest, and a few began to drift toward them.\n\nRemembering how powerful they were, a chill rippled down Lindon's spine, but he reminded himself not to be a coward. He couldn't let people of this level intimidate him; his goal was much farther away. These shouldn't be frightening enough to discourage him.\n\nBut judging by Yerin's gaze, she wanted to avoid a meeting even more than he did.\n\nJai Sen strode forward, oblivious to her wariness or pretending to be so. \"Please don't be offended if I assume you know nothing about the Desolate Ruins.\"\n\nThe blocky pyramid loomed over them, blocking out light, and it looked even more ominous in his Copper sight.\n\n\"That would not offend us,\" Lindon said.\n\n\"Only a week ago, this was nothing but a minor outpost of the Purelake Temple. Don't trust your eyes,\" he said, sweeping an arm out to include the wooden walls and the crowds of people Lindon could see inside. \"All that you see before you was constructed on the spot by valiant sacred artists of the Wilds. It's amazing what we can accomplish when we unite, as the Grand Patriarch of our clan once believed.\"\n\nYerin stabbed a finger at the pyramid. \"You built that?\"\n\nJai Sen gave a sheepish laugh. \"No, naturally not. Those are the Transcendent Ruins, built by masters ancient beyond memory. No living sacred artists could construct something like that these days. But as impressive as it is to the naked eye, the truth will set your minds ablaze.\"\n\nHe turned to walk backwards, bending over so that he was on an eye level with Yerin. Lindon had to skip a step so the man's spiked hair didn't take him in the eye, and that close he could see that the hair actually seemed metallic; it must be the physical change that came upon artists as they rose to Gold, like Yerin's extra limb." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Seven or eight days ago, a team of Fishers were working the Purelake in the gray light of early morning." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As dawn broke, the lake began to tremble like a bowl in unsteady hands. The waves grew until they tossed the Fisher boat about, and it took all the strength of a Lowgold and a Highgold working together to bring the craft ashore.\n\n\"Only, when their feet touched the ground, they learned that their troubles were not over. The earth shook and the land pitched more violently than the water! They ran for help, as Fishers tend to do, when the trees split apart and the Ruins burst into the sky!\" He spun and presented the top of the structure as proudly as if he were personally responsible for its appearance. \"Last week, the horizon was clear. Now, the power and reputation of the Transcendent Ruins calls sacred artists from allover the Wilds.\"\n\nNow that Lindon looked for it, he could make out chunks of soil clinging to the tiered pyramid. Many of them still had grass attached, and he thought he saw the base of an uprooted tree.\n\nIf he could tell what they were at this distance, those patches must be enormous. Either someone had driven carts full of earth up to deceive gullible newcomers, or Jai Sen might be telling the truth.\n\nTheir guide was still watching Yerin for signs of a reaction, and his smile widened as she skipped a step, her eyes locked on the Ruins. Lindon was impressed by her resistance; he was afraid his own eyes had grown wider than teacups.\n\nBefore he could say something admiring the tale, Yerin spoke. \"Seven days before now, did you say?\"\n\nHe laughed and turned back around to face forward as he walked, holding his spear casually across his shoulders. \"Some say seven, some say eight. I myself only arrived three dawns ago, so I can't stake my honor on the time. But I've heard the story from enough trustworthy sources that it must be true.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "By this time, they had reached the wall of sharpened wooden logs. This close, Lindon could appreciate how large each trunk really was; it would take two men his size linking hands to wrap arms around one log. And these had been cut, measured, sharpened, and placed in the last week.\n\nHe couldn't help but admire what an army of Golds could accomplish. If Sacred Valley had such a force of workers, what might they have built?\n\nIn the front of the wall was a wide opening with wagon-tracks worn in the dirt. Lindon supposed it must function as the main gate, as the loose group of young sacred artists clustered around it must serve as guards.\n\nThe youngest looked around Lindon's age, about fifteen or sixteen, while the oldest must have been a peer with Jai Sen in his second decade. There were six in total, three men and three women, and they looked like the types of rough brawlers Lindon imagined just might attack complete strangers.\n\nThey each wore a hide cloak with the head still on, and from the diseased-looking skins, Lindon recognized more of those rotting creatures that Jai Sen had called dreadbeasts. Each man and woman had the same disturbing sign of their Gold status: a miniature green snake-insect, like a lesser copy of the ones that had chased Lindon and Yerin here, clung to one arm on each of them.\n\nThe serpents varied in size, but they all gripped their host's arm with their centipede legs and coiled serpentine tails around the human's flesh. They were Forged from acid-green madra, and Lindon would have taken them for constructs except for the way their legs and tails sunk into flesh. They were bonded to the bodies of these men and women, but the snake heads were alive and curious, surveying Lindon with alien gazes." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The guards gripped long and gleaming weapons, and they eyed Lindon and Yerin like hungry dogs.\n\nLindon tried to stop his breathing from quickening, because he knew they would hear it. These sacred artists were the same as the ones who had attacked them in the wilderness, the ones whose Remnants had chased them here. If these six knew somehow that he and Yerin had been responsible for the death of their comrades...\n\nJai Sen slapped the shortest woman on the shoulder, and Lindon noted that her serpent was the largest, stretching from the back of her right hand halfway to the elbow. \"Wei Shi Lindon, Yerin, it is my honor to introduce the best of the young generation among the honored Sandvipers. They have along history of friendship with our Jai clan, and are our allies in exploration of the Ruins.\"\n\nThe young woman looked Lindon up and down as though she couldn't believe her eyes, the Forged insectoid arms of her serpent parasite clacking as its tiny claws opened and closed. \"I am Sandviper Resh,\" she said. \"Are you as weak as you seem?\"\n\nThe question pricked him like a needle, but he was the weakest one present by miles. He readied an ingratiating smile, prepared to humble himself as far as needed.\n\nYerin drew her sword and slapped the woman across the face with the flat of its blade.\n\nAmong the Wei clan, there would have been a moment of stunned silence before people erupted into action. Here, in the midst of such highly trained sacred artists, everyone but Lindon and the wounded Resh had drawn weapons and shifted into a combat stance in an instant. The parasites on the Sandvipers' arms raised their heads and let out tiny whistles like teakettles. Spearheads, halberds, and tridents pointed at Yerin. Many of the weapons had venomous green madra rolling around their shafts." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Yerin was matted with dirt, wearing a tattered robe, and half-wrapped in dirty bandages. But she still managed to look even more dangerous than the Sandvipers, as she stood with back straight and icy mist rolling from her master's sword. \"This is anew spot on the map for me, Lindon,\" she said, rolling her shoulders. \"But I've laid eyes on dogs like this a thousand times. They'll bark and bark, they'll push us around, and then they'll make us fight so they can prove they're above us. Forgive me if I cut ahead a bit.\"\n\nResh was doubled over on her knees, one hand raised to her head. When she moved it, Lindon saw an angry red welt on her cheek in the shape of Yerin's white blade. It looked as though it had been burned into the skin.\n\nShe gripped along-hafted axe in the ground and unfolded. \"You-\" she began, but before she got halfway to her feet, Yerin's sword had already met heron the other cheek. Resh doubled over again.\n\n\"Heard this song before,\" Yerin said to the woman on the ground. \"There's eyes all around, so the only way you get out of this is by beating me face to face, but it's too late for that.\" Nearby, the group with the hook-weapons had dropped the dreadbeast they'd been tormenting, looking to the Sandvipers with interest. The young man draped over the wall blinked bleary eyes and focused on them. Alone, distant figure with a black cloud over its head actually rose a few feet in the air to get a better look.\n\nYerin rapped her knuckles on one Sandviper man's forehead, and he actually recoiled. His green serpent, a tiny thing tightly wrapped around his wrist, whistled a warning. \"See, now they've got a tiger on one side and some rocky cliffs on the other. They could rush me together and beat me bloody, but then they're the weaklings who joined hands to beat a wounded stranger.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Resh rolled to the side, gripping a spear, but Yerin had expected it." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She whipped her sword up, leaving an all-but-invisible scar hanging in the air. Lindon had seen one of these before: a razor-sharp blade Forged in midair and left there as a trap. Resh froze, the edge of madra half an inch from her nose.\n\n\"You're strong, you get respect. You're weak, and you better know someone strong.\" Yerin slowly laid the flat of her blade down, resting it on the top of Resh's head. The Sandviper woman flinched, and frost began to form in her hair.\n\nYerin looked down, staring until Resh reluctantly met her eyes.\n\n\"The Copper's with me,\" Yerin said.\n\nLindon stood like a statue, too wary to show any sign of pleasure at the humiliation. If the Sandvipers decided to take their embarrassment out on anyone, it wouldn't be Yerin.\n\nBut Resh only nodded." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Chapter 5\n\nFrom his perch on the pointed wooden logs that served the encampment as a wall, Eithan saw the girl with the steel arm over her shoulder arrive with an over-aged Copper looming over her. Invisible webs of his power filled the field before him, carrying information back to him indelicate strands, so he'd heard every word of their conversation. As such, he'd learned their names.\n\n\"Well, this is a lucky day,\" he said, hopping down from the wall. His blond hair flowed behind him like a banner, and a simple Enforcer technique made him drift slowly to the muddy ground. His shoes were cheap and simple, but he couldn't land and splash mud on his clothes; they were expensive shadesilk imported from the west sewn by a team of artisans in the east with a preservative script stitched into the hem. And they were white, so the stains would never come out.\n\nPeople in a million fascinating variations swirled and eddied around him, and even with his mind fixed elsewhere, he felt them all. \"Yerin,\" he said thoughtfully, trying out the name. To his left, a ladder tilted fractionally; it would tip over in a moment, and the man balanced on it would have to use sacred arts to right himself. Eithan pressed one finger against it, pushing it back into balance.\n\n\"Wei Shi Lindon.\" He liked that name better. Yerin was clearly the disciple of a Sage-her spirit was so pure and clean that only someone at the end of a Path could have helped her create it. He couldn't afford to offend a Sage without losing his position or worse, and if Yerin's master was still alive, Eithan would never be able to recruit her.\n\nFortunately for him, the Sage of the Endless Sword had vanished in this region a few months before. Nowhere was his disciple, in ragged clothes that had seen a month of wear, her wounds aching, belly tight with hunger, and expression tight with buried grief. His webs of madra brought him all that information and more, and it was a simple deduction from there: her master was dead." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A sad loss for the world, to be sure, but potentially to Eithan's gain.\n\nA girl hurried by, arms full of flowers, and one was about to fall. He plucked it from the air as it did so, catching its long stem between his fingers. He lifted the nest of yellow petals, inhaling the delicate scent, and then pressed it into the hands of a pretty young woman. She hadn't been sleeping well lately, her training taking up much of her time, and her master was cruel to her. She was on the frayed edge of breaking.\n\nHe read that story in her worn shoes, in the welts on her back, in the slump of her shoulders. When a flower appeared seemingly out of nowhere, she spun around, searching in vain for its source. That easily, her burdens lightened just a fraction.\n\nOnly a hair's worth of difference, but enough hairs could tip the scale. Or something. He was sure he'd heard an idiom like that, at some point.\n\nHe returned his attention to the pair of newcomers. If Yerin was a prize, Lindon was a puzzle. Two cores, one even weaker than the other, in an otherwise healthy body. The quantity of his madra was severely lacking, but in terms of density and quality, he'd almost caught up with others his age. He must have had a lucky encounter with an elixir or spiritual herb of some kind. His wooden badge was etched with an ancient symbol:\"empty. '\n\nThat was enough to tell Eithan the story of a boy growing up in an isolated region with no ability in the sacred arts. But there were a thousand stories in the crowd around him, many equally intriguing.\n\nWhat piqued his interest were the little things: the way Lindon stared around as though to devour every new detail with his eyes, the way he seemed to subconsciously bow to everyone around him with a Goldsign, the pack full of knickknacks he carried on his back." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He liked to be prepared, this Lindon. He planned ahead. He was looking for opportunity even here, in what would be-to someone like him-an ocean of sharks.\n\nAnd he kept his tools neatly separated, packed efficiently into his pack. He carried very little on his person, just a halfsilver dagger, the badge, a few coins, and a-\n\nEithan stumbled over his own feet, catching himself on the edge of a stone building.\n\nWhat was that in Lindon's pocket?\n\nA transparent bead less than an inch in diameter. Not glass, but a barrier of... Forged madra? If so, it was so stable it wouldn't dissipate fora thousand years. And seamless enough that even his senses couldn't penetrate. It had to be a product of someone at least on Eithan's own level.\n\nWhere had a little Copper gotten something like that?\n\nEithan had only come this far west to find Yerin, or at least someone like her. If he returned to his clan with her in tow, he could consider this trip worthwhile.\n\nBut now, it seemed, he may have found a truly unexpected prize.\n\n---\n\nThe encampment surrounding the Transcendent Ruins, which Jai Sen called the Five Factions Alliance, remained a marvel even though it looked as though it had been tossed together in an hour. Shacks and shops were cobbled together from fresh planks, many in a half-constructed state. The one road was nothing more than a wide track of hastily packed dirt, carrying wagons pulled by bulls, oxen, or Remnants of a dozen descriptions. Children dashed between ramshackle huts, tossing fistfuls of mud atone another.\n\nBut the mundane details could not hide the impossible, which surrounded Lindon from every angle. Yerin and Jai Sen walked casually along, unimpressed, but he felt as though he couldn't turn his head fast enough." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A girl that couldn't have been more than twelve years old hauled a boulder as tall as Lindon's shoulders over to the side of the road. When she slammed it down, the ground shook. She paused a moment, glancing over the irregular lump of stone that rose higher than her head, and then drove stiffened fingers straight into the rock. The top of the boulder slid away, crashing into the ground, and leaving the stone smooth and clean on top. A pile of enormous stone blocks waited nearby, and Lindon knew she'd carved those with her fingertips as well. Probably in the same morning.\n\nA group of older men and women dressed in gray strode by, their outer robes sewn with images of dragons and birds in flight. A small cloud hung inches over each of their heads, and when they passed Lindon and his group, their gazes turned to Jai Sen. The clouds darkened, a few even flashing with lightning, and Lindon stared at the reaction in fascination even though the spearman seemed not to notice. After they'd passed, Lindon craned his neck back to continue looking, and the clouds had faded back to pale gray.\n\nIn front of a newly erected wooden shopfront, a man hovered in midair, examining the second floor with a focused frown. He stroked his black beard, then reached fora strange weapon on his back: a hilt with a blade bent into a wide crescent, so that it looked like a sharpened hook. He leveled his weapon at the building as Lindon passed beneath him, seemingly unconcerned that people were flowing underneath his feet.\n\nAnd the people. Outside of the Seven-Year Festival, Lindon had never seen so many different people packed into such a tight space. Sacred artists carried swords, spears, whips, hooks, axes, awls, halberds, and weapons for which Lindon had no name. They were dressed in everything from intricate formal robes that burned like a phoenix's flames to shoddy brown castoffs. The crowd came in tides, so that one second they were packed tight as a river, the next scattered like puddles after a rain." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Above it all, the titanic layers of the Transcendent Ruins loomed like a mountain carved of brownstone.\n\nIt was so strange compared to Sacred Valley that Lindon wasn't quite sure what to make of it. He was surrounded by Golds, which made him feel even more fragile than an autumn leaf in this crowd. One instinct urged him to dash into a corner and hide.\n\nBut another emotion held sway: the dizzying relief of absolute freedom. In the Wei clan, everyone knew him. They knew how useless he was. Here, he would start over from the beginning.\n\nAnd reaching Gold was nothing, here. Even a child could do it. Even him. Every time he saw someone younger with a venom-green Remnant wrapped around their wrist or a cloud over their head, he couldn't suppress his smile. Those were Goldsigns, and if these people could raise their children to that level, he could make it too.\n\nAhead, Jai Sen's compliments to Yerin had flowed even thicker than the crowd around them. \"It's rare that a sacred artist your age has such keen insight. You must surely be close to Highgold, which is worth bragging about. I myself have only reached the threshold of Highgold; when you're my age, you will surely have surpassed me. As for those Sandvipers, they're not even worth mentioning.\"\n\nYerin had spent the rest of the conversation putting him off with mutters and half-statements, which Lindon was certain had as much to do with her thirst as her disinterest. She'd kept one hand on the hilt of her sword and the other on the blood-red rope she had wrapped around her waist like a belt, as though trying to decide which she should draw. This time, she glanced back and saw Lindon listening." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"That was nothing special,\" Yerin said, as much to Lindon as to Jai Sen. \"They wanted to back me into a corner, but they'd caught themselves in the same trap. They could have stepped up one at a time, and they'd have worn me down steady and true. But the first one to step up is the first to get slapped down, and that one would lose face. They could group up, and then they'd have beaten me sure as sunrise, but then what kind of standing would they have? Even dogs can win a fight as a pack.\"\n\nShe glanced back at Lindon again, emphasizing her point. \"Sacred artists care more about their reputation than about their lives. You cut one, she'll heal and laugh about it. You embarrass her, and then you'd best be willing to draw swords on her, her mother, and her entire clan.\"\n\nLindon nodded to show her that he'd taken the message, but in truth it wasn't terribly strange. The notion of honor in Sacred Valley was similar, if perhaps a little less aggressive. As the saying went, \"A man holds grudges fora day, a family fora year, and a clan fora lifetime.\"\n\nJai Sen chuckled even as he nudged a passerby aside with the butt of his spear. \"Well said. It becomes a delicate dance, walking among people with such fragile pride. You and your family must make sure that you stand as tall as possible, so your enemies are too wary of you to bother you. But a tree that grows too tall, too quickly, is liable to be cut down.\" He turned enough to include Lindon in his grin. \"The wisest course is to join a clan with such a firm foundation that it can never be shaken, with an unassailable reputation and untarnished honor.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lindon might have been new to the area, but he could take obvious hints. \"Would the Jai clan welcome strangers?\"\n\nJai Sen stabbed a finger at him. \"This one is almost as wise as you are, though perhaps he has... lagged a bit on his Path. Indeed, there is no faction in the Wilds as strong or as proud as the Jai clan. Our branch here is comparable to the Purelake Temple in influence, and it is but a fraction the size of our main branch in the Blackflame Empire. As an honored guest under the banner of Jai, none of the Sandvipers would dare to disrespect you again. We would give you the treatment of an outer disciple, which you surely deserve, and any honors or merits you render to the clan will be exchanged fairly for scales or treasures of your choosing. And when we recover the spear, as it was ours to begin with, every member of the clan and our respected guests will all receive a hundred scales as a bonus. We would even feed and house Wei Shi Lindon, as a courtesy to you.\"\n\nLindon was full to bursting with questions, in contrast to Yerin, who looked as though Jai Sen had offered her a pile of mud and a filthy stick. He had intended to ask about the factions of the Wilds, then about \"scales,\" which he assumed were some sort of currency, but all his other concerns were pushed from his mind at the mention of the spear.\n\nHe stepped between Yerin and Jai Sen, catching the man's attention. \"Your pardon, Jai Sen, but we have traveled from faraway.\" He hadn't planned to keep Sacred Valley a secret, but Yerin had stopped him from revealing it earlier, so he steered toward caution. \"We came upon this land by chance, so we know nothing of the spear.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Jai Sen, who at first had seemed irritated at Lindon's interruption, brightened. He waited until a cart had rattled by, deafening with a sound like clattering pottery, before he spoke. \"The spear is the prize of the Transcendent Ruins. The Ruins area treasure in themselves, drawing vital aura from hundreds of miles around, and filled with ancient secrets of great power. But the one everyone seeks, the weapon that could elevate one faction to the heavens, is the spear.\"\n\nHe was warming up now, gesturing with his hands so that his own spear bobbed wildly and caused several bystanders to duck and curse him. He continued as though he hadn't heard them. \"Almost a thousand years ago, the Desolate Wilds were totally lawless, plagued by beasts and by wild sacred artists no better than animals themselves. Each man considered himself an Emperor, each woman an Empress, and they ruled whatever they could take at the end of a blade. But one day,\" and here Jai Sen drew himself up proudly, \"a woman emerged from nowhere with a shining spear in her hands. She united these rogue sacred artists under one name, killing those who resisted, and spreading law and civilization across the Wilds. No one could stand against them, because no one could oppose her... or rather, no one could oppose her spear.\"\n\nHe smiled wider, because even Yerin was listening with obvious interest. \"You see, her weapon was said to devour spirits. When she destroyed a Remnant, she consumed its power, until she grew so strong that she could slay entire armies at a stroke. For the next two centuries, while she lived, all the Wilds remained peaceful under her rule.\"\n\nHe waved a hand as though brushing aside two hundred years.\n\n\"The story of her death is along one, but it's enough to say that the Ruins rose on the day of her death. She entered, taking the spear, and never emerged. Some say that she received the spear from the Ruins in the beginning, and she was only returning the power she had borrowed. I believe that it was a test, that she locked her strongest weapon into a secure vault to safeguard her legacy until a descendant could claim it once again.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Will you retrieve it yourself?\" Lindon asked. Though it was clear that Jai Sen wasn't the most powerful young sacred artist in the Jai clan-no matter how different the outside world was from Sacred Valley, he wouldn't believe that any clan would send its elites out to guard the gate from dogs-but a little flattery could only help him.\n\nJai Sen clapped Lindon on the back so hard that Lindon thought he would bruise. \"You sure know how to speak. I should keep you around just for that. But I know my place; I'm only hereto bring some small glory to my clan, as much as I am capable.\" He smiled over at Yerin, and Lindon wondered how much glory an esteemed visitor was worth to the Jai clan.\n\nThe tall spearman drew up short next to a cube of gray stone blocks very similar to the ones he'd seen the girl cutting barehanded. They were stacked one on top of the other, bound without mortar until they formed a square house bigger than the entire Shi family complex. Horses and stranger animals filled a fenced area nearby, and men and women with the spears and robes of the Jai clan entered and exited freely.\n\n\"This is the Inn of the Drifting Light, an establishment that sprouts up whenever and wherever promising members of the Jai clan need a place to stay.\" Jai Sen presented the enormous stone cube with a proud flourish. \"As my friend, you are welcome to a room inside. Humble as it maybe, I guarantee you won't find better anywhere in the Alliance.\"\n\nYerin gave Jai Sen a shallow bow. \"I regret that my exhaustion prevents me from thanking you properly,\" she said, in the most formal sentence Lindon had ever heard from her. \"I owe you a debt for every favor you've done on my behalf.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Not at all, Yerin, not at all. There is no need for such formality between us, not when we will soon work side by side.\" He ushered them into the wide, doorless entrance, where a matronly woman had taken up a seat behind a wooden table.\n\nShe raised eyebrows when she saw him. \"Jai Sen, have they closed the gates already?\"\n\nHe cleared his throat. \"Honored aunt, this is Yerin of no clan. I greeted her arriving at the gate, and she expressed an interest in working alongside our clan during her stay here. She is a guest of mine, and her friend is under her protection.\"\n\nThe woman appraised Yerin fora moment before giving her abroad smile. \"I hope that my nephew hasn't worn out your ears on the way. Finding you shows more insight than I would have expected from him, and it's a credit to your wisdom that you accepted. You have a bright future here, with you so young.\"\n\nTo Lindon, she said nothing.\n\nClearly pleased with himself, Jai Sen swept his spear out to the side as he bowed to the room in general. \"Aunt, honored guest, I am sorry to be so rude as to leave, but they need my presence at the wall. Sister Yerin, I hope that we might share a meal at sunset tonight, once you have a chance to refresh yourself and to rest.\"\n\nYerin bowed to him in response. \"I'm sure I'll have a mouthful of questions once I've wet my throat a little more.\"\n\nJai Sen laughed. \"More water for the thirsty travelers!\" he said to his aunt. \"And a bath, if I maybe so indelicate as to suggest it.\" The woman nodded firmly and scribbled some words on a tablet." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Co-write with the author and continue the story.\nTags: fantasy, progression fantasy, sacred arts\nAuthor: Will Wight\nTitle: Soulsmith\nChapter: 15" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Then, if you'll forgive another question, why are you doing it?\"\n\nShe gestured with her curved sword, which Lindon had come to realize was called a Fisher's hook. \"We are not. We're trading with those who are. When the Arelius family Underlord comes to visit, he'll take the Ruins and everything inside. Until he does, we're all scrambling to make as much money as we can.\"\n\n\"Underlord?\" he asked, but she clicked her tongue.\n\n\"Questions? More questions? You're nothing but a little mine.\" She jabbed him with the dull back of her hook. \"When a sacred artist reaches the realm beyond Truegold, we call them Underlord. Or Underlady. If you ever see one in your lifetime, you can thank the good fortune of your ancestors. Now, you want questions? You want more questions? Then give me some scales.\"\n\nShe left him sitting at the bench, figuring out how to Forge madra.\n\nHe'd tried before, sneaking tips from his mother as he tried to move his madra in just the right way that meant he was secretly a Forger and not a reject. He'd never had any success, and his failures had always left his spirit exhausted and his body sweating.\n\nThis time, he was a Copper.\n\nHe started by slipping on his parasite ring and cycling fora while, running his madra through the burden of the ring until it was as strong and pure as he could make it without exhausting himself. Then he held his palms a few inches apart, focusing on the space between.\n\nHe gathered all his madra into that space, packing it thicker and thicker. At first, he could only visualize the flow of madra in the same half-imaginary way he saw when he was cycling. But after his third attempt, he was sure he saw something; a flash of blue against the rough wooden tabletop." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Then he stopped, panting, wiping sweat from his forehead. He had to cycle again, pumping his spirit, generating every scrap of madra he could.\n\nHe didn't sleep for most of the night, trying again and again to condense madra into reality. When his spirit failed him, he cycled until he had enough strength to try again.\n\nJust before dawn, he finally collapsed as exhaustion overtook him.\n\nGesha was disappointed in his failure, but she took it in stride. She couldn't expect much from a Copper, she said. He maintained constructs during the day, but then he was too tired to try Forging at night.\n\nSo he used less power.\n\nInstead of spilling his madra into the whole construct and letting it repair itself, he began directing his power where it was needed. If there was a crack, he focused a line of madra and sealed the crack. If it was simply fading away, becoming weak, he fed power directly into it drop by drop until the part was whole again.\n\nAfter three days, he finally got the knack. He used so much less energy on his chores that he could try Forging again, allowing him more attempts each day. He stayed up that night alternating between forcing his madra out and cycling to recover, over and over until he finally collapsed.\n\nA single scale, round and crystalline blue, gleamed on his lap." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Chapter 11\n\nInformation requested: the role of a Soulsmith.\n\nBeginning report...\n\nSoulsmiths are craftsmen who work with the stuff of spirits. They form constructs, steal bindings from Remnants and transplant them into sacred artists, and forge weapons. The art of a Soulsmith is honored and distinguished, and it requires no qualities more highly than a sharp memory and a dedication to experimentation.\n\nEvery aspect of Forged madra and dead matter-the severed body parts of a destroyed Remnant-must be handled differently. Some can only be manipulated by goldsteel tools, others must be chilled, others wrapped. Some types of madra shatter under the least pressure, only tore-form when unobserved. Others dissolve in daylight, or turn to liquid when pierced.\n\nIt is the job of a Soulsmith to know which is which. To know what part of a Remnant can be removed and used, and what part is useless.\n\nExperience is the most useful tool in this process, but a drudge is indispensible.\n\nA drudge is a Soulsmith's most valued construct. It is their assistant, their toolbox, their encyclopedia of information. Even two Remnants from the same Path can look identical but be subtly different on the inside-maybe one holds the most valuable binding in the left side of its chest, while the other carries it on the right. A careless Soulsmith may ruin the work by making assumptions, but drudges are designed to scan the structure of a dead Remnant and look for concentrations of power: bindings.\n\nDrudges have many functions, some unique to the Soulsmiths that created them, but most of their abilities are analytical in nature. The more precisely a Soulsmith can determine the structure of a Remnant, the lower the chance of a ruined product." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Before creating their own drudge, would-be Soulsmiths are expected to practice certain core skills. They must familiarize themselves with a Soulsmith's foundry, practice their own Forging-in order to fill in the gaps of dead matter and create a functional shell around valuable bindings-memorize a set of basic scripts, and test dozens of different madra aspects to prove that they can spot the difference.\n\nA Soulsmith's training takes years of dedication, and is sometimes underestimated because the skills acquired do not translate directly to combat. But a sacred artist with some ability in Soulsmithing is a valuable commodity for any clan or sect, and Soulsmiths can often earn the bulk of a family's income.\n\nSuggested topic: Soulsmith life expectancy. Continue?\n\nDenied, report complete.\n\n---\n\nIt had been almost two weeks since Lindon had begun working for Fisher Gesha, and in that time, he'd continued every night until his body refused to continue any longer. Even when he finished his work early, he'd spend hours taking notes on what he'd learned, keeping careful records for the Path of Twin Stars, until he eventually passed out on the page.\n\nAs a result, it took more and more drastic methods to wake him. One morning, the Soulsmith had coated his entire hay-strewn nook with uncomfortably warm slime from a binding. Noise didn't work; he'd slept straight through a thunderstorm that rattled the rafters and sent the spider-constructs overhead swinging like chimes in the wind.\n\nSo when he woke facedown with some man's shoulder digging into his stomach, he wasn't entirely surprised. Even in his groggy, sleep-wrapped state, he recognized one of Gesha's attempts to wake him.\n\nWhen the bright green lizard-spirit attached to the man's arm turned and hissed at him, that was when he knew something was wrong." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He scrambled for details. The man's boots were crunching on grass, not dirt, so they'd gone off the path. Smoke in the air. Torchlight flickered against the furs the man wore, and a biting chill lingered in the air.\n\nSo a Sandviper had taken him in the middle of the night, and had left Fisher territory to bring him somewhere else.\n\nStill drifting as he was, he initially wondered if he could somehow turn this to his advantage. The Sandviper was an enemy, and therefore an honorable target for robbery. Would he have anything on him? Was there someway Lindon could talk his way out of this? Would the Empty Palm disable him, or just make him angry?\n\nAs clarity returned, his thoughts changed. Was he headed back to the Sandviper camp? Was this some sort of revenge against Fisher Gesha, or against Yerin? He hadn't personally done anything against the Sandvipers, but now he was going to be treated to a full, painful taste of their powers. Their insidious, venomous powers, which could dissolve flesh like an acid.\n\nHe'd dismantled a Sandviper Remnant under Gesha just two days before, and even its dead matter was enough to slowly burn through living flesh. She'd demonstrated on a dead rat.\n\nWorse, she said, the aura they gathered did not kill so quickly. Their Ruler techniques produced a sort of gas that caused seizures, paralysis, and other, less pleasant symptoms. She'd spoken with a shadow in her voice that suggested she'd seen that state entirely too many times.\n\nNow Lindon started to struggle. He'd tried not to, in order to avoid giving away that he'd regained consciousness, but it had become too much. He kept seeing the corpse of the rat, its hair hissing and sizzling away as the flake of Sandviper madra had steadily drilled its way through." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "That same madra, in the form of a legged serpent, stared at him from a few inches away. It hissed again, but the sacred artist gave no indication that he cared what Lindon was doing. He trundled along with the consistency of an ox, though with considerably more speed.\n\nIt would have been more interesting to Lindon under other circumstances, but while the Sandviper man gave the impression of moving slowly, ground passed beneath him with alarming speed.\n\nHe started slowing when sounds of laughter and chatter cut through the night. It had to be the Sandviper camp, though even craning his neck, Lindon couldn't see much more of it than a few temporary buildings and some torch-smoke.\n\nThe man walked passed the laughing crowd, taking him to one of the only buildings Lindon had seen in the entire Five Factions Alliance that wasn't made of rough, freshly cut wood. Instead, it was entirely constructed from iron bars, with rings of script spiraling up the length of the bars like creepers on tree trunks.\n\nHinges squealed as the door opened, and Lindon hit the ground hard and rolled before he came to a stop on his back.\n\nEven the ceiling was made from bars, which must get unpleasant when it rained. If Lindon were left here, where Fisher Gesha and Yerin couldn't find him, he'd have to survive those rainstorms huddling in the corner and bunched up against the cold.\n\nBefore the Sandviper closed the door, Lindon scrambled for it. He kicked at the dirt, launching himself forward.\n\nThe Gold still didn't say a word. He grabbed Lindon with one hand like scooping up a squirming puppy, then tossed him back inside. The door shut faster this time." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "None of the other prisoners made a break for it.\n\nThere were only five others inside this cage, though there were other cages on the left and right. He couldn't begin to guess how many total, which he imagined might be useful information if he ever got out of here.\n\nAshe rose to shaky feet, trying to get a better look at his surroundings, one of his cellmates raised her head to look at him. She was filthy, shrouded in a ragged blanket, and she stared with one eye. The other was a half-healed mess, shredded by what seemed to be claw marks.\n\nLindon couldn't meet her good eye. He was too busy staring at her missing one as though it had shown him his own future.\n\nThe next one in the cage was a man that revealed a missing arm and, when he turned in his sleep, several missing toes.\n\nThe third, a boy about Lindon's age. Half his hair had been seared off, and he stared into the distance with a glassy look.\n\nThe fourth and fifth clung to one another so that he couldn't make out the details of one against another, but blood clung to the bars behind them and the floor beneath him.\n\nWounds surrounded him, a tale of misery and pain etched in flesh. All of these were Golds, he was sure-a weak cloud drifted over the one-eyed woman's head, and one of the couple in the corner seemed to have a tail-and they had suffered like this. What had wounded them would crush a Copper to paste.\n\nHe took a breath, calming his disordered thoughts, though it felt like trying to spit water onto a forest fire. He knelt and examined the door, studying the latch and the script together, but so many of the symbols were unfamiliar to him. He recognized something similar to the circle he'd used toward off Remnants, but with ten times the complexity." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "That was it. There wasn't much else to examine. No other tools to use, no threads to pull, just idle time to pass before whatever had shredded the other prisoners\" bodies was used on him.\n\nThough when he spent sometime thinking about it, he thought he might know what had happened. These must be miners.\n\nWhen he looked up, the blocky silhouette of the Transcendent Ruins blocked out the moon and a good half of the stars. They were camped right at the base of it-so maybe this wasn't Sandviper territory at all, because all of the five allied factions would want to share access to the Ruins.\n\nThe Sandvipers he'd met before had mentioned miners, and Fisher Gesha had told him the story of how dangerous it was to go inside the Ruins to draw scales from the air. She'd suggested a survival rate of less than thirty percent.\n\nLindon took another look around him as he imagined what had happened to the rest.\n\nLaughter echoed around the camp until it sounded almost like screams... no, those were screams, along with some shouts and the ringing of metal.\n\nHe craned his neck, trying to stick his head between the bars-though they were too closely set for that-in order to see down the row of cages and storage buildings.\n\nAnother cage, just like the one in which he found himself, was rattling back and forth as its inhabitants threw themselves against the sides. It looked as though it would actually tip over, but a couple of Sandvipers appeared out of nowhere at the final instant. One of them sent two bright green lights flickering into the cage-he couldn't seethe details, but it was obviously a technique of some kind-and the other grabbed the cage in both hands.\n\nHe heaved, lifting the entire cage off the ground, and then slammed it back down." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The screams had redoubled in intensity, but now other cages were rattling, and more guards were pouring out of nearby shelters.\n\nWhen the commotion spread closer to him, with Sandviper guards running past him to help, Lindon stepped back. He was getting too detailed of a look at what the Sandviper techniques were doing to prisoner flesh.\n\nAnd his cage seemed least likely to join in. Not a one of his fellow inmates even looked up.\n\nHe sat himself with his back against the bars, trying to think. What did he have on him? He didn't have his pack, of course, but even his pockets had been emptied. Except...\n\nA smooth, round ball slightly bigger than his thumbnail sat at the bottom of his pocket, forgotten. He reached in, pulling out the glass marble from Suriel. A single blue candle-flame flickered in the center, pointing straight up no matter how he turned the outside.\n\nThe marble had no use, unless he could throw it like a pebble to distract a guard, but it was a comfort. A concrete reminder that the heavens hadn't given upon him.\n\nHe rolled it between his fingers as he took further stock.\n\nHe was in reasonably good physical condition, and he'd recovered most of the energy in his cores that he'd spent earlier that night. Not that either of those things would help him against the Sandvipers.\n\nOther than the marble, he had nothing but his clothes and the familiar presence of wood against his chest. So they'd left him his Unsouled badge. How considerate.\n\nThe badge itself was tied to a ribbon of blue shadesilk, which was bright as day indirect light and absolutely black in the slightest shadow. The interesting reflective properties of shadesilk had allowed Sacred Valley to keep trading with the outside world, but now Lindon found himself considering more about the fabric's strength. Could he strangle someone with it?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Not anyone who mattered, not with a Copper's strength. Maybe he could take a toddler hostage, assuming a toddler passed within arm's length of this cage in a prison camp, but that would be as cowardly of an act as he could imagine.\n\nBut if he stayed, he'd face the Ruins.\n\nThe sky began to lighten before he'd come to any conclusion on a strategy, and in the distance, he saw an enormous block sink back into the wall of the Ruins. A small army filed out, the Sandvipers in the front carrying weapons, and the collection of people in the middle carrying iron barrels speckled on the bottom with crystal chalices.\n\nThey passed close enough for Lindon to make out the wounds on the prisoners-missing limbs, fingers, chunks of flesh. The procession turned to a building that looked like a big, painted wagon...\n\nAnd Lindon gained his first truly interesting piece of information. The back of the wagon lifted open, and the first prisoner-prodded by a knife-dumped his barrel into the back.\n\nScales clattered out. They fell into a box specially prepared for the purpose, and then the second miner stepped up, also emptying her barrel. It took twenty or thirty people before the box was filled up and pushed to the back.\n\nTo join dozens of boxes just like it.\n\nLindon's eyes were glued to the stack of boxes, the blue-lit marble spinning in his fingers. Fisher Gesha had said that scales could be used for advancement, but doing so was like watering down your madra. Well, his madra was essentially all water.\n\nHow many scales would it take to breakthrough to Iron? Twenty? A hundred? However many he needed, they were right there." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He pushed himself against the bars, eyes stuck on the boxes.\n\nWhen the prisoners had finished delivery, the door on the wagon slammed shut. Something like an angry trumpet blast sounded, and the wagon actually rumbled forward, sliding out from between a pair of cages.\n\nSo the fortune didn't stick around. That was a disappointment, but it was a good policy not to leave their treasures sitting among a group of disgruntled prisoners.\n\nA Sandviper woman walked up, and Lindon backed away from the bars just in time to avoid her slapping her sword against the cage. It rang like a hideous bell, hurting his ears, but not as much as her voice. She propelled her words with the full force of her Gold spirit and Iron body, causing him to clap hands over his ears and his cellmates to scramble to their feet.\n\n\"Wake up, wake up. Feed time, and then it's day shift.\"\n\nSo there was a day shift. Meaning the wagon would show up at sunrise and sunset, for the two mining shifts to deliver their haul.\n\nShe pulled the squealing door open, stepping back, and Lindon eyed the gap uncertainly. Was she really trying to fight six people on her own? He couldn't contribute much, but the others were Gold. Even wounded, they should be on her like a pack of wolves.\n\nThat was when he noticed the collars, iron and scripted just like the bars.\n\nHe touched his neck, in case he'd somehow missed being collared in metal, but his fingers met only skin. He wondered if they'd put one on him later, but he found it unlikely.\n\nHe probably just wasn't worth collaring.\n\nFour of the five prisoners shuffled forward at the Sandviper's prodding, but the woman with the missing eye had curled back against the bars. She shook as though weeping, but made no sound." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Sandviper woman looked bored as she stepped past the other inmates and into the cage, holding her sword in one hand.\n\nBefore she could reach the crouching woman, Lindon bent over and grabbed the prisoner by the shoulder. \"Stand up. I don't know what's happening, but I know you'd better stand up. Come on.\"\n\nHe shook her harder, but she didn't respond. The Sandviper pushed him away and raised her sword.\n\nUnlike his imagination, she didn't decapitate the miner in one stroke. Instead, she slapped the edge of her sword against the shaking woman's head with such force that each stroke sounded like a lumberjack axe against a tree.\n\nLindon winced and took another step back. You probably had to do this much to get through an Iron body, but a single one of those blows would have caved his head in.\n\nA familiar voice came from behind him, sharp and venomous. \"There are no pieces of him missing? Hm? This is good for you.\"\n\nLindon spun to see Fisher Gesha, goldsteel hook on her back, standing on top of her mechanical spider legs. She looked the same as always-bun tight on her head, expression disapproving-but there was something about her that made him shiver.\n\nThe Sandviper guard stopped beating the prisoner and turned to Gesha, leaning her sword on her shoulder. \"What do you think our sect is, that you can come in and order us around? Do you think everyone works for you?\"\n\nA gentle, invisible force tugged Lindon out the open door so that he stumbled forward until he was standing next to Gesha.\n\n\"You need Copper miners that badly, do you?\" the Fisher asked dryly. \"Tell your young chief his message was received, but I am taking back my property. Can you remember that, hm?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Green light spidered up the edge of the Sandviper's blade like veins in a leaf. She glared at Gesha and raised her voice. \"Fisher-\"\n\nWhatever she was going to say next was cutoff when Gesha moved like a flickering snake. She suddenly stood next to the Sandviper woman, one arm behind her back, the other holding her goldsteel hook extended. The sharp inside of the blade's crescent was pressed against the younger woman's throat.\n\n\"Silly girl. When I was weak as you, did I disrespect my betters? No, I kept my head on my work. And you have a miner to catch.\"\n\nShe nodded down the row, where the one-eyed woman was hobbling away, casting fearful glances behind her.\n\nAs Gesha removed the hook, the Sandviper guard tore her gaze between the escaping prisoner and her enemy, muttered something under her breath, and bolted off after the miner. It was probably a jog fora Gold, but her movements blurred to Lindon's eyes.\n\nHe turned back to Gesha as the guard seized the miner by the hair and started dragging her back.\n\n\"Can we take them with us?\" he asked, voice low. They probably heard him anyway, considering their hearing, but he had to ask.\n\nShe gave him a look of almost comical surprise. \"There are worse things than this in the world, Wei Shi Lindon. These are enemies, captured in battle.\"\n\n\"They didn't quite capture me in battle,\" he said. \"They took me in my sleep.\" She darkened.\n\n\"And so I have taken you back,\" she said. \"This time. But you are not my grandson, you hear me? Hm? I cannot come to save you every morning. If you cannot protect yourself, I cannot protect you either. Next time, remember that.\" She gestured, and his red Thousand-Mile Cloud floated up from behind her. He hadn't noticed it, and he wasn't prepared for the sensation of relief that flooded him at the sight." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Follow me,\" she said, and he did.\n\nHis neck was tight from the effort of not looking back to seethe others he'd left behind.\n\nGesha spent most of their journey back cursing the Sandvipers for their cowardice, but Lindon remained lost in thought. When he asked her how she'd found him, she simply said'I looked,\" in the tone of voice that suggested he was an idiot.\n\nWhen they returned to Fisher territory, his plans had clarified enough for him to ask better questions. \"Pardon, Fisher Gesha, but I'd be better able to defend myself with a Path.\"\n\nHer drudge's spider-legs did not falter in their smooth, rolling gait, and she didn't so much as glance at him. \"You think you've earned it? Hm? You think you've given so much to the sect that we must give you something back?\"\n\n\"I have nothing but gratitude to you and to the Fisher sect,\" he assured her, though his only contact with the Fishers thus far had been limited to glimpses of customers in the Soulsmith foundry. \"I will never repay my debt for your kindness in this lifetime. I'm only impatient to contribute more.\"\n\nJudging by her pleased smile, flattery had been the right choice. \"Why so impatient? If you have not walked a Path so far, waiting until Iron is not so late. Focus on Forging two scales a day. When you can do that, you will keep one.\"\n\nHe wasn't sure if she'd found his successful scale or not, but he was still along way away from two scales a day, everyday. \"If I could, then how long might it take me to reach Iron?\"\n\nShe was silent fora moment, contemplating the question. \"If you work hard, one year is not too short. Not so bad, is it? A year is nothing when you're my age, I can tell you.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Of course not,\" Lindon lied, thoughts cast back to the wagon full of boxes. \"Not too short at all.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Chapter 12\n\nFive days after his release from the Sandvipers, Lindon went to see Yerin. She'd spent most of her time with the Fishers helping them hunt down Remnants and sacred beasts, which seemed to be one of the primary businesses of their sect. There were many Soulsmiths in the Five Factions Alliance, and most of them got their primary supply of bindings and Remnants parts from the Fishers. Refiners paid for rare medicinal ingredients or sacred beasts as components for elixirs, and Fishers prided themselves on diving into the wilderness and emerging with whatever their customers requested.\n\nYerin provided something that the sect had previously found in short supply: overwhelming offensive power. Though Lindon had sunk entirely into Gesha's Soulsmith business since that first night, he and Yerin had seen each other every few days.\n\nAccording to her, the Fishers were experts at tracking, navigating the wilderness, and extracting natural treasures for later sale. But they were forced to give upon some prizes simply because their madra wasn't as suited for combat.\n\nAs such, they treated Yerin like some kind of long-lost younger sister who had returned to usher in a golden age of economic prosperity. Now, when Lindon showed up at the Fisher housing to see Yerin, she had a room of her own. Previously, she'd had to share one long log cabin with twelve other women. Now, she had her own, smaller log cabin, complete with baked clay tiles for the roof and a hearth and chimney.\n\nShe opened the door blearily as Lindon knocked, swiping at her eyes with one hand. The silver sword extended out from her back, touching the invisible traps she'd Forged around the doorframe and dissolved them.\n\nHe was glad to see that all the traps were on the inside of the door this time. He'd hesitated enough just knocking, wondering what lethal tricks were lurking in the air." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I'm sorry for waking you,\" he said. \"Should I comeback later?\" He kept moving inside as he asked; the question was a formality anyway.\n\nShe shifted that red rope she wore as a belt and stretched, yawning. \"Cycling. The snoring doesn't start until about the third hour.\"\n\nHe'd come at sunset, so she may well have been preparing to sleep, but she still looked better-rested than she had when they'd arrived. The Fishers had replaced her old, tattered sacred artist's robe with anew one, and the fine black fabric looked unmarred despite her days in the wilderness. Her injuries had already healed into new scars-one of the many benefits of the Iron body that everyone but Lindon enjoyed-though her hair had grown out, longer and less even than before.\n\nIn short, she looked like she'd had two weeks worth of rest and regular food to get her back into fighting shape. While Lindon himself...\n\nShe looked him up and down, growing visibly concerned. \"You need to take a seat? You look like a dead dog on a bad road.\"\n\nHe took that to mean he looked tired, which was true. His fingers were twitching and he couldn't seem to focus his eyes on more than one thing for more than a handful of seconds, but excitement kept him fueled.\n\nLindon slung his pack off, throwing off his balance and staggering fora step, then he pulled out a sheet of paper and slapped it down on her one table.\n\nShe leaned over fora closer look. \"They've been making you take a lot of notes, have they?\"\n\n\"These are the shift changes of every Sandviper guard working regular duty with the mining teams. I've been following them for most of the last week. I made up some of the names, but this isn't all; I know their habits, their replacements, what they like to drink, which teams they're responsible for, when they deposit their scales, everything I could think of.\" She lifted the paper as though wondering how he got so much information on there, and he hurried to add, \"That's not the only sheet.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Why?\" she asked simply.\n\n\"I know where they keep the scales,\" he said, passion burning away exhaustion. \"It pulls in twice a day, they load up the haul for the day, and then they take it away to a secure location back in their main camp stronghold. Their guards are tired, their miners are angry, and everyone's rushing so that they can squeeze the Ruins dry before the Arelius family gets here.\" His words were tripping allover one another, and he knew it, but he plowed on anyway. \"They're too strong when all the Sandvipers are together, but that's almost never true.\"\n\nHe waited until he had her full attention before hitting her with the selling point. \"We can free the miners. All I have to do is activate one of Fisher Gesha's spider constructs, take it to camp, have it disrupt the script-\"\n\n\"That sounds like a tall cliff to climb,\" she interrupted. \"You think you can keep it powered that long? And you know how to disable the script?\"\n\nLindon had to clasp his hands together to keep them from shaking. Maybe he had been awake for too long. \"It's easy, if you know how and where, which I do because they gave me a personal look. It's like breaking a lock.\"\n\n\"Breaking a lock isn't usually easy,\" she said.\n\n\"It is if you have specialized equipment, which we do. We'll have a construct. Anyway, we release enough prisoners, and we can take the wagon. So long as we strike at dawn or dusk, of course, when it's there. If I fill my pack, I expect I can walkaway with a thousand scales, and I'm sure you can too.\"\n\n\"And then we fade away like mist in the sun, do we?\" She was still eyeing the paper, so at least she hadn't dismissed him completely, but he'd been hoping fora more enthusiastic reaction." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Flyaway on the cloud,\" Lindon said, gesturing behind him to the Thousand-Mile Cloud. That was when he remembered he hadn't actually brought the cloud; he'd left it behind in Fisher Gesha's foundry.\n\nMaybe he could leave some of his work behind today and grab a nap.\n\n\"A Thousand-Mile Cloud isn't made of dragon scales. The Fishers have three, and I've seen at least two people zipping around on Remnants. One of the Sandvipers will run us down.\"\n\nHe'd been waiting for that objection. \"I've thought of that!\" He dug another paper out of his pack, this one a crudely drawn map, and slapped it onto the table as well. \"You remember the bathhouse? It's halfway between Gesha's barn and the Ruins. We only have to fly a short distance to the bathhouses, hide there, and head back to the foundry when we're clear.\"\n\nLindon had prepared for other objections. For one thing, if they didn't dress as Sandvipers, they would be caught upon entry to the camp. But if they did, then the prisoners would attack them when set free. If they weren't being chased, there was no need to hide at the bathhouse, and if they were then the bathhouse wouldn't help.\n\nHe had counters to these, nuances to his plans that he'd worked very hard on. He hadn't entirely counted on Yerin handing the paperback to him, smile sharper than the blade over her shoulder. \"Let's burn'em.\"\n\nHe took the plan from her, a little taken aback. \"You'll do it?\"\n\nShe rested a hand on the hilt of her sword. \"We're working for the Fishers now, and they get along with the Sandvipers like two tigers in one cage. And they kidnapped you.\" Her hand tightened on the hilt. \"You let an enemy take one of yours without response, and you're giving them signed permission to do it again. The Sandvipers haven't slipped out of my memory, anymore than Heaven's Glory has.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Her expression darkened further. \"They think I'm not coming back to clean their whole rotten house and burn it down, then they're getting a surprise.\"\n\nShe'd agreed to his plan, and even his own family had never fought for him. But some of his warm feelings cooled in the face of her vengeful oath.\n\nHe wasn't sure why he felt that way-revenge had always been part of the sacred arts, as widely celebrated in stories as honorable duels-but her whole demeanor changes when she talked about revenge. Something in the air felt dark, and heavy, and wrong.\n\nIt was his own weakness. That was what his father would have told him, and Lindon knew he was right. Yerin was wiser, stronger, more knowledgeable and more experienced. He was seeing the world as a child.\n\nSuddenly ashamed of his own cowardice, he bowed to her. \"You won't go back alone.\"\n\nShe gave him a look of such gratitude that he forgot all his misgivings a moment before.\n\nThen something crooned, high and desperate, like a mewling baby bird.\n\nThey both started, Yerin drawing her sword in a blur of motion. Another cry, and Lindon checked under the table. A third, and he realized where it was coming from: his pack.\n\nShoving his notes aside, he dug into the main pocket of his pack.\n\nAt first, he was looking fora trapped animal. Something that had crawled inside and gotten stuck, maybe a small bird or even a rodent. He had a temporary fantasy of finding the rare cub of a sacred beast before he dugout a glass case.\n\nThe case was big enough to hold two pairs of shoes, and entirely transparent. Inside was a miniature landscape of tiny rolling hills covered in grass, even boasting a single tiny tree. A river flowed around the sides of the case so that the land became a green island, and no matter how he turned or shook the box, the water barely sloshed and the leaves hardly shook. It was as though the glass of the case allowed him to look into a tiny, separate world." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And that world had a resident.\n\nThe Sylvan Riverseed looked something like a humanoid Remnant the size of a finger, made entirely of flowing blue waves. It didn't seem to be made of water, exactly, but rather madra imitating water, like in the bowl test that had designated him as Unsouled.\n\nHe'd all but forgotten about the Riverseed in the weeks since taking it from the Heaven's Glory School. He took it originally because it was supposed to be valuable, but he'd never given it much thought since then, the more useful treasures he'd stolen taking upmost of his attention. He'd glanced at it every once in awhile as he dug through his pack, but since the Sylvan was usually spritely and energetic, he'd usually just waved to it and left it hidden. It was expensive and he didn't know what to do with it, so he kept it tucked away.\n\nThis time, the Sylvan itself had collapsed against the landscape as though dying. Its substance was faded and pale, and it raised its head to let out one more delicate peep.\n\nYerin whistled. \"Well, that's a storm out of clear skies. You're killing it.\"\n\n\"I should bring it to Fisher Gesha,\" Lindon said, placing his finger against the edge of the glass. The Sylvan Riverseed raised one featureless arm, like a doll's arm, in response. \"She'll know what to do with it.\"\n\nYerin gave him a sidelong glance. \"If you contend that you want to share blood with the Fishers, then I won't be the one to tell you no. But don't think you can hand a treasure to someone and they'll hand it back out of the sweetness of their soul.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"If you know what's wrong with it, by all means tell me.\"\n\n\"It looks hungry,\" she said, with no basis that he could tell. \"What have you been feeding it?\"\n\n\"I'm not even sure how to open the case,\" he said, \"but I can look into it.\" Which meant that he could try and smash it open later, hoping that the Sylvan wouldn't runoff.\n\n\"It came with a label, true?\"\n\nIt had, though Lindon hadn't taken it. He said as much, adding, \"It didn't say much. Sylvan Riverseed, they thought it had some sort of water aspect, and they planned to give it to someone with pure madra.\" That was why he'd noticed it in the first place.\n\nShe spread both hands as though presenting the answer. \"There it is, then. Feed it madra.\"\n\n\"Are you sure that'll work?\" It was worth a try, he knew, but he had squeezed a lot out of his spirit already, and he hadn't even Forged his scales yet.\n\n\"I'm sure that my sword is sharp and the sun will come up tomorrow,\" she said. \"Everything else is a roll of the dice.\" She'd crossed her arms and leaned into watch the Sylvan, so she was obviously expecting a show.\n\nWith a sigh, he placed both hands against the side of the case and concentrated.\n\nAfter almost two weeks under Fisher Gesha, his spirit almost felt like it didn't belong to him. The madra responded too easily, moved too quickly, responded to his will too well. While Forging scales was still a chore, he could condense madra now in only a fraction of the time.\n\nA few seconds after he'd begun, a drop of transparent blue liquid materialized in the box. It dropped straight onto the Sylvan Riverseed..." }, { "from": "human", "value": "..." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "who animated as though it had only pretended to be dying all along. Its featureless head split into a mouth, and it gulped down the drop of pure madra like a snake snapping up a mouse.\n\nImmediately energized, the Sylvan ran around, cheeping and crooning intermittently so that it sounded like a song. Once again, Lindon Forged another drop of madra, and this time the Riverseed's color deepened.\n\n\"It's like a Remnant,\" he mused aloud. Maybe it was a Remnant, though it seemed both smaller and more substantial than most he'd seen. Remnants gained in power and intelligence by taking inhuman madra, the purer the better, which was where the legends of Remnants abducting children came from. He'd used his madra as a bargaining chip with Remnants in the past.\n\nBut if he treated this being as a Remnant in a cage rather than a stolen treasure... what was it going to become? What was he growing in his pack?\n\n\"If it eases you any,\" Yerin said, \"now the scales are even better for you. You're hungry for them, and so is your little baby chick here.\"\n\nLindon refocused back on the task at hand. The Sylvan Riverseed was an interesting problem to consider later, but for now, they needed to hit the Sandviper mining operation soon. His information was less valuable by the day, as the guard habits changed, and the Arelius family could arrive anytime to put an end to it all.\n\n\"I'd suggest you get ready,\" Lindon said. \"We need to go as soon as we can.\"\n\nYerin tapped her fingers on her sword, and Lindon felt as though a blade had passed through the air just in front of his nose. His eyes widened, sure that she'd just used a technique." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Then strands of her hair drifted down." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was razor-straight again, hanging down as though it had been measured to end exactly at her eyes in the front and exactly at her shoulders in the back.\n\n\"Straight and clean again,\" she said in a satisfied tone. \"Now I'm ready.\" She eyed his head. \"I can have a try at yours too, now that it's getting a little overgrown.\"\n\nHe held up his hands, hoping she wouldn't start blasting invisible sword madra at his head. \"I could use some more time.\" For one thing, he could get some sleep.\n\nShe shrugged and walked back to the corner of her cabin, where she knelt on a cushion for cycling. \"Pop in when you're ready. If I'm not here, I'm out hunting.\"\n\nHe left her to it, walking back through the dark, though he almost fell asleep on his feet before he made it back to Fisher Gesha's barn.\n\n---\n\nAt first, the plan worked flawlessly.\n\nThey crept in just before dawn, in Sandviper sect outfits that Lindon had made himself. The furs came cheap from the Fishers, who would never deign to wear the same clothing as their rivals, and their Goldsigns were faked through pieces of green dead matter he'd scavenged from Gesha's supply.\n\nHe was proud of himself for that, actually. The little Remnant-creatures attached to every real Sandviper's arm couldn't be duplicated, but he had buckets full of pieces from Sandviper Remnants. Four green legs and a serpentine tube sewn onto a sleeve, and he had something that-from a distance-would pass as a Sandviper's Goldsign.\n\nYerin's was harder to hide. She couldn't control the bladed arm on her back as well as he thought she should, so it had taken them almost an hour of bending and folding to get it stuck between her furs and her pack. But with the bear-like head of a dreadbeast over her hair, hide concealing the red rope around her waist, and her sword-arm hidden, even Lindon had trouble recognizing her." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He had to admit, it was satisfying when these all-powerful Golds scurried away at a single sight of his Sandviper uniform and an angry scowl.\n\nThey'd positioned the Thousand-Mile Cloud behind a tent, close enough to be summoned but not so close that it would give them away. His usual pack was waiting with the Cloud, in case he needed anything from within, and the one he was carrying now contained only the spider-construct.\n\nEverything slid smoothly along, even up to the point where they reached the cages.\n\nHe'd worried that he might not be able to find his old cage, but he did so almost instantly. This would be his test case, and ideally away to survive the prisoner uprising.\n\nGlancing around assured him that everything was in place. Yerin was loitering across the lane, close enough to help if needed. The wagon backed into place almost exactly as he arrived, giving him the fleeting joy of seeing elements of a plan slide neatly into place.\n\nReaching into his pack, he slowly-and with many a glance around-extracted one of Gesha's spider constructs. The spider was inert, curled up into a ball, and though it stored enough energy for independent action, the crystal chalice would be swiftly depleted and its actions would be limited. It would be best to control this one directly, before guiding it to cages down the line.\n\nThe cage was mostly empty space, with only three dirty figures huddled inside. He ducked to get a glimpse at each one, but the one-eyed woman wasn't there.\n\nHe'd known that was a possibility. Gesha put the miners\" survival rate frighteningly low, and the last he'd seen the nameless woman, she was being beaten with a sword.\n\nToo easily, the image came to mind of himself, tucked in a filthy blanket just like the rest and sent day after day into the waiting horrors of the Ruins. The pyramid overhead seemed ominous now, like a monster looming over the corpse of its prey." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "With a flicker of his madra, the spider surged to life, slicing across two points in the script according to his instruction. The scrape of spider's leg against iron was surprisingly soft and quick, leading him to wonder what the construct was made of. If it cut iron so easily, he could think of a number of other uses for it.\n\nFinally, he directed the spider up the bars and to the roof, where the final loop of the script-circle was located. This had taken him three days of observation to realize; though he was only an amateur scriptor, he could tell that cutting two of the loops wouldn't be enough. Leaving the final link on the roof made sense from the Sandvipers\" perspective, given the risk that one of the prisoners knew some sacred art that could cut iron even with their spirits suppressed by collars.\n\nA scripted key would have simplified this process, but he'd never found one unguarded, and stealing it could have risked everything.\n\nSeconds later, a soft whisk came from overhead as the spider sliced through the last of the protective script. Lindon pushed the door open, wincing at the squeal of hinges, and directed the spider back into his pack.\n\nEven that paltry few seconds of action had drained one of his cores almost completely, and he would need to cycle according to the Path of Twin Stars to restore his madra. In the meantime, he drew power from his second core.\n\nThe three figures in the cage all moaned and backed away from him, but as the spider clambered into the pack behind him, Lindon sank to his knees. \"Look at me,\" he whispered. \"We don't have much time.\"\n\nEven less than he'd imagined, as he found out immediately when Jai Long stepped out from beside the scale wagon." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The sight of the tall spearman in the mask of red cloth scrambled Lindon's thoughts fora second. He'd already cast his mind forward, to the next steps of the plan, to the things that could go wrong. Jai Long stayed in his tent in the mornings, Lindon had observed that for five mornings in a row, and idle comments from some of the other Sandvipers suggested he'd done the same thing for as long as he'd known them.\n\nBut there was still the possibility that he wouldn't notice anything. If he'd just decided to stretch his legs and get a lungful of morning air, he would just brush past two'Sandvipers\" going about their ordinary chores with hardly a glance.\n\nThat hope died when Jai Long turned his head to look straight at Lindon.\n\n\"To save face for the Fishers, I will keep you as miners instead of killing you as intruders. You have my word.\"\n\nLindon's head was still spinning. They hadn't even done anything yet. Where had he gone wrong? Was there an alarm attached to the script-circle on the cage?\n\nNo, he was certain there wasn't. The script connected to nothing, it was all self-contained around the cage. It couldn't have activated an alarm, or he would have found it. What, then?\n\nYerin, meanwhile, had immediately drawn her white sword against young chief Kral. He wore black furs, finer than those of his subordinates, and he still gave off the air of unimpeachable dignity even while holding an awl in each hand.\n\nJai Long didn't even look to the side, where his young chief faced Yerin. He remained focused on Lindon, spear propped against his shoulder.\n\n\"You want to know why?\" he asked." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lindon didn't dare to nod. In his experience, questions like that didn't really need a response.\n\n\"Do you know how many Coppers there are in the Five Factions Alliance above the age of six?\" Jai Long went on. \"There's one. One of my men happened to notice a Copper days ago, when you were sneaking around the camp, and reported you. I knew you could only be the newly adopted Fisher.\"\n\nLindon could put the rest together for himself. Jai Long had assumed he'd come here because this was where he'd been held captive. Then all he had to do was set a watch with Lindon's description...\n\nThat didn't holdup. Even though Lindon had run into the Sandvipers more than once, it wasn't as though he'd been in camp long. He wasn't famous. Jai Long had seen him before, but there was no reason he should remember.\n\n\"How did you recognize me?\" Lindon asked, then belatedly added, \"If I may ask, honored Jai Long.\"\n\nThe spearman studied him from behind the red wrappings as though unsure how to answer. \"I had them sense your spirit,\" he said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.\n\nLindon had been blind. In Sacred Valley, once a person reached Jade, they could use their spirit to sense things they couldn't possibly see or hear. They couldn't sense a person's level of advancement without personally witnessing their sacred arts. Somehow, it hadn't occurred to him that sacred artists on the outside could.\n\nIt was an idiot's mistake. He'd let his own ignorance lead both him and Yerin into an ambush.\n\nYerin knew what was possible, of course, but he couldn't fault her for not pointing it out-to her, it was common knowledge. She'd have assumed that he would take steps to disguise himself as a Copper, or prevent himself from being sensed." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "If those were possibilities-he didn't even know that much.\n\nSomething tugged at his spirit, and he opened his Copper senses. The aura around Yerin bloomed into a razor-edged dome, like a thicket of swords surrounding her, and the pale blade in her hand gathered sword aura along the edges. She hadn't said a word, but her body was turned half to the side, her weapon held high and her eyes fixed on Kral.\n\nFor his part, the Sandviper heir held his awls to his sides, completely relaxed. He didn't seem to be drawing up aura at all. \"You're not even a Fisher, are you? Are you sure you want to be buried for them?\"\n\nThe colorless blades around her sharpened, but she didn't respond.\n\n\"Your choice,\" he said, lazily lifting a spike to point at her. Green light gathered on the tip, like poison about to drip off. \"I am Kral, young chief of the Sandviper sect, and I will instruct you.\"\n\nAs soon as he finished speaking, a line of venomous green light blasted toward her. She ducked, drawing aura behind her sword like a wave as she swung it upward.\n\nKral had already reached her, the sword almost at his ribs, but he drove his awl down and pushed Yerin's blade into the ground.\n\nThe air roared as her technique sheared a hole through the grass, sending dirt and roots blasting skyward. As though following the steps of a dance, Kral moved forward and drove his second awl at her neck. Sword aura tore at his hand, but they didn't stop him, and Yerin had to throw herself back.\n\nThe young chief laughed, shaking off his wounded hand. He wasn't even bleeding. There were red lines, but nothing worse than Lindon might get if he brushed against a briar bush." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Kral gestured, and the aura around Yerin surged. She moved out of the way just as a cloud of toxic gas manifested behind her.\n\nBut he was toying with her, moving her like a puppet where he wanted. The awl flashed forward again, this time with four green echoes of itself moving along with it-a Forger trick to duplicate the weapon. She smashed them all, but took a scrape along the shoulder for it.\n\nHer Goldsign burst out then, a flashing arm of steel, blurring as it shot straight for Kral's eye.\n\nBefore Lindon could register joy that Yerin might have turned the fight around, Kral's own Goldsign scurried into action. The legged serpent ran down the man's forearm, running onto Yerin's shoulder, and opening its jaws to bite down on her neck.\n\nIt froze that way, its tail wrapped around Kral's arm and its teeth on Yerin, as her bladed arm came to a quivering stop afoot from the Sandviper's nose.\n\n\"If you draw a blade on a Highgold, you should be prepared for the consequences,\" Kral said, in atone haughty enough fora king. His expression, on the other hand, said he was enjoying himself.\n\nLindon ran at the open cage door, on the chance he might be able to do something, but Jai Long looked at him.\n\nJust looked.\n\nThe man hadn't moved, but somehow his spear had become more prominent, as though his relaxed stance was a half-second away from becoming a thrust that put the weapon through Lindon's heart.\n\nLike a coward, Lindon slowed to a stop. He should throw himself forward, he knew. He should challenge the impossible odds to save his own, even before certain death." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But he would die. At best, Jai Long would simply hold him down and send him into the mines anyway. He could do nothing, and he hated himself for it.\n\nKral raised his voice without turning from Yerin. \"Are the Fishers coming?\"\n\n\"At least one of them is.\"\n\nHope trickled back into Lindon's heart.\n\n\"Good,\" Kral said, and the tiny Remnant on his arm bit down.\n\nBlood oozed from Yerin's neck, but that didn't even cause her to make a sound. She simply glared at the Sandviper, even as the tiny green spirit ran backup to nest on his arm.\n\nA second later, her jaw visibly tightened as she gritted her teeth.\n\nAnother second, and she'd fallen to her knees, chest heaving.\n\nThen she dropped her sword and screamed.\n\nWith Yerin's screams washing over him, Lindon closed his eyes. He couldn't do anything, but he distracted himself by thinking of options-what did he have? There was still a spider in the pack on his back. What about the Cloud?\n\nAt a deeper level, he knew he was helpless. He'd always been helpless. He just had to wait for rescue, and that was the most he could do. He had been a fool to expect otherwise.\n\n\"You like it noisy in your camps, do you? Hm?\" Fisher Gesha said, and Lindon's eyes snapped open. She looked the same as ever, her bun tightly in place, spider legs jutting out from where her feet should be. Her hands were clasped behind her in the small of her back, her absurdly wrinkled face disapproving. Lindon had never seen anyone more beautiful; he could breathe again." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "If only she could help Yerin.\n\n\"You don't enjoy the screams of your enemies?\" Kral asked, sidling over to standby Jai Long. \"I'm sure you do.\"\n\nGesha was giving nothing away. \"Enemies? I see none of your enemies here.\"\n\nIt was Jai Long's turn to speak. \"Do you not? Two new Fishers sneaking into our camp, dutifully assigned to us according to the Alliance. If they were working for you, then that's an unprovoked act of aggression on your part.\"\n\nGesha's gaze flicked to Yerin. Not to Lindon.\n\n\"Are children supposed to be placid and well-behaved now? I made mistakes when I was young.\"\n\n\"If they're not yours,\" Jai Long continued, \"I'll work them in the mines. If they are, then I've captured them as the result of honorable combat, and they will still work in the mines. But in that case, you were the ones who worked to undermine us. Only days before the Arelius arrive.\"\n\nFisher Gesha didn't respond, and he let out a heavy breath from behind his mask. \"We cannot allow this, elder Gesha. You know that.\"\n\nWhen the old Soulsmith spoke again, it looked as though her lips had been pried apart with an iron bar. \"There has been a misunderstanding between us, hasn't there?\"\n\n\"It seems there has,\" Jai Long said.\n\n\"I don't see any Fishers here,\" she said, and Lindon let his eyes fall shut again.\n\n\"Only you, honored elder,\" Kral said, with his respectable expression back on.\n\n\"Then I will return.\" Without the slightest glance in Lindon's direction, she drifted off on a spider's legs." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Yerin's screams continued.\n\n---\n\nEithan watched, sipping from a bottle of what tasted like distilled poison, as the old Fisher departed. The drama had largely faded at that point, but he stayed to seethe night shift of miners arrive. They dropped off their scales, headed to their cages, and switched for the day crew.\n\nLindon and Yerin were bundled among them. Yerin wore a collar, but not Lindon. Why waste a collar? If a Copper trundled off alone in the mines, he might as well slit his own wrists.\n\nThey had given Yerin the antidote to the Sandviper venom only minutes after her bite, but she still shambled along like an animated corpse. A natural sandviper would have been much less painful; the Remnant madra attacked the soul as much as the body, and she would have a difficult time recovering with the scripted collar around her neck. He should know; he'd been in similar situations, once or twice.\n\nHandled correctly, this excursion into the Ruins could end up being a valuable lesson for her. Even an adventure, if framed properly.\n\nEithan took another sip of poison. In his experience, practically anything became an adventure if framed properly.\n\nHer spirit was still flawless, her foundation solid. The Sage of the Endless Sword had done a wonderful job with her, as was expected. There was the problematic matter of her past-as some of the Sandvipers had learned when they tried to unravel the \"rope\" around her waist-but even that could be turned to her advantage. Like adventure, advantage was so often just a matter of perspective.\n\nIt washer character that he was interested in now. If she had the strength of will to go along with her powers, as he suspected she did, she would be perfect." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Which brought him to Lindon, who was simultaneously more puzzling and more intriguing.\n\nSomeone had meddled with Lindon, in away that he couldn't quite put his finger on. Maybe it would occur to him later. Either way, the boy was still a featureless ball of clay just waiting to be shaped.\n\nWould he workout for Eithan's purposes? Probably not. But the shaping process was fun, and if nothing else, it would be something to occupy Eithan's attention fora few years.\n\nAnd if there was fun to be had, why not start immediately?\n\nHe downed the last of the bottle, which he suspected really was poison, and tossed the empty container aside. His expensive clothes, made of creamy sky blue and imported from the Nine Clouds Court, would suffer in this next part. But those were the sacrifices one made to stave off boredom.\n\nJust as the procession of miners was about to enter the gaping maw of the Ruins, Eithan hopped over to stand beside Jai Long.\n\n\"THEY'LL KILL US ALL!\" Eithan shouted into Jai Long's ear.\n\nThe spearman's reaction was gratifying. He spun with a sweeping, glowing arc of his spear that would have taken Eithan's head off if he were anyone else. He ducked beneath it, then straightened again.\n\nJai Long leveled his spear again, though Eithan was just standing there. Sandvipers started to boil out of their surroundings, clutching weapons.\n\nThe man in the red mask studied him fora moment before speaking. \"What are you doing here?\"\n\nEithan raised his hands. \"Surrendering myself into your custody, good sir.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Jai Long's spear wavered. \"And why is that?\"\n\n\"As just punishment for my many sins and imperfections. I am a cursed man, wracked by guilt.\"\n\nHe smiled.\n\nSlowly, Jai Long lifted his spear, then gestured fora Sandviper to come forward. A short man in furs scurried out, carrying a collar.\n\n\"I will be placing a restrictive collar on you,\" Jai Long said, holding out the iron loop. \"It is scripted to inhibit your madra.\"\n\n\"A wise and prudent decision,\" Eithan said, bowing forward to present his neck.\n\nAs though fearing a trap, Jai Long crept forward step by deliberate step, collar in one hand and spear in the other. Eithan sighed, but waited with all the patience he could muster.\n\nFinally, cold iron snapped around his throat. \"Adroitly done,\" Eithan said, straightening up and clapping his hands together. \"Now, the previous group is already in the Ruins. I'll goon and catch up-we're wasting valuable mining time.\"\n\nJai Long stood over him, spearhead glowing with madra. The young man had a decision to make. And Eithan smiled pleasantly at him until he made it.\n\nJai Long took one step to the side, the light in his spear fading.\n\nWise decision." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Chapter 13\n\nThe square hallway was wide enough for all twenty miners and their five Sandviper escorts. Three of the guards moved in front, two in back, but most of the prisoners didn't seem to need guarding. They stumbled along with empty gazes, all of them with wounds both old and fresh.\n\nEach of the prisoners, including Lindon, carried one of the scripted iron barrels that Fisher Gesha had called mining equipment. It was light enough for the rest of them, with their Iron bodies, but Lindon's arms began to burn after half an hour of carrying it. By the time he started sweating and pushing to keep up with the rest of the pack, they still hadn't passed the first hallway.\n\nThe hall itself would have been worth a closer look, if it didn't take all his concentration to stay upright with the barrel. Script ran along the walls, with runes etched deeper than his fingers and wider than his hand. It must have continued for miles, judging by how long they'd traveled.\n\nHe couldn't even comprehend the scale of a circle like that. It must only be a small part of whatever mechanism drew in vital aura from allover the region, which made it more ambitious than anything he'd ever imagined.\n\nThey finally came to a stop in a room shaped like a cylinder, where five other hallways identical to their own had ended. The room was smaller than he'd expected, and while they weren't crowded, he could see why the Sandvipers hadn't taken more miners.\n\nHis first question, when one of the guards raised a torch, was why this room had been made of a different type of stone. Unlike the blocks of the hallway, these were splashed with darker shades of color, as though the blocks had been spattered with..." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He missed a step.\n\nFragments of bone were more common than pebbles on the floor. All clean, and none larger than his thumbnail. A distinct scent of copper and rot lingered in the air, and the stone was stained twice as high as his head.\n\nWhatever happened here, it hadn't left anybodies. The dead had been blasted apart.\n\nThe old miners had begun to huddle together, setting their barrels down in the center and gripping the handles. A handful, including Lindon and Yerin, glanced around as though waiting for instruction.\n\nThe same guard Lindon had seen before, the bored-looking Sandviper woman with the sword, tapped her weapon against the stone to gather their attention. \"The activation script for your harvesters is on your handles,\" she said, in the tone of someone who had repeated the same instructions for so long that the words came out on their own. \"If you stop mining, we leave you here. If you run, we leave you here. If you harass or disobey a guard, we leave you here. Meal comes at midday. When battle starts, don't panic or run, just trust us to cover you. You panic, and we'll leave you here.\"\n\nWith that, she turned and took up a position covering two tunnel mouths. Three of the other guards did the same, though one continued to patrol among the miners.\n\nLindon setup next to Yerin, who was still pale and shaking from the venom.\n\n\"We'll pay them back for this,\" Lindon said. \"A hundred times over, we'll pay them back.\" It wasn't the sort of thing that would comfort him, but he suspected Yerin would appreciate revenge more than sympathy.\n\nShe smiled in one corner of her mouth even as she gripped the harvester's handles. \"Master always said I should get captured once or twice. Shows spine when you break free.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The guard shouted at them to work before Lindon could respond, but his spirits lifted. If Yerin hadn't given up, there was still hope.\n\nIf nothing else, running the harvester would be good exercise for his madra. If he got his hands on a few scales, he might even be able to advance while he was down here.\n\nNow that he'd settled on a goal, Lindon grabbed the handles and sunk his spirit into the script.\n\nThe harvester activated almost immediately, drawing Lindon's senses to the aura in the air around him...\n\nHe swallowed back a scream.\n\nIt was a silent storm, a chaotic gale of blinding color that flashed and blasted in every direction as though it would tear everything apart. He couldn't pick a single aspect out of the maelstrom-anything, maybe everything. It felt as though it would peel the flesh from his bones with sheer force, though it passed through him harmlessly.\n\nWhen the harvester began, it pulled the slightest breath of that aura from the air, running it in a corkscrew pattern through the center of the iron barrel. The energy circled between the crystal chalices at the bottom-purifying the aura and converting it to madra, no doubt-and Lindon's spirit was only necessary to keep the script running so that the process continued. The crystals were steadily filling up, and when they were full, he supposed the final stretch of script would activate and pop out a scale.\n\nHe wasn't sure, because he had to release the harvester when his core ran dry. He leaned over the barrel, panting heavily.\n\nThe Sandviper guard wore the hide of a bear-like dreadbeast and had an axe in one hand. Lindon had to flinch as the man stalked closer, growling." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Back to work,\" the man spat, jabbing him with the butt of his axe.\n\nLindon met the man's eyes, trying to look earnest. \"I'm sorry, honored elder, but I'm only-\"\n\nThe man hit him again, hard enough that the room spun in a haze of pain. \"Don't give me that look. You think you're getting out of here? The dreadbeasts are coming, and they're going to... Where's your collar?\"\n\nHe swung the axe harder, and if Lindon hadn't let himself collapse with the blow, it would have broken his shoulder.\n\n\"What have you done with it?\" the man roared, lifting his axe again. Lindon sputtered out protests, holding up a hand to protect himself. Yerin moved, standing in front of him.\n\nSomething skittered across the floor like a stone across the surface of the pond, and the guard tripped.\n\nHis foot flew out behind him, and for an instant, Lindon expected him to plant his face in the floor. But he was still a Gold, and he caught himself with one palm against the ground, flipping upright. He spun around, pulling a second axe from his belt.\n\n\"Which one of you?\" he growled, choked with anger.\n\nA man in the corner lifted his head and met Lindon's eye, winking.\n\nLindon stared. It was that same yellow-haired man. He'd been captured too? How? When?\n\nThe leader of the guards raised a hand. \"Be peaceful, Tash,\" she said. \"You tripped.\"\n\nTash shouted a protest, but he didn't even get the first word out of his mouth before she spoke again. \"And he's a Copper. Collar won't make him any weaker than he already is.\"" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Aid the author, keep the plot going.\nTags: fantasy, progression fantasy, sacred arts\nAuthor: Will Wight\nTitle: Soulsmith\nChapter: 17" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Back to work,\" the man spat, jabbing him with the butt of his axe.\n\nLindon met the man's eyes, trying to look earnest. \"I'm sorry, honored elder, but I'm only-\"\n\nThe man hit him again, hard enough that the room spun in a haze of pain. \"Don't give me that look. You think you're getting out of here? The dreadbeasts are coming, and they're going to... Where's your collar?\"\n\nHe swung the axe harder, and if Lindon hadn't let himself collapse with the blow, it would have broken his shoulder.\n\n\"What have you done with it?\" the man roared, lifting his axe again. Lindon sputtered out protests, holding up a hand to protect himself. Yerin moved, standing in front of him.\n\nSomething skittered across the floor like a stone across the surface of the pond, and the guard tripped.\n\nHis foot flew out behind him, and for an instant, Lindon expected him to plant his face in the floor. But he was still a Gold, and he caught himself with one palm against the ground, flipping upright. He spun around, pulling a second axe from his belt.\n\n\"Which one of you?\" he growled, choked with anger.\n\nA man in the corner lifted his head and met Lindon's eye, winking.\n\nLindon stared. It was that same yellow-haired man. He'd been captured too? How? When?\n\nThe leader of the guards raised a hand. \"Be peaceful, Tash,\" she said. \"You tripped.\"\n\nTash shouted a protest, but he didn't even get the first word out of his mouth before she spoke again. \"And he's a Copper. Collar won't make him any weaker than he already is.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "The guard looked back at Lindon in disbelief, and then something brushed gently against Lindon's spirit." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "If he hadn't been paying attention, he might not have noticed.\n\nSo that was what it felt like, having his soul tested by another. He would have to remember that.\n\nTash shoved him one more time with the butt of the axe, then left him alone. For the rest of the day, Lindon was allowed to stop and cycle whenever he needed, though the first time he was sure Tash would split his head for stopping the harvester. Instead, the guards treated him like he didn't exist. When Yerin so much as glanced up, they shouted her back down. He was an exception.\n\nThat had to bean advantage, somehow.\n\nHe glanced back to the yellow-haired man, only to find that the man wasn't against the wall anymore. He was right next to Lindon now, though Lindon hadn't heard a thing.\n\n\"Isn't it ingenious, this thing?\" he said, gesturing to the harvester. \"In the Blackflame Empire, we don't have anything like it.\"\n\nTash turned around, his skin blooming red. \"Quiet!\"\n\n\"My name is Eithan,\" he said with a bow. He made no attempt to quiet himself, and even several of the others turned around with looks of disbelief. \"And you are Wei Shi Lindon. The Copper. You're famous! Although infamous might be more accurate, really.\"\n\nTash had an axe in each hand and looked ready to use them. Lindon scraped his harvester across the ground to put a little distance between him and Eithan.\n\nThe yellow-haired man followed him. \"You know, there's an opportunity for you here. The measure of a sacred artist isn't talent; it's how you respond to risk.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lindon turned away, trying to make it clear that he wasn't speaking. Tash had arrived, an axe in each hand.\n\n\"It's kind of like this,\" Eithan said, and pivoted on the balls of his feet to deliver an overhand punch.\n\nStraight at Lindon.\n\nLindon released his harvester, jerking to the side. He slammed into Tash's legs, and no matter how strong the Gold was, he'd been caught in mid-stride. He stumbled, halfway falling, and caught himself on the lip of a nearby harvester.\n\nThe guard looked up at Lindon with a face like a furnace.\n\n\"What do you do when you're met with danger?\" Eithan asked conversationally. \"Do you fight? Do you beg for forgiveness? Do you listen tome? Now, Yerin.\"\n\nYerin's hand shot out, stopping Tash from planting his axe in Lindon's skull. She looked back at Eithan, looking as stunned as Lindon felt.\n\n\"One step to your left,\" Eithan said, and Lindon followed his instructions. Ina blur of motion, Tash had already thrown one axe, and it whistled through the air to clatter against the wall.\n\nNow everyone was staring at Eithan, Lindon included.\n\n\"Let him go,\" Eithan said, and Yerin released Tash just as he swiped at her arm with his remaining axe.\n\n\"Lindon, take two steps back and then sit down,\" Eithan said, but by now Lindon was catching on. The man was singling them out for some reason, pushing them into trouble, and Lindon wasn't going to stand for it anymore." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Of course, he didn't have to be rude about it.\n\nHe took a step forward and gave a shallow bow. \"Forgiveness, elder brother, but I don't-\"\n\nSomething large and snarling passed over Lindon's head, ruffling his hair, and latched onto Tash. The man screamed, and blood sprayed up onto the walls.\n\n\"Well done,\" Eithan said, patting Lindon on the shoulder.\n\nFor the first time, Lindon noticed more openings halfway up the walls. They were half the size of the hallway that had admitted the miners, but they were plenty big enough for the dreadbeasts that appeared out of nowhere, hurling themselves down onto the miners.\n\n\"Weapons up!\" the woman in charge shouted, raising her own sword, but her command had come late. The guards already had their weapons in hand, and the miners crouched by their harvesters.\n\nThe creature on Tash looked like a monkey with skin mottled bruise-purple and meat-red, and by the time Tash managed to pull the dreadbeast away, he wore a mask of blood. He gurgled as he took a staggering step forward, and Lindon looked away.\n\nOnly two of the miners stood in the middle of the deluge: Eithan and Yerin. Yerin had lifted the harvester with one hand-it was taking her obvious effort, which must have been the collar's effect-and punched a rotting dog with the iron barrel on her fist.\n\nEithan was wandering around seemingly at random, taking a casual stroll around the room, but none of the dreadbeasts ever latched onto him. He grabbed Lindon by the shoulder as he passed, which pulled Lindon to his feet just in time to avoid a foxlike beast's snarling attack. Eithan threw his arm across Lindon's shoulder in a fatherly gesture." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"There's a lineage of sacred beasts, you may have heard of them, known as the Heavenly Sky Tigers." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It's a bit much fora name, I know, but they're quite famous.\" One of the miners was being dragged down a tunnel with his arm in the muzzle of a rotting wolf. A casual blow from a nearby guard sent the dreadbeast tumbling.\n\n\"These tigers breed every year or two,\" Eithan went on, ignoring the carnage around him. \"Each litter has two, and exactly two, cubs... but only one ever survives to adulthood. Can you guess why that is?\"\n\nYerin had taken a slash across the shoulder, and she was beating a monkey-creature to death with her bare hands. Lindon strained forward to help, but he couldn't escape from beneath Eithan's arm.\n\n\"I'd be happy to hear this story later,\" Lindon said, forcing calm into his voice.\n\n\"It's because the cubs fight each other to the death,\" Eithan said. \"As a child, I found it tragic. My family kept a breeding pair of these Heavenly Sky Tigers, and when they gave birth to a brother and a sister, I was determined to save them both. I kept them in separate enclosures, fed them separately, raised them as I would a pair of children.\"\n\nBlood spattered Lindon's forehead, and it took all his concentration not to scream.\n\n\"In the end, they wasted away and died. Both of them. I tried everything I knew to save them, but it was useless. Later, I found out the truth: fora Heavenly Sky Tiger, the body of their sibling is like an elixir. If one does not consume the other, their madra isn't strong enough to support their bodies, and they will inevitably die.\"\n\nEithan clasped Lindon with one hand on each shoulder, looking into his eyes with an earnest gaze. The head of a dreadbeast flew behind him, trailing blood. \"Do you understand the story, Lindon?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It's a parable about overly protective parents,\" Lindon said hastily, straining his eyes to catch a glimpse of the creatures prowling around him.\n\n\"Not just parents,\" Eithan said. \"Sacred artists. Without risk, without battle, without a willingness to fight, you will stay weak. And weakness means death. Do you agree?\"\n\nEven if he hadn't, he would have wholeheartedly agreed just to get Eithan's help. \"Elder brother is so wise!\" he said, his words tripping over each other. \"This one agrees, and will gladly discuss it with elder brother at length.\"\n\nEithan clapped him on the back, smiling proudly. He took one long glance around the room, where the room had fallen into temporary silence. A few miners lay in bloody pools on the ground, as did Tash, but most of them had survived.\n\nThe leader raised her sword. \"Run!\" she shouted, and started down the hallway entrance.\n\nLindon looked up to the tunnels, expecting more dreadbeasts, but none came.\n\nInstead, a rainbow of light slowly bloomed on the floor, and Remnants started to climb up from corpses.\n\nSomething seized Lindon from behind, grabbing him beneath both arms. He flailed in blind panic before he was hurled up, sliding perfectly into one of the tunnels into the wall.\n\nIt didn't even hurt much; he scraped his china bit on the stone floor, and his ribs might be a little bruised, but he'd slid into the tunnel at exactly the right angle to avoid injury.\n\nHe scrambled back to the entrance, looking down, where he saw Eithan smiling up at him. The yellow-haired man gave a cheery wave, and then reached to one side without looking." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Yerin swiped at his hand, but he was ready for her.\n\nA second later, she slid into the tunnel beside Lindon. She growled as she stood, one hand groping fora sword, the other held in a fist at her side.\n\n\"Who is he?\" Lindon asked.\n\n\"A dead man, if he doesn't explain himself true and proper.\"\n\nEithan landed neatly on the lip of the tunnel as though he'd moved ten feet vertically in one step, fine white-and-blue robes billowing behind him as he walked. \"Follow me. Most of those Remnants can climb, and some of them can fly.\"\n\nA blue wingspread across the entrance to the tunnel, accompanied by a cry that sounded like the song of a zither. Eithan doubled his pace. \"Whoops, faster. We should go faster.\"\n\nYerin matched his stride, gesturing back the way they'd come. \"You don't have the spine fora fight?\"\n\nEithan hooked a finger underneath his collar. \"We could find away to get these off, if that's what you'd prefer. But you should know that I... well, you might say there's only one string to my bow.\"\n\n\"Can you seethe future?\" Lindon asked. In his own mind, he was already convinced of the answer. Eithan had moved before the guards or beasts did, every time, and he'd known when the dreadbeasts were coming.\n\n\"Better! I can seethe present.\"\n\nA Remnant cried behind them, like a low horn, accompanied by a human scream.\n\nBefore Lindon could express his skepticism, Eithan continued. \"I have a thousand eyes and ten thousand ears. I know everything that happens within range of my spirit, so as soon as an enemy starts to move, I simply step aside. It's like fighting the blind.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Can't hit too hard with that,\" Yerin observed.\n\nEithan bowed to her. \"Just so! Superior awareness is perhaps the greatest power of all, but as far as weapons go, knowledge lacks a certain heft. Though it does make me frustrating to kill-no one's managed it so far.\"\n\n\"If you don't mind telling me, how did they capture you?\" Lindon asked. He kept his tone casual, but he was listening fora lie. If Eithan could do what he claimed, it would have been easier than lifting a hand to avoid the Sandvipers. He'd entered the mines on his own.\n\nBut why?\n\nEithan smiled broadly and reached out a hand to Lindon's head. Lindon tried to step aside, but the older man's palm landed regardless. He ruffled Lindon's hair. \"Oh, I remember when I was your age. Young, spirited, distrusting of strangers. They say the years wear your innocence away, but it took me better than a decade on my own to learn the freedom of trust.\"\n\n\"That's not looking much like an answer,\" Yerin said, which nicely mirrored Lindon's own thought.\n\n\"Very well! As a reward for your observational skills, I'll tell you the truth.\" Eithan spun around, speaking as he walked backwards. \"I came from the Blackflame Empire, located far to the east. Not long ago, I happened to sense a great power coming from the west. I brought it to the attention of my clan, who instructed me to investigate. When I arrived here, I found this incredible pyramid had drawn up all the aura for miles. Of course, I wasn't the only one-every sacred artist in the Desolate Wilds had beaten me to it.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Is there something in the Ruins you want to take back to your clan?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lindon asked. The spear Jai Sen had mentioned loomed in his imagination.\n\nEithan waved a hand. \"The Ruins are loud and well worth investigating, but a treasure to a wilderness sect is not necessarily worthy of attention from a major Blackflame clan.\" He glanced up at the ceiling. \"There's quite a nice spear inhere, but it looks like it would be most suitable for the Jai clan. It's not useful for me, so I gave upon it along time ago.\"\n\n\"You can sense the spear?\" Lindon asked, suddenly hungry. If Eithan could lead him straight to the weapon everyone wanted...\n\nBut he'd said something more surprising. \"You don't want it?\"\n\n\"We have access to Soulsmiths of our own,\" Eithan said dismissively. \"A spear isn't interesting. Far more than a mere weapon, we value talent.\"\n\nHe was recruiting fora major imperial clan, and here he'd singled out the two of them. Lindon found himself forgetting the spear too. With Eithan's resources behind him, he wouldn't have to scrape for every scale. If he understood correctly, with a powerful family supporting him, he could reach Gold tomorrow.\n\n\"Forgiveness, I was blind,\" Lindon said. \"I should have known that treasures in our eyes are just trash in yours. If I may ask, which-\"\n\nEithan cut him off. \"I know this is like asking an amputee what happened to his legs, but I'm dying of curiosity. What happened to your core?\"\n\nLindon glanced down at his midsection as though his core had just become visible. \"My core?\"\n\n\"You have two of them. Were you born that way? Is that why you're so weak? Or did someone damage your soul?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Eithan asked with atone of open curiosity, but Lindon had never felt that feather-light shiver of someone reaching out to sense his soul. Either he'd missed it, or Eithan was aware of everything that happened close to him. Including the strength and nature of souls.\n\nLindon swelled with questions. How far did his sense extend? Was it some kind of sacred art that he had to use, or was he just aware of everything? Did he have to focus to avoid being overwhelmed?\n\nBut those were questions he could ask later, after he'd earned his way into the protection of Eithan's clan. For now, his job was to make himself valuable to Eithan.\n\n\"Pardon my rudeness. I was surprised that you'd noticed. I was born...\" He had planned to say'Unsouled, ' but that had no meaning outside Sacred Valley, so he corrected himself mid-sentence. \"... with a weak soul. Instead of wasting resources developing me, my clan chose not to teach me sacred arts. I split my core myself, as a defensive measure.\"\n\nEithan nodded along to every word, as though he'd expected exactly that story. When Lindon had finished, the man stopped walking-they'd put quite a distance between themselves and the Remnants by this point, though the occasional haunting echo did drift down the hall-and put his palm against Lindon's chest.\n\n\"Breathe into here,\" Eithan said.\n\nLindon glanced over to Yerin, but she looked just as confused as he did, so he followed instructions. He filled his lungs until his ribs pressed against Eithan's hand.\n\n\"Now breathe out halfway.\"\n\nLindon did, until Eithan told him to hold his breath there." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Your breathing technique helped you split your core?\"\n\nHe nodded, still holding his breath.\n\n\"That explains why it's all focused inward.\" Eithan waved a hand vaguely in front of Lindon's middle. \"Your madra flow is all knotted. It's not a bad breathing technique for pure madra, and you haven't damaged your channels yet, but it's better to correct now. You have a Path manual?\"\n\nHe glanced at Lindon as though expecting Lindon to produce the book on command, and Lindon finally let his breath out to respond. \"It's inside my pack, but unless you know away out...\"\n\nEithan tapped his chin with one finger, thinking. \"Do you have a madra filter? Some condensation elixirs? You must have something to improve madra quality, if you made it to Copper without harvesting aura.\"\n\n\"I have a parasite ring,\" Lindon offered.\n\nEithan beamed. \"Perfect! Now, where did you leave this pack?\"\n\nYerin cutting in, pushing her way between them and holding up a hand as though she held an invisible sword to Eithan's throat. \"Let's not throw our doors wide just yet. You say you're from the Blackflame Empire. Who are you?\"\n\nHe drew himself up as though proud to be asked the question. \"Young lady, I am the greatest janitor in all existence. I am the son of a janitor, last in along line of janitors that stretch all the way back to the Sage of Brooms... and beyond!\"\n\n\"Janitors?\" Yerin asked blankly.\n\n\"Lest you think I'm speaking figuratively, let me clarify. My clan organizes the street sweepers in Blackflame City, we supervise sewer maintenance, we dig ditches and light lamps and sweep chimneys.\"Dirty hands area mark of pride, ' those are the words by which we live.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "This from a man who looked as though he'd never held a shovel in his life. His fingers were long, his skin pale, his hands soft, his clothes far more expensive than anything else Lindon had seen in the Five Factions Alliance. In short, he looked more like the spoiled young master of a noble clan rather than any janitor.\n\n\"Please excuse me if I still seem... untrusting...\" Lindon said, \"but surely such a role does not fit your esteemed station. Do you perhaps mean that you keep the streets clean of crime, or you're a clan of assassins ridding an empire of the unworthy...\"\n\nEithan was sliding his hands over the wall now, as though feeling the stone for weakness. \"I grew up in the sewers of Blackflame City, ankle-deep in what you might politely call \"sludge.\" They used similar scripts to control intake and outflow, so if this works on similar principles... and there we have it.\"\n\nA single rune sparked to life, sending a ripple of light flaring down the line of script in either direction.\n\nWith a grating sound, a stone slab slid upwards, revealing an open doorway onto a flight of stairs leading up.\n\n\"Maybe this was some kind of ancient sewer,\" Eithan speculated. \"Anyway, I have a task for you, Wei Shi Lindon.\"\n\nNow that he thought of it, Lindon realized that Eithan had known his full name the first time they'd met. Even the street sweeper of a great empire was infinitely more powerful than the four Schools of Sacred Valley, so Lindon bowed deeply over a salute. \"I will do my best to serve.\"\n\n\"Your current breathing technique is sufficient if you're planning to split your core again, but it's building a wall between you and Iron. To reach Iron, you have to push madra out of your madra channels, forcing it into every scrap of your flesh. It's very difficult without elixirs, and your madra is currently focused into your core... and nowhere else. You need anew breathing technique.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Eithan stood straight, facing Lindon. \"Inhale as I do, and as you do so, cycle your madra in wide loops to every extremity of your body. As you exhale, gather it together again, all at once. I'll show you how.\"\n\nLindon had practiced a simple breathing technique since the day he first got his wooden badge, until it eventually became his natural breathing rhythm. He'd changed it according to the instruction in the Heart of Twin Stars manual, but it wasn't anymore complex than his original technique, only different.\n\nLikewise, the technique Eithan taught him wasn't complicated. It didn't use any principles Lindon didn't already know, which had come as a relief.\n\nBut it was hard.\n\nHe could barely hold the new cycling pattern standing straight and watching Eithan, and he was sure that he'd lose it as soon as Eithan stopped giving him pointers. He said as much to Eithan, who laughed.\n\n\"That's the nature of any acquired skill. It will feel like breathing through a wet rag fora while, and your body will tell you to stop. But one day, you'll look back and wonder how it was ever difficult.\" He pointed up the stairs. \"Now, as your first challenge, hold that pattern as you run up to the next floor.\"\n\nLindon peered into the shadows at the top. \"Do you have alight?\"\n\n\"You do,\" Eithan said.\n\nHe reached into his pocket and pulled out Suriel's marble. He was somewhat self-conscious holding it, as though he'd been caught in a lie, but there was noway Eithan would know what it was. Even if he'd sensed it, it was just alight in a glass." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sure enough, Eithan gave the marble a curious glance, but that was all. Lindon held it up, took a deep breath, and began to cycle as he ran.\n\nBehind him, Yerin protested. \"He's about as sturdy as a newborn kitten. If there's anything up there, it'll tear him to rags.\"\n\n\"Remember my thousand eyes,\" Eithan said. \"These Ruins may as well be my own home.\"\n\nThe blue light of the marble was faint, but it was enough to show Lindon when he reached the end of the stairs and found himself in a large room. He couldn't see anything beyond the patch of floor at his feet.\n\nThe jog hadn't been long, but his lungs were still burning with the effort of holding the breathing technique. He started to shout back that he'd made it, but when something hissed in the shadows, his words died.\n\nIt was only about as big as his arm. A tan centipede with a carapace the color of a sandy dune. It had ahead like a snake and two rows of insect claws, and its tail arched up into a scorpion's stinger.\n\nHe'd never seen one in the flesh, but their Remnants had left him with an impression all too clear. The first sandviper hissed at him, baring fangs... as a second scuttled up, keeping a wary distance from its twin, angling toward Lindon.\n\nEithan's voice came from the stairs beneath him. \"I know what's up there, and he can handle it.\"\n\nThen came the growl of stone, like a lid scraping over a coffin, as the door slid shut." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Chapter 14\n\nLindon's shouts and pleas came muffled through the stone door, and Yerin gathered what little madra she could onto her fingernails. Sword madra gathered onto sharp edges, so her nails were not the best container.\n\nShe would have used her Goldsign instead, but the scripted collar was choking her madra at the source, and she was still shaky from the Sandviper venom earlier. Her muscles squirmed like snakes in a bag, and she barely had enough focus to hold the technique together. If she tried to control the steel arm on her back, she might end up cutting her own head off.\n\nBut she'd die and rot away before she gave up without a fight.\n\nShe held her fingers up like claws to Eithan's eye. \"Pop it back open.\"\n\nHe didn't flinch, looking at her like a wronged child. \"But he's not finished yet.\"\n\nShe slashed at him, but he'd already started walking to the side, as though he'd picked exactly that second to take a stroll. Her technique rippled through the air, almost invisible without her spiritual sight, and madra cracked against the stone.\n\n\"I came hereto find some promising recruits,\" Eithan continued, pacing around her. She turned so he didn't have a shot at her back. \"I was also bored, but the recruits are important too. You see, the families of the empire compete largely on the strength of the younger generation, because disciples are the indication of a clan's future power. Since we're looking fairly sparse in the disciple department, I'm keeping an eye or two open for outside talent.\"\n\nLindon's cries for help were filling the hall now.\n\n\"I'll go along with you,\" Yerin said quickly. Eithan wouldn't have been the first to try and forcibly recruit the Sword Sage's apprentice-even while her master had been alive, every sect and school they'd crossed had tried to make her a better offer. But none of them had taken a hostage." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "If she went with him now, she could breakout later. Her master would have loved it.\n\nEithan paid no more attention to Lindon's screams than he would to a chirping bird, brushing some dirt from his shoulder. \"It would be irresponsible of me to turn you down. As I said, we've been backed into something of a corner. But there's a saying where I come from:\"a bad student is a weight around his teacher's neck.\" I'd rather go back empty-handed than take someone who isn't ready.\"\n\nYerin still couldn't control her Goldsign well under the collar's influence; the bladed silver arm wobbled as it rose into the air, and she couldn't keep it straight. But it was ten times easier to funnel sword madra through the blade on the end than through her fingernails.\n\nShe gathered her power into it and fixed Eithan with her gaze. \"He dies, and I'm not going anywhere.\"\n\nEithan's eyebrows lifted. \"Oh, you're more than good enough on your own. A Sage is a Sage after all; he had the good fortune to pick you up early, and your foundation is flawless. It would bean honor to pickup where your master left off.\" He swept his arm toward the stone door. \"But I find myself intrigued by your Copper friend.\"\n\nYerin's focus wavered, and some of the madra in her Goldsign dissipated. \" What is it you want from him?\n\n\"To teach him.\" Eithan patted the door like a favored pet, even as Lindon shouted on the other side. \"It's so rare to find a truly blank canvas.\"\n\n\"You're looking for pure madra? Raise your own kid.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"No no, that's easy enough." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The quality I'm looking for, indeed the most important quality for any sacred artist, is drive. He needs the resolve to push through any obstacle in his Path, and that kind of focus is very difficult to teach. But here we have someone who split his own core, a Copper working side-by-side with Golds. Something's driving him, and it might be enough to take him to the top.\"\n\nShe found herself speaking through clenched teeth. \"He's blind, you hear me? The world's all jade beds and silk sheets for him. He's never seen how ugly it gets. He doesn't know.\"\n\nHe'd been mistreated by his clan, that was true. But he'd never fought for his own life. He'd never clawed his way out of a pile of bodies until he was elbow-deep in blood. He'd never woken to find that his only family was dead... and pushed through that crushing weight to draw his sword anyway.\n\nEithan leaned one shoulder against the wall, considering her. \"What do you think I'm trying to teach him?\"\n\nSuddenly, he sounded just like her master. It brought up memories she'd just as soon have left buried.\n\nA white forest, long ago. A ring of swords in the snow.\n\nYerin ran a thumb across one paper-thin scar on the back of her hand, remembering. Her madra dissipated, her Goldsign retreating.\n\nEithan was smart enough not to crow about his victory. If he had given her so much as a smug look, she'd have peeled his face away. Instead, he spoke as though nothing had happened. \"Your foundation is excellent, as I'd expect from a master like yours. But I'm sure you know your advancement is lacking.\"\n\nShe didn't even need to nod. Within Lowgold, she could call herself strong. But the gap to Highgold was a chasm. She could barely control her Goldsign, much less the powerful madra that had come with her master's Remnant. She'd left it mostly alone so far; when she touched that reserve of inherited power, she felt like an infant strapped to the back of a war-trained stallion. She didn't even like to think of it." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I'm sure the Sage of the Endless Sword would have had greater insight in regards to sword Paths, but I can offer a few observations of my own.\"\n\nShe looked from his pristine hair to his expensive, unstained clothes. \"You think you're a sword artist, do you?\"\n\nIf he said he was, she wasn't listening to another word from this liar's mouth.\n\n\"I prefer not to use a weapon at all. None of them seem to suit me. But sword Paths are common because they're very simple.\"\n\nShe was still trying to figure out if he needed his teeth punched out for that insult when he continued. \"You need to push yourself.\"\n\nShe gave that some measured thought. True, she'd felt something when she fought off three Sandviper soldiers on the slopes of Mount Samara. Not comfortable, exactly, but like she was moving along a familiar road. And it hadn't been long ago when she'd honed herself to the peak of Jade by engaging in endless battle with the Heaven's Glory School.\n\nEithan continued, still leaning against the door that held a begging Lindon. \"Advancement along sword Paths is very straightforward at this stage. Immerse yourself in the sword, cycle on the battlefield, and find opponents who will push you to the very edge of life and death. There's a reason why it's one of the most common aspects.\"\n\nYerin nodded once. Her teacher had said similar things, but every stage of advancement was different. He'd actually stopped her from fighting when she was Iron, for fear that she'd ruin her foundation for Jade. \"You know where I can find any of that inhere?\"\n\nHe grinned and pushed off from the wall. \"You'll need your sword to really practice, so just sit and cycle until I return. We have to make sure you're in your best condition, don't we?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Eithan paused fora moment, then added, \"If he dies before I get back, you should know that I am sorry." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But some Paths are shorter than others.\"\n\nBefore she could respond, he hooked a finger under his iron collar and tugged. With a wrenching shriek, the iron split and tore.\n\nHe tossed the ruined metal behind him and left, whistling a cheery tune.\n\nYerin pulled at her own collar, just in case someone had replaced it with a rusted copy, but it remained firm. She could just barely scrape together enough madra to Enforce herself, but not enough to tear metal with her bare hands. She and Eithan should have been on the same level: left with nothing more than the strength of their bodies. They might as well have been Iron.\n\nHow had he done it?\n\nSomething smacked against the door from the other side, and Yerin stopped fiddling with her collar. She stared at the scripted line of stone, aching for her spiritual sight. Without it, she felt like she had one eye plucked out.\n\n\"Lindon?\"\n\nSilence fora moment, then something scrambled on the floor. Seconds later, Lindon's voice came through, ragged and breathless. \"Can you open the door? Is Eithan there? How did he close it?\"\n\nYerin sighed. \"I'm coming up empty on that count. You're stuck with a rusty patch, that I can tell you.\"\n\nA muffled sound that she couldn't identify came between her words and his response. \"Yerin,\" he said, \"I'm going to die. I can't... I can't do this, I'm running them around in circles, but I don't have... anything.\"\n\nShe wasn't sure that she heard every word, but she got the main thrust of it. She'd said the same things to her master, over and over again, ever since she was a girl." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Yerin sat, leaning her back against the door. \"You've got no cards left in your hand, you're staring death in the eyes, and nobody's thereto pull you out. That sound true so far?\"\n\n\"Yerin, please, it's coming back.\"\n\nShe continued. \"That's how you advance. When you can't count on anybody else, that's when you know if you've got what it takes. It's painful, it's bloody, and it's hard. You can take shortcuts if you've got a fortune to burn on elixirs and treasures, but if you don't...\"\n\nAnother scuffle came from behind her, and Lindon didn't respond. He may have been fighting, but she continued talking as though he could hear. \"The sacred arts area game, and your life is the only thing you've got to bet. You want to move up? This is what up looks like.\"\n\nSilence washer only response.\n\nShe sat against the door, remembering all the times she'd stared death in the eyes. It had started when she was a young girl, before she'd met her master, and she was sure the heavens would strike her dead for her sins. That had lasted for... longer than she cared to recall.\n\nLindon didn't deserve anything like that, but here he was anyway. The longer the silence stretched, the more certain she became that he was dead. She couldn't say she hadn't seen it coming; if you bet on the longest odds, you were going to lose more than you won.\n\nBut she waited in the endless dark of the Ruins, only the flickering light of the script on the wall for company, straining her ears as time slid by.\n\nWhen she finally caught a sound, it almost deafened her. The explosion was like across between a wolf's howl and the crack of a firework, and it came with a green flash from the gaps around the door." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She was on her feet in a second, slapping the heel of her hand against the door and demanding to know what was happening.\n\nFor the first minutes, she heard only scrapes and grunts from the other side, like a man dragging something heavy across the ground. After an age, footsteps.\n\n\"Forgive me,\" Lindon said, his voice strained and tight. \"I was begging like a coward, and I made you listen. I am ashamed.\"\n\n\"Everything steady in there, Lindon?\" she asked, straining her ears as though she could hear an injury. \" All your pieces still on? '\n\nThis time, she thought she heard a faint note of pride. \"Sacred beasts are still beasts, after all. I crushed them under a rock. Their Remnants were the tricky part, but I tossed a scale between them and they fought for it until one died. Had to tear the dead one's tail off and use the stinger to finish off the other, but that's nothing to a sacred artist, right?\"\n\n\"Just one more day,\" Yerin said, letting out a deep breath and relaxing against the door again. \"Don't know why you're crowing about it. Any day where I haven't beaten a Remnant to death with its own limb is a holiday.\"\n\nHe gave a weak laugh. \"Forgiveness. I let my head get too big.\" He hesitated, and then added, \"If you could find away to open the door, I would still be grateful.\"\n\nFora second, she thought it was a heaven-sent miracle: at his words, the door actually started to grind open.\n\n\"I had every faith in you!\" Eithan called from only a few feet down the hall, and Yerin staggered to her feet. She hadn't felt him approach at all. She knew it was the collar's effect, but it was still unnerving, as though he'd popped out of nowhere." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Eithan removed his hand from the script, smiling broadly. The Thousand-Mile Cloud floated behind him, sullen and red, with Lindon's pack seated comfortably on top of it. Two packs, in fact: his big one, bulging with all the knickknacks he carried around, and the smaller one he'd planned on filling with scales stolen from the Sandvipers.\n\nAnd beneath it, peeking out from the edge of the cloud, her sheathed sword.\n\n\"If you can get out anytime you want,\" Yerin said, \"let's leave. This place is like a graveyard stuffed into a cave.\"\n\n\"Why leave?\" Eithan asked. \"Everything we need is right here.\"\n\nThe door had opened completely by then, revealing Lindon standing stunned at the bottom of the stairs. He was leaning with one hand on the wall, displaying a collection of scrapes and bruises, but the corpse of a Sandviper Remnant lay sprawled on the stairs behind him. He held a bright green stinger as long as his arm in one hand, hilt wrapped in cloth so he didn't have to touch the toxic madra directly. He'd torn off one of his sleeves to provide the fabric.\n\nTruth was, he actually looked like areal sacred artist. With his sharp eyes, broad shoulders, and the severed Remnant arm bleeding sparks of essence, he looked like a Jade ready to advance to Lowgold. It was a much better look on him than how she'd found him, all clean and cringing and weak.\n\nEithan tossed the two packs to Lindon, who had to drop his improvised weapon to catch them. He stumbled back a few steps, almost falling onto the stairs.\n\n\"Make sure to take notes,\" Eithan said, pointing to the pack. \"Wear your parasite ring and keep your breathing straight. I put some scales in therefor you, but I'm keeping the cloud.\" He patted the construct with one hand. \"I need abed.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Then he slapped the wall, and the door started sliding shut again.\n\nLindon lunged forward, but Eithan had already thrust his palm forward. He struck Lindon in the chest, sending him tumbling backwards.\n\nWhen the door slammed closed, Lindon screamed wordlessly from the other side.\n\nEithan brushed his sleeves, smiling at Yerin as though he'd heard nothing. \"That should keep him occupied fora few weeks. Now, I believe I mentioned something about you needing an opponent.\"\n\nHe tossed her sheathed sword to her and drew a weapon of his own: a pair of wrought iron fabric scissors.\n\n\"Best weapon I could find,\" he said apologetically, snipping them open and closed. \"Now, if you're ready, let's begin.\"\n\n---\n\nJai Long was having Fisher problems.\n\nKral's father, the chief of the Sandviper sect, still hadn't returned from his hunt. He'd sent word that he was alive and well, but that was little comfort to Jai Long, because the chief's absence meant that Kral was in charge.\n\nAnd Kral took responsibility in one way: by leaving it to Jai Long.\n\nSo it was that he found himself standing next to the First Fisher, Ragahn, waiting for the old man to say something.\n\nThey stood in the shade of an old tree-its leaves were half blackened by the rot of the dreadbeasts, like so much in the Desolate Wilds, but it provided a relief from the sun nonetheless.\n\nRagahn, the leader of the Fisher sect, looked like a beggar who had chosen that spot to plead for coins. His gray hair hung loose, his feet were bare, his robe brown and stained, and his Fisher's hook-the blade longer than his arm and sharp on the inside-was made of rust-patched iron, dangling carelessly from his belt. He held a net over one shoulder, packed tight with severed dreadbeast parts. They were fresh, still dripping blood, and the stench was almost painful." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But Jai Long stood there, his expression covered by the strips of cloth that masked his Goldsign. He peered out through the gap in the red mask, resisting the temptation to cover the silence.\n\nThe First Fisher had come to him before dawn, almost exactly two weeks after Jai Long had sent Gesha's recruits into the mines. He'd assumed that was what the visit was about, but the old man had never said. He simply grunted, indicated that Jai Long should follow him outside, and then left.\n\nFor the next hour, they'd stood underneath a tree, as the bloody pieces in the Fisher's net slowly dried.\n\nJai Long wondered if this patience was perhaps the secret of Ragahn's advancement. The beggar chief was one of the few Truegolds in the entire Wilds, which meant that he'd gained complete control over the Remnant in his core. His Goldsign was very subtle; a stranger may not even notice the webs between his fingers.\n\nOnce, Truegold had seemed like the pinnacle of achievement. He'd worked himself half to death to get closer, eventually achieving Highgold himself, only to discover that his particular Goldsign would never go away. His face would remain hideous no matter how far he advanced.\n\nNow, he had other reasons to work. The Jai clan wouldn't take his sister back anymore, and she had no one else. To create a home for her, even Truegold wouldn't be enough.\n\nFinally, the First Fisher spoke. \"Have you finished your map?\"\n\nJai Long didn't dare to twitch to betray his support. He responded with bland confidence. \"My miners keep their eyes open.\"\n\nRagahn adjusted his grip on the net. \"You have. So why aren't you holding the spear?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He was right. Jai Long had finished the map over a week ago, but they still didn't understand the script running throughout the Ruins, so he couldn't access the chambers he needed to open the top of the pyramid. The spear should be inside, though he had no independent confirmation of that. If it wasn't, he was going to have some harsh questions to answer when Kral's father returned.\n\nIt was frustrating, because Jai Long may have been able to force his way in with a more varied toolset. He had access only to artists on the Path of the Sandviper, as well as his own Path of the Stellar Spear. Neither of them were suited for scouting or breaking seals.\n\nBut Fishers adopted a peculiar twist on the aspect of force. In someway that Jai Long didn't understand, they could draw objects in like fishermen pulling on invisible lines. They might have someway to open the doors without manipulating the script.\n\nIf the First Fisher was hereto strike some sort of bargain, then a little honesty might be in order.\n\n\"The script has slowed our progress,\" Jai Long allowed. \"I'm confident that we will make our way inside, given enough time.\"\n\n\"Time,\" Ragahn repeated, as though chewing on the word. \"The Arelius family is almost here. I've seen the black crescent banners myself. Three days, no more.\"\n\nJai Long would hardly have met with an enemy without a weapon in his hand, and his knuckles whitened around his spear's shaft. He'd hoped fora little more time. Unless something changed, he wouldn't be able to break the script in three days.\n\nHe was about to bend his own pride far enough to ask for help when the First Fisher spoke. \"I'll buy your map.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You want to pay for it?\"\n\n\"It's useless to you. Mayas well make a profit. I'll take it, clean out the Ruins before the Underlord gets here.\"\n\nLeaving nothing for Jai Long, much less the Sandvipers.\n\nThe First Fisher would no doubt pay well for the map. He was one of the richest individuals in the Wilds, despite his appearance, and he had his reputation to consider. If he shorted a sect like the Sandvipers, none of the other factions would deal with him.\n\nBut that would require Jai Long to admit defeat.\n\n\"I would be happy to share whatever bounty we find inside the Ruins with anyone who participates in its retrieval. If you would like to lend me your abilities, I will distribute rewards on merit.\"\n\nRagahn chuckled deep in his chest, as though trying to rid himself of a cough. \"The bones of the earth will bend before a sacred artist's pride.\"\n\nHe heaved the net of severed dreadbeast limbs off his shoulder and dropped it next to the tree trunk, turning to Jai Long. He spread empty, webbed hands in a show of peace. \"We'll compete with honor, to save face for our sects.\"\n\n\"You can't call that a competition,\" Jai Long said, contempt in his voice. \"The other factions will never stand for it.\" Ragahn was a Truegold, with the power to do whatever he wished, and Jai Long couldn't stop him. But honor and fear for the Fisher reputation should keep the old man from pushing a mere Highgold around.\n\nThe First Fisher slowly shook his head. \"You question my honor again, boy, and you're taking your life in your hands.\"\n\nJai Long carefully did not shiver." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No, I happen to have a disciple. He's Highgold himself, like you are, and he's more than happy to stand fora traditional duel. Aren't you, Lokk?\"\n\nHe raised his voice on the last word, and Lokk of the Fishers stepped out of the trees a hundred yards away. He raised a hand in greeting, then dashed toward them, covering the distance with impressive speed. Jai Long had met the man before; he was early in his second decade and had already reached Highgold, which made him a peer with Kral and Jai Long.\n\nHe was short but thin, with disproportionately long arms and a pair of steel Fisher's hooks on his back. He and his sister were the only two Fishers who used a pair of hooks in battle, as far as Jai Long knew.\n\nHe wondered if the man had been waiting in the woods for over an hour, just in case his name was called. With a manlike the First Fisher as his master, he probably did a lot of waiting.\n\nLokk bowed over his fists to Ragahn. \"The disciple greets his master,\" he said, then bowed again to Jai Long. \"We could settle this debate by exchanging pointers, as fellow travelers on the path of sacred arts.\"\n\nThis move of the First Fisher's didn't surprise Jai Long. Sects and Schools dueled one another as often as clans did, for any and all reasons: for pride, for trading rights, to settle disputes, to avoid wholesale slaughter. The faction capable of raising the best disciple was considered to be the strongest, and the strongest got what they wanted.\n\nHe had no problem with the logic, but Ragahn was trying to get him to draw his weapon. If he did... well, it was rare to emerge from a duel unscathed. And since Jai Long was currently the de facto leader of the Sandviper sect, any wound on his part would result in a weakening of the Sandvipers as a whole. Win or lose, the First Fisher would get what he wanted. And if Jai Long refused, his reputation would take a hit that might be more fatal than a physical wound. Even the Sandvipers would turn on a coward." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Fortunately, Jai Long had planned ahead. He gestured, and a watching Sandviper relayed his signal.\n\nKral emerged from a nearby building, standing tall and proud. His fine furs were as rich and dark as his hair, and his sandviper Goldsign twisted around his arm. He covered the distance between them in seconds, arriving before Ragahn in a gust of wind.\n\nThe two Fishers exchanged looks with one another, but Jai Long couldn't read their expressions.\n\n\"Fisher Lokk,\" Kral began, his tone imperious. \"I, Kral of the Sandvipers, request an exchange of the sacred arts. Let the words of the stronger sect be heard.\"\n\nThe old man crossed his arms. \"You'd risk your young chief?\"\n\nJai Long almost laughed. Ragahn knew full well who guided the Sandvipers in Gokren's absence. \"The Fishers are worthy of facing our best.\"\n\nKral swelled at the praise, though he knew it wasn't sincere. Though they were both Highgold, Jai Long had never lost a sparring match to the Sandviper heir.\n\nBut that didn't mean he wasn't good enough to deal with a beggar's apprentice.\n\nFisher Ragahn nodded as though he thought Jai Long was speaking good sense. \"Very well. Fight until the winner is clear. If there is danger, I'll step in.\"\n\nIt traditionally fell to the elders to intervene in a fight and stop injuries on either side, but there were usually elders representing both halves of a duel. If Lokk was in danger, Jai Long had no doubt that Ragahn would move like lightning, but Kral was almost entirely on his own.\n\nNot that you would know it from watching him. The Sandviper heir cast his furs onto the ground behind him, slowly sliding each awl from his belt as though expecting the mere sight of them to daunt his opponent. He ran green madra along the edge of each spike, displaying them like a street performer." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lokk, by contrast, drew a curved blade in each hand and stood there. If purple madra flickered somewhat between the hilts and the blades, it looked like an accident. His expression was placid as still water.\n\nIf Jai Long was honest, he found the Fisher's display more intimidating.\n\nNo one signaled the beginning of the match, but both men sprang into action nonetheless. The first exchange was sudden and violent; hooks flew out from their handles as though attached to invisible ropes, whipping toward Kral. The Sandviper gathered green madra into a swirl around his awl, stabbing forward.\n\nThree spikes of Forged Sandviper madra condensed around his weapon, driving forward with him.\n\nThe Sandvipers called that move the Four Fangs of the Serpent, but it was really a very ordinary Forger technique. It was only the most basic type of Forging-the madra would stay solid fora few seconds, and then dissipate-but it was still effective. It would be like facing four attacks at once.\n\nLokk's hooks crashed through the Sandviper technique, sending fizzing shards of green madra spinning to the ground. The grass fizzed around the venomous madra. The tips of his blades landed on Kral's back, puncturing the skin, but the Sandviper chief had taken the move in order to land a move of his own. He continued driving the awl forward, aiming at the Fisher's chest.\n\nJust when Jai Long started to hope that Kral was really pointing at the other man's shoulder-because he didn't want to have to defend the young chief from an angry First Fisher-he learned why Ragahn had chosen to wait under a large tree.\n\nA rope of purple madra flashed into existence behind Lokk, connecting his spine to a branch of the tree. It shrunk rapidly, hauling the Fisher up and away from Kral's attack." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Hauled back by a rope of his own madra, Lokk landed neatly on the lowest branch. He held only a pair of hilts; the bladed hooks were still stuck in Kral's back.\n\n\"Thank you forgoing easy on me,\" Lokk said, his tone polite.\n\nRagahn turned to Jai Long as though asking if the duel was over, but Kral's expression was distorted in fury. He dropped one awl, and the aura around the tree rippled green.\n\n\"Down!\" Fisher Ragahn shouted, making a beckoning motion to his disciple. Invisible force caught Lokk, pulling him away from the tree.\n\nHe stopped in midair, hovering only a few feet from the trunk. He hadn't undone his own Forged tether, and now he was bound in place.\n\nThe First Fisher leaped into the air, but Jai Long's senses were already overwhelmed by bright green aura.\n\nSandviper madra drew on aura from toxins, poison, and corrosion of all kinds. It was a Path born in the swamp, originally created as an adaptation to the dread corruption of the Wilds.\n\nAnd this tree's leaves were half blackened.\n\nRuler techniques were faster and more powerful when the necessary vital aura was ready to hand, and the tree was riddled with poison. It burst into a harsh green cloud as though exploding in emerald flame, covering both Fishers.\n\nJai Long dashed over to Kral, seizing one of the bladed hooks as best he could without slicing his own hand open. He tugged one out of the flesh, leading to a pained moan from the Sandviper chief.\n\n\"It's only pain,\" Jai Long said, pulling the second free. \"Your ascension to Iron was worse.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I beat him,\" Kral panted.\n\n\"Let's see if it was worth it.\"\n\nRagahn had emerged from the toxic cloud-unscathed, of course-with an unconscious apprentice in his hands. Lokk twitched wildly as his master drifted down to the ground, as slowly as if he were lowered on a wire.\n\nJai Long stood straight, grinding the butt of his spear into the ground. \"Your disciple fought well,\" he said.\n\nThe unspoken words floated in the air:... but he lost.\n\nFisher Ragahn turned a gaze on him, and though his expression was still blank, his eyes held a deeply banked anger.\n\nHe was a sacred artist too, after all. His pride was more dear to him than his life.\n\nFortunately, that same pride was keeping his anger in check.\n\n\"The Fishers will honor our debts,\" he said. \"You'll have my best for the next three days. But if Arelius shows up and takes everything, I'll hold you accountable.\"\n\nHe flew off, lashing himself to the trees with along line of purple madra and pulling himself forward.\n\n\"They aren't the most grateful losers,\" Kral said, wincing as he straightened himself. The wounds would pain him fora few days, but Sandvipers were tenacious. He'd heal quickly.\n\n\"We haven't won yet,\" Jai Long said.\n\nThere were still three days to go." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Chapter 15\n\nLindon levered himself up to a seated position, the flare of pain letting him know that he may have a cracked rib. He set the pain aside. It was nothing to the damage in his legs, which lay swollen and useless on the ground in front of him. He hadn't been able to walk for days.\n\nHe reached over and slid the glass case closer, using the three un-broken fingers on his left hand. One of his eyes was swollen shut, but through the other he watched the Sylvan.\n\nShe spun in place, arms swaying as though dancing to some music he couldn't hear. He'd started to think of it as female, though he had no reason to think she had a gender at all. Maybe it was the flowing madra of her lower half, which made her look like she was wearing a dress.\n\nRegardless, the Sylvan had been his only companion these two weeks besides Yerin's voice through the door. He'd fed her what dribbles of his spare madra he could afford to Forge, and she'd grown almost half an inch. Her translucent blue form looked more solid, though that could have been his imagination, and she expressed a greater range of actions. Just yesterday she had swum a full lap of her tank inside the ever-flowing river.\n\nLindon looked up from the case to regard his fortress.\n\nIt was a slipshod attempt at defense-he'd used the claws of the spider-construct in his pack to cut dead matter away from the Remnants that regularly attacked him. With those pieces, those bright blue shells and shimmering green limbs, he'd boxed himself in. His back was to the door, and his fortress was piled up against the stairs. He'd backed himself into a corner, which had led to a few tense moments as he had nowhere to run, but he refused to move his fortification to the top of the stairs. If the door ever opened, he wanted to be able to run through in an instant." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Though he was starting to lose hope that the door would ever open.\n\nWhile watching the Sylvan, he reached over to a binding shaped like a twisted blue seashell. He had to replace the dead matter in his walls everyday or two, as it bled away regularly, but he used his own madra to supplement his few useful bindings. He'd been fortunate to find this one, which Gesha had demonstrated for him a few weeks before: it produced water.\n\nHe drank only a few swallows; he didn't have anymore madra to spare. Most of his power each day went to refreshing the essential bindings and his weapon, the severed Sandviper stinger with the cloth-wrapped hilt. He cycled the rest of it, pushing madra through every square inch of his body.\n\nDespite the haze of agony that hungover him constantly-and the series of sudden, vicious attacks that had driven fear so deep into his soul that he thought it would never leave-he was pleased with the weeks of work. The razor-edged tension had done wonders for his advancement, since there was nothing to do here but cycle and prepare to be attacked. And the slightest moment of inattention would result in his inevitable death.\n\nOne of his cores was at the peak of Copper, almost ready to overflow and pour through his body in the transition to Iron. He'd finally raised his second core to Copper as well, but focused most of his effort on one. That had been Yerin's advice.\n\nEithan's breathing technique had almost gotten him killed in the first few days, when he lost his breath in the middle of a fight and his madra fell out of control. Now, he rarely lost the rhythm, and he'd started to seethe advantages: his madra recovered much more quickly, and he was sure he could advance to Iron any day he wanted." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "That wasn't entirely true. He wanted to advance right now, because breaking through the barrier to Iron completely reforged the body. Advancing to Copper had cleansed him of scrapes, cuts, and bruises, and Iron was supposed to be a more thorough transformation. When Yerin told him that it would heal his broken legs, he'd almost cried from the effort not to force an advancement now.\n\nBut if he advanced before he was ready, he would damage his own foundation. That was the only thing that held him back. If his Iron body wasn't perfect, he wouldn't be guaranteed Highgold, much less the heights Suriel had challenged him to reach.\n\nThe blue marble satin a corner, its flame straight and steady inside the glass barrier. He stared at it everyday as he cycled, meditating on it. Suriel had believed he could do this. She'd known he would meet suffering even worse than this, and he would come out on the other side stronger.\n\nHe seized on that like a mantra, clutching it like the edge of a cliff.\n\nOnly one problem remained: his progress was too slow.\n\nHe'd only pushed madra through half of his body at most. He could execute a basic Enforcer technique now, making himself stronger for short periods of time, which he had hastily scrawled into the Path of Twin Stars in excitement. But he needed to suffuse his body with madra, soaking it completely, and he was at least another week away from that. Probably two.\n\nAnd his body was done.\n\nWith two broken legs, one eye swollen shut, two broken fingers on each hand, a cracked rib, and more wounds and complaints than he could even remember, he wouldn't survive another attack. The day had been quiet so far, which was a blessing from the heavens as far as he was concerned, but something else would come. A twisted dreadbeast, a sandviper, a Remnant. At least he stood a chance against the Remnant, thanks to the scripts he'd left scraped into the top of the stairs." }, { "from": "human", "value": "But even if he survived today, he'd never last until he finished laying the groundwork for Iron." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "If nothing else, he'd starve. Sandvipers tasted like chicken livers soaked in acid, but they were the best thing he'd found to eat inhere. On the fourth day, he'd even been fortunate enough to find a binding that produced fire.\n\nAs injured as he was, he couldn't catch food anymore. He'd burned through Eithan's supply of scales in a week, using them to push the barrier of his core further and further, and then he'd started Forging his own.\n\nAt first, he'd wondered how a scale he'd Forged would help further his own advancement. It felt a bit like eating your own arm for sustenance. But it was quite simple, in practice: he Forged the madra, condensing it into a scale and setting it aside. Then he cycled to restore his madra to its peak condition and swallowed the scale again. Pushed beyond its capacity, his core stretched a little.\n\nGradually, by repeating that process over and over, he'd stretched his core to the limit of Copper. When his body was ready, he'd push the core just a little further, and then it would spillover and run through all the channels he was patiently preparing.\n\nBut that brought him back to the original problem.\n\nHe'd poured out his concerns to Yerin, who listened until the end. She'd kept him sane during these two weeks, though she was never as impressed with his accomplishments as she ought to be. To her, any sacred artist should be able to survive fora few weeks under constant attack.\n\nFinally, when he'd finished explaining that he couldn't possibly finish driving madra through his body before he died, and she had to convince Eithan to release him, she satin silence fora moment.\n\nThen she said, \"Have my eyes gone soft, or is it getting bright in there?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "At first he assumed that was one of her expressions, and \"bright\" meant his situation was getting more hopeful. Then he looked at the walls.\n\nBetween the glow of Suriel's marble and the soft luminescence of the Remnant bodies piled around, it was actually quite bright in his little nook. So it took him a moment to realize that there were faint sparks playing inside the script that wrapped the chamber.\n\nHe contained his excitement. It really meant nothing to his situation, though any sign of change thrilled him. \"Have you asked Eithan? Is he there, by chance?\"\n\nEithan had said nothing to Lindon directly over the past two weeks. Not a word. Yerin had consulted with him a few times on an answer to one of Lindon's sacred arts questions, but otherwise he might as well have left. He spent his days with Yerin, locked in combat that Lindon could hear crashing through the door, and more than once Lindon had shed actual tears of envy.\n\nNow, the light in the script meant the possibility of hearing from Eithan. And that conversation could be the key that opened the door.\n\nYerin left, and only minutes later, anew voice came through. Lindon closed his eyes, fora moment just savoring the sound of someone else's voice. It had been so long.\n\n\"I'm sorry to cut this phase of your training short, Lindon, but it looks as though someone has lit a fuse for us. They're fooling with the script, so power is flowing into empty chambers. Bad news is, this door's going to open soon.\"\n\nLindon's spirits soared.\n\n\"But don't worry. The power is being drawn to the top of the pyramid, so every dreadbeast and Remnant in the Ruins will follow us.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "His spirits crashed back down to earth, and he almost cried.\n\nThe wait for the door to slide open felt longer than the previous two weeks. Lindon stared at the blank stone slab, every twitch of his body sending notes of pain through him like a symphony of agony.\n\nFinally, the lines of script running along the wall flared brighter. Light grew along the bottom, and the door lifted away from the floor.\n\nTears welled in Lindon's one good eye, and he swiped them away. Better if they saw him as a grizzled survivor of suffering, rather than a boy waiting to be rescued. Though gaining a reputation as a coward would be worth it so long as they took him away.\n\nWhen the door opened, Eithan was holding an arm over his nose. \"I didn't expect you to smell of rosewater and lavender, but it would have been considerate of you to bathe.\"\n\nLindon stared at him over the crude splints binding his two broken legs.\n\nYerin advanced without comment. Her hair had grown slightly uneven again, and the new sacred artist's robe that she'd received from the Fishers was little more than a collection of black tatters. She smiled at him out of one corner of her mouth and then stepped past him, gripping her sheathed sword.\n\nWith a grunt, she hauled one of the half-ruined Remnant corpses away from his wall and peered out. \"Still scarce for now,\" she said. \"But we should scurry.\"\n\nEithan looked Lindon up and down. \"It's been hard on you.\"\n\nLindon held his eyes very wide so he didn't tear up.\n\nLowering his sleeve, Eithan revealed a curious expression. \"Was it worth it?\"" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Assist in storytelling and proceed with the tale.\nTags: fantasy, progression fantasy, sacred arts\nAuthor: Will Wight\nTitle: Soulsmith\nChapter: 19" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "His spirits crashed back down to earth, and he almost cried.\n\nThe wait for the door to slide open felt longer than the previous two weeks. Lindon stared at the blank stone slab, every twitch of his body sending notes of pain through him like a symphony of agony.\n\nFinally, the lines of script running along the wall flared brighter. Light grew along the bottom, and the door lifted away from the floor.\n\nTears welled in Lindon's one good eye, and he swiped them away. Better if they saw him as a grizzled survivor of suffering, rather than a boy waiting to be rescued. Though gaining a reputation as a coward would be worth it so long as they took him away.\n\nWhen the door opened, Eithan was holding an arm over his nose. \"I didn't expect you to smell of rosewater and lavender, but it would have been considerate of you to bathe.\"\n\nLindon stared at him over the crude splints binding his two broken legs.\n\nYerin advanced without comment. Her hair had grown slightly uneven again, and the new sacred artist's robe that she'd received from the Fishers was little more than a collection of black tatters. She smiled at him out of one corner of her mouth and then stepped past him, gripping her sheathed sword.\n\nWith a grunt, she hauled one of the half-ruined Remnant corpses away from his wall and peered out. \"Still scarce for now,\" she said. \"But we should scurry.\"\n\nEithan looked Lindon up and down. \"It's been hard on you.\"\n\nLindon held his eyes very wide so he didn't tear up.\n\nLowering his sleeve, Eithan revealed a curious expression. \"Was it worth it?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "With his less injured arm, Lindon pushed himself up straighter to slowly execute a seated bow. Sweat beaded on his forehead from the pain in his ribs, but he forced himself through it. \"Gratitude, elder. This one cannot repay the favor.\"\n\nThese two weeks had been the worst in Lindon's life, but half a month of agony was nothing compared to a lifetime of helplessness.\n\nNow, he was on the verge of Iron. Iron might be nothing but a child's accomplishment out here, but his parents were only Iron. He hadn't even turned sixteen yet, so he'd surpass his sister.\n\nIf he returned to Sacred Valley, the Wei clan wouldn't just welcome him back. They'd reward him. He would be their new idol, the one they paraded in front of the other clans to show their superiority.\n\nThe idea was so sweet that it almost choked him.\n\nFar more important was that he'd taken his first stepson the Path Suriel had shown him. He might really surpass Gold, and Eithan had helped him.\n\nFor that alone, he really did owe the yellow-haired man a debt he couldn't repay.\n\nEithan smiled broadly, pleased with his answer. \"That's good,\" he said. \"Because it isn't over yet.\"\n\nYerin glanced back over her shoulder, giving him a look of pity.\n\n\"You're only halfway through pushing madra channels through your entire body, so if you advanced to Iron now, you'd be crippling your own future. Lowgold would be difficult, and you may reach Highgold in your old age.\"\n\nNever would Lindon have thought that reaching Gold would be the lowest he would aim for.\n\n\"Even if you had finished, you will have reached only the most ordinary sort of Iron. If you were very gifted or lucky, perhaps you could reach the peak of Truegold. Underlord would be a distant dream.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Pardon my rudeness, but does that mean there's another option?\"\n\nEithan's smile widened further. \"You need a perfect Iron body.\"\n\nLindon liked the sound of that. \"Yerin mentioned that sacred artists prepared for each stage, but I'm afraid my family didn't have such a custom. To us, Iron was Iron.\"\n\n\"Well, contrary to what your family may have taught you, Iron comes in several flavors. Every serious sacred artist trains their body before advancing.\"\n\nOnce again, Lindon was acutely aware that he'd missed something that everyone else considered commonsense. \"I'll do whatever I have to,\" he said. And then, a bit late, \"... what do I have to do?\"\n\n\"How did your master prepare you, Yerin?\"\n\n\"I was probably seven, maybe eight,\" Yerin said conversationally. \"Master dropped me in a black pool, and it stung like fire. Water drilled right down into me until I thought I was dead for sure. Three days and three nights I squirmed like a worm on a frying pan, breathing through a reed. Then he let me out.\"\n\nShe slapped one arm. \"Steelborn body, he called it. You don't see much out of it until you're past Gold, but once you hit Underlord, it's supposed to be the best Iron body in the world for pure brute strength. Same one my master had.\"\n\n\"And a wise man he was,\" Eithan said. \"A fine choice for you, and for your Path. Me, I was born with eyes faster than my hands, so to speak. I needed the reaction speed to keep up with my detection, so my family put me through the training for the Raindrop body. Poetic name; you're supposed to be able to thread through drops in a rainstorm without getting wet, though I've never found that to be true.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"What did you have to do for that?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lindon asked.\n\n\"I played games. Catching birds as they ran off, running as fast as I could, hitting balls back with sticks, that sort of thing.\"\n\nYerin and Lindon both remained silent for several breaths.\n\n\"What can I say? Not everyone grows up suffering in the wilderness.\" He leaned closer to Lindon, though he did pinch his nose as he did so. \"We could give you your choice, if we had a month or two. But we don't, we need to move you very soon. Today would be ideal, since tomorrow I'd give you even odds of being devoured alive.\"\n\n\"Ideal,\" Lindon said. \"Yes, I agree, that does sound ideal.\"\n\n\"I thought your schedule would open up. Ordinarily I would give you options, as I said, but now we have to forcibly create more madra channels and prepare you for Iron in a single day. That narrows our conditions somewhat, so I would suggest the Bloodforged Iron body.\"\n\nLindon perked up at the name. This one sounded like a legendary technique, something worthy of a powerful sacred artist. \"We can do it here?\"\n\n\"It's the same one the Sandviper sect uses for its initiates,\" Eithan said, \"though of course they call it the Sandviper body. They've really run themselves a rut when it comes to naming their techniques, I can tell you that. They use it to avoid killing themselves with their own venom.\"\n\n\"If it makes you immune to poison, I can see how that might be helpful,\" Lindon said. It wasn't as exciting as he'd imagined something called the \"Bloodforged body\" would be, but he guessed it was practical. Especially if he had to cross through more Sandviper Remnants on the way out." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Eithan considered the statement fora moment. \"\"Immunity to poisons\" is really an impossible concept. Any compound that harms the body is a poison, and there's no one solution for them all. What this will do is naturally draw on your spirit to accelerate your body's ability to restore and protect itself. It should help you against poison, parasites, diseases, infection, and so forth, as well as small wounds.\"\n\nAnything sounded good to Lindon compared to lying herein pain. \"If that's what you recommend, then I humbly accept your advice.\"\n\nEithan held up a finger. \"Before you agree, you should know that there are two ways to create this body, but we're going to have to do it the fast way. And the fast way is terrible.\"\n\nSteel rang as Yerin's sword left its sheath. An instant later, a Remnant cry followed like a high note from a flute.\n\n\"Back to work for me,\" she said. \"But you want to speed things up, that would be golden.\"\n\nShe dashed out of view, and the Remnant screamed again.\n\n\"I think it's time for the fast way,\" Lindon said to Eithan, who nodded.\n\n\"That's what I thought too.\" Then he pulled a squirming sandviper out from behind his back.\n\nLindon recoiled, pushing himself against the wall to get as faraway from the creature. Its centipede legs kicked at the air, its serpentine head baring fangs as it hissed. Its carapace was tan and bright, exactly the color of a desert in the sun.\n\nEithan held it calmly, regarding the monster with something like fascination. \"This isn't one of the corrupted dreadbeasts of this region, you know. It's a perfectly natural sacred beast, it just happens to be hideous. For the first step, you must allow it to bite you. Once the venom is in your blood, you can use your madra to guide it, and it will actually burn channels into your body that madra will be able to follow later. It's unbelievably painful, but it's quick, and you will heal once you advance to Iron. But you have to guide it yourself to keep it from running wild, which means you have to stay conscious.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lindon's mouth was hanging open in horror, but he didn't close it.\n\n\"It gets more disgusting,\" Eithan continued. \"As the Sandviper sect found out so many years ago, you also must drink the blood of the sandviper itself. It helps slow the venom's progress into your organs, making it easier to control. And slightly less likely that you will die.\"\n\nFumbling for his pack, Lindon pulled out the sheaf of yellow papers that was originally the Heart of Twin Stars and was now his personal Path manual. A small brush and portable inkwell followed. He flipped to one of the later pages, filling in the details that Eithan had shared. The motion gave him time to think, with each stroke steadying his shaking hands. Even the pain in his damaged fingers faded as he worked.\n\nEithan waited patiently even as Yerin fought in the distance.\n\nFinally, Lindon had finished recording, and his own heart had settled. If this was the path forward, he was going to walk it. He'd come too far to turn back now.\n\nBut first, he gathered up one of the straps on his pack and placed it between his teeth.\n\n\"I'm ready,\" he said, voice muffled around a mouthful of padded leather. With eyes squeezed shut, he extended his wrist.\n\n\"Breathe carefully,\" Eithan said. \"Cycle.\"\n\nAs Lindon did so, pain flashed like someone had stabbed through his arm. Then the venom came, and his blood burned.\n\nIf anything, Eithan had understated the pain.\n\nVenom cycled in his veins along with every pulse of madra, and Eithan poured coppery blood through his clenched teeth. Lindon bit down on the leather strap through a mouthful of sandviper blood, and bit down just as hard on memories." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The mountains of Sacred Valley, knocked over like towers of sand. Everything he loved, washed away.\n\nLi Markuth, like a monster in a world of children, and Suriel who could pack him up like an old toy.\n\nIf this pain was all it took to approach them, it was a small price.\n\nLindon pushed the venom everywhere he hadn't already worked his madra, forcing it into his muscles, his skin, even the very center of his bones. It was an endless moment, but still over sooner than he'd thought.\n\nHis aching jaw went slack, the blood-stained leather strap falling from his teeth. He panted, losing control of his cycling technique just to fill his lungs with oxygen.\n\nHe tried to open his good eye, but the lid wasn't cooperating. Now that he noticed, his limbs were moving out of his control; his fingertips twitched and his back arched as though someone else had tied strings to him and started to pull.\n\nFinally, he wrenched his eye open and was distracted by his own flesh. Black veins stood out along his skin, tracing lines like a map over every inch of himself he could see.\n\n\"Is that all?\" he croaked out, and Eithan stared at him fora moment.\n\nThen he gave a pure, rich laugh.\n\n\"You tell me,\" the man said finally, wiping a tear from his eye with one finger. \"Not even I can sense your insides better than you can.\"\n\nLindon closed his eye again, cycling madra to get a sense for his own condition. The venom had indeed permeated his own body... but not as thoroughly as he'd expected.\n\n\"I think I could fit some more in,\" Lindon said, though half of him couldn't believe the words were coming from his own mouth." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Eithan shrugged. \"I'm no Sandviper. I've only read about the Bloodforged Iron body. But if you don't think this is enough...\"\n\nHe tossed the mangled corpse of the sandviper aside and reached into his outer robe, producing a second live specimen.\n\nLindon recoiled again, just as he had the first time. \"Would you mind telling me where you're getting those?\"\n\nWith his freehand, Eithan lifted the bloody strap to Lindon's mouth. \"Once more,\" he said.\n\nAgain, Lindon bit down on the padded leather and squeezed his eyes shut.\n\n---\n\nFive of the little sacred beasts had been all that Eithan could scrounge from the Ruins-it seemed that once they knew he was hunting them, they'd started to runaway.\n\nThe fifth was still alive, squirming in his hand and sending out its madra to try and burn away his hand, but he kept it suppressed with his own spirit. The other four were dead, having been drained of both venom and blood. The husks rested on the ground at his feet, twisted and broken.\n\nIn that respect, they looked much like Lindon.\n\nHis body wasn't moving much anymore, as he'd run out of energy sometime in the night. When he twitched, it was like lightning moving through dead flesh more than any conscious attempt at motion, and his skin was all but invisible beneath swollen black veins. Sandviper blood ran from his teeth as his own blood ran from his ears, the corners of his eyes, and even sweated through his pores.\n\nHe'd lasted more than a day, which had left even Eithan astonished. His standards were high-too high, really-but this Copper had still surprised him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Yerin had done well for herself too. She'd fought almost without rest fora full night and most of the next day, and was even now finishing off a pack of twisted dreadbeasts. He kept his eyes on Lindon, but it almost didn't matter; he could still see Yerin, shoulders slumped in weakness, dragging her sword behind her as she limped back to their little enclosure. She passed through their barricade on the stairs, eyes moving to check Lindon's condition...\n\n... and Eithan stepped aside to avoid the sword plunging into his back.\n\n\"You buried him,\" she snarled, heat in her eyes and aura gathering around the edge of her sword.\n\nHe held up both hands to show his innocence, forgetting fora moment that he held alive sandviper in one. That didn't paint the best picture.\n\n\"He asked me to!\" Eithan protested.\n\nThe sword-arm on Yerin's back stabbed in Lindon's direction. She really was getting better with her Goldsign, thanks to his guidance. \"He asked for this?\"\n\nUnder other circumstances, Eithan would have had trouble believing it too. \"I'm performing as instructed. If it helps, I'm as horrified as you are.\"\n\nHer eyes filled with disgust, and she drew her sword back, flooding it with madra fora strike that would be... at best, inconvenient to avoid.\n\nInstead of dodging, he seized Lindon's wrist, holding up the boy's blackened hand. It was curled into a fist so tight that blood leaked out of the palm. Eithan scrubbed away dried blood and grit from a line of metal on Lindon's finger: a halfsilver ring.\n\n\"Do you happen to know what this is?\" he asked, and before she could respond, he answered for her. \"This acts as a filter for madra, refining madra quality during the cycling process. But it makes cycling twice as hard, and it takes twice as long. Like running with weights strapped to your legs.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Yerin's narrowed eyes moved from him to the ring. \"He put that on himself?\"\n\nEithan released Lindon's arm, wiping his hand with a cloth he happened to carry in his pocket. It was difficult to do with only one freehand, the other still clutching a sandviper, but he managed. \"I'll admit, I shut Lindon in this room without concern for his will. But he has kept that ring on everyday since the door first shut. And now...\"\n\nLindon spoke precisely on cue. \"One more...\" he grunted, his voice scraping through a ruined throat. \"One more.\"\n\nEithan shrugged at Yerin's look of astonishment. \"As soon as he asks me to, I'll stop.\"\n\nThen, before the girl could react, he turned and thrust the sandviper's fangs into Lindon's arm.\n\nHe tore the creature's head half off with one hand, preparing to drip the blood into Lindon's mouth as he had done before, but the boy's back seized up. His eyes-well, the one eye not hidden by swelling-rolled up into its socket, and foam bubbled up quickly at the mouth.\n\n\"Ah,\" Eithan said, setting the sandviper corpse aside. \"That was too much.\"\n\nYerin dropped her sword and fell to her knees, pressing fingers against Lindon's throat. \"What's the cure?\"\n\nEithan wiped his bloody hand off on Lindon's clothes, then fished around in his pocket until he grabbed the scale waiting at the very bottom. \"The venom has escaped his control and passed into the heart, so he's dead.\" He withdrew the blue crystal coin, holding it up for her consideration. \"Unless we trigger the transformation to Iron.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He hesitated a moment, considering the accuracy of his own words. Honesty was very important.\n\n\"There's always the possibility that it will take too long, and then he'll be brain dead,\" he clarified. \"He can't breathe like this, you see.\"\n\nYerin snatched the scale from his hand.\n\nClutching it in her fist, she broke the structure and reverted it to madra, using her spirit to force a flow of blue-white energy into Lindon's mouth.\n\nThat wouldn't be enough. His madra wasn't cycling at the moment, and her soul wasn't strong enough to do it for him. Not quickly, anyway.\n\nSo Eithan did it for her.\n\nHe pushed his palm against Lindon's core-the one swollen with energy, ready to spillover and advance into Iron-and guided the scale's madra within. It flexed, resisting fora second before cracking like a broken dam.\n\nThe madra flooded all through Lindon's body, expelling all physical impurities and transforming him with the power of the soul. His core would condense and restore itself into a smaller, denser form, transmuted from Copper to Iron.\n\nEithan took a quickstep back.\n\nThe Iron transformation was never neat or pretty, as the body expelled impurities through any medium, but this was particularly gruesome. Black blood oozed through Lindon's skin, his muscles convulsing beneath as though they were liquefying and pouring out. Black tears ran from his bloodshot eye, and apparently his throat wasn't quite as far gone as Eithan had thought, because his screams were deafening.\n\nThe black substance oozing from Lindon's body carried a stench like bodies rotting in a cesspool, so Eithan headed up the stairs to the relatively pleasant air. There were only a few corpses decomposing up here, so at least he might get a whiff of something clean." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He left Yerin to watch over Lindon. If the boy died, that would be shame, though it wouldn't set Eithan back much.\n\nBut he expected a better result." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Chapter 16\n\nAs one of the highest-ranking representatives of the Sandviper sect, though he wasn't a Sandviper at all, Jai Long had the honor of supervising a young man's advancement to Iron.\n\nHe'd reluctantly bowed to tradition, on the condition that the ceremony could be conducted in a tent at the entrance to the Ruins. If the Arelius family had continued at their current pace, they'd be arriving sometime tomorrow. He and the Fishers believed they had figured out the last of the script around the final floor, but they wouldn't know until they tried.\n\nIt was a delicate time, but tradition wouldn't wait.\n\nThe boy's whole family had gathered to see this paragon of their younger generation receive his Sandviper body at the tender age of eight years old. It was an impressive sign of dedication for such a young boy. Jai Long himself had reached Iron before that, but he'd had resources the Sandviper sect did not.\n\nJai Long clutched the sandviper in one hand, his spirit clamping around the creature's powers just as his fist imprisoned its limbs. With the other hand, he delicately squeezed the gland around the serpent's fang.\n\nA drop of venom swelled, and he wicked it off with a needle.\n\nThe needle went onto a jade plate prepared for the purpose. He set the plate aside and withdrew a bowl the size of a thimble. With one stray whisk of Stellar Spear madra, he sliced the sacred beast's skin.\n\nA few drops of blood filled the bowl, and Jai Long replaced the sandviper in its cage.\n\nThis whole process was supposed to be accompanied by a ceremony as the boy learned the glorious history of the sect and his own place within it, but Jai Long went about his business in cold silence. No one corrected him. They were afraid of him, one and all; afraid of his status within the Jai clan, afraid of the stories that surrounded him when he'd been banished. Afraid of his strength." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Kral stuck his head into the tent, grin blooming. \"Bren! You're a man of the Sandvipers today.\"\n\nThe boy-Bren, Jai Long supposed-matched Kral's grin with his own. He seemed only too relieved to look away from the red-masked stranger in his tent.\n\nAfter a few more compliments for the boy and his family, which instantly put them at ease, Kral walked over to Jai Long. He gave a low whistle at the sight of the blood. \"That's not too much, do you think?\" he asked, keeping his voice low to avoid spooking the child.\n\n\"I'm sure you had more,\" Jai Long said, not bothering to lower his tone. The most talented young members of the sect received two or three needles of venom, with an appropriate amount of blood to go along with it.\n\n\"Most people don't,\" Kral pointed out. Then he raised his head to look at Bren, and he raised his volume to match it. \"But he'll be the pride of the sect in a few years. I'll do it myself.\"\n\nThe boy practically shone with pride, which made Jai Long wonder why Kral hadn't just done this whole procedure himself.\n\nThe young chief gave a few ceremonial words, offered Bren the bowl of blood, and then-when the boy had settled into a cycling trance-pricked him on the wrist with the needle.\n\nBren's jaw tightened and sweat beaded on his brow, but he only grunted once. His father gave a proud smile.\n\nFor Jai Long's Iron body, he'd been forced to undergo a ritual that blistered all the skin on his body, broke most of his bones, and kept him in bed for three months afterwards. Fora half-civilized sect that survived in the harsh Desolate Wilds, the Sandvipers were soft." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As Bren cycled in preparation for his transformation, Jai Long pulled Kral aside to give him a report.\n\n\"The Fishers have gotten us through most of the doors,\" he said, and this time he did speak quietly. This was sensitive information, after all. \"We think we have a grasp on the rest of the script, but there's still one door between us and the final chamber. I suspect there maybe another way-\"\n\nThe flap of the tent brushed aside, and a Sandviper charged in with his chest heaving and face bright red. No sacred artist would push himself so far beyond the bonds of his breathing technique without a good reason.\n\nBren's family frowned in disapproval that someone had interrupted their son's ceremony.\n\n\"On the horizon,\" the messenger said, panting. \"Come and see.\"\n\nJai Long had a good guess what he'd see, and he dashed from the tent without a word. Kral stayed behind to give a word to the waiting family, but Jai Long dashed up the side of a nearby tower. Its unsteady wooden planks creaked alarmingly, but he reached the top in seconds.\n\nWith that vantage, he could seethe hideous Desolate Wilds spread out before him. The Purelake was a glimmering sapphire, the rest of it a black mess.\n\nExcept fora small group on the horizon, which his Iron eyes picked out immediately. They were a motley bunch, dressed indifferent colors and styles, but it was the banner they carried that caught his eye.\n\nDeep blue and white, with a black crescent in the center.\n\nThe Arelius family had arrived.\n\nHe leaped from the top of the tower, landing next to Kral. \"We're out of time,\" he said, ducking into the tent for just long enough to retrieve his spear. Bren was still cycling, oblivious." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He emerged with his weapon, and heard Kral already issuing orders.\n\n\"Gather the Fishers,\" the young chief said. \"Inform the Jai clan. We're going in now.\" To Jai Long, he said, \"And, uh... if we can't open the door?\"\n\nJai Long gripped his spear in both hands. Up to this point, they had tried to avoid unnecessary damage to the structure of the Ruins for fear of disrupting the script. They were dealing with an incredibly powerful script-circle they didn't understand; the slightest disruption could change nothing, or it could detonate the Transcendent Ruins with enough force to obliterate the Wilds.\n\nHe had commanded his teams to avoid even chipping away at the walls, for fear of hidden scripts. Until he gave the order.\n\n\"We will make anew one.\"\n\n---\n\nLindon woke to a splash of icy water.\n\nHe jerked upright, gasping, hands raised to defend himself from the blow he knew was coming. But the first thing to hit him was the stench-it smelled like a dead pig rolled in rotten eggs.\n\nHe rolled blindly away from the stink, but it followed him. His hands were resting in a putrid pool of black sludge and red blood, and more of it caked his skin.\n\nHis sister Kelsa had been covered in something similar when she advanced to Iron. Did that mean... all this came from his own body?\n\nThe puddle of filth had filled the entire space at the bottom of the stairs a finger's width deep, and it trickled out the open door. He couldn't believe it all came from his own body.\n\nAnother splash of water landed on him, squirted from the twisted seashell binding in Yerin's hand, and Lindon hurriedly rose to his feet. His pack rolled off his stomach, one leather strap severed in the middle." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He'd bitten through it.\n\nHe staggered as he stood, his balance shifting strangely. Every step seemed to take him too far, too quickly, and his body felt like it would drift off the ground and float to the ceiling.\n\n\"Cut that out,\" Yerin ordered. She sent another stream of water splashing over him from the binding in her hand. \"I'm trying to clean you off, and you're jumping around like a chicken.\"\n\n\"You made it,\" Eithan said, in atone of clear surprise. He watched like Lindon's mother examining anew breed of Remnant. \"A flawless transition to Iron. Amazing. I'd like to say you have my extraordinary guidance to thank, but... well, how do you feel?\"\n\nLindon glanced at his hands, turning to consider the unbroken flesh. A dreadbeast had fallen on him, leading to twisted fingers, but you couldn't tell now. He took another step, gingerly testing for pain on his formerly broken ribs. He breathed deeply, cycling according to the technique Eithan had taught him.\n\nOnce again, his eyes filled with tears and he had to blink them back. But this time, it was because the pain was gone. He could stand.\n\nAnother spray of cold water blasted him, scraping away another layer of black.\n\nEithan rested his hand on a brown backpack sitting on the stairs beside him, safely away from the pool of sludge. \"I transferred your belongings over. It's not quite as big as your original, but I... doubt you'll want to use that one anymore.\"\n\nHis original pack, empty and slack, was soaked in blood and sludge, one of its straps dangling in two severed ends. His mother had made him that pack, slaving over bits of leather and patches of canvas for weeks as she would have a particularly complicated construct." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "If she knew it had helped him reach Iron, she would have been overcome with joy, though it still felt like leaving another piece of home to die.\n\nHe walked over to his new pack-actually the one he'd taken from Fisher Gesha, used to store her spider-construct-and staggered as a single step launched him five feet closer. He caught himself in the stairwell, face-to-face with Eithan.\n\nThe yellow-haired man carefully pinched his nose and stepped up a stair.\n\nLindon reached up his hands to catch Yerin's next blast of water, scrubbing his skin on stone until it was clean. Then he rifled through his pack, looking for the spare clothes he'd packed.\n\nWhen he reached the bottom, next to the tank of a happily playing Sylvan Riverseed, he remembered that these were his spare clothes. He'd never had the previous set cleaned, and they were missing from the pack. Eithan must have gotten rid of them, and Lindon couldn't blame him. But that still left him without anything to wear.\n\nLindon looked up to see Eithan holding something out to him: an expanse of pastel pink fabric embroidered with metallic thread-of-gold flowers.\n\n\"I noticed your deficient laundry situation, and I thought to offer you something of mine.\"\n\nOnly then did Lindon notice the... elaborate curtain... was actually a sacred artist's robe. It didn't have an outer robe to it, but was all one piece, with loose sleeves and enough room in the legs that it wouldn't inhibit movement.\n\nUnder the circumstances, he couldn't complain. It didn't matter what the robe looked like, it was better than one he had on.\n\nHe glanced between the pink and gold ensemble in Eithan's hand and his own ruined set of bloody rags, considering." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Yerin, if you don't mind,\" Eithan said.\n\nHer silver sword-arm flashed, briefly overlaid with light in Lindon's spirit-sense, and his clothes were slashed to ribbons. He snatched at them, trying to preserve some level of modesty.\n\nShe turned quickly, which surprised him to some degree. He'd thought of her as a Gold first, but she was still a girl his own age. Now that he thought of it, that might have been a blush coloring the back of her neck.\n\nEithan grabbed the twisted blue seashell from Yerin's hand and activated it, sending a flood of water gushing out. It didn't end until Lindon spluttered at him to stop, minutes later, every inch of his body scrubbed clean by the force.\n\nSomething bright fluttered toward him, and he caught the pink-and-gold robe out of the air.\n\n\"It's surprisingly absorbent,\" Eithan said, \"and it will dry before you know it. The threads are plucked from the mane of a sacred beast known by the natives as a'Celestial Lion-Horse, \"and it is both comfortably warm and pleasingly cool. I had to hire a whole family to work on it for months. It's supposed to be worn as the inner part of a set, but I'm forced to waste it on you.\"\n\n\"Gratitude,\" Lindon said, wincing as he wrapped it around his wet body. If it was that expensive, he hated to ruin it. He could sell it instead. How many scales would this buy him? Come to think of it, how many scales would it take him to reach Jade?\n\nHe chided himself for thinking of Jade so soon after reaching Iron, his hands moving automatically to fold and tie the robe." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Maybe it was the expensive fabric, but something felt strange.\n\nHe stopped halfway, considering. The robe was tight across the shoulders, and the robe-which he'd expected to reach the floor-only stretched to his ankles. He looked backup to Eithan.\n\n\"Do I seem taller to you?\"\n\nEithan glanced him up and down. \"Older is the word, I think, more than taller. Your muscles have developed further, and we need to get some food in you, because you've burned most of your fat in the transition. You don't look like a child spoiling fora fight anymore, but there's still... what do you think, Yerin?\"\n\nYerin turned back around and considered him. \"Like he's ready to tear into someone with his bare hands.\" Coming from her, that sounded like a compliment.\n\nEithan moved his hand back and forth. \"Eh... I'd say he looks like an evil sect leader's rebellious son.\" He thought a moment longer and added, \"Wearing his mother's robe.\"\n\nLindon's response was cutoff by something flying through the air toward him; his hand blurred as he caught it, body responding as fast as thought.\n\n\"I thought you might want that,\" Eithan said, and Lindon opened his hand to seethe wooden badge carved with the symbol for empty.\n\nHe stared into it as a tide of joy swelled in his chest.\n\nAfter a few breaths of silence, he spoke. \"It doesn't fit me anymore.\"\n\nHe clenched his fist closed, crushing the badge with no more effort than it would take to smash a dry leaf.\n\nThe pieces spilled from his palm, landing like so much trash, but he tucked the shadesilk ribbon into his pack. It was still valuable." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Eithan slapped him on the back. \"There's nothing quite like advancing, is there? It's like you're reborn.\"\n\nLindon couldn't agree more, but he gave a humble bow. \"I'm only glad to be past the pain.\"\n\n\"We will have to get you something to eat soon,\" Eithan reminded him. \"Otherwise, your body will devour itself from the inside out.\"\n\nLindon's look of horror must have been something to see, because Eithan gave him a pat of reassurance. \"Nothing to worry about. We have a whole day, probably, before that starts to happen. Plenty of time. More urgently, our break time has ended.\"\n\nYerin nodded and drew her sword, running up the stairs.\n\n\"The way forward opened while you were sleeping,\" Eithan told him. \"The only way out is now at the top of the pyramid, which just so happens to be where the Jai clan spear awaits. What fortuitous chance!\" He flourished his wide sleeve, gesturing the way forward. \"And a small army of dreadbeasts and Remnants stands in our way. What a wondrous opportunity for training!\"\n\nLindon slid his pack onto his back and reached for the weapon he'd hacked from the Sandviper Remnant two weeks ago: the bright green severed stinger, longer than his own limb, with white cloth wrapped around its hilt to serve as a grip.\n\nHe grabbed it, habitually running madra into it to replace the essence it lost overtime. It flickered with color in response, rippling brighter, and the motes of madra drifting upward slowed. He was very careful not to let his madra flow into the binding within; it was as dangerous to him as to anyone else, if he used it carelessly." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The severed stinger had never been a heavy weapon, but it seemed absolutely weightless now.\n\n\"I admit, I look forward to finding out what an Iron body is like,\" Lindon said. That was not nearly enough to describe his feelings. He'd dreamed of Iron his entire life, which seemed to him to be when one really learned to use the sacred arts. And his weeks of agony stretched behind him like along shadow.\n\nHe hungered to find out what that suffering had bought him.\n\n\"Fortunately for you, a perfect test awaits!\" Eithan nodded forward, where Yerin stood with white blade bared in front of another doorway. And another set of stairs leading up.\n\nLindon had survived his weeks alone in the Ruins according to his usual methods: he'd trapped, dodged, or tricked every Remnant or dreadbeast that slithered close to his shelter. He'd killed his share of creatures for food, for resources, or in self-defense, but they had almost always been restricted by a script circle. He'd used the Remnant's venomous needle to butcher helpless foes, not to fight.\n\nSo his heart pounded and his eyes twitched at every movement as they made their way up the stairs. Yerin walked ahead with blade drawn, seemingly unconcerned, and Eithan took up the rear. He was whistling.\n\nThese stairs were much longer than the ones where Lindon had setup camp, and wider too. They could have easily walked side by side and had room to swing weapons, but by tacit agreement, they all stayed away from the walls.\n\nThere were monsters in those walls.\n\nEach stone block was missing a chunk in the middle, leaving a square tunnel onto darkness, and Lindon could hear things slithering or skittering across stone. It was the first drawback he'd felt in his new Iron body: yesterday, he wouldn't have heard the things crawling in the shadows." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It must be worse for Yerin and Eithan, but Yerin acted as though this were no more dangerous than a hike through the woods. A glance back showed that Eithan was walking with eyes closed as he whistled, palms laced behind his neck and elbows in the air.\n\nThey had only walked for one intense minute, the stairs spiraling upwards, when Eithan said, \"On your right.\"\n\nLindon jumped left and readied his scavenged weapon in both hands. Yerin only turned her head slightly to the right. As something bright red flashed out of the darkness, a Remnant with claws bared, her Goldsign flashed.\n\nThe smooth silver blade was a blur as it slashed the Remnant in two. Dead matter hissed as motes of essence escaped like smoke from aflame.\n\nOn some instinct that hadn't fully formed, Lindon started to open his Copper senses to feel the vital aura and search for another threat. A hand on his shoulder stopped him.\n\n\"Try not to stare into the sun,\" Eithan suggested, then continued whistling.\n\nAfter a moment, Lindon understood. The Remnants and dreadbeasts were gathering because of how thick the vital aura had become. Lines of script running along the top and bottom of the wall provided all the light they needed, proving that the script was fully powered. It would be funneling all the aura for miles into the room at the top.\n\n\"Behind you,\" Eithan said, and Lindon staggered forward.\n\nHe spun just in time to see a monkey with rotten skin grabbing at his shoulder, its lips peeled back in the grin of a fanged skull. His hands moved before he told them to, swinging the stinger with all his strength." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He smashed the monkey to the ground.\n\nWith half a thought, he withdrew the weapon and stabbed again and again, puncturing the monkey's hide each time. It shrieked and clawed at the Remnant part.\n\nAnd a pulse of red-streaked force billowed out from the monkey, catching Lindon and slamming him into the ceiling.\n\nLike sacred beasts, dreadbeasts were effectively monstrous sacred artists, and everyone of them had a level of advancement beyond his. This was not a mistake he would have made before hitting Iron, and for an instant he thought it had cost him his life.\n\nBut he hit the back of his skull against the ceiling and landed on his feet. More than the impact to his head, what stunned him was that he was... fine.\n\nThe strike to the skull had hurt, but more like being struck by a stick than slamming his head against a rock. And he hadn't had to try to land on his feet, as though his body had known what to do without him.\n\nHe shook himself awake-an instant's hesitation could prove fatal, when facing a stronger enemy-but the monkey just scurried back into its tunnel.\n\nSome shrieking followed its exit, as though it had gotten into another fight just out of view, and dark blood splattered onto the stairs.\n\n\"Hm,\" said Eithan. \"They're certainly excited.\"\n\nLindon and Yerin broke into a sprint at the same time. He didn't check to see if Eithan was following; he suspected the yellow-haired man would survive if he was dropped into a pit of Remnants with nothing but his bare hands.\n\nMore Remnants and dreadbeasts boiled out of the walls as they continued, and Lindon learned about his Iron body." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "For one thing, if combat before had been like trying to stay alive in the middle of a panicked nightmare, now he felt as though he were tearing his way through a lightning-fueled dream. His hands moved faster than his thoughts, his weapon a green blur, and keeping up with Yerin's running pace was easier than walking. His hearing was so acute that every breath of air was a note in a symphony, and he spotted movements he would never have noticed before: the tense of muscles in a wolf's shoulder, the flick of a sandviper's tail.\n\nCompared to his previous self, he felt unstoppable. His blood burned in his veins, and madra flowed steadily from his Iron core, his breathing even and measured.\n\nAt the same time, he saw the difference between Iron and Gold.\n\nJust when he was feeling like a dragon inhuman skin, a pale gray Remnant with six arms boiled up from the depths of the tunnel, howling like wind through a forest. It seized his weapon in one hand, his empty arm in another, and both his legs as its head peeled back to reveal a gaping mouth.\n\nLindon struggled, but he might as well have still been Copper; it looked insubstantial and blurry, like a weak Remnant, but it still had physical strength far beyond his own. Scrabbling from behind told him that there was a dreadbeast coming from the other direction, and Yerin was dealing with two enemies of her own.\n\nEithan was still whistling with his eyes shut as he dodged four creatures, but Lindon couldn't count on him.\n\nThe hands squeezed tighter and tighter until Lindon's breath came too quickly to fuel his cycling technique. He tried everything he could think of until his wrist went numb, and the Sandviper stinger clattered from his hand. Only then did he scream Yerin's name." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She went from a black-and-red blur with a sword of white to utterly still in a moment. Her Goldsign flashed, and Lindon felt an invisible pulse move through him despite his spiritual senses remaining closed.\n\nIt was the technique she'd demonstrated before: the Endless Sword. But this time, she didn't hold back.\n\nThe Remnant was blasted away from him, shredded into a thousand shapeless pieces and a cloud of dissolving madra. The dreadbeast behind him didn't even get to make a noise before it was reduced to a chunky puddle, and Eithan quick-stepped forward to avoid the chunks of blood that his own enemies had become.\n\nFive or six cuts appeared on Lindon's arms where the Remnant had grabbed him, flaring to lifelike fires after a lightning strike, but he was staring at Yerin. She took a deep breath, restoring her breathing before she spoke. \"Everybody stable?\"\n\nLindon nodded wordlessly and she took off.\n\nHe scooped up his weapon, vaguely ashamed of himself. Just because he'd let the power of an Iron body go to his head, he'd forgotten the sheer force of the sacred arts. Of all the weapons in a sacred artist's arsenal, physical strength was among the least. He might be able to compete with Yerin in the force of his grip now, but she could carve him into pieces with her will.\n\nIt was a sobering reminder, but it was also somewhat liberating.\n\nHe had something to look forward to.\n\nIt wasn't much longer before they reached the end of the spiraling staircase, and by now the constant attacks were taking their toll. He hadn't used much madra, having no techniques in his repertoire that would help against monsters, but Yerin was noticeably weakened. They'd both taken wounds, in contrast to Eithan, who continued whistling as though his surroundings didn't affect him at all." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "At the end, with the snarling of monsters behind them, they reached a door.\n\nIt was a heavy slab of stone, just like the ones before, but this one was carved with an intricate mural. It was divided equally into four sections, each depicting a different sacred beast: a serpentine dragon on a cloud flashing with lightning, a crowned tiger, a stone warrior with the shell of a tortoise, and a blazing phoenix.\n\nThough Yerin moved forward to place her palm against the door, he froze at the sight.\n\nHe'd seen this before." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Chapter 17\n\nYerin removed her hand from the door, readying her sword. \"It's some brand of riddle. Script keeps going right on into it, and there's a key buried here somewhere.\" The howls of Remnants echoed up the stairs from behind, and the edge of her blade gathered force. \"Take a step back.\"\n\n\"Wait!\" Lindon shouted, then coughed politely. \"I mean, ah, please wait, if you don't mind. We've seen this before.\"\n\nEithan sat down on a step and began fiddling with his thumbs.\n\nThe shrieks from below grew louder, and a Remnant like a giant purple onion squeezed itself out of the wall to Eithan's side. Before it had completely emerged, he kicked it back.\n\nYerin took a step back and looked at the door. \"I do think you're right. That looks more than a little like the picture in the Ancestor's Tomb.\"\n\n\"That's a week away on the Thousand-Mile Cloud,\" Lindon pointed out.\n\n\"Well, that's ahead-scratcher,\" she said, and then drew her sword back again. The edge of the blade distorted as though a haze of heat had gathered around the weapon, and she took a step forward.\n\nLindon's instinct for self-preservation kept him from stopping her before she smashed her technique into the door's surface.\n\nIt struck with a rush of power that was deafening in the enclosed space of the stairway, ringing in his ears as though someone had struck a bell over his head. Madra and aura flooded forward with her strike until his view of the action warped like he was watching through murky water.\n\nWhen it cleared, a single chip of stone was spinning on the floor. Otherwise, the door was completely intact." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lindon would have taken this moment to stop her from damaging the door any further-it was connected to some unknown script, and might bring the entire roof down on their heads if they interrupted the circle, not to mention its connection to Sacred Valley-but he happened to glance behind them.\n\nDreadbeasts scrambled allover each other as they clawed up the stairs, seeming to blend into a multi-headed mass of corrupted flesh.\n\nYerin braced her feet against the ground, her Goldsign drew back like a snake preparing to strike, and she gripped her sword in both hands. Colorless sword madra rippled around her until it was like he was looking at her through a cage of razors edge-on. As she gathered power, she focused on the door as though she meant to destroy it with the force of her stare.\n\nWithout giving himself too much room to think, he picked up his severed Remnant part and pointed it at the oncoming rush of beasts. His madra flowed down the weapon, trickling toward the binding.\n\n\"The big one,\" Eithan shouted, but through his ringing ears Lindon heard it as a whisper. The man was standing now, but he was actually leaning his shoulder against one of the wider sections of wall, completely at his ease.\n\nLindon listened, adjusting his aim to point at the biggest of the dreadbeasts: a warped purple creature like a bear with heavily muscled arms. When he was close enough to seethe bloodshot veins in the monster's arms, the dreadbeast hauled itself back on its hind legs. It looked as though it intended to comedown on Lindon like an avalanche.\n\nHe stepped forward, thrusting the bright green stinger like a spear.\n\nAnd just as he did, he activated the binding." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He used his weaker core, the Copper one, because it was just barely strong enough to fuel the weapon. The activation drew his core dry, and if that had been his only source of madra, he would have collapsed immediately.\n\nBut he pulled on his Iron core instantly, keeping his legs steady even as the binding activated.\n\nThree hazy green duplicates, like less-real copies of the stinger, flickered into existence around his thrust. It was as though he drove four spears instead of one.\n\nThe bear fell on top of his weapon, but one of the Forged spears lodged in its hide. Another caught a Remnant in the head, and his actual spear drove even deeper into the bear's belly. The fourth strike missed, dissolving out of existence in a moment, but Lindon threw himself back as soon as his point bit home.\n\nThe venom only took an instant to scour the bear with agony, and it went berserk, flailing its paws and roaring so loudly that it hurt Lindon's ears even through the ringing. It turned in a circle, snapping its jaws as though trying to bite out the infection, and every other Remnant and dreadbeast fell upon it.\n\nA hand caught him by the back of his robes and pulled him up the stairs just as a bloody, severed limb landed at Lindon's feet.\n\nEithan plucked at his own sleeve, indicating Lindon's clothes, and then shook his head.\n\nWell, if Eithan wanted to pull him out of trouble to avoid getting blood on his borrowed outfit, Lindon wouldn't complain.\n\nAn explosion drummed his bones, and he spun with an arm thrown up over his eyes. Stone fragments pelted him through a cloud of billowing dust, and the remaining half of the door tipped over and slammed to the ground with the speed of a calving glacier." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Yerin's knees buckled as her technique faded, and she fell to the ground panting. Eithan and Lindon ran by her, each grabbing an arm without discussion, pulling her into the room beyond.\n\nIt was abroad, featureless hallway with an open doorway at the end. In the very center lay a circle of script.\n\nThe dreadbeasts wouldn't continue slaughtering each other for long, but Lindon spared a moment to admire the advanced script-circle on the floor. There were at least ten layers to the circle, lines of runes and sigils wrapping an empty space in the center.\n\nLindon and Eithan hurried around the edge, though Yerin regained her feet and ran on her own strength halfway through. Though the circle was much more likely to affect sacred beasts and Remnants, none of them were willing to run through the middle.\n\nThe outer circles brushed against the wall, so they were running on runes, and each step sent a little shock through the soles of Lindon's feet. His madra trembled as it cycled, as though drawn down to the floor.\n\nHe pushed on, and together the three of them reached the open doorway in seconds. There was, in fact, a door on the other side. This was a more ordinary type of door than the stone slabs before, made merely of dull gray metal and heavily caked with a series of script-circles. It had been left propped open, and judging by the dust sitting at its base, it had been that way fora longtime.\n\nYerin and Lindon heaved together, and Lindon couldn't suppress a flash of pride that he was strong enough to help Yerin with something.\n\nThe heavy door slammed shut, its scripts glimmering fora moment as they drew power from the ambient aura. He and Yerin fell to the ground, gulping mouthfuls of the dusty air, and generally savoring their survival." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Eithan stood to one side, hands on his hips. \"I have to say... this is fairly impressive.\"\n\nLindon followed his gaze, taking in the space lit brightly by warm orange lanterns that were surely some kind of rune light. The lights were covered by paper screens to soften their glow, and it was a good thing; some of them shone too bright, uncomfortably bright, while others flickered off and on in a disquieting rhythm. They must have been powered by the vital aura taken in by the Ruins'script, but either the script was broken, or it had been too long since they'd last come to life. The glow was uneven and left half the room bathed in irregular shadows.\n\nThe room looked more like a rich clan's library than anything he'd expect to find in an ancient ruin, the colored tiles set with dusty carpets and beautifully carved tables. One of those tables held a collection of jade statuettes, one a cracked dragon with the head of a lion, the others a series of creatures stranger and more hideous. A glass-covered case displayed some tools of halfsilver and goldsteel, as well as more exotic materials that Lindon didn't recognize, but at least half of the spaces were empty.\n\nBooks sat open on stands carved for them, their curling pages painted with arcane diagrams and characters. They had browned from age, and Lindon was certain that if he so much as breathed on a corner, the paper would dissolve.\n\nA row of silver hooks hung from the ceiling, which stood out as he couldn't think of a purpose for them. They varied in size, but none of them held anything beyond empty air.\n\nAlong glaive made of Forged madra, with a blood-red shaft and a gleaming golden sword blade at the end, sat on a frame halfway up the wall. A circle of script surrounded it, sealing its power and preventing it from dissolving. Beneath the weapon, an image was painted directly on one wall: a circle, blank on one half, the other half complex and twisted with a network of lines." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lindon stared at the pieces of the room for too long before they fit together into a whole.\n\nThis was a Soulsmith's foundry.\n\nWhen he realized that, he shot to his feet and dashed to a nearby table, rummaging through it. He found nothing likely, despite pulling a few drawers open, so he slid to the next one, frantically shuffling through a pile of sealed ebony scrolls with scripts worked in gold filigree on their cases.\n\nYerin stepped up beside him, giving him a curious glance. \"Looking for the spear?\"\n\n\"Take the other side of the room, if you wouldn't mind,\" he said, casting the scrolls and digging in a box on the floor. \"A Soulsmith worked here.\"\n\n\"I'm not seeing your point.\"\n\nA box caught his eye, ornately carved and polished and standing as tall as he did. It was covered in a layer of dust, like most everything else in the room, but otherwise it looked exactly like the sort of wardrobe they would use in the Wei clan. Wider, though. If he stretched his arms out as far as he could, he wouldn't be able to touch both ends with his fingertips.\n\nHe shot for the wardrobe before answering Yerin, throwing the doors wide.\n\nWhite light erupted from within.\n\nPain shot through his newly sensitive eyes, and he blinked away the blinding light. When he could see again, Yerin was standing in front of him; she'd moved between him and the potential source of danger.\n\nBut it wasn't a defensive construct waiting fora victim-though he really should have considered that possibility before throwing the doors open. It was a shining bar of Forged madra, long enough to stretch from one end of the wardrobe to the other. It was held by a set of carved wooden supports, held just below eye level as though waiting for him to take the weapon." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And it was a weapon. A spear, formed seamlessly from madra by ancient Soulsmiths. It shone with the light of the stars, congealed into a weapon whose power he could feel radiating against his skin.\n\nYerin's breath slowly left her, and even Eithan gave a low whistle as he strode over to take a look.\n\n\"In my grandfather's day, Soulsmiths valued beauty as much as function.\" He moved his hand along the shaft of the spear without touching it. \"The script flows with the contours of the weapon, guiding it so even the aura is a work of art. Exquisite.\"\n\nLindon could just barely pick out a few lines of script on the shaft, which looked like white paint on white, but the spear had held his attention too long already. He dropped to his knees, searching the drawers at the bottom of the case.\n\nThe real treasure should be down here.\n\nAfter digging through a handful of junk, he withdrew an ivory box wider than both his spread hands together. It was heavier than he expected, for being only about an inch deep, and the lid was etched with a pattern of interlocking leaves.\n\nCarefully, he lifted the lid. There were no notes and no brightly colored bindings inside, so he almost tossed it aside.\n\nThen he realized what they were, and suddenly he couldn't breathe.\n\nThe badges were slightly smaller than the ones from Sacred Valley, but otherwise they were practically identical. Eight badges sat within the box, each marked with a hammer-the symbol of a Forger.\n\nThe first row contained a badge each of copper, iron, jade, and gold. That much he expected. But the second row moved from halfsilver to goldsteel to materials he couldn't identify. One of them was a deep, fiery red, and the other a blue so rich it was like a Forged slice of the sky." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He reached a shaking hand and lifted the iron badge. It was lighter than a feather in his hand, but he handled it as though it were made from glass. Delicately, he threaded one end of his shadesilk ribbon through the loop at the top.\n\n\"Well, look what you found,\" Eithan said, and Yerin leaned over his shoulder fora closer look. Lindon paid them no attention.\n\nHe hung the iron badge from his neck and closed his eyes.\n\nAfter a moment, Eithan cleared his throat. \"This anthill has been well and truly kicked,\" he said. \"I'm afraid that very soon we will have to share our meal with the... other ants.\"\n\nLindon snapped out of his reverie. \"Dreadbeasts?\"\n\n\"Worse. Humans.\"\n\nThe Sandvipers must have found their way through the Ruins, though he supposed it didn't matter much if it were the Fishers or even the Arelius family. Whoever it was, they would strip this place bare.\n\nLindon slid the ivory box into his pack, shuffling a few other necessities around to make room, and then dug back into the wardrobe's bottom drawer.\n\nIn this one, he finally found what he was looking for.\n\nA script-marked box contained three indents in the silk lining within. One of these holes was empty, but the other two contained a pair of bindings. They were bright white, made of the same arcane material as the spear, and shaped like spiraling drills.\n\nQuickly, he scanned the notes near the bindings. \"Generation Fourteen shows all the qualities we'd hoped for,\" they read. \"It demonstrates the capacity to devour and process madra with a high degree of efficiency, though each individual contains only one binding. If a sacred artist could cultivate similar techniques, our efficiency may double...\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "The next page had been scribbled in haste, judging by the carelessness with which the characters were slapped on the paper." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The failed specimens maybe the key to success. Their auras alter as they devour one another, growing faster than we'd ever predicted. Theoretically, there is no upper limit on this growth, but the spirit warps the flesh. Further study needed; could lead to achievement of the primary goal.\"\n\nLindon stuffed those notes in his pack, continuing to read. The labels confirmed what he'd thought: these were the bindings at the heart of the Jai clan's spear. The mechanisms that drained madra from victims.\n\nThe Jai clan could have their spear back. Powerful it may have been, but it was just a single weapon.\n\nLearning to make such weapons... that was the real fortune.\n\nOf course, Lindon didn't have such a high estimation of his own abilities. He would learn what he could from the bindings and from the notes, and he may even keep one of the bindings for later examination, but knowledge like this was worth more than a leg to a Soulsmith. Gesha would have sold the entire Fisher sect for something like this.\n\nTucked away with the bindings were a trio of polished black river stones, each marked with a tiny script-circle that Lindon couldn't identify. He tucked them away, just in case, but as he was making space in his pack for the box of bindings, he was interrupted by a deafening crash.\n\nThe door at the other end of the room, on the opposite end from where they'd entered, had buckled and fallen inwards. A pair of fur-clad Sandvipers filed out to either side of the door, weapons writhing with green madra. Jai clan members followed them, with spears and gleaming hair and meticulous blue sacred artists\" robes, and then a couple of wary-looking Fishers." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Jai Long's red-wrapped head emerged next, spear held low with its point toward the ground." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The sect heir, Kral, followed him with a roguish smile.\n\n\"Fan out,\" Jai Long ordered. \"Spear first, then-\"\n\nHe didn't get the rest of the command out of his mouth.\n\nYerin whipped a wave of sword madra at him, her Striker binding thin as a razor but with the fury of a storm. One of the Sandvipers met madra with madra on the edge of his axe, green power eroding her technique. The force still pushed him back a step.\n\nBefore he'd come to a stop, Yerin had raised her sword. The white blade rang like a bell.\n\nAnd every blade in the room answered.\n\nGlass crashed, lights flickered, and the air filled with a storm of splintered wood and shredded paper. Lindon's vision blacked out as something grabbed him by the hair and pulled him back just as the spear's display case exploded.\n\nThe eruption of sword aura from Yerin's Ruler technique might have killed him, crouched as close as he was to the powerful bladed weapon. He struggled to his feet, setting his pack aside, and thanked Eithan in a shaky voice.\n\n\"No trouble at all,\" Eithan said, watching shreds of paper drift down around him like an early snowfall. \"It's an honor to save the helpless.\"\n\nOne of the Sandvipers was bleeding and slumped against the wall, struggling to stand, but before Lindon caught sight of the others, a constellation of stars flashed out of the debris, blasting toward Yerin like a flight of arrows.\n\nHer sword gathered a shimmering edge as she wove the weapon in a complex knot, knocking the technique from the air, but her robe still gathered another collection of tears as the lights ripped through her loose sleeves. One gouged the looping ribbon of her red belt, and motes of red essence rose like smoke from the wound before it filled in again, sealing itself." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lindon dropped back to his knees, scrambling on the floor for his stinger weapon. He considered searching for the Jai ancestor spear, but he'd lost sight of it in the rubble, and he needed something to defend himself while he snuck around the room. Iron he maybe, but a fight was out of the question; if he was caught between Jai Long's technique and Yerin's, the only thing left of his Iron body would be his badge.\n\nBut this was an ancient Soulsmith foundry, loaded with all the elements of a secret project. There had to be some construct he could use against the Sandvipers. He gripped his stinger in one hand and crawled along the aisle, scanning the wall for the bladed glaive construct he'd noticed before.\n\nHe wouldn't be able to use it to fight, but a distraction would serve him just as well.\n\nA boot slammed down on his weapon.\n\nLindon's eyes crawled up, past the sable fur lining the boot, over the midnight pelt hanging like a cloak, to Kral's face. The Sandviper heir looked down on him gravely, like an executioner gazing upon a condemned prisoner.\n\nHe hadn't used a technique yet, so he must want to talk. Lindon had something he wanted: the location of the spear, along with its foundational binding. That gave him leverage. If he kept Kral from joining Jai Long, maybe Yerin could holdout long enough for-\n\nHis thoughts were interrupted by the toe of Kral's boot slamming him in the forehead.\n\nHe flipped over and landed on his back, skidding into a table of bronze and polished wood. It didn't hurt as much as he thought it should, but he was still shakier than a struck gong, and he rose to his feet like a newborn fawn. The sight of bright green in the corner of his eye reminded him that he'd maintained his grip on the Remnant weapon. That was something, at least." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Kral raised one of his eyebrows. \"Iron. I thought you were a Copper.\"\n\nLindon lowered his weapon and spread the other hand, showing it empty. \"Nothing more than a humble Iron, honored Highgold. There's no blood between us, and I see no reason why any should be spilled.\"\n\nKral nodded along with every word, then flipped his hand as though gesturing fora servant to leave his presence. Three liquid drops of green madra appeared in the air in front of him, splashing toward Lindon. He hastily raised the Remnant part, but the Striker technique still landed on the skin of his arms, burning like liquid fire.\n\nHe gritted his teeth to keep from screaming, tightening his knuckles around the weapon and forcing watery eyes on Kral. The bites of the real sandviper had been a hundred times worse than this. He focused on that thought.\n\nBut Kral had disappeared.\n\nThe young chief's black cloak was still dropping like an abandoned shadow, and hadn't yet crumpled onto the floor, but Kral was gone. As Lindon was still registering that fact, something slammed into his back. He crashed into the table across from him, his head smashing through the solid wood.\n\nA thick shaft of vivid green madra stabbed into his shoulder, and his breath whooshed out at the blazing spike of agony. Only a few hours with anew Iron body, and he'd already ruined it.\n\nHe struggled up, instinctively trying to escape the pain, but a green haze covered his head. When he inhaled, it tasted like metal in his mouth, and burned like fire in his lungs.\n\nKral's boots padded away, leaving Lindon face-down in wreckage, pinned to a destroyed table on a spear of Forged Sandviper madra." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Help continue the narrative for the writer.\nTags: fantasy, progression fantasy, sacred arts\nAuthor: Will Wight\nTitle: Soulsmith\nChapter: 21" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Kral raised one of his eyebrows. \"Iron. I thought you were a Copper.\"\n\nLindon lowered his weapon and spread the other hand, showing it empty. \"Nothing more than a humble Iron, honored Highgold. There's no blood between us, and I see no reason why any should be spilled.\"\n\nKral nodded along with every word, then flipped his hand as though gesturing fora servant to leave his presence. Three liquid drops of green madra appeared in the air in front of him, splashing toward Lindon. He hastily raised the Remnant part, but the Striker technique still landed on the skin of his arms, burning like liquid fire.\n\nHe gritted his teeth to keep from screaming, tightening his knuckles around the weapon and forcing watery eyes on Kral. The bites of the real sandviper had been a hundred times worse than this. He focused on that thought.\n\nBut Kral had disappeared.\n\nThe young chief's black cloak was still dropping like an abandoned shadow, and hadn't yet crumpled onto the floor, but Kral was gone. As Lindon was still registering that fact, something slammed into his back. He crashed into the table across from him, his head smashing through the solid wood.\n\nA thick shaft of vivid green madra stabbed into his shoulder, and his breath whooshed out at the blazing spike of agony. Only a few hours with anew Iron body, and he'd already ruined it.\n\nHe struggled up, instinctively trying to escape the pain, but a green haze covered his head. When he inhaled, it tasted like metal in his mouth, and burned like fire in his lungs.\n\nKral's boots padded away, leaving Lindon face-down in wreckage, pinned to a destroyed table on a spear of Forged Sandviper madra." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The Copper's dead,\" Kral said lazily. \"Actually, I suppose he reached Iron, didn't he?\"\n\n\"So he did,\" Eithan said. His voice was pleasant, as though he was chatting with a friend. \"If he died, then he has only his lack of ability to blame.\"\n\n\"I... can only agree. You're more reasonable than I expected.\"\n\nThe voices were hazy through the pain and the lack of oxygen, but Lindon found himself listening nonetheless. After the past two weeks, this level of agony was nothing. It was almost familiar.\n\nIn fact, it was fading quickly.\n\n\"Why don't we come to an arrangement?\" Kral continued, his words almost swallowed by a thunderous crash behind him. Yerin and Jai Long, no doubt. \"I've seen your ability, and I can recommend you directly to my father.\" He paused as another crash echoed through the room. \"In fact, I don't think we've been properly introduced. I am Kral, Highgold of the Sandvipers. My father is Gokren, Truegold and chief.\"\n\n\"My name is Eithan.\"\n\nThe Forged spear pinning Lindon's left shoulder to the table had already dissipated significantly, enough that he could push himself up. His head was starting to spin for lack of air, and he staggered to the side, inhaling a breath.\n\nThe burning venom in his veins had already subsided to nothing more than an uncomfortably warm tingle. Even his stab wound didn't scream quite so loudly, though his left arm was still dangling useless and blood dribbled down his side to the ground.\n\nHe was injured enough that he should have been senseless on the ground in pain, but every breath cycled madra through his channels and lessened the pain by another notch. In fact, his madra was entering his flesh and simply... vanishing, as though his blood had devoured it. His Iron core was emptying at an astonishing rate." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Bloodforged Iron body. Sandvipers used it to combat their own toxins.\n\nAnd Kral didn't know he had it.\n\nThe Sandviper heir was standing with his back to Lindon, an awl in one hand and his fur cloak in the other. Over his shoulder, Jai Long was pacing toward Yerin, who was leaning on her sword to stay upright.\n\n\"If you have no sect, Eithan, a sacred artist of your skill would be welcome among the Sandvipers.\"\n\nLindon rushed over to the shattered wardrobe, dropping to his knees and gouging them on the debris. He didn't care, wrenching the lid open and dividing his attention between the box and the Sandviper leader. If Kral glanced around, Lindon was dead.\n\nEithan leaned casually against the wall, his gentle smile fixed on Kral. \"I'm here looking for fresh recruits. I don't intend to be recruited myself.\"\n\nLindon fumbled one-handed at the pile of garbage next to him, looking for the spear, but he grasped his stinger first. It would have to do. His fingers caught it on the bright green material instead of the hilt he'd wrapped, which burned his skin like acid, but this pain was just a breeze next to a thunderstorm. He set it aside, using both hands to lift free a scripted box.\n\nTwo white, spiraling bindings waited within. He slipped one into his pocket and picked up the stinger with his other hand.\n\n\"Especially not by a sect as weak as yours,\" Eithan added.\n\nLindon could practically feel a winter breeze as Kral responded. \"I suspect you may have misspoken, my friend.\"\n\n\"I'm afraid not. If I belonged to your sect, which I'm proud to say I do not, I would be painfully ashamed of you. What kind of a Highgold fails to kill an Iron?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Kral's spine stiffened, and he started to turn.\n\nLindon slammed into him with the end of his bright green stinger, the end digging into Kral's ribs. Blood splashed, and Lindon poured all of his remaining madra into his makeshift weapon. The energy was soaked up like rain in the desert, and the binding activated.\n\nThree acid-green echoes of the stinger flashed into existence, stabbing into Kral from three different angles. They didn't penetrate far, only scratching him before dissipating, but that was enough to release their venom. Lindon knew that from experience.\n\nNot that it mattered.\n\nKral had an Iron body of his own, and Lindon had hoped to find a better opportunity to attack than this. Eithan had rushed him, threatening to expose him with words, so he'd taken the angle he could get.\n\nAs a result, Kral steadied himself in an instant. His jaw was set in pain, but he was barely scratched. Madra gathered around his fist, and he started to turn and deliver the technique that would reduce Lindon to a pile of smoking bones.\n\nWith the desperation of a cornered animal, Lindon tore the drill-shaped white binding from his pocket and stabbed down.\n\nThe white spiral flashed as it touched blood, blinding bright, and drew Lindon's Iron core dry like an alcoholic pulling at a bottle. Sandviper madra rushed out from the wound in Kral's back, visible as bright green lines running up the drill, but Kral himself did not move. He stiffened like a man in the grip of a seizure, eyes peeled unnaturally wide. The technique withered and died on his fist.\n\nThe madra flowed into the binding... but not into Lindon. He'd wondered about that. The binding simply drew out the power, but it took the script on the spear to draw it into himself. The white drill rippled green, brighter and richer with every passing instant. It grew more solid, less like an object painted into existence and more real. In only a breath of time, it was so detailed that it looked as solid as a poisonous green seashell." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Then it exploded.\n\nLindon released the binding just in time to avoid losing a hand, but green light burst like a dying star, and he was launched backward. At the same time, something spattered him that burned like acid.\n\nHis vision blurred in the overwhelming sensation of being devoured by insects, and his mind couldn't keep up. He thought he blacked out fora moment, but he couldn't be sure.\n\nWhen he came to, nothing had changed except the pain lessening slightly. His skin was red and tender, but as the last dregs of his madra vanished, healthy skin crawled into place.\n\nHe didn't have the strength to stand, and his spirit felt like a rag that someone had squeezed too many times, and he finally stopped healing when his madra was completely exhausted.\n\nAll he could move were his eyes, and he craned them to their limit, searching for Kral.\n\nThe Sandviper heir lay in a bloody, crumpled heap on the ground. His feet twitched, and Lindon couldn't tell if they were the last throes of death or if he was about to stand up and end Lindon once and for all.\n\nYellow hair fell over his vision, and Eithan frowned at him. \"That was a very expensive robe.\" He lifted a scrap of burned pink cloth lying next to Lindon, which dissolved even as Eithan lifted it.\n\nLindon croaked an apology.\n\nEithan produced another robe-this one was sky blue, with a pattern of violet birds spreading their plumage-and draped it over him. \"This is why I always carry a spare.\"\n\nSpear-wielding members of the Jai clan had surrounded them by now, shouting demands, even as a pair of Sandvipers crashed to their knees next to Kral. Some Fishers loomed over Lindon, hooks in hand, but they didn't look any friendlier." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A flash of starlight, and Yerin flew backwards like a ballista bolt. Jai Long stalked toward her, spear readied, but his red-wrapped head turned as though he'd caught ascent of something.\n\nHis figure vanished, and then he was vaulting over the members of the Jai clan, landing next to Kral. He shoved the Sandvipers out of the way, placing his palm against the fallen heir's core.\n\nWhen Jai Long's hand dropped away and his shoulders slumped, Lindon desperately wished for the strength to runaway.\n\nThe man in the red mask rose like a Remnant, spear clutched in one hand, and his eyes focused on Lindon." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Chapter 18\n\nJai Long's weapon crept so close to Lindon's eye that the gleaming spearhead filled his vision with light.\n\n\"His core is shattered. He won't even leave a Remnant. What did you do to him?\"\n\nEvery word shook with barely restrained rage.\n\nLindon's eyes were stuck to the point of light inches from his head. \"If I tell you...\" he began, but his voice failed him.\n\n\"I will not let you live,\" Jai Long said evenly. \"I won't even kill you more quickly. You'll answer my questions now, or you'll answer them later, and it won't change your fate even slightly. You killed my friend.\" He nodded to some Sandvipers on the side. \"Bag him.\"\n\nLindon squirmed, but that did nothing but make him feel as though nettles were scraping along his skin. He'd run out of madra before his Bloodforged body had finished healing him, so the venom still lingered in his veins and on his skin. His shoulder had settled into a numb sort of distant agony, as though someone had packed the wound with snow.\n\nHis imagination chewed on everything they could do to him once they had him in the bag, and Yerin still hadn't risen from where she'd fallen. Had she died? Her Remnant hadn't risen, but she would be in no shape to help him. Nor could he help her.\n\nHe only had one hope left.\n\nEithan stepped in front of Lindon in a rustle of white and blue cloth. \"Under other circumstances, I'd let you kill him. I'm a firm believer in self-sufficiency. But this seems just a tad unfair.\"\n\nJai Long shifted his gaze to Eithan, and even the aura responded to his intensity. Lindon didn't have to open his Copper senses to see a halo of light surrounding the Highgold, and invisible blades gouged lines from the floor around his feet. \"I am Jai Long, Highgold formerly of the Jai clan. I suspect you area Highgold yourself, maybe even Truegold, but know this. If you stand before me now, you will make yourself an enemy of the Sandviper sect and the entire Jai clan.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"They care so much for an exile?\" Eithan asked. He sounded curious.\n\nJai Long did not pause a beat. \"For me? No. For their reputation? Everything. You will have stood before a clansman for the sake of an Iron, and they will only save face by killing you. Stand aside, or we will water your home with blood and sow the ground with salt.\"\n\nThe worst part was how each of his words was delivered flat and absolute. The Jai clansmen behind Jai Long shifted and looked at each other, but they didn't put down their spears. The Sandvipers looked ready to draw blood with their teeth, and even the Fishers glowered.\n\nMeanwhile, Eithan rummaged around in the pockets of his outer robe.\n\n\"I don't disagree with you on any particular point,\" he said, \"and certainly I don't wish to impugn the honor of the famous Jai clan.\" He bowed to the spearmen in blue. \"Having said that... in truth, this was my fault. I didn't introduce myself properly earlier.\"\n\nFrom his outer robe, he withdrew an intricately filigreed golden badge. It was bigger than the badges used in Sacred Valley, and far more ornate. There was no ribbon of silk threaded through it, as though it were meant to be displayed by hand.\n\nLindon couldn't see what was printed on the front, but it made the Jai clan go pale and throw their weapons aside. Even the Sandvipers backed up a step as though pushed back by a heavy wind.\n\n\"My name is Eithan Arelius, heir to the Arelius family, Underlord in service of the Blackflame Empire, and the greatest janitor alive. This young man is an agent of my clan, working under my aegis and my protection, and any action against him will be considered action against me.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Eithan relaxed and tucked the golden badge back into his robe, but not before Lindon caught a glimpse of a black crescent moon on white, set deeply into the badge, with sapphires playing around the edges.\n\nLindon finally started breathing again, and he couldn't quite remember when he'd stopped. There would be no bag for him after all.\n\nBut Jai Long's spear didn't waver.\n\n\"The Arelius family is still a day out,\" he said, his voice flat as a lake and cold as steel. \"No Underlord moves ahead of his clan, and they have no reason to move in secret. The Arelius Underlord would have taken control of the whole Five Factions Alliance and commanded whatever he wanted.\"\n\nWith a clear lack of concern, Eithan strolled over to the wreckage nearby and bent down. He emerged with a gleaming white spear, which shone like condensed starlight in his hands.\n\n\"What I want,\" Eithan said, \"cannot be commanded.\"\n\nLike a man throwing an undergrown fish back into a lake, he tossed the spear into the debris from which it came.\n\nWhile every eye followed the arc of the Jai ancestor's spear, Eithan moved to face Jai Long.\n\nAnd something pressed down on Lindon's soul.\n\nIt was like the feeling of having his spirit searched, but ten thousand times stronger. A thousand-pound weight pushed down on his core, weighing his madra, making him feel as though he were being pressed into the ground. He gasped for breath.\n\nEveryone else seemed to have it worse. Several of the Golds around him fell to their knees, some of them screamed, still others gasped as though trying to breathe underwater. The Jai clansmen gripped their gleaming iron hair as though it pained them, and the miniature Remnants attached to each Sandviper's arm went insane. They hissed and twisted into the flesh of their host as though trying to burrow their way inside." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Jai Long's spear wobbled as though it suddenly weighed a thousand pounds, then it crashed into the floor." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It came within a hair's breadth of slicing open Lindon's cheek.\n\nA red-wrapped head slowly lifted, pushing against a heavyweight, until Jai Long looked Eithan in the eye.\n\n\"You know, you've insulted me more than once now. Some other Underlords of my acquaintance would have you pulled apart, piece by piece, over a month's time. Others would simply obliterate you.\"\n\nThe pressure vanished suddenly, and everyone-from Lindon to Jai Long-took a gasp of breath at once.\n\n\"But I'm famous for my good humor and forgiving temper,\" Eithan said, clapping Jai Long on the shoulder. \"You've lost a friend, so I think you've more than earned a few lapses in judgment. And, of course, you've earned a campaign of vengeance against Lindon here.\"\n\nEvery eye turned to Eithan, disbelieving. Including Lindon's.\n\n\"He's apart of your family,\" Jai Long said warily.\n\n\"A flower in the greenhouse is never half so beautiful as one in the wild. Don't you find that to be true? I like to think it's the added edge of danger. Nothing reaches its full potential unless it's threatened.\" He placed a finger along the edge of his chin, considering. \"Give me one year with him. After a year of my instruction, if he's not your match, then he has only himself to blame. Does that sound fair to you?\"\n\n\"He's Iron,\" Jai Long said. \"I may as well kill him now.\"\n\n\"Then you're waiting a year in respect for my wishes. In compensation, I won't strip this place to the bones and then break it looking for marrow. Everyone will receive the treasures that they have earned, in order of their contribution to the excavation effort.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The sacred artists behind Jai Long brightened at that, especially the Fishers, who almost as one packed away their hooks and bowed to Eithan.\n\n\"As the first to arrive,\" Eithan said, \"the new members of my family will select their rewards.\" He glanced over to the side. \"As Yerin can't join us at the moment, I will choose for her.\" He reached onto a nearby table and grabbed a bag seemingly at random. It clinked as he lifted it.\n\n\"Now, Lindon.\" Eithan reached down and drove a stiffened finger into Lindon's core. Madra flooded into him, and Lindon sat up with a gasp. His newly revitalized spirit flooded through his body, making the pain sharper. He grabbed at Eithan's shoulder, holding himself upright.\n\nBut his thoughts were already rushing forward. Before anyone could say anything, Lindon had scooted over to where the last remaining madra absorption binding was waiting in its case. He snapped the lid shut and raised it. \"I'm not so proud as to try and take the spear from the experts of the honored Jai clan,\" he announced. \"I will settle for this small binding, to improve my meager skill as a Soulsmith.\"\n\nJai Long might already hate him, but that didn't mean he couldn't buildup some goodwill.\n\n\"Wise choice,\" Eithan said with a nod.\n\nLindon scrambled for some of the papers nearby. \"... and these research notes, which teach me how to use the binding properly.\" It would be a waste if he couldn't be a little greedy. And he saw no need to mention the badges or the scripted black stones, which he'd already scavenged and placed in his pack." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Eithan turned to Jai Long." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I have no need of anything for myself. I already achieved what I came for. Jai Long, as the leader of the other party to reach the summit of the Transcendent Ruins, what treasure do you claim?\"\n\n\"Hold a moment, honored Underlord,\" an old woman piped up, and Fisher Gesha drifted in on her spider's legs. An old man who looked as though he lived on the street followed her, with a rusty iron hook on his waist hanging almost all the way down to his bare feet. Beside them walked a man in a blue sacred artist's robe, with steel in the wings of his gleaming iron hair: a Jai clan member, surely, and one who carried himself with a stately and commanding grace.\n\nJai Long ground his spear into the floor, knuckles white around the weapon's hilt. Lindon slid backwards and found his pack, where he crammed his prizes. Eithan seemed to have the situation well in hand, but Lindon wasn't about to risk someone taking these treasures away from him.\n\nFisher Gesha's wrinkled face folded into a smile as she drifted up to Eithan. \"It isn't appropriate for juniors to eat before their elders have a taste, is it? Hm?\"\n\nThe man from the Jai clan inclined his head to Eithan. \"Jai Long has served our clan's allies well, but he is not in favor. The Underlord should rest assured that we will reward him appropriately, once we have catalogued the contents of the Ruins and distributed them according to the will of the clan.\"\n\nThe ragged-looking old Fisher said nothing.\n\nGesha stabbed a gnarled finger in Lindon's direction without looking at him. \"Besides, that boy and the Lowgold accompanying him belong to the Fishers. They were soon to take their oaths, and it would be such a shame to have invested so much in their futures, only to have someone else reap the rewards. That deserves some compensation, don't you think? Hm?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Eithan chuckled good-naturedly, bowing in return." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Honored leaders of the Five Factions Alliance, it's a pleasure to meet you. I was born Eithan Arelius, and thanks to the good fortune of the heavens, I reached the stage of Underlord at quite a young age.\"\n\nWithout warning, all three elders collapsed.\n\nGesha's spider-legs snapped as her drudge broke beneath her, and she shrieked as she fell to the floor. She barely caught herself with her hands, trembling as she tried to support her own weight. Hair flew free from her gray bun.\n\nThe old Fisher had gotten his hook out before he fell to his knees, and he braced himself against the ground with his rusty iron weapon, but his breath came heavily through clenched teeth. The man from the Jai clan remained standing, but only barely.\n\nEithan walked up to him and rubbed his hands in the metallic hair, running his thumb along the edge of a rigid black peak. \"I've always wondered about the Goldsign for the Path of the Stellar Spear. Frozen hair? It's astonishing. Does it hurt?\"\n\nThe Jai elder grunted out something that might have been a response.\n\n\"Does it hurt?\" Eithan repeated softly, rapping his knuckles lightly on the man's frozen hair. Metal rang like a muffled bell.\n\n\"No... Underlord...\" the Jai elder managed to force out.\n\n\"Oh, really? How does it feel, then?\"\n\n\"... helmet...\"\n\nThat was the only word Lindon understood, but Eithan nodded. \"I see, I see. Thank you for indulging my curiosity.\" He moved onto the old Fisherman, taking a knee in front of him. \"Fisher Ragahn, I assume. It's polite to introduce yourself when you're meeting a superior, you know, but I know who you are regardless. It must have been hard on you, reaching Truegold, but you did what you had to. Anything you had to. A kind person couldn't inherit the Fishers, could he? And if he did, he wouldn't remain kind for long.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Eithan lowered his head, making sure that his eyes were even with the Fisher's. \"I can respect that, Ragahn. But there are things you should and should not say to your superiors.\"\n\nHe moved over to Gesha, who looked as though she was suffering more than the others. She was Highgold, Lindon remembered, and the others must be a stage higher.\n\nEithan crouched next to her, fingers laced together thoughtfully. No one else dared to disturb his silence by moving.\n\n\"I've dealt with people like you all my life,\" Eithan said at last. \"You earned everything at the edge of a spear, so you've picked up some unfortunate habits. Oh, but you're a Soulsmith, aren't you? You earned it making the spears.\" He picked up a severed edge of her drudge's cracked leg. \"I can deal with you like human beings if I take the time to get to know you, to slide into the walls you've built, to slip through the cracks in your pride. But I don't have the patience for that today.\"\n\nHe tapped her forehead with the edge of the spider's limb. \"I am picking up the pair that you discarded. Do you have any objection?\"\n\nSlowly, Gesha's head shook once.\n\n\"Splendid. And the rest of you. You take what you can keep, isn't that the law of the Wilds? Do you have any doubt that I own everything and everyone inside the Ruins right now?\"\n\nThe Jai elder choked out a few words. \"The... clan... head branch...\"\n\n\"Do I dare to offend the head branch of the legendary Jai clan?\" He paused fora moment as though thinking. \"Why wouldn't I dare? If I cutoff your legs and threw you from the top of the Ruins, I'd have to spend an hour writing a letter of apology to your clan's Underlord. Do you think I would back down from such a threat?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The man just shook.\n\nSuddenly all three trembled with obvious relief as the pressure vanished. They sat, panting, on the floor.\n\nEithan stood, all smiles, arms spread generously. \"But that's so morbid, isn't it? We're all friends here.\" He ignored the elders, turning to the young man in the red mask. \"Jai Long, I believe it's your turn to make your selection. And choose well; I'll want you to pose a healthy threat to my pawn. I mean, ah, the valued young member of my family.\"\n\nLindon's eyes seemed to be stuck on Eithan. The man had never lost his smiling, pleasant demeanor. Ever. If he had driven the spider's leg through Gesha's forehead, would he still be smiling?\n\nAnd what about when he watched Jai Long tear Lindon to pieces in a year? Would he be smiling then?\n\nJai Long reached over and lifted the shining white spear from the debris.\n\n---\n\nInformation requested: Jai Long's future.\n\nBeginning report...\n\nSpears flash as Jai Long tears his way through the halls of the Jai clan. His spear is pure white, and it drinks the power of slain Remnants; with every death he causes, Jai Long grows stronger. Ashe destroys his family's homes one by one, he draws closer to the Jai Patriarch.\n\nLOW PROBABILITY: in the heat of battle, he steps left when he should have stepped right, and a Jai Lowgold puts a spear between his ribs.\n\nLOW PROBABILITY: Ina crisis of conscience, his little sister has a change of heart, persuading him to set aside his crusade. They move to a city at the far edges of the Blackflame Empire, where she meets a local man and raises a family. He trains alone, and eventually dies in isolation." }, { "from": "human", "value": "HIGH PROBABILITY: The Jai cannot stop him without an expense that would cripple the family." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As the Patriarch searches fora way to stop this one-man rebellion without causing his carefully cultivated power to crumble, he learns of Jai Long's upcoming duel.\n\nSuggested topic: the future of the Sandviper sect. Continue?\n\nTopic accepted, continuing report...\n\nSandviper Gokren returns from his hunting trip at last, full of news from the outside world and hauling prizes that will sustain his sect for months. He brings with him an ancient bracer, scripted and made of a strange material, as a present for his Highgold son.\n\nWhen he arrives, he finds his son's corpse.\n\nThe stories of Kral's death largely do not penetrate the deaf haze of grief, but he grasps the main points.\n\nKral was killed by an Iron, bringing shame to the entire Sandviper sect and his family in particular.\n\nThis Iron was taken away to the Blackflame Empire, sheltered by a young Underlord.\n\nThis family is protecting his son's killer. And in one year, Jai Long will take revenge on his behalf. Gokren knows he must only wait.\n\nSuggested topic: future of Jai Long and Wei Shi Lindon. Continue?\n\nTopic accepted, continuing report...\n\nWARNING: DEVIATION DETECTED.\n\nEntity[Wei Shi Lindon] has deviated from primary course. Further data required for accurate calculation. Best estimates follow:\n\nHIGH PROBABILITY: The Jai Patriarch approaches Wei Shi Lindon with a proposition. Lindon fills one of his cores with the Path of the Stellar Spear, enjoying the most powerful elixirs and training methods the Jai clan can procure. Jai Long is sabotaged by a series of attackers in the days leading up to the duel, and he begins the fight weak. Lindon manages to score one severe wound before he dies, and the Jai Patriarch uses that wound to suppress Jai Long." }, { "from": "human", "value": "LOW PROBABILITY: Lindon fails to find a suitable Path to supplement his Path of Twin Stars, and runs from the battle." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He is caught by the Jai clan and executed in captivity.\n\nLOW PROBABILITY: Lindon devises a weapon specifically designed to counter Jai Long's spear. He acquits himself well in the duel, but dies of his wounds.\n\nSuggested topic: powerful Paths of Cradle. Continue?\n\nDenied, report complete." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Chapter 19\n\nYerin couldn't be sure if she was awake or dreaming. Her body had no weight to it, drifting on the breeze without direction. Must be a dream, then. The last thing she remembered was facing a Highgold, so cheers and celebration to her for surviving. She hadn't so much as torn the wrapping around Jai Long's head, but she hadn't retreated or died either. Her master would call that a win. She floated into memory, allowing it to carry her back to sleep.\n\nHer arm prickled.\n\nShe glanced down, just to make sure everything was all prim and proper, only to see a spider the size of a fox suspended from the ceiling, poking her skin with needle-sharp legs.\n\nShe tried to jerk away, but whatever kept her suspended in the air also had her tied like a pig for roasting. She was held in an invisible trap with a giant spider clinging to her arm.\n\nYerin's breath froze, and before she could think, she tore everything apart.\n\nSword madra blasted out of her in every direction, shredding the spider... and the unseen bonds that held her suspended halfway to the ceiling. She landed in a crouch, spider parts clattering to the ground in a sizzle of escaping madra. A construct, then. Of course it was. She shuddered anyway.\n\nThe walls of her room were made of rough wood that still smelled fresh. One door-the only entrance or exit besides a single shuttered window. The hearth in one wall was too narrow to let anything in besides a constructor a tiny sacred beast, and a script-circle helped ward against those. She'd checked those herself, inside an hour of moving in.\n\nShe would have recognized the room faster had she not just reduced all the furniture to kindling. This was the little cottage the Fishers had given her, where she'd stayed for less than two weeks. That almost won the medal for the longest time she'd lived in the same place." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Her robe was soft, white, a single layer, and tied at the waist. The sort of thing you'd put on a patient while they were unconscious. Whatever had tied her to the ceiling hadn't left any fragments of rope lying everywhere, which meant it had been a Fisher technique. The spider would have been one of Gesha's constructs.\n\nShe'd lost the fight to Jai Long, so by rights she should be dead. Instead, she was receiving healing from the Fishers.\n\nWhat had Lindon done?\n\nShe took a step forward, circulating madra to her feet to keep out splinters, and her body sent her a pointed reminder: if they were in the middle of healing her, it was because something was wrong. That hint came to her in the form of a shooting pain up her leg, which made her stagger and grab the wall.\n\nFootsteps pounded the grass outside, and she gathered madra into the steel blade of her Goldsign. It wasn't as useful a medium as her master's sword, but she could still cobble together a Rippling Sword technique to defend herself. If she could find areal weapon, she figured she had an even shot of cutting her way out of the Five Factions Alliance camp. Though that would leave her alone in the Desolate Wilds with no idea what had happened to Lindon. Or Eithan, but she wouldn't shed an undue number of tears if the yellow-haired man had gotten himself buried.\n\nThe door cracked open, and the blade poised over her shoulder, on the edge of slashing down.\n\nLindon's voice drifted in. \"Yerin, I don't want to seem untrusting, but... please don't cut me.\"\n\nYerin let out a breath as she sunk to the ground, strength leaking out of her legs. She leaned against the wall and called back, \"Two steps closer and I'd have carved you into a roast.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"That's why I waited.\" He poked his head into the door, showing off ashy smile. He was still too tall for someone so weak. \"I thought I might explain what happened before you went looking for the story yourself.\"\n\n\"So long as they answered my questions proper and quick, they were in no danger.\"\n\nActually, Lindon may have been the only person in the Fisher camp that she could threaten as she was. Her spirit felt like a guttering candle, her body like a sack of tender meat, and her unwelcome guest had started to strain against its cage. She rested a hand on her red belt, with her as always, still tied into an intricate bow-the shape designed by her master to bind its power.\n\nIt twisted slightly beneath her palm, straining against the seal. It was no threat for now, but its restrictions would weaken with time.\n\nSand rushed through an hourglass; an incense stick burned steadily down. She wasn't sure how many years she had left, but if she didn't advance far enough to keep her guest suppressed with her own power...\n\nThen she wouldn't be herself anymore.\n\nNow that she thought of it, someone had dressed her. Which meant someone had gotten a good look at the \"rope\" tied around her waist and had decided not to fiddle with it. That showed strange wisdom; most sacred artists would poke a bear to see if it was sleeping.\n\nLindon knelt opposite her, the closest thing to a chair in the room being a thumb-thick splinter. He arranged himself carefully, sitting with his back straight true and proper. You could take a kid out of his clan, but you couldn't pull the clan out of him with a set of red-hot pliers.\n\nThen her eyes snagged on his clothes." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He was wearing the typical sacred artist's outfit, which went by different names indifferent lands: wide sleeves that left the arms free, a loose hem hanging down to the ankles to allow abroad range of movement techniques, a cloth belt tied around the waist. Usually, the sacred artist's sector clan would determine the patterns and colors of the robe, and this was what had stolen Yerin's attention.\n\nThe robe was deep blue in some places, white in others, and marked over the heart with a black crescent moon the size of a palm. She'd seen that symbol before; it had whipped these Five Factions artists into a frenzy.\n\nThe Arelius family.\n\nSo they'd shown up after all, just as the Fishers and Sandvipers had feared. And Lindon was wearing their colors. He'd joined someone after all.\n\nHis explanation of the events that had occurred while she was unconscious-told in Lindon's way, soft and polite-painted the picture clear.\n\nEithan was an Underlord. She found that the easiest part to believe. He had always treated Highgolds as though they weren't fit for his eyes, and there were times training in the Ruins where she'd caught a shadow of something in him that reminded her of her master.\n\nNot that a mere Underlord could stand in the shoes of the Sword Sage, but he'd rule like an emperor in a distant land like this.\n\nNo, Eithan as an Underlord she could expect. But there were a few other points she found too sticky to release.\n\n\"You buried Kral? A Highgold?\"\n\nLindon brushed her aside with an explanation of the binding he'd found in the ancient foundry, as though he were ashamed by his own contribution, but pride lurked in his eyes and his words." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "An Iron taking on a Highgold, whatever the circumstances, was like the sun rising green. That was a story his grandchildren could be proud of.\n\nWhich might explain the second sticking point of his story: that Eithan Arelius, renowned Underlord, had wanted him.\n\n\"He came here looking for recruits,\" Lindon explained, \"and he thinks we'd be... suitable.\" Something haunted his expression fora moment. Maybe hesitation. But what was thereto hesitate about when it came to an Underlord's personal invitation? For an Iron to exchange words with someone like Eithan was enough good fortune for five lifetimes.\n\nWhat was he worried about?\n\nBut there was a more urgent question. She didn't think she'd missed so much-if she had slept for days, she would have expected hunger, thirst, a powerful pressure in her bladder. But besides her weakness, which was plain and clear after a fight, she felt like she'd only slept fora few hours.\n\n\"How long was I out?\" she asked.\n\n\"Only six hours,\" he said, and that settled that. Still, it tore anew hole in his story, and one that she'd almost missed.\n\n\"You've got a fox's luck,\" she said. \"Kral didn't so much as cut you?\"\n\nHe gave her a guilty look, pressing a hand to his shoulder. \"Forgiveness. I didn't mean to suggest that I walked away without a scratch. He ran a Forged spear through, right here.\"\n\nShe stared at his shoulder, which he rubbed as though it ached. Even if Lindon was exaggerating about being run through, which she doubted, he'd still been struck by a Highgold's Forger technique less than half a day before.\n\n\"Underlords must have some great medicines, I'd guess.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It was mostly the Fishers who worked on you,\" Lindon said, still rubbing his shoulder. \"Eithan didn't do much, but they tied themselves into knots trying to serve him. If I hadn't told them they should begone when you woke up, I'm sure they would still be inhere.\"\n\n\"I'm not concerned about me,\" Yerin said. \"How are you moving that arm? You should be dead and buried, but you're up and hopping in six hours.\"\n\nLindon's brow furrowed. \"I have an Iron body now. Just like you.\"\n\n\"Not like me.\"\n\nJai Long outclassed her in power, but her skill was the highest card she had to play. She'd managed to avoid too many direct hits, so she'd taken many small wounds, but nothing like a through-and-through stab. Even so, she'd needed the urgent attention of a healer, and she still wouldn't be sharp enough to hold an edge fora week or two.\n\nThat was all plain and proper, part of a normal life-she'd barely taken a step on her Path without some gruesome injury. But Lindon just walked his off in half a day.\n\nShe flashed back to a figure caked in blood and black ooze until he looked like he'd crawled out of a wildfire. She would have beta pile of jewels that he was dead, and she was prepared to take that price out of Eithan's skin.\n\nInstead, he'd advanced to Iron.\n\nWhat kind of body had they given him?\n\nHe picked upon her response, and his voice shook. \"Is that wrong? Should I be worried?\"\n\nShe gave him alight kick, shaking his perfect posture. \"Your new Underlord can handle it.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He winced. \"Apologies. I accepted his invitation before you woke up.\"\n\n\"You'd have been cracked in the head if you hadn't,\" Yerin said, which was true. It was the sort of opportunity that only a madman would turn down.\n\nBut that still left the ugly question: where did it leave her?\n\nAn endless winter forest stretched out before her, filled with nothing but snow and no one but her.\n\n\"No, I owe you more consideration than that.\" He bent slightly, giving her a little seated bow. \"Forgive me.\"\n\nShe forced herself to her feet, one hand on the wall. \"Don't fuss about that. Irons are allowed out of the house without a shepherd. You'll settle in with the Underlord, stable and true.\"\n\nHer master's sword wasn't in the cottage, and she needed it. When you're alone, first look fora weapon.\n\nLindon opened his mouth as though to speak, but quickly shut it again. The silence stretched.\n\nUntil he jerked back as though struck, eyes widening on the window. She spun around, bladed arm poised and gathering madra.\n\nThe shutter had come apart slightly, and one bright eye was peeking through. It was framed by a few locks of yellow hair and about an inch of smile.\n\nThe face vanished from the window, and an instant later Eithan Arelius kicked in the door. \"I'm sorry to disturb you, children, though I couldn't help but overhear every word.\"\n\nYerin's spirit may have been drained down to the bone, but she still couldn't believe she hadn't sensed someone as powerful as an Underlord a mere ten feet away. At least he couldn't have been therefor more than a few seconds, or she would lose trust in her abilities completely." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"How long have you been listening?\" she asked, not relaxing her bladed Goldsign.\n\nHe tapped his chin thoughtfully. \"For about... four weeks now,\" he said, then turned his smile on Lindon. \"Now, as unique and special as you are, where did you get the impression that I wanted you and only you?\"\n\nLindon's expression showed only confusion, but he rose to his feet in order to execute a bow. His iron badge dangled from his neck. \"Forgive me, Underlord.\" Yerin would beta stack of silver against a pile of hay that he had no idea what he was apologizing for.\n\n\"Of course you're a treasure,\" Eithan said, placing a hand on Lindon's shoulder. Then his other hand snaked out and grabbed Yerin as well-she stopped her bladed arm just before it stabbed him. \"But I'm not looking fora single treasure. I want the set.\"\n\nYerin exchanged looks with Lindon, and though she gave no outer sign, it was as though her heart unclenched. She wouldn't have to scrape by on her own after all. At least not fora little while.\n\n\"So we're a set,\" Lindon said.\n\n\"Sounds like we are,\" she responded. She gave him a little smile, and he rubbed his head sheepishly.\n\nEithan cleared his throat.\n\n\"Well,\" he said, \"one half of this set is supposed to be embedding bindings into constructs.\"\n\nLindon bowed. \"Apologies, Underlord. I thought Yerin might need a familiar face when she woke.\"\n\n\"That's kind of you, and of course I have no objection to kindness. If you think kindness might keep you alive. In one year. When a Highgold is decorating the walls with your insides.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lindon's head snapped up, focused on Eithan. \"Honored Underlord, thank you for your consideration, but I must beg you for guidance. How can I defeat a Highgold in one year?\" He sounded like a starving man asking for his next meal.\n\n\"Under the right circumstances, it's possible for an ant to fell an ancient tree,\" Eithan said. \"So it's certainly possible. But this will be the...\" He hesitated. \"I was going to say \"the worst year of your life,\" but you're very young. Let me put it to you this way: if you can hear my name at the end of this year without screaming until your lungs bleed, I haven't done my job properly.\"\n\nLindon paled, but his voice remained firm. \"I thank you for the kindness, Underlord.\" He bobbed his head to Eithan, then to Yerin, and left the cottage. Presumably to work on his Soulsmithing.\n\nEithan watched him leave, arms folded. When the door shut, he chuckled. \"You didn't warn him.\"\n\nYerin watched the Underlord the same way she might watch a venomous Remnant rising from a corpse. \"About what?\"\n\n\"I know you noticed the... flaw in his assumptions.\"\n\nReluctantly, she nodded. There was no point in pretending when he'd seen through her already. \"Ina year, Jai Long won't be Highgold anymore.\"\n\nHe spread his arms wide, radiant with the joy of a man presented with a glorious gift. \"My respect for the Sage of the Endless Sword only grows. When he chose you as his disciple, he proved himself the wisest of men.\"\n\nThough it may not have been the sharpest move, she kept going. If he was going to turn on her, better to know it now than to live with a knife at her back. \"You can say what you want about ants and trees, but I'd contend Lindon can't win against a Truegold. Not in a year.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Eithan held up a single finger. \"A Truegold or better. Remember that he holds the spear of his ancestor now. But otherwise, you're correct: Lindon certainly will not win. He cannot. And yet he must fight anyway. It's exciting, isn't it?\"\n\nThe yellow-haired man's cheerful demeanor had always scraped her against the grain. She'd somewhat gotten used to it during her two weeks of training with him, but now the old irritation was worming its way back like a splinter beneath a fingernail. And anger came with it.\n\n\"So you're setting him up to bleed,\" she said, without bothering to hide the accusation.\n\nHe drummed his fingertips together. \"Ina remote range of mountains at the southern edge of the Blackflame Empire, there lives a small sect of earth artists known as the Deep Eye School. And they are artists in the truest sense of the word; their stone sculptures sell for millions on the open market. To train in their Path, Deep Eye disciples spend years examining the aura of every rock and every boulder on the mountainside. Only when they've found the perfect material will they begin to sculpt.\"\n\nHe moved his hands as though holding a block of stone between them. \"Once, I had the good fortune to visit them and observe their process. Tome, it seemed as though they spent all day staring at rocks. So I asked them what they were looking for. And they answered me: they were looking for the most beautiful flaws.\"\n\nYerin kept her voice flat. \"In this story, Lindon's a rock?\"\n\n\"And he has an exquisite flaw. He was born too weak. He has learned to get by as the weak do, tricking and bargaining and scraping his way through a world of giants.\" He smiled in satisfaction. \"If I wish to make him a giant, that is the flaw I must use.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"That's your intention, is it? To make him a giant?\" She had been leaning toward joining his family-she hadn't been lying when she told Lindon that only a fool would pass by an opportunity like that-but now she understood his hesitation.\n\nEithan smiled too much.\n\n\"Sounds like you're aiming to give us both a gift,\" Yerin said, cycling madra to her bladed arm. She didn't plan to use it, but it gave her a sense of control. \"I don't like gifts when I don't know the why behind them.\"\n\nHis smile took on a wistful hue, and he stared into the distance over her shoulder. \"Why?\" he repeated. \"That's an elusive beast, and one that's difficult to pin down. Let me simply say that being born with too little power is not the worst problem one can have.\"\n\nShe knew where this path was headed now, and she withdrew the steel arm on her back. Her master had given her a similar speech, long ago.\n\n\"Fate is far worse on those born with too much,\" he said. \"I've heard it said that only one in a thousand Lowgolds reaches Highgold. The same holds true with the advancement to Truegold. Between Truegold and Underlord? One in ten thousand.\" He gestured as though spreading a fact before her. \"By definition, each advancement means you leave behind everyone you know until, eventually, you've surpassed them completely. That's the very nature of the sacred arts; it is the definition of success.\"\n\nThat was a fact she knew well. She maybe little more than average now, but that wasn't where she'd started out. Nor was it where she would end up.\n\nWhether the heavens were kind enough to grant her mercy or not, she wasn't destined to stay mediocre for long." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I'll admit that's been my experience,\" Yerin allowed, \"but my master used to say that no Path is wide enough for two.\"\n\nHe'd lost his smile somewhere along the way, and he was giving her a look of such intensity that she wondered if she was seeing him for the first time. \"And that is exactly the problem I wish to solve. I have been looking for people to walk with me every step of the way.\"\n\n\"Whereto?\" she asked.\n\n\"To the end.\"\n\nHe let that hang in the air, resonating with honest yearning like a pure musical note. The end of the sacred arts. It was the definition of a myth, the unattainable goal sought by every Path.\n\n\"You think Lindon can keep up?\" He had his story about a celestial visitor, but Yerin would think it impressive enough fora lifetime if he hit Gold someday.\n\nEithan gave a little shrug. \"He's a gamble, I'll admit. But if it pays off, then I'm more worried about you keeping up with him.\"\n\nYerin stared at him.\n\n\"Unless, of course, you come to terms with your... unwelcome guest.\"\n\nShe kept her hand from moving to the blood-red Remnant she kept wrapped around her waist like a belt. He knew. He'd known, and he invited her anyway.\n\n\"I already had a master,\" she said at last. \"I'm not calling you that.\"\n\n\"Eithan will do fine,\" he said. And smiled." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Carry on with the plot as the author's writing partner.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, quest\nAuthor: Terry Goodkind\nTitle: Stone of Tears\nChapter: 27" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She let him shepherd her back into the shroud of trees, not because she thought it necessary, but because she wanted to let him know she respected his efforts to protect her. Despite his animosity at being forced to goon this journey, he had done his duty, watching over her constantly, as had the two brothers, they with smiles and concern, he with a scowl and suspicion. All three made her feel like a precious, fragile cargo that must be tended at all times. The brothers, she knew, were sincere. Chandalen, she was sure, saw his mission only as a task that must be performed, no matter how onerous.\n\n\"We should go quickly from here,\" he pressed, again.\n\nKahlan withdrew a hand from under the fur mantle and pulled astray strand of her longhair back from her face. \"It is my duty to know what has happened here.\"\n\n\"You said your duty was to go to Aydindril, as Richard With The Temper asked.\"\n\nKahlan turned away without answering, moving deeper into the snow-crusted trees. She missed Richard more than she could bear. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw his face as it had looked when he thought she had betrayed him. She wanted to drop to her knees and let out the scream that seemed to be always there, trapped just below the surface, trying to find away past her restraint, a scream born of her horror at what she had done.\n\nBut what else could she have done? If what she had learned was true, and the veil to the underworld was torn and Richard was in fact the only one who could close it, and if the collar was the only thing that could save his life and give him the chance to close the veil, then she had had no choice. How could she have made any other decision? How could Richard ever respect her if she didn't face her responsibilities to the greater good? The Richard she loved would eventually realize that. He had to." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But if any of it was not true, then she had delivered the man she loved into his worst nightmare, for nothing.\n\nShe wondered again if Richard often looked at the lock of her hair she had given him, and thought of her. She hoped that he could find it in himself to understand and forgive her. She wanted so much to tell him how much she loved him. She yearned to hold him to her. She wanted only to get to Aydindril, to Zedd, for help.\n\nBut she had to know what had happened here. She stiffened her back with resolve. She was the Mother Confessor.\n\nShe had intended to skirt Ebinissia, but for the last two days they had been coming across the frozen corpses of women. Never any men, only women, from young to old, children to grandmothers. Most were half naked, some without clothes at all. And in the dead of winter. While most had been alone, a few were together, huddled in frozen death, too exhausted, or too frightened, or too disoriented to have sought shelter. They had run from Ebinissia not in disorderly haste, but in panic, choosing to freeze to death rather than remain.\n\nMost, too, had been badly abused before they had scattered in every direction into the mountainous countryside. Kahlan knew what had been done to them, what had made them make the choice they did. The three men knew, too, but none would voice it aloud.\n\nShe pulled her warm mantle tighter around herself. This atrocity couldn't have been at the hands of the armies from D'Hara; it was far too recent. The troops from D'Hara had been called home. Surely, they wouldn't have done this after they had been told the war was ended." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Unable to stand for another moment not knowing what fate had befallen Ebinissia, she pushed her bow farther upon her shoulder and started down the hillside. Her leg muscles were at long last used to the wide-footed gait needed to walk on the snowshoes the men had made from willow and sinew. Chandalen charged after her.\n\n\"You must not go down there. There could be dangerous.\"\n\n\"Danger,\" she corrected as she hitched her pack up higher. \"If there was danger, Prindin and Tossidin would not be out in the open. You may come, or you may wait here, but I'm going down there.\"\n\nKnowing argument was useless, he followed in a rare fit of silence. The bright afternoon sun brought no warmth to the bitterly cold day. There was usually wind at the fringe of the Rang'Shada Mountains, but thankfully there was little this day, fora change. It hadn't snowed for several days, and they had been able to make better time in the clear weather. Still, with every breath she took, the air felt as if it were turning the inside of her nose to ice.\n\nShe intercepted Prindin and Tossidin halfway down the slope. They brought themselves to a halt before her, leaning on their spears, breathing heavily, which was unusual for them as nothing seemed to tire them, but they were unaccustomed to the altitude. Their faces were pale, and their handsome twin smiles long gone.\n\n\"Please, Mother Confessor,\" Prindin said, pausing to catch his breath from the strenuous climb, \"you must not go to that place. The ancestor spirits of those people have abandoned them.\"\n\nKahlan untied a waterskin from her waist and pulled it from under her mantle, where her body's heat kept the water from freezing. She held it up to Prindin, urging him to take a drink before questioning him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"What did you see?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "You didn't go into the city, did you? I told you not to go inside the walls.\"\n\nPrindin handed the waterskin to his panting brother. \"No.\"\n\n\"We stay hidden, as you told us. We do not go inside, but we do not need to.\" He licked a drop of water from his lower lip. \"We see enough from outside.\"\n\nShe took back the waterskin when Tossidin finished, and replaced the stopper. \"Did you see any people?\"\n\nTossidin stole a quick glance over his shoulder, down the hill. \"We see many people.\"\n\nPrindin wiped his nose on the back of his hand as he looked from his brother to her. \"Dead people.\"\n\n\"How many? Dead from what?\"\n\nTossidin tugged loose the thong holding his fur mantle tight at his neck. \"Dead from fighting. Most are men with weapons: swords and spears and bows. There are more than I know the words to count. I have never seen that many men. In my whole life, I have not seen that many men. There has been war here. War, and killing of those defeated.\"\n\nKahlan stared at them fora moment as horror threatened to choke off her breath. She had hoped that somehow the people of Ebinissia had escaped, that they had fled.\n\nA war. Had the D'Haran forces done this after the war was ended? Or was it something else?\n\nHer muscles at last unlocked and she started down the hill, the mantle billowing open, letting in the icy air. Her heart pounded with dread at what had befallen the people of Ebinissia. \"I must go down thereto see what has happened.\"\n\n\"Please, Mother Confessor, do not go,\" Prindin called after her. \"It is bad to see.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "The three men jumped to follow as she marched down the hill, the slope speeding her effort." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I have seen dead people before.\"\n\nThey began encountering the sprawled corpses-apparently the sites of skirmishes-a good distance from the city walls. Snow had drifted against them, partially covering them. In one place, a hand reached up from the snow, as if the man below were drowning, and reaching for air. Most had not been touched by animals or birds, there being an overabundance for scavengers. All were soldiers of the Galean army, frozen in death where they had fallen, blood-soaked clothes frozen rock-solid to them, ghastly wounds frozen open.\n\nAt the south wall, where huge oak doors crisscrossed with iron strapping had stood, was a gaping hole through the stone, its edges melted and burned black. Kahlan stood staring at rock melted like wax from a candle that had guttered. She knew of only one power that could do that: wizard's fire.\n\nHer mind fought to understand what she was seeing. She knew what the results of wizard's fire looked like, but there were no more wizards. Except Zedd and, she guessed, Richard. But this would not have been Zedd's deed.\n\nOutside the walls, off to either side, headless corpses were heaped in huge, frozen mounds. Heads stared out from less orderly piles of their own. Swords and shields and spears were discarded to separate heaps, looking like great, dead, steel porcupines. This had been amass execution, carried out at a number of stations at once to handle the numbers more efficiently. All were Galean soldiers.\n\nAs she stared in numb shock at the splayed limbs draped over their fellows under them, Kahlan spoke softly to the three men behind her. \"The word you did not know to use to count this many is thousand. There are perhaps five thousand dead men here.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gently, Prindin planted the butt end of his spear in the snow, giving it an uneasy twist. \"I did not know there was a word needed to count this many men.\" His fist twisted the spear again, and his voice lowered to a whisper. \"This will be a bad place when the warm weather comes.\"\n\n\"It is a bad place now,\" his brother murmured to himself in his own tongue.\n\nKahlan knew this was the least of the dead. She knew the tactics of defense for Ebinissia. The walls were not secure fortifications, the way they had been in times long ago. As the city had grown in the prosperity of the Midlands alliance, the older, stronger, fortified walls had been torn down, and the stone used to build these newer, more encompassing outer walls. But they had been built less secure than in the past. They were more a symbol of the size and pride of the Crown city than a strong defensible perimeter.\n\nUnder attack, the gates would have been closed, with the toughest, most experienced troops on the outside to stop the attackers before they had a chance to reach the walls. The real defense for Ebinissia was the surrounding mountains, whose narrow passes prevented abroad attack.\n\nUnder Darken Rahl's order, D'Haran forces had laid siege to Ebinissia for two months, but the defenders outside the walls were able to hold them back in the surrounding passes, pin them down, and harry them relentlessly until the attackers finally withdrew, licking their wounds, in search of easier prey. Though the Ebinissians had prevailed, it had been at a great cost of lives to the defenders. Had Darken Rahl been less concerned with finding the boxes, he could have sent greater numbers and maybe overrun the defenders in the passes, but he didn't. This time, someone had." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "These headless men were apart of that outer defensive ring. Backs to the wall, they had been defeated and captured, and then executed before the walls were breached-apparently as a demonstration to those still inside, to terrorize them, to panic them into an ineffectual defense. She knew that what was inside the walls would be worse. The dead women they had been finding told her that much.\n\nOut of habit, and without even realizing it, she had put on the calm face that showed nothing: the face of a Confessor, as her mother had taught her.\n\n\"Prindin, Tossidin, I want you two to go around the outside of the walls. I want to know what else is on the outside. I want to know everything about what has happened here. I want to know when this was done, where the attackers came from, and where they went when they were finished. Chandalen and I will go inside. Meet us back here when you are finished.\"\n\nThe brothers went quickly at her direction, their heads close together as they whispered to one another while pointing, analyzing tracks and signs they understood with hardly more than a glance. Chandalen walked silently at her side, his bow, with an arrow nocked and tension to the string, at the ready as she stepped over rubble and moved on through the yawning hole.\n\nNone of the three men had objected to her instructions. They were, she knew, astonished at the size of the city, but more than that, they were overwhelmed at the enormity of what had happened here; they respected her obligation to the dead.\n\nChandalen's eyes ignored the bodies that lay everywhere and watched instead the shaded openings and alleyways among the small daub-and-wattle houses that were homes to the farmers and sheepherders who worked the land closer to the city. There were no fresh prints in the snow; nothing alive had been here recently." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Kahlan chose the proper streets and Chandalen stayed close at her right shoulder, half a step behind. She didn't stop to inspect the dead laying everywhere. All looked to have died the same way: killed in a fierce battle.\n\n\"These people were defeated by great numbers,\" Chandalen said in a quiet tone. \"Many thousands, as you called it. They had no chance to win.\"\n\n\"Why do you say that?\"\n\n\"They are bunched together between the buildings. This is a bad place to have to fight, but in a closed-in place like this, that is the only way. That is the way I would try to defend against a larger number-by blocking the enemy from spreading out behind me to trap me. Greater numbers would not be as much good in the small passageways. I would try to keep the enemy from spreading out, and come at them from all sides so they could not attack as they wished, but must be always in fear of where I would be next. You must not meet the enemy as they wish you to, especially when they greatly outnumber you. There are old men, and boys, among the soldiers. Boys and old men would not come to fight beside Chandalen unless they saw it was a war to the death and I was greatly outnumbered. For these men to stand and fight against vastly greater numbers, they must have been brave. Old men and boys would not have come to help such brave men if the enemy were not so great.\"\n\nShe knew Chandalen was right. Everyone had seen or heard the executions outside the walls. They knew defeat was death.\n\nThe bodies were felled like reeds before a great wind. As they ascended the rise to where the old city walls had stood, the dead were more numerous. It looked that they had fallen back, trying to make a stand from higher ground. It had done them no good; they had been overrun." }, { "from": "human", "value": "All the dead were defenders; none were the corpses of attackers." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Kahlan knew that some believed leaving the dead where they fell in defeating an enemy augured ill luck in future battles, and further, that it abandoned their spirits to retribution by the spirits of those defeated. Likewise, they believed that if they left their dead at the site of a defeat, the spirits of their fallen comrades would live onto plague their enemies. Whoever had done this must have believed such, and dragged their own dead away from the bodies of those they had vanquished. Kahlan knew of several peoples who believed that the act of dying in battle could bring about such thaumaturgy. One nation, above all, sat at the head of her roster.\n\nAs they skirted an overturned wagon, its load of firewood spilled in a heap, Chandalen paused beneath a small wooden sign carved with a leafy plant next to a mortar and pestle. With a hand, he shielded his eyes from the sunlight and looked into the long, narrow shop setback a few feet from the buildings to each side. \"What is this place?\"\n\nKahlan walked past him, through the splintered doorframe. \"It's an herb shop.\" The counter was covered with broken glass jars and dried herbs, all scattered together in a useless mess. Only two glass lids remained unbroken among the pale green debris. \"This is where people went to get herbs and remedies.\"\n\nBehind the counter, the wall cabinet, which reached from floor to ceiling and almost the entire length of the narrow shop, had held hundreds of small wooden drawers, their patina darkened by the countless touches of fingers. The ones still left in place were smashed in with a mace. The drawers and their contents on the floor had been crushed underfoot. Chandalen squatted and pulled open the few drawers near the bottom that had remained untouched, inspecting briefly their stores before sliding each drawer closed again." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Nissel would be..." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "how do you say \"astonished\"?\"\n\n\"Astonished,\" Kahlan answered.\n\n\"She would be astonished, to see this many healing plants. This is a crime, to destroy things that help people.\"\n\nShe watched him pull open drawers and then slide them closed. \"A crime,\" she agreed.\n\nHe pulled open another drawer, and gasped. He squatted, motionless, fora moment, before reverently lifting a bundle of miniature plants, tied at their stems with a bit of string. The tiny, dry leaves were a dusky greenish brown with crimson veining.\n\nA low whistle came from between his teeth. \"Quassin doe,\" he whispered.\n\nKahlan eyed the shadowed back of the shop as her vision adjusted to the darkness. She saw nobodies. The proprietor must have fled before he was killed, or maybe he was one who had stood with the army against the invaders. \"What is Quassin doe?\"\n\nChandalen turned the bundle over in his palm, his eyes fixed unblinking on it. \"Quassin doe can save your life if you take ten-step poison by mistake, or, if you are quick enough, when shot by an arrow with the poison on it.\"\n\n\"How can you take it by mistake?\"\n\n\"Many poison bandu leaves must be chewed, fora longtime, and made wet in your mouth, before being cooked until they become a thick paste. Sometimes, if you swallow some of the wetness in your mouth by accident, or chew too long, it can make you sick.\"\n\nHe opened a buckskin waist pouch and showed her a small, carved bone, lidded box. Inside was a dark paste. \"This is ten-step poison we put on our arrows. We make it from the bandu. If you ate a very little of this, it would make you sick. If you ate a little more you would be along time to die. If you ate more, you would die quick. But no one would eat it after it is made and put inhere.\" He slipped the box of poison back in his pouch." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"So you could take some of the quassin doe, and it would make you well if you accidentally swallowed some of the bandu when you were chewing its leaves to make the poison?\" He nodded in answer to her question. \"But if you were shot with a ten-step arrow, wouldn't you die before you could take the quassin doe?\"\n\nChandalen turned the bundle of plants in his fingers. \"Maybe. Sometimes, a man will scratch himself with his own ten-step arrow, by not meaning to, and he can take the quassin doe, and he will be well again. If you are shot with a poison arrow, sometimes you will have time to save yourself. Ten-step arrows only work quick if you are shot in the neck. Then you have no time to take the quassin doe, you will die too quick. But if you are shot in another place, maybe your leg, the poison takes longer to work, and you have time to take the quassin doe.\"\n\n\"What if you aren't near to Nissel, so she could give it to you? You would die if you were out on the plains hunting and you scratched yourself accidentally with a poison arrow.\"\n\n\"All hunters used to carry a few leaves with them, so they may take it if they scratched themselves, or were shot with an arrow and had time. If there is not much poison on the arrow, like if it has not much on it because it is used to hunt small animals, you have longer. In times long ago, when there was war, our men would swallow quassin doe just before a battle, so the enemy's ten-step arrows would not poison them.\"\n\nHe shook his head sadly. \"But this is much trouble to get. The last time we traded for this much, every man in the village had to make three bows, and two fists of arrows, and all the women had to make bowls. It is gone now, fora longtime. Years. The people we traded with have been able to find no more. Two men have died since we no longer have it. My people would trade much to have this much again.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Kahlan stood over him, watching him gently place it back in the drawer. \"Take it, Chandalen. Give it to your people. They have need of it.\"\n\nHe slowly slid the drawer closed. \"I cannot. It would be wrong to take it from another people, even if they are dead. It does not belong to my people, it belongs to the people here.\"\n\nKahlan squatted down next to him, pulled open the drawer, and lifted out the little bundle. She found a square of cloth lying on the floor nearby, used for packaging purchases and wrapped the quassin doe plants. \"Take it.\" She pushed the bundle into his hand. \"I know the people of this city. I will repay them for what I have taken. Since I will pay for it, it belongs tome now. Take it. It is my gift for the trouble I have caused your people.\"\n\nHe stared at the cloth parcel in his hand. \"It is too valuable fora gift. A gift of such great value would bind us to an obligation to you.\"\n\n\"Then it is not a gift, but my payment, to you and Prindin and Tossidin, for guarding me on this journey. You three are risking your lives to protect me. That is a debt I owe you that is greater than this payment. You will owe me no more obligation.\"\n\nWith a frown, he studied the bundle a moment, and then bounced it twice in his hand before tucking it in the buckskin pouch at his waist. He tied the flap closed by its rawhide thong and stood. \"Then this is in trade for what we do. We owe you no obligation beyond this journey.\"\n\n\"None,\" she said, sealing the bargain.\n\nThe two of them walked on through the silent streets, past the shops and inns of the old city quarter. Every door, every window, was broken in. Shards of glass sparkled in the sunlight, shimmering tears for the dead. The invading horde had swept through every building, searching out anything alive." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"How do this many thousands, all living in this one place, find land to feed their families?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There could not be enough game to hunt, or fields for all to plant.\"\n\nKahlan tried to seethe city through his eyes. It must be a great puzzle to him. \"They don't all hunt, or plant the land. The people who lived here specialized.\"\n\n\"Specialized? What is this?\"\n\n\"It means that different people have different jobs. They work atone thing. They use silver or gold to buy the things they need that they don't grow or make themselves.\"\n\n\"Where do they get this silver or gold?\"\n\n\"People who want the thing they specialize in pay for it with silver or gold.\"\n\n\"And where do these others get this silver or gold?\"\n\n\"They get it from people who pay them for the things they do.\"\n\nChandalen looked at her skeptically. \"Why do they not trade? It would be easier to trade.\"\n\n\"Well, in away, it is trading. Often, the person who wants what you have has nothing you want, so they give you money-silver or gold made into flat, round disks called coins-instead. Then you can use the money to buy things you need.\"\n\n\"Buy.\" Chandalen seemed to test the strange word with his tongue as he looked off down a street to their right while shaking his head in disbelief. \"Why would people work, then? Why would they not just go and get this silver or gold money?\"\n\n\"Some do. They hunt silver and gold. But that is hard work, too. Gold is hard to find and dig out of the ground. That is why it is used for money: because it is rare. If it were easy to find, like grains of sand, then no one would take it in trade. If money were easy to get, or to make, it would become worthless, and then in the end this system of trade, with worthless money, would fail, and everyone would starve.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He came to a halt with a frown. \"What is this money made from? What is this silver or gold you speak of?\"\n\nShe didn't stop with him, and he had to take a few bounding steps to catch backup with her. \"Gold is... The medallion, the necklace, that the Bantak gave as a gift to the Mud People, to show they did not wish to make war, that is made of gold.\" Chandalen nodded with a knowing grunt. Kahlan halted this time. \"Do you know where the Bantak got that much gold?\"\n\nChandalen swept his gaze across the slate rooftops. \"Of course. They got it from us.\"\n\nKahlan gripped his arm covered with his mantle and pulled him around. \"What do you mean, they got it from you?\"\n\nHe tensed at her touch. He didn't like her hand-a Confessor's hand-on him. That the fur mantle separated actual contact of flesh was of no consequence; their flesh was close enough. If she relaxed her restraint of the power, that thin piece of hide would be no impediment; Kahlan had loosed her power through armor before. She released her grip and he visibly relaxed. \"Chandalen, where did the Mud People get that much gold?\"\n\nHe looked at her as if she were a child asking where you might find dirt. \"From the holes in the ground. In our land, to the north where it is rocky and nothing much will grow or live, there are holes in the ground. They have this gold in them. It is a bad place. The air is hot and bad. It is said that men die if they stay too long in the ground. The yellow metal is in these deep holes. It is too soft to make good weapons, so it is of no use.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "He dismissed its importance with a wave of his hand." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"But the Bantak say their ancestors'spirits like the look of the yellow metal, and so we let them come onto our land and go in the holes so they may get it to make things their ancestors\" spirits may like to look upon when they come to this world.\"\n\n\"Chandalen, do others know of these holes in the ground, of the gold that is in them?\"\n\nHe shrugged. \"We do not let outsiders come to our land. But I told you, it is too soft to make weapons with, so it is of no use. It pleases the Bantak, and they are good traders with us, so we let them take what they want. They do not take much, though, because it is a bad place to go into. No one would want to go there, except the Bantak, to please their ancestors' spirits.\"\n\nHow could she explain it to him? He didn't understand the ways of the outside world. \"Chandalen, you must never use this gold.\" He made a face that said he had already explained how useless it was, and no one would want it. \"You may think it is useless, but others would kill to get it. If people knew you had gold on your land, they would swarm over you to get it. The craving for gold makes men crazy, and they would do anything to get it. They would kill Mud People.\"\n\nChandalen straightened with a smug expression. He took his hand from the bowstring and tapped his chest. \"I, and my men, protect our people. We would keep the outsiders away.\"\n\nKahlan swept her arm around, taking in the hundreds upon hundreds of dead around her. \"Against this many? Against thousands?\" Chandalen had never seen this many people. He understood little of the numbers that lived outside his lands. \"Thousands who would never stop coming until they swept you aside?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "His eyes followed the archer arm had taken. His brow wrinkled with the frown of a worry unfamiliar to him, his arrogance evaporating as he took in the dead. \"Our ancestors' spirits have warned us not to speak of the holes in the ground with the bad air. We only let the Bantak go there, no one else.\"\n\n\"See that it stays that way,\" she said. \"Or they will come and steal it.\"\n\n\"That would be wrong, to steal from a people.\" He put renewed tension to the bowstring as she let out a noisy breath of frustration. \"If I make a bow to trade, everyone knows it is the work of Chandalen, because it is such a fine bow. If anyone steals it, everyone knows what it is and where it came from, and the thief would be caught, and be made to give it back. Maybe he would be sent away from his people. How do these people tell who the money belongs to, if it is taken by a thief?\"\n\nKahlan's mind reeled from the effort of trying to explain such things to Chandalen. At least it was keeping her from having to think about the dead all about her. She started walking again through the snow, having to step over a man's back because there was noway around, they were fallen so close.\n\n\"It is difficult. Because of this, people guard their money. If anyone is caught stealing, the punishment is severe, to discourage thieving.\"\n\n\"How are thieves punished?\"\n\n\"If they didn't steal much, and are lucky, they might be locked in a small room until their family can make reparations for what they stole.\"\n\n\"Locked? What is this?\"\n\n\"A lock is way of barring a door. The stone rooms that thieves are placed in have a door they are notable to open from the inside. It has a lock on it, and you must have a key, the right key, to open it, so they cannot get out.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Chandalen checked the side street beyond a silversmith's shop as they continued up the main road. \"I would rather be put to death than be locked in a room.\"\n\n\"If the thief stole from the wrong person, or is unlucky, that is what happens to him.\"\n\nChandalen grunted. She didn't think she was doing a very good job of explaining things to him. He seemed to think the whole scheme unworkable.\n\n\"Our way is better. We make what we want. Everyone makes what they need. This specializing way is not our way. We trade only fora few things. Our way is better.\"\n\n\"You do the same as these people, Chandalen. You may not realize it, but you do.\"\n\n\"No. Each person knows many things. We teach all our children to know how to do everything they need.\"\n\n\"You specialize. You're a hunter, and more than that, you're a protector to your people.\" She nodded once again to the dead around her. Some stared back with flat eyes. \"These men were soldiers. They specialized at protecting their people. They gave their lives trying to protect their people. You're the same as they: a soldier. You're strong, you are good with a bow and a spear, and you are good at discovering and preparing to thwart the various ways others would try to harm your people.\"\n\nChandalen thought this over a moment as he stopped briefly to knock a heavy clump of snow from the binding of his snowshoe. \"But that is only me. Because I am so strong, and wise. Others of my people do not specialize.\"\n\n\"Everyone specializes, Chandalen. Nissel, the healer, she specializes at helping sick or injured people. She spends most of her time helping others. How does she feed herself?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Those she helps give her what she needs, and if there is no one to help so she can be offered food by them, then others who have enough offer some of theirs so Nissel will be well fed and ready to help us.\"\n\n\"You see? Those she helps pay her with tava bread, but it's the same thing almost as they do herewith money. Because she specializes in a service to the village, everyone helps a little so she will be therefor the village when there is need of her. Here, that's called a tax, when everyone pays a little toward the good of the group, to help support those who work for all the people.\"\n\n\"Is this how you get your food? The people all give for you, like we do when you come to make trouble for us?\"\n\nShe was relieved that for the first time he didn't say it with enmity. \"Yes.\"\n\nChandalen eyed empty second-floor windows as they walked on among buildings that were becoming larger and more ornate. The double, iron-strap-hinged doors to an inn on their left were broken in, and tables, chairs, pots, dishes, and linen embroidered with red roses-apparently to echo the inn's name, the Red Rose-had been thrown into the street, where they were half covered over with the snow. Through the empty doorway she could seethe body of an apron-clad kitchen boy sprawled on the floor, his eyes staring up at the ceiling, frozen with the terror of his last vision. He couldn't have been over twelve.\n\n\"But that is just the hunters, and Nissel,\" Chandalen added, after some thought. \"Others of us do not do this specializing.\"\n\n\"Everyone does, to some degree. The women bake the tava bread, the men make the weapons. Nature is that way, too. Some plants grow where it is wet, somewhere it is dry. Some animals eat grass, some leaves, some bugs, and some other animals. Everything plays its part. Women have the babies, and men...\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "She halted, fists at her sides, staring at the countless bodies fallen all around her." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She swept her arm out.\n\n\"And men, it would seem, are hereto kill everything. You see, Chandalen? Women's specialty is to bring forth life, and men's specialty is to take it away.\"\n\nKahlan clenched her fist against her stomach. She was dangerously close to losing her composure. Nausea swept through her. Her head spun.\n\nChandalen stole a glimpse at her from the corner of his eye. \"The Bird Man would say not to judge all by what some do. And women do not make life alone. Men are part of that, too.\"\n\nKahlan gulped cold air. With a struggle, she started off again, shuffling her snowshoes ahead. Chandalen let her set a quicker pace as he walked beside her. She turned them up a street lined with fine shops. As she moved up and then down a snowdrift, he pointed with his bow, seeming to look for an excuse to change the subject.\n\n\"Why do they have wooden people here?\"\n\nA headless mannequin rested at an angle against a window-sill, tipped halfway out of a shop. The elaborate blue dress the mannequin wore was trimmed with white beads draped in layers about the waist. Glad to have a diversion from the thoughts swirling in her head, Kahlan changed direction a little, toward the mannequin in the blue dress.\n\n\"This is a tailor's shop. The people who owned this shop specialized in making clothes. This wooden person is simply a form to display what they make, soothers may know the fine work they do. It's a demonstration of pride in their work.\"\n\nShe stopped before the large window. All the panes of glass were broken out. A few of the yellow-painted mullions hung crookedly from the top of the frame. The shade of blue of the gorgeous gown reminded Kahlan of her wedding dress. She could feel the blood pounding in the veins of her neck as she swallowed back a cry. Chandalen watched both directions up and down the street as her hand slowly reached out to touch the frozen, blue fabric." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Her vision focused past the mannequin, into the shop, where a square of sunlight fell across the snow-dusted floor and up and over a low work counter. Her hand faltered. A dead man with a balding head was pinned to the wall by a spear through his chest. A woman lay sprawled facedown over the counter, her dress and underskirts bunched up around her waist, exposing blue flesh. A pair of tailor's scissors jutted from her back.\n\nIn the gloom at the far end of the room stood another mannequin, in a fine man's coat. The front of the dark coat was shredded with hundreds of small cuts. The soldiers had evidently used the mannequin as a target for knife throwing while they waited their turn on the woman. Apparently, when they were finished with her, they stabbed her to death with her scissors.\n\nKahlan twisted away from the shop to find herself face-to-face with Chandalen. His was red. There was menace in his eyes.\n\n\"Not all men are the same. I would cut the throat of any man of mine if he did such a thing.\"\n\nKahlan had no answer for him, and suddenly wasn't in the mood to talk. As she started off again, she loosened the mantle at her neck, needing the feel of cold air.\n\nIn silence, but for the low, baleful moan of the breeze between the buildings, they slogged past stables of horses, their throats all cut, and past inns and grand houses, their cornices high overhead shading them from the bright, slanting sunlight. Fluted, wooden columns to each side of one door had been hacked at with a sword, seemingly for no purpose but to deface the elegance of the home.\n\nIt was colder in the shade, but she didn't care. They stepped over corpses that lay facedown in the snow with wounds in their backs, and around overturned wagons and coaches and dead horses and dead dogs. It all melted into a meaningless madness of destruction." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Eyes cast to the ground before her, she trudged on through the snow. The cold air bit into her flesh, and she pulled her mantle closed once more. The cold was sapping her of not only warmth, but strength. With grim determination she put one foot in front of the other, continuing on toward her destination, hoping, somehow, that she would never reach it.\n\nWith the frozen dead of Ebinissia all about, she filled her crushing loneliness with a silent prayer.\n\nPlease, dear spirits, keep Richard warm." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Naked under the sun's fury, the parched, dead flat ground stretched endlessly before them, in the distance offering up shimmering images to waver and dance in the sun's furnace glare, like phantom hostages surrendered to an omnipotent foe. Behind, the fractured hills ended in a bank of rocky rubble. The silence was as oppressive as the heat.\n\nRichard wiped sweat from his brow on the back of his sleeve. The leather of his saddle creaked as he shifted his weight while he waited. Bonnie and the other two horses waited, too, their ears pricked ahead, as they occasionally pawed the cracked, dry earth and voiced apprehensive snorts.\n\nSister Verna sat motionless atop Jessup, scrutinizing the nothingness of the distance as if viewing an event of great import. Except for the way her brown curls hung limp, she didn't appear to be affected by the heat.\n\n\"I don't understand this weather. It's winter; I've never heard of it being hot like this in winter.\"\n\n\"The weather is different indifferent places,\" she murmured.\n\n\"No it's not. When it's winter, it's cold. It's only hot like this in high summer.\"\n\n\"Have you ever seen snow on mountaintops in the summer?\"\n\nRichard reversed the positions of his hands resting on the pommel. \"Yes. But that's just on mountaintops. The air is colder up there. We're not on a mountaintop.\"\n\nStill she did not move. \"Not just mountaintops have different weather. In the south the weather is not so cold as it is in the north. But this place is different still. It's like an inexhaustible well of heat.\"\n\n\"And just what is this place?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The Valley of the Lost,\" she whispered.\n\n\"Who was lost in it?\"\n\n\"Those who created it, and whoever enters.\" At last she turned a bit to peer at him. \"It's the end of the world. Your world, anyway.\"\n\nHe shifted his weight to the other side when Bonnie did the same. \"If it's the end of the world, why are we here?\"\n\nSister Verna held her hand up to the land behind. \"Just as there is Westland, where you were born, separated from the Midlands, and the Midlands from D'Hara, so, too, are those lands separated from what lies on the far side of this place.\"\n\nRichard frowned. \"And what lies on the other side of here?\"\n\nShe turned back to the expanse before them. \"You lived in the New World. Across this valley lies the Old World.\"\n\n\"The Old World? I never heard of the Old World.\"\n\n\"Few in the New World have. It has been sealed away and forgotten. This valley, the Valley of the Lost, separates them, much the same way the boundary used to separate the three lands of the New World. The last of the country we have been crossing has been inhospitable, a desert wasteland. Anyone venturing through it and into this valley never returns. People think there is nothing beyond, that this is the southern end of the Midlands and D'Hara, with nothing beyond but what you see here: an endless waste, where one could die of thirst and hunger and you could have your bones baked by the heat of the sun.\"\n\nRichard eased Bonnie up next to the Sister. \"So, what is beyond? And why can't anyone cross? And if no one can cross, how can we?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She looked over out of the corner of her eye. \"Simple questions, but not simply answered.\" She relaxed back in her saddle a little. \"The land between the New and the Old Worlds narrows somewhat, with the sea to each side.\"\n\n\"The sea?\"\n\n\"You have never seen the ocean?\"\n\nRichard shook his head. \"In Westland, it lies far to the south, and people don't live there. Or, so I've been told. I've heard others speak of the ocean, but I've never seen it. They say it's more vast than any lake ever imagined.\"\n\nSister Verna gave him a little smile. \"They speak true.\" She turned ahead, pointing off to the right. \"Some distance that way lies the sea.\" She pointed left, to the southeast. \"Off even farther in that direction is also the sea. Though the land is vast between them, it is still the narrowest place between the New and the Old Worlds. Because of that, a war was fought here. A war between wizards.\"\n\nRichard straightened in his saddle. \"Wizards? What war?\"\n\n\"Yes, wizards. It was ages ago, when there were many wizards. What you see before you is the result of that war. It's all that remains, as a reminder, of what wizards who have more power than wisdom can conjure.\"\n\nHe didn't like the accusing look she gave him. \"Who won?\"\n\nAt last she folded her hands over the pommel of her saddle and let her shoulders relax a bit. \"No one. The two sides were separated by this land between the seas. Though the fighting may have stopped, no one prevailed.\"\n\nRichard leaned around fora waterskin. \"How about a drink?\"\n\nWith a small smile, she took the skin as he handed it over and took along draw. \"This valley is an example of what can happen when your heart, rather than your head, rules your magic.\" Her smile evaporated. \"Because of what they did, the peoples of the two worlds are separated for all time. It is one reason the Sisters of the Light work to teach those with the gift-so they will not act out of foolishness.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What were they fighting about?\"\n\n\"What do wizards ever fight about? They fought over which wizards should rule.\"\n\n\"I was told something about a wizard's war over whether or not wizards should rule at all.\"\n\nShe handed back the waterskin and wiped her lips with one finger. \"That was a different war, yet part of the same. After this place separated the two sides, some of each camp were trapped on the New World side. Both groups had gone to enforce their rule on those who had traveled to live in the New World, and on those who had always lived there.\"\n\n\"Once trapped, one side went into hiding for centuries and worked to build their strength before they attempted to seize power overall the New World. The war that had burned long ago flared again, until their force was defeated, except fora few who fled into their stronghold in D'Hara.\" She lifted an eyebrow to him. \"Kin of yours, I believe.\"\n\nRichard glared at her fora long moment before finally taking a swig of the hot water. He dribbled a little on a strip of cloth-something Kahlan had taught him-and tied it around his head, both to cool his brow and hold back his lengthening hair. Richard hooked the waterskin back on his saddle. \"So what happened here?\"\n\nShe swept her hand once from the southeast to the southwest. \"Where the land was narrowest, here, not only armies but wizards did battle, and sought to prevent one another from advancing. The wizards laid down spells, conjuring every sort of magic, in an attempt to snare their opponents. Both sides, equally, unleashed wickedness of unspeakable horror and danger. That is what lies ahead.\"\n\nRichard stared at her glazed expression. \"You mean to say that their magic, their spells, are still out there?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Unabated.\"\n\n\"How can that be? Wouldn't they wear away? Fade?\"\n\n\"Perhaps.\" She sighed. \"But they did more. To maintain the power of their spells they built structures to sustain the force.\"\n\n\"What structures could do that?\"\n\nSister Verna still stared out at nothing, or perhaps, to things he couldn't see. \"The Towers of Perdition,\" she whispered.\n\nRichard stroked Bonnie's neck and waited. At last, Sister Verna seemed to dismiss her private thoughts with a deep breath and continued.\n\n\"From one sea to the other, both sides built opposing lines of these towers, invested with their power and wizardry. They were begun at the sea, and came together here, in this valley. But because of the force of the towers each side built, neither side could get close enough to complete the last tower in their own line. What they had wrought ended in a stalemate, with each side prevented from completing their last tower. It allowed a weakened place in the magic. A gap.\"\n\nRichard shifted uneasily in his saddle. \"If there's a gap, then why can't people cross.\"\n\n\"It's only a lessening in the full strength of the line. To each side, all the way across the hills and mountains, to land's end, and beyond, out into the sea where it somewhere diminishes, Perdition's line is impenetrable. To enter is to be claimed by the storms of spells, the magic. Any who enter would be killed, or worse-they could wander the brume forever.\"\n\n\"Here, in this valley, the deadlock prevented the completion of the last tower on each side that would have sealed the line. But the spells wander and drift between the gap, like thunderclouds drifting on the wind, clashing and coming together in places. Because of the weakness in this place, there is amaze that can be passed through by those with the gift. The clear passages are always shifting, and the spells cannot always be seen. They must be felt, with the gift. Still, it is not easy.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"So that's why the Sisters of the Light can make it through? Because they have the gift?\"\n\n\"Yes. But only twice at most. The magic learns to find you. Long ago, Sisters who went through to the New World and returned were sent again, but none ever returned a second time.\" Her gaze left his, seeking the distant emptiness. \"They are in there, never to be found, or saved. The Towers of Perdition and its storms of magic claimed them.\"\n\nRichard waited until her eyes came back to him. \"Perhaps, Sister, they became disaffected, and chose not to return. How would you know?\"\n\nHer expression sobered. \"We know. Some who have been through have seen them\"-she inclined her head toward the shimmering distance-\"in there. I, myself, saw several.\"\n\n\"I'm sorry, Sister Verna.\" Richard thought about Zedd. Kahlan might find him, and tell him what had happened. He had to push away the painful memory of Kahlan. \"So, a wizard could make it through.\"\n\n\"Not a wizard of his full power. After we teach those with the gift to control it, they must be allowed to return before their power is fully developed. The whole purpose of the line is to prevent wizards from getting through. The fully developed power of a wizard would draw the spells as a magnet draws iron filings. It is they that the magic seeks; it is for them that the towers were built. They would be lost, just as would anyone who didn't have some use of the gift to feel the gaps in the spells. Too little, or too much, and you are lost. That is why those who created the line could not complete it; the domain of the spells from the other side prevented them from entering. Their creation ended in deadlock.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Richard felt his hopes sag. If Kahlan carried out his request to seek out his old friend, Zedd could not do anything to help him. Swallowing back the numbing loss of hope, he reached up and felt the dragon's tooth hanging on the leather thong at his chest. \"What about going over? Could something flyover?\"\n\nShe shook her head. \"The spells extend up into the air, as they extend out into the sea. Anything that can fly cannot fly high enough.\"\n\n\"What about by sea? Could you sail far enough out to go around?\"\n\nSister Verna shrugged. \"I have heard tell that a few times throughout the ages it has been accomplished. In my life I have seen ships leave to attempt it, but I have never seen one return.\"\n\nRichard glanced back over his shoulder, but saw nothing. \"Could... someone follow you through?\"\n\n\"One or two, if they stayed close enough, as you must. Greater numbers would surely be lost. The pockets between spells are not large enough to allow many to follow.\"\n\nRichard thought in silence, at last asking, \"Why hasn't anyone destroyed the towers, so the spells could dissipate?\"\n\n\"We've tried. It cannot be done.\"\n\n\"Just because you haven't found away, Sister, that doesn't mean it can't be done.\"\n\nShe gave him a sharp look. \"The towers, and the spells, were created with the aid of not only Additive but also Subtractive Magic.\"\n\n\"Subtractive Magic! How could the wizards of old have learned to use Subtractive Magic? Wizards didn't have command of Subtractive Magic.\" But then, Darken Rahl did. Richard gentled his tone. \"How can the towers keep the spells from dissipating?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sister Verna worked her thumbs on the reins. \"Each tower has a wizard's life force in it.\"\n\nDespite the heat, Richard felt a chill. \"You mean to say that a wizard gave his life force into the towers?\"\n\n\"Worse. Each tower contains the life force of many wizards.\"\n\nRichard stared in numb shock at the thought of wizards giving up their lives to invest the towers with their life force. \"How close are the towers?\"\n\n\"It is said some are miles apart, some only yards. They are spaced according to the fabric of lines of power within the earth itself. We don't understand the sense of this alignment. Since entering the line to find them would be death, we don't even know how many towers there are. We know of only the few in this valley.\"\n\nRichard squirmed in his saddle. \"Will we see any of the towers when we cross?\"\n\n\"There's noway to tell. The gaps shift constantly. Occasionally, on the way through, the openings take you close to a tower. I saw one on my first journey through. Some Sisters never saw one. I hope never to see another.\"\n\nRichard realized he was gripping the hilt of his sword with his left hand. The raised letters of the word TRUTH bit into his flesh. He relaxed his hand, releasing the hilt.\n\n\"So, what can we expect to see?\"\n\nSister Verna broke her gaze into the distance and redirected it to him. \"There are spells of every sort. Some are spells of despair. To be snared in one is to have your soul wander in despair for all time. Some are spells of joy and delight, in which one is lost in enchantment for all time. Some are pure destruction, and will tear you apart. Some will show you things you fear, to make you run into the clutches of things that lurk behind. Some tempt with things you hope for. If you give into the desire...\" She leaned closer to him. \"You must stay close tome, keep going. You must ignore any desire you have, both fear and longing, to do otherwise. Do you understand?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Richard finally nodded." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sister Verna returned her gaze to the shimmering forms. She sat motionless, watching. In the distance, beyond the wavering light, he thought he saw thunderheads, dark and ominous, drifting across the horizon. He felt more than heard their thunder. Somehow, he knew it wasn't clouds, but magic. When Bonnie tossed her head, Richard gave her a reassuring pat on her neck.\n\nAfter watching awhile, he looked over to the Sister. She sat still and tense.\n\n\"What are you waiting for, Sister? Courage?\"\n\nShe answered without moving. \"Exactly. I am waiting for courage, child.\"\n\nHe felt no anger this time at her calling him'child,\" but rather that it might bean appropriate characterization, as far as his abilities were concerned.\n\nIna whisper, and still without looking away from the sunbaked inferno ahead, she went on. \"You were still in swaddling clothes when I came through, but I remember every detail as if it happened yesterday. Yes, I am waiting for courage.\"\n\nHe gave Bonnie a squeeze with his legs, urging her ahead. \"The sooner we start, the sooner we're through.\"\n\n\"Or lost.\" She walked her horse after him. \"So anxious to be lost, Richard?\"\n\n\"I'm already lost, Sister.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They were confronted by steps, twenty strides wide, that revealed themselves for what they were only at the far right, where the wind had funneled down next to the sweeping, pink marble balustrade and kept the snow clear. Pausing for only a moment as she realized they had reached her destination, Kahlan set her snowshoes firmly into the snowdrift that covered the steps, and ascended to the portico, its fascia decorated with a row of statues swathed in cut stone that mimicked the drape of cloth so well it seemed as if it might move in the light breeze. Ten white columns to each side held the massive entablature at a dizzying height above the arched entrance. Bodies fallen in a desperate battle were sprawled atop one another allover the snow-covered lawns, and sat as if in repose against the walls of the domed exterior entrance hall.\n\nThe ornate doors, displaying delicately carved royal shields of the House of Amnell, held aloft by twin mountain lions, lay in splinters on the floor of the vestibule. Flanking the rope-carved stone arch at the far end stood life-size statues of Queen Bernadine and King Wyborn, each holding a spear and shield in one hand, the queen a sheaf of wheat in the other, and the king a lamb. The queen's breasts were broken away; flakes of stone and stone dust littered the rust colored marble tiles. Both statues were without their heads.\n\nWith nearly numb fingers, Kahlan untied the bindings of her snowshoes and leaned them against the queen's statue. Chandalen followed her example before following her into the reception hall lined with broken mirrors and torn tapestries. She pulled her mantle tight around herself as clouds of their breath rose lazily into dead still air that was somehow much colder than that outside." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What is this place used for?\" Chandalen asked in a whisper, as if afraid he might wake the spirits of the dead.\n\nShe had to force herself not to whisper. \"It is the home of the queen of this land. Her name is Cyrilla.\"\n\nHis doubting voice echoed down the stone hall. \"One person lives in a place such as this?\"\n\n\"Many people live here. There are advisors, much like the elders among your people, and others that are responsible for governing the needs of the land, and people who tend to their needs so they may perform their duties. Many people call this their home, but the queen is the head of the household, as she is the head of her land. She is above them all.\"\n\nChandalen followed silently as she began to search the palace. His eyes slid from one wondrous object to another; from elaborately carved furniture that now lay everywhere in splinters, to the heavy red, blue, gold, or green draperies that adorned the ten-foot-tall, square-top windows, all broken now.\n\nShe descended a flight of stairs to the lower rooms, the oak treads creaking with every step in the cold. He insisted on entering each room first, pushing doors open with afoot and gliding in behind a fully drawn ten-step arrow, before allowing her to search inside.\n\nThey found only the dead. Ina few of the rooms they found some of the staff, who had been lined up against a wall and pincushioned with arrows. In the kitchens it looked as if after executing the cooks, cook's helpers, wine stewards, assistants, dishwashers, potboys, spit boys, and scullions, the invaders had sat down and had a drunken feast. The ale and wine casks were empty. It appeared they had thrown more food at the walls than they had eaten." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "While Chandalen checked the ransacked larder, Kahlan's eye was caught by the bodies of two young women, kitchen help, on the floor behind along chopping block. One was completely naked, and the other had but one brown, woolen stocking, bunched down around her thin ankle. Her first assumption had been wrong. Not all the help had been killed before the drunken feast.\n\nHer face as still as those of the dead women, she turned and strode from the kitchen and started up the servants'stairs to check the upper floors. Chandalen's thumping footfalls came charging up behind as he took three steps at a time to catch her.\n\nShe knew he didn't like it that she had left without him, but he didn't voice it. \"There is salted meat. Maybe we could take a little? I do not think these people would think it wrong for us to do so. They would not deny us a little food.\"\n\nKahlan put her hand to the railing as she climbed with a steady cadence, but then pulled the hand back inside her mantle, because the polished maple was so cold to the touch it stung her fingers. \"If you eat the meat, you will die. They will have poisoned it, so that if any of the dead's countrymen return to this place and eat any of the food here, they, too, will die.\"\n\nThey found the main floor clear of bodies. It looked to have been used as an army headquarters. Empty barrels of wine and rum layabout the ballroom floor. Food scraps, mugs and cups, broken dishes, pipe ashes, bloody bandages, oily rags, broken or bent swords, spears and maces, dark wood shavings from a walnut table leg someone had whittled away until it was nothing but a stub, basins of frozen water, dirty linen, bedsheets ripped into strips, and filthy, quilted bedcovers of every color littered the carpeted floor. Dirty bootprints were everywhere, even on the tabletops. By the swirling scratches, it looked as if men had danced atop them." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Chandalen walked through the rubble, inspecting various bits." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Two, maybe three days they were here.\"\n\nShe nodded her agreement as her eyes cast about. \"It looks that way.\"\n\nHe rolled a wine barrel back and forthwith his foot, testing if it was empty. It was. \"I wonder why they stayed so long? Just to drink, and dance?\"\n\nKahlan sighed. \"I don't know. Maybe they were resting and tending to their wounded. Maybe they just went on a drunken binge to celebrate their victory over these people.\"\n\nHe looked up sharply. \"Killing is not a thing to celebrate.\"\n\n\"It is, for the people who did this killing.\"\n\nReluctantly, Kahlan at last climbed the stairs to the top floor. She didn't want to lookup there. That was where the bedchambers were.\n\nThey checked the west wing first: the men's apartments. They looked to have been used by the troops as sleeping quarters. With an army of as many men as had to have done this, they would have had many men of rank. The officers probably stayed here, in the fine rooms. The soldiers under their command would have used the inns and more common houses.\n\nWith a deep breath to strengthen her resolve, she set her jaw and crossed the central hall, with its balcony that overlooked the grand staircase, to the east-wing rooms. Chandalen, close at her heels, wanted to open the doors for her and check the rooms first, but here she wouldn't allow it. Her hand paused fora moment on the doorknob, then finally opened the first door. She stood fora time, staring at the scene inside. She went to the next door and flung it open, and then to the next.\n\nAll the rooms were occupied. Each bedchamber had women in it, none clothed. Room after room after room were all the same. By the filthy condition of the carpets, there looked to have been a steady stream of traffic. Wood shavings lay in little piles about the floor, where a man had passed the time whittling on whatever was handy while he waited his turn." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Now we know why they spent several days here,\" Kahlan said without meeting Chandalen's eyes. He remained silent. She couldn't bring forth more than a whisper. \"So they could do this.\"\n\nThose few days had undoubtedly been the longest of these women's lives. Kahlan prayed that their spirits were at peace, now.\n\nShe reached the door at the end, the door to the room the younger women shared. Slowly, she opened it, and stood looking in, Chandalen close behind her looking past her shoulder.\n\nStifling a gasp, she turned and put a hand to his chest. \"Please, Chandalen, wait here.\"\n\nHe nodded as he furiously studied his boots.\n\nKahlan closed the door behind herself and stood with her back against it fora time. One hand at her side, and the other covering her mouth, she skirted an overturned, wrecked wardrobe, and walked the length of the frigid room, between the rows of beds, looking from one side to the other. The precious hand mirrors, brushes, combs, and pins that atone time had been arranged with loving care on tables between the beds now lay scattered about the floor. The blue moire curtains billowed slightly in the icy air coming through the broken windows.\n\nThese were the queen's ladies-in-waiting. Young women of fourteen, fifteen, and sixteen, a few a little older. These were not just nameless corpses; Kahlan knew many of these young women.\n\nThe queen had taken them with her when she had traveled to Aydindril to speak before the council. Kahlan could not have failed to notice them, their vibrancy, their wide-eyed excitement at being in Aydindril. Seeing the grandeur of Aydindril through their young eyes had given Kahlan new vision of the things around her, and brought a smile to her lips. She had longed to give them a tour, personally, but being with the Mother Confessor would have frightened them, and so she hadn't. But she had admired them from afar, and envied their lives of possibility." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Kahlan stopped at various beds, her back stiff, her head held high, her jaw rigid, as she reluctantly cast her eyes down at faces she knew. Juliana, one of the youngest, had always been self-confident and assertive. She knew what she wanted and wasn't timid about going after it. She had always been smitten with young men in uniform: soldiers. Onetime, it had brought her to grief with her chaperone, Mistress Nelda. Kahlan had surreptitiously interceded on her behalf, informing Mistress Nelda that despite Juliana's dalliances, the Aydindril Home Guard were all men of impeccable honor, and would never lay a finger on a queen's lady. Her wrists were now tied to the headpost, and by the way they had bled, looked to have been that way through the whole of her ordeal. Kahlan silently cursed the spirits for their cruel humor in giving the young innocent what she had thought she wanted.\n\nLittle Elswyth was in the next blood-soaked bed. Her breasts had been stabbed countless times, and her throat slit, as were many of the rest, like hogs at slaughter. At the end of the room, Kahlan stopped at the foot of the last bed. Ashley, one of the older teenagers, had each ankle tied to a footpost. She had been strangled with a curtain tieback. Her father was one of the Galean aides to the ambassador in Aydindril. Her mother had been thrilled to tears when Queen Cyrilla had agreed to take Ashley on as one of her ladies-in-waiting.\n\nHow would she ever find the words to tell Ashley's father and mother what had happened to their little girl while in the service of their queen?\n\nAs Kahlan retraced her steps through the length of the room, taking a last look at each dead body, at each face frozen in horror or in blank submission, she idly wondered why she wasn't crying. Shouldn't she cry? Shouldn't she fall to her knees, scream in anguish, pound her fists, and cry until she drowned in tears? But she didn't. She felt as if there were no tears to be had." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Perhaps there were too many. Perhaps she had seen so many that day that it had simply numbed her to it. Like when you get into a tub of water fora bath, and at first you feel that it is too hot to stand, that surely you are being scalded, but after a few minutes it seems only warm.\n\nShe softly pulled the door closed. Chandalen stood in the exact same spot she had left him. His knuckles were white on his bow. Kahlan walked past him, expecting him to follow. He didn't.\n\n\"Most women would cry,\" he said as he stared at the door.\n\nShe felt a flush of heat in her cheeks. \"I am not most women.\"\n\nChandalen didn't take his eyes from the door. \"No, you are not.\"\n\nHis eyes finally left the door to look down at his bow. The tension left his shoulders as he pulled a deep breath, as if it was the first he had taken in awhile. \"I wish to tell you a story.\"\n\nKahlan waited a few paces away. \"I do not wish to hear a story right now, Chandalen. Perhaps later.\"\n\nHe turned his fierce brown eyes to her. \"I wish to tell you a story,\" he repeated, a little louder this time.\n\nShe sighed. \"If it's important to you, then tell me.\"\n\nHolding her gaze, he closed the distance between them. He was a scant inch shorter than she, but right then he looked taller to her. \"When my grandfather was as young, and strong\"-he tapped his puffed-up chest-\"as I am now, he already had a wife, and two sons. Many peoples came to our village to trade. We let all come. We kept no one away. All were welcome. The Jocopo were one of these people who came to trade.\"" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Take the role of the writer's aide, proceed with the narrative.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, quest\nAuthor: Terry Goodkind\nTitle: Stone of Tears\nChapter: 38" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Their protection of the twilight beings is at an end, and so the age of magic is at an end. The time of man is upon us now, and there is no place in that world for the ancient, dying religion you call magic. It is time for man to take his place as inheritor of the world. The Imperial Order is upon the world, now, and if it were not them, it would be man by another name. It is time for man to rule, for magic to die.\"\n\nKahlan felt a sudden hollowness. An unexpected tear ran down her cheek. A choking feeling of true panic clawed at her throat.\n\n\"Do you hear that, Slagle?\" she whispered hoarsely. \"You have magic. The ones you aid would put an end to you, too.\"\n\nHe tossed the little ball of fire to his other hand, the light of its flames dancing across his grim face. \"It is as it must be. Magic, chaste or foul, is the Keeper's conduit to this world. When I have helped extinguish magic in all its forms, then I, too, must die. In that way, I will serve the people.\"\n\nRiggs gazed up to her, almost sorrowfully, as he went on.\n\n\"Our people must seethe last living embodiment of that religion die. You are its symbol, the last creature of magic created by wizards. With your death, they will be filled with hope for the future, and be emboldened to extinguish all the remaining pockets of filth and perversion that are magic.\"\n\n\"We are the plowshare. Those lands now infested with magic will be freed of its taint, and can be resettled by pious people. Then, at last, we shall all be free of your dogmas, which have no part in the glory of the future of man.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He straightened, taking a drink from his mug. The harshness returned to his voice. \"After we finish with you, then we'll bring Galea to heel, and the rest of the lands.\" He slammed the mug down. \"Until complete and total victory is ours, we demand war!\"\n\nRage swelled in her, banishing the momentary sensation of loss and panic, swelled on behalf of all those beings, the twilight beings, who depended upon her for voice and protection.\n\nShe nodded slowly as she held the general's gaze.\n\n\"In my capacity as Mother Confessor, the highest rank of authority in the Midlands, to whose mandate all must bow, I grant your wish.\" She leaned forward and spoke in a hiss. \"Let there be war. On my word and office, not one of you shall be granted quarter.\"\n\nKahlan's fist came up to the wizard. It was for him she had come.\n\nHer chest heaved with wrath, and with terror at the madness of these men. She let the magic surge within her, demanding release, demanding this wizard's death.\n\nIt was for him she had come. She must not fail. The Blood Rage screamed through her.\n\nShe called the lightning forth.\n\nNothing happened.\n\nShe froze for an instant in the panic of the failure of the magic. Then Riggs lunged for her leg.\n\nKahlan hauled back on the reins. The ferocious warhorse sprang into battle. He bellowed as he reared, kicking his front legs. Kahlan grasped his mane for dear life. A lashing hoof caught Riggs across the face, throwing him back. The thrashing hooves crashed down on the table, shattering it to splinters. Men in chairs toppled backward. Nick's front hooves crushed the head of one of the D'Haran officers, the leg of another." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The horse spun and kicked at the men. Kahlan gave him her heels, and he leapt into a gallop as the wizard was rising to his feet. Surprised men threw themselves out of the way. She took a quick glance over her shoulder to seethe wizard throwing his hands out. A ball of wizard's fire exploded to life before him, turning in the air, awaiting command. He threw his arms out again, sending the fire on its way toward her.\n\nThe warhorse leapt over fires and men, kicking up both snow and flaming firewood. His legs caught tent lines, yanking them down. Kahlan spotted what she wanted, what she wanted more than life itself, and maneuvered the horse for it.\n\nShe could hear the wail of the wizard's fire coming for her. She could hear the screams of men unexpectedly caught up in it. She stole another glance to seethe blue and yellow ball of flame tumbling through the tents and men, growing all the time, taking a course as drunken as the wizard. Wizard's fire had to be guided, and in his state, the wizard was having difficulty controlling what he had wrought. Were he sober, she would be dead by now.\n\nDear spirits, she prayed, if I'm to die, let me have time enough first to do what I must.\n\nKahlan reached her goal. As she galloped past, she yanked a lance from a snowbank and wheeled her horse. She dug her heels in, and Nick leapt ahead at a full gallop.\n\nThe ball of fire wailed toward her, setting tents and men afire. It grew and tumbled as the distance closed.\n\nThe lance was unexpectedly heavy, made for men who had more muscle than she, and she had to carry it upright to save her strength. The warhorse didn't flinch as he galloped, not at the noise, the confusion, the running men, or the wizard's fire. She pulled to one side and then the other, Nick's hooves digging into the packed snow. She dodged obstacles, weaving her way toward the wizard's fire at full speed. Toward the wizard." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Slagle tried to change the course of the fire, to block her advance, each time she wove in her headlong rush. His reactions were slow, but as the distance closed, she knew he wouldn't need to be fast to catch her up in it.\n\nAt the last instant, she wheeled her horse around to the right. The fire roared by so close she could smell burnt hair, and then she was racing again.\n\nAs she charged the horse ahead, the wizard's fire exploded behind, cascading across the ground like a burst dam. The horrifying death screams of man and beast caught in the conflagration filled the night air. Dozens of men, all afire, rolled through the snow, trying to putout the flames. But wizard's fire was not so easy to extinguish; it was alive with purpose.\n\nThe howls of pain panicked those around who didn't know what was happening. Men screamed in fear of spirits they thought were setting upon them. Swords were drawn and wielded, hacking at those running for their lives from the fire. Battle erupted out of nothing. The air carried not only the choking stench of burning flesh, but now blood.\n\nShe ignored the screams and sought the silence within.\n\nThe wizard stumbled backward and fell. He came to his feet whirling his arms. Fire formed in the air at the arc of his fingertips.\n\nThough there was confusion all about, only one thing filled her vision. The wizard.\n\nShe couched the lance, tucking the base under her right armpit, jamming her grip tight against the leather stop. Gritting her teeth, she used all her strength to lift the heavy lance over Nick's bobbing head, to the left side, so as not to unbalance herself in the saddle." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Nick took her direction as if he could read her mind. She steered him at full speed, but it seemed to her that the last ten yards took hours, a race between her charge and the wizard calling forth fire.\n\nWizard Slagle looked up to direct the fire just as her lance caught him in the chest. The impact shattered the lance to splinters at midlength and nearly tore the wizard in half. She and her horse flew through a spray of blood.\n\nKahlan swung the half lance at a man lunging for her, catching him across the head. The impact tore the lance from her grip. She wheeled the horse and leaned forward over his withers as she galloped at full speed back through the confusion around the command tents. Her heart pounded as fast as the horse's hooves.\n\nOne of the D'Haran officers from the table was up and screaming fora horse. Men leapt onto horses bareback. As she began putting distance between them, she could hear him yell that if they failed to catch her they would be drawn and quartered to a man. A quick glance showed a good three dozen riders joining the chase.\n\nAway from the command tents, back the way she had come, men didn't know what was happening, and saw a galloping rider as simply part of the drunken festivities. None moved to stop her. Men, tents, fires, polearms and lances stuck upright in the snow, stacks of pikes, horses, and wagons all flashed by in a blur.\n\nNick jumped anything he couldn't dodge. The threat of him not jumping or dodging had men diving for cover. Men at games tumbled out of the way, coin and dice flying into the air. Tents pulled up when Nick's legs caught their lines, flew up and billowed in a tangle behind, snaring her pursuers. Horses and riders crashed to the ground. Others ran over their own men in their frenzied attempt to keep her insight." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Kahlan spotted a sword hanging in a scabbard that was fastened to the side of a wagon, and as she ran past, she pulled it free." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Galloping past picket lines, she swung the sword, cutting the lead lines. She hacked the rump of one horse as she charged past. He kicked and screamed in fright and pain, panicking the rest of the horses. They bolted headlong in every direction. Lanterns on poles toppled onto tents, setting them afire.\n\nThe horses in pursuit balked at the fires, rearing and bucking, throwing their riders to the ground. A man lunged suddenly into her path, avoiding Nick's flying hooves and grabbing for her. Kahlan drove the sword home through his chest as she flew by. The hilt tore from her hand. She leaned forward and held on as Nick raced through the endless camp. The men chasing weren't as close, but they were still coming.\n\nSuddenly, she was free of the camp, galloping through the open snow. Kahlan followed her own tracks across the flat by the waning light of the moon. The muscular horse plowed through the snow almost as if it weren't there.\n\nShe reached the trees at last, and before plunging in and ascending the steep slopes, she checked over her shoulder.\n\nA good fifty men were not three minutes behind. She would be able to open the lead as she went up along the forest trail, but they would still catch her.\n\nShe would see to that." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Easy now,\" she cautioned. One hesitant hoof slipped. \"Back, back, back. Come on boy, back.\"\n\nFrom down the slope behind, she could hear the sounds of the chase; a man, probably one of the D'Haran officers, yelling angrily at the top of his lungs not to let her getaway, and others urging their horses up the steep trail. When they reached the flat where she was, they would be in a full gallop again.\n\nKahlan tugged gently on the reins. Nick lifted his hoof from the ice and backed up, into the tight gap between the snow-crusted pines, back along his trail.\n\nShe found the long branch, with the forked end she had whittled to a pushing pole, stuck upright in the snow where she had left it beside the twin trunked spruce. She hefted it up, and started pushing the heavy, snow-laden branches. Her shoulder ached from having the lance shattered as she held it under her arm.\n\nAs she backed Nick between the trees, off her trail, she held the long push-stick out over his head, jostling the limbs. Relieved of their loads, they sprang up, partly screening the gap between the trees. More importantly, the snow tumbled to the ground, piling over her tracks. She pushed at a branch here, another there, sprinkling their snow over Nick's backing trail, covering it in, making it look natural, as if wind had simply freed the branches of their load.\n\nShe said a silent thank-you to Richard, for teaching her about tracks. He had said he would make a woods woman of her. She ached for Richard. She was sure he wouldn't approve of the desperate risk she was undertaking with the aid of what he had taught her." }, { "from": "human", "value": "But she couldn't allow these men to track her back to the Galean boys." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There was a chance that some would carry word of what they had seen back, and then the Galeans would be slaughtered. If none of these men returned, it would be along while before anymore were sent, if ever.\n\nEven if they were, by then it would be too late; she would have long been up and over the passes from which she had come, where the wind howled and drifted the snow constantly, and her tracks would be lost to them. They would not know where she had gone. From there, the mountains and forests went on in endless tracts, and her trail would have been last seen leading steadily away from her true destination. Those back at camp would have confidence that these soldiers would have her sooner or later, and with the prospect of plunder only days away, they would turn their attention to it instead.\n\nThe snow-muffled thundering of hooves brought her mind back to what she was doing. The men had reached the flat, and were charging at full speed again. Steadily, she worked her way back into the trees, shaking branches, covering her trail, backing toward the way she had come on her way to the army of the Imperial Order. The sounds of chase were almost upon her.\n\nKahlan leaned almost all the way over, stroking an arm along her horse's neck. She whispered toward his ears, and they swiveled back to the sound of her voice.\n\n\"Quiet now, Nick. Please don't move or make a sound.\" She stroked his sweaty neck again. \"Good boy. Quiet now.\"\n\nIt sounded, to her, as if anyone would be able to plainly hear her heart beating in her chest.\n\nThe pursuers had reached her. As they charged along her trail, right in front of her, they broke through the screen of trees to her left, not ten yards away, at full speed. Kahlan held her breath." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She heard the clop of hooves as they hit the sloping ice hiding in the moon shadows beyond those trees, beyond her false trail. She had led her tracks between those trees, to the edge of a steep, rocky stream, where its water would tumble, were it not frozen, over a cliff.\n\nIt was a small stream, but as it froze, more water had bubbled and frothed over that which was already frozen, growing the area into an ice palace. Snow had been washed away as it fell, leaving the rounded, downward-sloping humps of ice bare and slick.\n\nAs the men broke through the trees, they had not twenty feet to halt their headlong rush before the cliff's edge, before the rock and ice halted, and only thin air lay beyond. And they had to do it on cascading mounds of ice. Were it flat ice, like a lake, the horses could have dug their iron shoes in, and tried to skid to a halt. But this was not flat, it was water slicked tumble-down ice, and as they slipped and slid and tripped and fell at a charge, they had no chance.\n\nKahlan could hear the pop of horses' legs breaking, as thousands of pounds of muscle moving at full speed could not be stopped by hooves catching in crevices. The bareback riders were helpless passengers.\n\nThe men shouted encouragement to their mounts, and the ones behind didn't recognize quickly enough the change in shrieking from anger to fright. Those behind crashed into those ahead, tumbling over and past each other. Bareback, with only halters and no aggressive battle bits, the riders didn't have the control they were accustomed to, and were carried helplessly forward.\n\nSome leapt from their mounts as they came through the trees, and could see what lay ahead, but their momentum was too great, the distance too short, their fate beyond retrieval. The horses behind, their leg bones snapping, crashed down atop the ones already fallen, who were desperately grasping fora hold. There was none. It became a waterfall of living flesh, cascading over the edge." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Kahlan sat still, wearing her Confessor's face, as she listened to the screams of men and horses mingled together into one long wail as they disappeared over the mountainside. In the span of mere seconds, it was finished; more than fifty men and their mounts had plunged to their deaths.\n\nWhen the night had been silent fora time, she dismounted and circled around, to keep her false trail free of any off-leading tracks, to the edge of the ice flow. In the dim light she could seethe dark stains of blood over the ice mounds. Blood from broken legs, blood from cracked skulls. There were none of the enemy left on the cliff.\n\nAs she turned to leave, she heard low grunts of desperation. Kahlan pulled her knife and carefully inched her way to the source of the sounds, toward the edge. Grasping a stout limb, she leaned out over the slanting ice flow. Forest debris was frozen in the ice; sticks and leaves had made a small dam at the edge, to be covered over as the ice grew. It left a few branches sticking out of the wall of ice.\n\nAround one of these branches were clutched fingers. A man clung by his fingertips to the branch, his legs dangling over a drop of close to a thousand feet. He was grunting with effort as he tried to catch his feet upon the ice, but it was too slippery to give him any toehold.\n\nKahlan stood at the edge, holding the branch for support, as she watched him shivering. Dribbles of water bubbled over the ice, over his face, matting his hair and soaking his Keltish uniform. His teeth chattered.\n\nHe looked up to see her standing over him in the moonlight. \"Help me! Please help me!\" He couldn't have been past her age." }, { "from": "human", "value": "She regarded him without emotion." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He had big eyes, the kind of eyes young women would surely have swooned over. But the young women in Ebinissia would not have swooned when they saw those eyes.\n\n\"In the name of the good spirits, help me!\"\n\nKahlan squatted down, closer to him. \"What is your name?\"\n\n\"Huon! My name's Huon! Now please help me!\"\n\nKahlan lay down on the ice, hooking afoot around a tangled root, taking a good grip on the stout spruce limb with one hand. She extended her other hand partway out, but not far enough for Huon to reach.\n\n\"I will help you, Huon, on a condition. I have sworn no mercy, and none shall be granted. If you take my hand, I will release my power into you. You will be mine, now and forever. If you are to live, it will be as one touched by a Confessor. If you would think to pull me over the edge with you before I can release my magic, let me assure you I would not make the offer were there that chance. I have touched more men than I can count. You will have no time. You will be mine.\"\n\nHe blinked icy water dripping down on him from his eyes, shook it from his face, and stared up at her.\n\nKahlan extended her hand toward him. \"From now on, Huon, either way, your old life is ended. If you live it will not be as who you are now. That man will begone forever. You will be mine.\"\n\n\"Please,\" he whispered, \"just help me up. I won't hurt you. I swear to let you be on your way. It would take me hours to make it back to camp on foot, and you'll belong gone by then anyway. Please, just help me up.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"How many people in Ebinissia did you hear beg for their lives? To how many did you grant mercy?\" Her words came as cold as the ice she lay on. \"I am the Mother Confessor. I have proclaimed war without quarter on the Imperial Order. The oath stands as long as one of you lives. Choose, Huon. Death, or to be touched by my power. Either way, who you are dies.\"\n\n\"The people of Ebinissia got what they deserved. I'd rather take the hand of the Keeper himself than be touched by your filthy magic. The good spirits would never accept me to them if I were touched by your dark and profane magic.\" His lip curled in a sneer. \"To the Keeper with you, Confessor!\"\n\nHuon threw his arms open and silently dropped away into the darkness.\n\nAs she rode back to the Galean recruits, she thought about the things Riggs, Karsh, and Slagle had told her. She also thought about the creatures of magic living in the Midlands.\n\nShe thought about the beautiful land of the night wisp, with open fields deep in ancient, remote forests, where the wisps gathered at twilight to dance together in the air above the grasses and wildflowers, like joyous fireflies. She had spent many a night lying on her back in the grass as they hovered above her and spoke with her of things common to all life: of dreams and hopes; of loves.\n\nShe thought about the creatures living in Long Lake, translucent things hard to see, seeming almost made of liquid glass, or of the water that was their home, with whom she had never spoken, but whom she had watched emerge at night to bask in the moonlight on rock and shore; creatures who had no voice, but with whom she had shared understanding, and had promised to protect." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She thought about the whispering tree people, whom she had spoken within a hauntingly beautiful experience, frighteningly eerie, but somehow gently peaceful at the same time.\n\nThe whispering tree people were all joined as one, through their roots touching under the earth, and each spoke as if they were all but one, as if there were no individuals; yet each had a name to whisper to you if you made it promises of simple favors, amass community that was at the same time all only one. To cut down a tree there would be to bring the pain of that one's death to all; they could not escape the contact they felt with each other. If people went into that land and cut down the trees, it would be torture to all. Kahlan had seen them in pain before. Their wails could make the stars cry.\n\nThere were other creatures, too, that were magic, and people, too, who possessed it. Sometimes it was hard to place a line between creatures of the wild and people. Some people of the Midlands were part creature, or perhaps some creatures were part people. They were strange and delightful, and very shy.\n\nAnd so it went throughout various forms of magic, from the simplest things in the Howling Caves that could let you peek through solid rock to see their nests, to people like the Mud People, who had only simple magic that would do but one thing.\n\nAs Mother Confessor, all these, and many more, were her charges, and as Mother Confessor, she commanded all to protect these magic places, so no one people would bear the brunt of burden against others. It was an arrangement backed by Confessors and wizards extending back for thousands of years.\n\nThe twilight beings, Riggs had called them. That was the name given to these magical creatures by the Blood of the Fold, among others, because many of them came out only at night. For this reason, the Blood associated them with darkness, and so, out of fear, with the darkness of the Keeper of the Dead." }, { "from": "human", "value": "The Blood considered magic the force through which the Keeper extended his influence into this world, into the world of the living." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Blood were as unreasonable and thickheaded as any men alive. And they considered it their duty to send to the land of the dead any who they thought served the Keeper. That was just about anyone who disagreed with their view of things. In some lands the Blood were outlawed, and in some, like Nicobarese, they were encouraged and paid by the Crown.\n\nMaybe Riggs was right. Maybe she should have brought the rule of law to stop men like this. But that had never been the intent of the council-to make all to bow in all things to one. The strength and beauty of the Midlands was in its diversity, even if some of that diversity was ugly. What was ugly to one was beautiful to another, and so it was that each land was to be left to rule itself, as long as it brought no force of arms to another. It was a tolerant suffering of things repugnant to allow things beautiful to blossom. It was a sometimes difficult and fine line to hold the council to: forcing lands to work together in somethings, but allowing them to be autonomous in others.\n\nBut perhaps Riggs was right. People in some lands suffered the cruel or poor rule of their greedy or inept leaders, with no hope of matters being brought to change from without. Though the wise, but smaller, lands had not to live in fear of outside conquest. If the suffering of the people under less fortunate rule could be ended with wise central rule, would not matters be improved?\n\nYet when all lived under the same rule, every other form of existence was extinguished, never to have the chance to grow, though one of them might have been a superior way. The kind of single rule the Imperial Order represented was slavery.\n\nKahlan was surprised to encounter Galean sentries farther from their camp than before. They were no longer spread too far apart, and they were well hidden, popping up withdrawn bows and bared steel when she was almost upon them. Chandalen, Prindin, and Tossidin had obviously been at work. The sentries put fists to hearts when they recognized her." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The dawn was turning the sky to a dark steel gray. It was warmer than it had been, with the clouds covering the land like a warming quilt. She was dead tired in the saddle as Nick plodded through the snow toward the camp, but as she came into sight of men rushing about, she came alert with the thoughts of what needed to be done.\n\nChandalen, Prindin, Captain Ryan, and Lieutenant Hobson were speaking with a group of men when they saw her riding toward the camp. The four came at a run to meet her at the edge of the activity. Men were cooking, eating, stowing gear, preparing weapons, and tending to wagons and horses. She spotted Tossidin, in his white wolf mantle, off some distance with Lieutenant Sloan, waving his arms in explanation as he talked to men who stood mute, with their spears all standing upright in the snow, the tight mob of them looking like a dark porcupine against the white ground.\n\nKahlan let out a weary moan as she dismounted before the four men who had come to greet her. Other men all around kept to their tasks, but moved more slowly as they watched her with great interest. The four before her stared openly with wide eyes. None said a word.\n\n\"What are you all staring at?\" she said, a little short-tempered.\n\n\"Mother Confessor,\" Captain Ryan said, \"you're covered in blood. Are you hurt?\"\n\nKahlan stared down at the white wolf fur of her mantle, only it was no longer white. She realized for the first time that the skin of her face was tight with dried blood, her hair stiff with it.\n\n\"Oh,\" she said, in a quieter tone. \"It's all right. I'm fine.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Chandalen and Prindin sighed with relief.\n\nLieutenant Hobson, still wide-eyed, swallowed. \"What of the wizard? Did you see him?\"\n\nShe lifted an eyebrow to him. \"What you see on me is what's left of him.\"\n\nChandalen appraised her with a sly smile. \"And how many others did you kill?\"\n\nKahlan gave a tired shrug. \"I was awfully busy. I didn't take the time to count, but all things considered, I would guess, including the fires, well over a hundred. The wizard is dead, that's what matters. Two of their commanders are dead also, and at least two more are wounded.\"\n\nCaptain Ryan and Lieutenant Hobson paled.\n\nChandalen's proud grin widened. \"I am surprised you left any for others to kill, Mother Confessor.\"\n\nShe didn't return his smile. \"There are plenty left.\" Kahlan rubbed her horse's nose. \"Nick did most of the work.\"\n\n\"I told you he wouldn't let you down, Mother Confessor,\" Hobson said.\n\n\"That he did not. He was better aid than the good spirits. He kept me alive this day.\"\n\nKahlan lowered herself to one knee in the snow before the two Galean officers. She bowed her head.\n\n\"I find I must beseech your forgiveness.\" She took a hand of each in hers. \"Though you are ignorant of how to accomplish what must be done, you have put your duty to the Midlands before my orders. That was courage of the highest order. I want you all to know I was wrong. You acted of noble intent.\" She kissed each hand. \"I laud your righteous hearts. You have kept in mind your duty above all else. I beg you forgive me.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There was silence as she knelt on one knee. At last Captain Ryan whispered down to her.\n\n\"Mother Confessor, please. Getup. Everyone's watching.\"\n\n\"Not until you forgive me. I want everyone to know you did the right thing.\"\n\n\"But you didn't realize what we were doing, or why. You had only our safety in mind.\" Kahlan waited and he was silent in embarrassment a moment longer. \"All right. I forgive you.... Don't do it again?\"\n\nShe came to her feet, releasing their hands and giving them a small, humorless smile. \"See that that is the last time you ever disobey me.\"\n\nCaptain Ryan nodded in earnest. \"I will.\" He shook his head. \"I mean, no, I won't, I mean I... We will do as you command, Mother Confessor.\"\n\n\"I understand what you mean, Captain.\" She let out a tired sigh. \"We have a lot of work to do before we attack those men.\"\n\n\"We!\" Chandalen shouted. \"We were only to teach them somethings, and then \"we\" are to be on our way to Aydindril! We cannot become caught up in this battle. You have already taken enough chances! We must...\"\n\nKahlan interrupted him. \"I must talk to you three. Bring Tossidin. Captain, please collect the men, including the sentries. I want to speak to you all together. Please wait with your men. I will be with you shortly. And leave a tent up for me. I need a few hours' sleep while things are being prepared.\"\n\nShe walked off a ways, out of earshot of the camp, with Chandalen in tow, as Prindin went to get Tossidin. When they were all together, she turned to them. Chandalen was scowling, the other two waited without emotion." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The Mud People,\" she began in a soft tone, \"have magic.\"\n\n\"We have no magic,\" Chandalen argued.\n\n\"Yes, you do. You do not think of it as magic because you were born with it and it is the only way you know. You do not know of other peoples, of their ways. The Mud People can speak with their ancestors'spirits. They can do this because they have magic. You think this is simply the way things work, but they do notwork so in other places, with other people. Your ability to do these things is magic. Magic is not some strange and powerful force, it's simply the way some people, some creatures, are.\"\n\n\"Others can speak with their ancestors, if they wish,\" Chandalen said.\n\n\"A few can, but most cannot. To them, it's speaking with the dead, and that is magic. Frightening magic. You, and I, know it is not to be feared, but you will never convince others that what you do is good. They will always think it evil. People believe as they were raised, and they were raised to believe that talking to the dead is evil.\"\n\n\"But our ancestors' spirits help us,\" Prindin said. \"They never bring harm. They only bring help.\"\n\nKahlan laid a hand on his shoulder as she looked to his worried eyes. \"I know. That's why I help to keep others away from you, so you may live as you wish. There area few other people who talk with their ancestors, as you do, and they, too, have this magic. There are other peoples, and other creatures, that have magic different from you, but just as important to them as yours is to you.\" She looked to each. \"Do you understand.\"\n\n\"Yes, Mother Confessor,\" Tossidin said." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Prindin nodded his agreement. Chandalen grunted and folded his arms.\n\n\"The important thing, though, is not if you believe what you have can be called magic. The important thing is for you to understand that others believe what you do is magic. Many fear magic. They think you are evil because you practice this magic.\"\n\nKahlan pointed in the direction of the army of the Imperial Order. \"Those men, the ones we chase, the ones who killed all the people back at the city, they are joined in a cause. They wish to rule all the people of the Midlands. They do not want any to live as they wish, but to bow to their rule.\"\n\n\"Why would they wish to rule the Mud People?\" Prindin asked. \"We have nothing they would want. We stay to our lands.\"\n\nChandalen unfolded his arms and spoke softly. \"They fear magic, and they wish us to stop speaking with our ancestors.\"\n\nKahlan squeezed his shoulder. \"That's right. But more than that, they think it's their duty to the spirits they worship to kill you all. They are on a mission to destroy all who have magic, because they think magic is evil. They believe people like you have magic.\" She met Chandalen's eyes. \"If they are not killed to a man, like the Jocopo, sooner or later, they will come and destroy the Mud People, just as they destroyed the city of Ebinissia.\"\n\nThe three men studied the ground in thought. She waited for them to weigh her words. Chandalen at last spoke.\n\n\"And they would kill the other people, those who wish not to have outsiders come to them, to live alone, like the Mud People?\"\n\n\"They would. I spoke with the men of that army. They are like crazy men. They sound as if they have been visited by evil spirits, like the Bantak did. Like the Jocopo. They will not listen to reason. They think we are the ones who listen to evil spirits. They will do as they promise. You saw the city they destroyed and the size of the army defending it; it is not an empty threat.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I must get to Aydindril so I can raise an army to fight these men." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The councilors should already be doing that, but I must get thereto make sure the extent of the threat is known, to make sure all of the Midlands join together in this.\"\n\n\"But there are no forces at hand to fight these men, now, except these boys. There are cities that will be destroyed before help can arrive. Worse, the threat these men pose will convince some to join with them. Some see honor as an inconvenience and will side with the army they think will win. This will swell their ranks further.\"\n\n\"Before Aydindril can send troops to find and defeat these men, many will die. We must call upon these boys to join the fight now, before more innocent people are slaughtered. These boys volunteered to become fighters, like you, to protect their people, the people of all the Midlands. We must help them in this. We must not let this army of evil men escape to wander the Midlands, killing and destroying, and winning more to their side.\"\n\n\"We must begin the battle with these boys, help them, show them, to make sure they will know how to fight, and to know they will continue without us to lead them. We must lead them into the first battle, to give them confidence in the ways we teach them, before we can be on our way to Aydindril.\"\n\nChandalen gave her a level look. \"And you will call the lightning to help us?\"\n\n\"No,\" Kahlan whispered. \"I tried last night, but it didn't come. It's difficult to explain to you, but I believe that because I invoked this special magic on behalf of Richard, it will notwork except to protect him. I'm sorry.\"\n\nChandalen unfolded his arms. \"Then how did you kill so many?\"\n\nKahlan patted his arm where the bone knife was. \"The same way as your grandfather taught your father, and he you. I did not do as they expected. I did not fight their way.\" The two brothers leaned in intently as she spoke. \"They like to drink, and when they're drunk, they don't think so well, and they are slow.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Tossidin pointed behind with a thumb. \"These men, too, like to have drink at night. They have a wagon of it among their supplies. We would not let them have any. Some were angry. They said it was their right.\"\n\nKahlan shook her head. \"These boys also thought it would be right to march right up to an enemy who outnumbers them ten to one and have a battle in broad daylight. We must help them in this. We must teach them what to do.\"\n\n\"They do not like to listen.\" Prindin glanced back over his shoulder, at the men he had been trying to teach. \"They wish always to argue. They say \"This is the way it is done\" and \"We must do it so.\" They are filled only with the way they were taught, and do not like to be told another way.\"\n\n\"Yet that's what we must do,\" Kahlan said. \"We must lead them in the way that will work. That's why I need you three. I need you to help me in this, or many people, including, eventually, the Mud People, will die. I need your help in this. I must lead them into battle.\"\n\nChandalen stood mute and unmoving. The two brothers pushed snow with their feet, considering. Prindin finally looked up.\n\n\"We will help. My brother and I will do as you ask.\"\n\n\"Thank you, Prindin, but it's not you who must decide. Chandalen must be the one who agrees. It is for him to decide.\"\n\nThe two brothers took sidelong glances at him as he stood glaring at her. At last he let out an exasperated breath.\n\n\"You area stubborn woman. You are so stubborn you will get killed if we three are not thereto bring some reason to your head. We go with you to kill these evil men.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Kahlan sighed with relief. \"Thank you, Chandalen.\" She bent and took up a handful of snow, using it to scrub the dried blood from her face. \"Now I must go and tell these boys what they must do.\" She shook the snow from her hands when she had finished with her face. \"Did you three get any sleep last night?\"\n\n\"Some,\" Chandalen said.\n\n\"Good. After I speak with them, I need to get a few hours' sleep. You can begin showing them how to travel without their wagons. We must teach them to be strong, like you. We will begin the killing tonight?\"\n\nChandalen gave a grim nod. \"Tonight.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Kahlan climbed atop a wagon before the assembled men. They stood in brown wool coats, packed tightly together before her in the gray morning light. Captain Ryan, with his two lieutenants flanking him, stood at the front of the men. He leaned an arm on the wagon wheel, waiting.\n\nKahlan looked out at all the young faces. Boys. She was about to ask boys to die. But what choice did she have?\n\nDear mother, she wondered, is this the reason you chose Wyborn as my father? To teach me what I am about to do?\n\n\"I'm afraid I have only one bit of good news for you,\" she began in a quiet voice that carried through the cold air, out over the faces all watching her, \"and so I will give you that first, to give you courage for the other things I have to tell you.\"\n\nKahlan took a deep breath. \"Your queen was not killed in Ebinissia, nor did the men who attacked the city find or capture her. Either she was away when the attack came, or she escaped.\"\n\n\"Queen Cyrilla lives.\"\n\nThe boys seemed to take a deep breath, as if hoping she wouldn't add anything more, and then they erupted in wild cheering. They threw their arms in the air, shaking their fists at the sky. They yelled and hooted with joy and relief.\n\nKahlan stood in her blood-soaked wolf mantle, her hands at her sides, letting them have their time of celebration and hope. Some of the boys, forgetting for the moment that they were soldiers, hugged each other. She watched tears of happiness rundown many a cheek as men leapt and shouted.\n\nKahlan stood feeling small and insignificant as the mob of boys poured out their adoration for her half sister. She couldn't bring herself to halt their rejoicing." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "At last Captain Ryan climbed up onto the wagon next to her. He held his arms up, calling for silence.\n\n\"All right! All right! Hold it down! Stop acting like a bunch of children in front of the Mother Confessor! Show her what men you be!\"\n\nThe cheering finally died out, to be replaced by grins and bright eyes. Captain Ryan clasped his hands together and cast her a somewhat sheepish look before taking a couple of steps away atop the wagon, to give her room.\n\n\"The people of Ebinissia,\" she went on, in the same quiet tone, \"were not so fortunate.\"\n\nThe winter silence became brittle. Light breezes rustled icy branches on the trees ascending the slopes to either side of the flat valley pass holding their camp. The grins withered.\n\n\"Everyone of you, at the least, had friends who were murdered there. Many of you had loved ones, family, who died at the hands of the men a few hours up this pass.\" Kahlan cleared her throat and swallowed as her eyes found the ground. \"I, too, knew people who died there.\"\n\nHer eyes came up. \"Last night, I went to their camp, to discover who they were, and if they could be called upon to return to their homelands. They have no intention of doing anything but conquering all the lands and putting them under their rule. They have vowed to kill everyone who refuses to join them. Ebinissia refused.\"\n\nThe boys shouted and shook their fists. They, themselves, they said, would bring an end to the threat.\n\nShe spoke over their words, bringing them to silence as she did so. \"The men who slaughtered your countrymen and countrywomen are called the Imperial Order. They fight on behalf of no country or land. They fight to conquer all lands, and to rule all lands. They answer to no government, to no king, to no lord, to no council. They believe themselves to be the fountain of law.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"They are made up of mostly D'Haran men, but others have joined them. I saw among them Keltans.\"\n\nWaves of angry whispers sweptback through the crowd. Kahlan let it goon fora moment. \"I saw also, among them, men from other lands. And I saw Galeans.\"\n\nThis time shocked and angry voices called out that it wasn't true, and said she was wrong.\n\n\"I saw them with my own eyes!\" They fell once more to silence. She quieted her tone. \"I wish that it were not true, but I saw them. Men of many lands have joined with them. More men will join with them if they believe they can be part of the victory, part of the new law, if they believe they can be in on the plunder and awarded positions of authority and power.\"\n\n\"The city of Cellion lies hardly more than a hand of days ahead. The Imperial Order will have their surrender and allegiance, or their death.\"\n\n\"Other cities, towns, villages, and farms will suffer these men if they are not stopped. Eventually, all will come under their sword. I am going to Aydindril to marshal the forces of the Midlands against the Imperial Order, but that will take time. In that time, their numbers will swell with those who would think to be on the side of might. Right now, there is no one able to stop these men from killing everyone in their path who resists them.\"\n\n\"Except you.\"\n\nKahlan stiffened her back as she let what she had said sink in, and in preparation for what she was going to tell them next. She let the silence settle once moreover the valley.\n\n\"As the Mother Confessor of the Midlands, and absent the luxury of conferring with the Central Council, I have had to do that which no Mother Confessor fora thousand years or more has had to do. On my authority, alone, I have committed the Midlands to war. The army of the Imperial Order is to be killed to a man. No negotiation or compromise will be offered by the Midlands. Under no circumstances will the Order's surrender be accepted. I have given an oath on behalf of the Midlands that no quarter shall be granted.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Astonished faces stared at her.\n\n\"Whether I live or die, this decree is irrevocable. Any land or people who willingly join with the Imperial Order cast their lot under the shadow of this edict.\"\n\n\"It is not in the name of Galea that I call upon you to fight. In the office of the Mother Confessor, I call upon you to fight for the Midlands. For it is not Galea that is under threat, but all lands, and all free people.\"\n\nThere was confident grumbling that they were up to the task. Some in the ranks called out their assurance that they were the men to do it, that they were in the right, and would triumph.\n\nKahlan nodded to them all. \"You think so? I want each of you to look to the faces around you.\" They mostly stared at her. \"Do as I say! Look to all the faces around you! Look to your comrades!\"\n\nA little confused, they began looking around, twisting to see those to the sides and those behind, smiling and laughing among themselves, as if it were a game.\n\nWhen they seemed to have finished with the task, she went on. \"A few of you will remember the faces you have looked upon today. Remember, and grieve. The rest, if you take up this battle, will not be around to remember. They will die in the struggle.\"\n\nIn the cold silence, Kahlan heard the distant chatter of a squirrel, and then the sound of that, too, died away.\n\nThe smiles were all gone as she finally spoke again. \"These men, the Imperial Order, are led by and are mostly D'Haran troops. D'Haran soldiers are trained from the time they are half your age. They fight internal conflicts in their land, put down riots and rebellions; they do not simply practice battle tactics, they live them day in and day out. They know only a life of fighting. They have been exposed to it in every form. I have taken the confessions of many D'Harans. Most do not know the meaning of peace.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Since spring, when Darken Rahl sent them against the Midlands, they have been at what they do best: war. They have fought in battle after battle. All who have come before them have fallen.\"\n\n\"They relish fighting. They delight in it. They areas close to fearless as men come. They hold contests, often lethal, to win the right to be in the van of battle, to win the right to be the first to strike a blow at the enemy, to win the right to be the first to fall.\"\n\nShe surveyed the young faces. \"You have confidence in your training, your battle tactics?\" The faces nodded, looking to one another, smiling their knowing confidence.\n\nKahlan pointed to one, a sergeant by the look of his coat's braids. \"Tell me then. You are now in the field of battle, having chased down these men, and here comes the enemy, back at you. You are in charge of the pikes and archers. Here they come. Thousands of them, yelling, running, coming to rend your force in two, to break your army's back. You see they have heavy spears, called by them argons, with long, thin barbs. If they pierce you, they are nearly impossible to remove. They cause ghastly wounds that are almost always fatal. Here they come, with their argons. Thousands of men. What is your tactic?\"\n\nThe young man held his chin out, knowingly. \"Form a tight rank of the pikes formed into a box or wedge to protect the archers. The pikemen face the pikes out and overlapping the shields, present the enemy with a tight, impenetrable wall. The shields protect the pikemen, who protect the archers. The archers take them down before they can get close enough to use their argons. The few who do fall on the pikes. Their drive is repelled and, in all likelihood, they have lost a good many men in the failed attempt, making another less likely.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Kahlan nodded, as if impressed." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Well stated.\" He beamed. The men around him grinned with pride in their knowledge of their business. \"I have seen some of the most experienced armies of the Midlands use those very same tactics when the D'Harans first came over, last spring, when the boundary went down.\"\n\n\"Well, there you have it,\" the man said. \"They lose their charge against the archers and on the point of our pikes.\"\n\nShe gave him a small smile. \"The D'Haran van, those men I told you about, the biggest, the fiercest, the ones who won the right to be the first at you? Well, They've developed special tactics of their own, for use against your plans. First of all, they have arrow shields, so as they run in, They're protected from the brunt of the archers\" work.\"\n\n\"And I guess I forgot to tell you one other thing about those argons of theirs. These spears have iron-sheathed shafts for most of their length, and a unique purpose. As the enemy is charging in, mostly unaffected by your archers, they heave their argons at you.\"\n\n\"We have shields,\" the man pointed out. \"Their argons expended, they will be on the point of our pikes.\"\n\nShe folded her arms, nodding to him. \"The van, the men who won the right to be the first wave, are big men. I doubt the smallest has arms less than twice the average of yours. The argons are needle sharp. Thrown by those powerful arms, they penetrate and stick in your shields. The long barbs prevent them from being withdrawn.\"\n\nThe confident smiles were fading as she looked from face to face as she went on. \"You now have argons stuck solidly in your shields. You drop your pikes, drawing swords to hack the heavy spears away. But the shafts are covered in iron, and don't yield. The spears are heavy, and the butts drag the ground. D'Harans can run almost as fast as their spears fly. As they reach you now, they jump on the shafts of the spears stuck in your shields, dragging them to the ground, leaving you on your knees, and naked to their heavy axes.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Arms still folded, she leaned toward them." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I have seen men split from scalp to navel by those axes.\"\n\nMen glanced sideways atone another, their confidence shaken.\n\nShe nodded mockingly as she unfolded her arms. \"I am not giving you conjecture. I've seen a D'Haran force take down an experienced army nearly ten times their size in just this fashion. In the space of an hour, the battle turned from a rout of the D'Harans to a rout of their foes.\"\n\n\"A D'Haran charge of the argon is almost as devastating as a classic cavalry charge, except they have far greater numbers than any cavalry. And their own cavalry is anything but typical. You don't even want to know about them.\"\n\n\"They lost half their number in the slaughter of Ebinissia, and they are in camp, now, singing and drinking. Would you, if you lost every other one of you, be of good cheer? I know you believe you can win a battle against a force ten times your size, and I know also that such a thing can be done. But it is those experienced D'Haran troops who, on a battlefield, fighting by the tactics of common war, could bring about such a feat.\"\n\n\"Please believe me, I mean no disrespect to your bravery, but in the field of war, you are not their equal. Not yet. You could not defeat an army half their size were the battle fought the way your enemy would fight.\"\n\n\"That does not mean you cannot win. It means only that you must do it in another way. I believe you can win, and I'm going to tell you what you must do, and lead you in the first strike, to start you in this. The Imperial Order is not invincible. They can be defeated.\"\n\n\"From this day forward, I shall never again call you \"boys.\" From this day forward, you are men.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You think of yourselves as soldiers of your homeland, Galea. But you are not. In this, you are not. You are soldiers, men, of the Midlands. For it is not just Galea who will be conquered, but all of the Midlands, if these men are not stopped. I call upon you to stop them.\"\n\nThe tightly packed crowd of soldiers, tempered by what they had heard, shouted that they would do the job. She watched from under her eyebrows as they confidently pledged to fight to the end. There were angry whispers from some in the crowd, to her right. Men were jostling each other and arguing. Some men wanted to speak, and others were seeking to prevent it.\n\n\"If you should choose to join in this battle, you will follow orders without question,\" she said. \"But for this time only, you may speak your mind freely, without retribution. If you have something to say, then let all hear it now, or else hold it to your grave.\"\n\nOne man pulled his arm free of another. He glowered up at her. \"We're men. We don't follow women into battle.\"\n\nKahlan blinked at him. \"You follow Queen Cyrilla.\"\n\n\"She is our queen, we fight on her behalf. She doesn't lead us in battle. That's left to men to do.\"\n\nKahlan narrowed her eyes. \"What is your name?\"\n\nHe glanced around at his fellows, and then held his chin up. \"I'm William Mosle. And we've been trained by Prince Harold himself.\"\n\n\"And I,\" Kahlan said, \"was trained by his father, King Wyborn. King Wyborn was my father, too. I am half sister to Queen Cyrilla and Prince Harold.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There were astonished murmurs throughout the crowd. Without taking her eyes from Mosle, she lifted a hand to silence them. \"But that does not count for command. You are soldiers. Your duty is to follow the orders of your commanders, and they the queen, and she must follow commands of the Central Council of the Midlands. The council of the Midlands follows the orders of the Mother Confessor.\"\n\n\"For now, I fill that office. My family name is, like your queen's, Amnell, but I'm of Confessor blood, first, and last. I am the Mother Confessor of the Midlands, and as such, if I say you're to march into a lake, then it's your duty to march until you're breathing water and seeing fishes. Does that make it clear enough for you, soldier?\"\n\nA few other men were shoving at Mosle, urging him to goon with their grievances. \"It means you can order us, it doesn't mean you know what you're doing.\"\n\nKahlan let out a sigh and pulled some blood-stiffened hair back, hooking it behind an ear. \"I don't have the time, today, to tell you of all the training I've had, or of all the fighting against impossible odds I've been through, or the men I've had to kill in that fighting.\"\n\n\"I would tell you only that last night, I went alone to the camp of the Imperial Order to save your life. The men of the Order, D'Harans, fear the things of the night, spirits, and for protection from that and to assist them, they had a wizard in their company. Had you, in your confidence of battle knowledge, tried to attack those men, that wizard would have known what you were doing, and probably used magic to kill you all.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Mosle's defiant expression didn't diminish, but some of the others broke into worried whispers." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Fighting against steel was one thing, fighting against magic quite another.\n\nCaptain Ryan stepped forward. \"The Mother Confessor killed the wizard,\" he said with pride. There were relieved sighs among the men. \"If it hadn't been for her experience, we would have marched to our deaths without even having the chance to lay steel to steel. I, for one, intend to follow those I've sworn my life to serve: my land, my queen, the Midlands, and the Mother Confessor.\"\n\n\"We're going to stop this threat against the Midlands, and we're going to do it by following those we are sworn to follow. We go into battle under the command of the Mother Confessor.\"\n\n\"I'm a soldier in the Galean army!\" Mosle seemed only to get more defiant. \"Not a soldier in any Midlands army! I fight for Galea, not to protect lands like Kelton!\" Kahlan watched as other men shouted their agreement. \"This army, the Imperial Order, or whatever they call themselves, is marching toward the border. Cellion is a border city, and most of it's on the other side of the river, in Kelton! Most of its citizens are Keltish! Why should we die for the Keltans?\"\n\nMen in the crowd were starting to argue with one another. Captain Ryan's face was red. \"Mosle, you're a disgrace to...!\"\n\nKahlan held a handout to silence him. \"No, soldier Mosle is only speaking as he believes, as I asked him to. You men must understand me. I'm not ordering you to do this. I'm asking you to fight for the lives of innocent people of the Midlands. Tens of thousands of your fellow soldiers have already died in this battle. I would not ask you to lay down your lives for something you do not believe in. Most who go into this war will die.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It's your decision to stay or not. You are not commanded to stay. But if you choose to stay, it will be under my command. I want no man with us who does not believe in what we do.\"\n\n\"Decide now, if you will be with us or not. If not, then you are free to go, because you will be of no help to your comrades.\"\n\nHer voice turned as cold as the thin morning air. \"If you decide to go with me into this war, then you will follow the orders of your superiors. In the Midlands, there is no one to outrank me. You will follow my orders without question, or your punishment will be unsparing. Too much is at stake to have to suffer men who can't follow orders.\"\n\n\"If I say you will do something, then you will do it, even if you know it's to cost you your life, because it's to save many more lives. I give no orders without sound reason, but I won't always have time to explain them. Your duty is to trust in your superiors and do as you're told.\"\n\nShe held out a finger and swept it slowly over their heads. \"Choose, then. With us, or not. But choose this day for all time.\"\n\nKahlan drew her hands back inside her warm fur mantle and waited in silence while men discussed and argued among themselves. Tempers flared, and angry oaths were given. Men gathered around Mosle, and others moved away from him.\n\n\"I'm leaving, then,\" Mosle called out to the others. He thrust his fist in the air. \"I'll follow no woman into battle, no matter who she is! Who's leaving with me!\"\n\nAbout sixty or seventy men gathered about cheered their support for him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Go, then,\" Kahlan commanded." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Before you become caught up in a battle you do not believe in.\"\n\nHaving made their choice, Mosle and the men with him cast her glares of contempt. He swaggered forward. \"We'll leave as soon as we can get our things together. We'll not be rushed out on your word.\"\n\nThe men in the crowd pushed in. Before it came to blows Kahlan held her hand up. \"Stop! Let them be. They've made their choice. Let them get their things and begone.\"\n\nMosle turned and pushed his way back through the throng, his new men in tow. As they left the gathered soldiers, Kahlan carefully counted their numbers. Sixty-seven. Sixty-seven who would leave.\n\nShe looked out at all the faces. \"Anymore? Do anymore wish to leave?\" No one moved a muscle. \"Then do all of you wish to join in this fight?\" A united cheer went up. \"So be it. I wish I did not have to call upon you men to do this, but there is no one else to ask. My heart weeps for those of you who will die. Know that none of those who live will ever forget the sacrifice you make for them and the people of the Midlands.\"\n\nFrom the corner of her eye, she watched the sixty-seven men moving among the wagons, taking the supplies they thought they would need. \"And now, to what must be done.\"\n\nSlowly, she shook her head. \"You men must understand what it is I call upon you to do. It is no glorious battle, as you think, where you move like pieces on a game board. No tactics to outwit an opponent in a grand engagement. We will not face them in the field of battle, but kill them in every other way.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"But Mother Confessor,\" someone near the front timidly called out, \"it's the code of honor for soldiers to face one another in battle, to best him in a fair fight.\"\n\n\"There is nothing fair about having to fight in war. The only fair thing would be to live in peace. The purpose of war is singular: to kill.\"\n\n\"You must all understand this, for it's central to your survival. There is no honor in killing, no matter the method. Dead is dead. Killing your enemy in war is done to protect the lives of those for whom you fight. Their lives are no better protected by killing your enemy sword to sword than by slaying him while he sleeps, but only put at risk by it. There is no glory in this task. It's an onerous deed. We do not intend to give them a chance to engage in pitched battle, to see who is the better at the game. Our chore is simply to kill them.\"\n\n\"If you have difficulty seeing the right of this, then I call upon you to consider the honor of the soldiers you are up against. Consider them as they stood waiting in gangs to rape your mothers and sisters. Consider what your mothers and sisters in Ebinissia thought of honor as they were tortured and raped and slaughtered.\"\n\nThe chill of her words sent visible shudders through the stone-silent men. Kahlan had to restrain herself from bringing anymore horror to their eyes, but before her still floated the vision of the young women in the palace.\n\n\"If the enemy is looking the other way, so much the better, because they will not thrust a knife into you. If it is from a distance, with an arrow, so much the better, because they will not have a chance to impale you on an argon. If it is while they have food in their mouths, so much the better, because they will not be able to raise an alarm. If it is while they are sleeping, so much the better, because they will not have a chance to cleave you with their sword.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Last night, my horse crushed the head of one of the D'Haran commanders. There was no glory in that, no honor, only the knowledge that perhaps that deed will prevent some of you from dying by his hand and wits. In that, my heart sings with joy. Joy that maybe it has saved some of your precious lives.\"\n\n\"What we do is done to save the lives of men and women yet alive and yet unborn. You saw what was done to the people in Ebinissia. Remember the faces of those dead. Remember the way they died, and the horror they suffered before they did. Remember those soldiers captured, and beheaded.\"\n\n\"It is up to us to prevent that from happening to anymore people. To do that, we must kill these men. There is no glory in the doing. Only survival.\"\n\nIn the back, two men gestured obscenely to those around them and walked off to join with Mosle's men. Sixty-nine. But the rest stood infirm resolution to take up the fight.\n\nThe time had come. She had dissuaded them from their raw thoughts of glorious battle, and told them of the true nature of their task. She had brought most to an understanding of the larger temper of the battle ahead. She had told them some of what must be done. She had brought them to a more focused understanding of their importance in the scheme of this struggle.\n\nThe time had come to charge them irreversibly to the burden, to forge them into an instrument of retribution that could annihilate the threat.\n\nKahlan opened her arms to the men before her, her blood soaked mantle hanging limp.\n\n\"I am dead,\" she called to the gray sky. Frowning, they all leaned in a little. \"What has happened to my countrymen, my countrywomen-my fathers, sons, mothers, and daughters-has slain me. The agony of their slaughter has mortally wounded my heart.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Her arms spread wider as her voice rose in wrath.\n\n\"Only vengeance can restore me! Only victory can return my life tome!\"\n\nShe gazed into all the wide eyes staring back. \"I am the Mother Confessor of the Midlands. I am your mothers, your sisters, your daughters yet unborn. I call upon you to die with me, and live again only by avenging me.\"\n\nKahlan swept a handout. \"Those of you who join with me in this are dead with me. Our lives can be returned only through vengeance. As long as one of our enemy lives, we are dead. We have no life to lose in this battle, for our lives are already lost, here, today, now. Only when everyone of the destroyers of Ebinissia is slain may we live once again. Until then we have no life.\"\n\nShe looked out at the solemn faces of the men gathered before her, watching, waiting for her next words. On a warm breeze, the bloody wolf fur rustled against her cheek. Kahlan pulled free her knife and held it up in her fist for all to see. She laid the weapon over her heart.\n\n\"An oath then, to the good people of Ebinissia who are now with the spirits, and to the good people of the Midlands!\"\n\nAlmost all the men followed her example, holding their knives over their hearts. Seven did not, but, grumbling curses, rose to join with Mosle. Seventy-six.\n\n\"Vengeance without mercy before our lives are returned to us!\" she pledged.\n\nThe sober voice of every man before her repeated the oath, joining with every other in unflinching unity.\n\n\"Vengeance without mercy before our lives are returned to us!\" The roar of their words drifted away on the morning air." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Kahlan watched William Mosle cast a glance over his shoulder at her before following his men away, backup the pass.\n\nShe returned her attention to those before her. \"You are all sworn in oath, then. Tonight, we begin the killing of the men of the Order. Let it be without quarter. We take no prisoners.\"\n\nNo cheer went up this time. The men listened in grim attention.\n\n\"We must no longer travel as you have been, with wagons to carry your needs and supplies. We must take only what we can carry. We need to be able to travel the woods, the small passes, so we can outmaneuver the men we hunt. I intend to sweep in at them from all directions and at will, like wolves at hunt. And like wolves, who hunt with coordination, we will control and direct them, as wolves control and direct their prey.\"\n\n\"You are men of this land. You know the woods and mountains around us. You have hunted them since you were children. We will use your knowledge. The enemy is in strange territory, and keeps to the wide passes with their wagons and great numbers. We will no longer be impeded as they. We will move through the country around them as do the wolves.\"\n\n\"You must divide up what you have in the wagons, and place what you can carry in your packs. Leave the heavy armor, it takes too much effort to carry, and we are not going to fight that way. Take only light armor you can wear at a forced march. Take what food you can.\"\n\n\"You are to take no liquor or ale. When you have avenged the people of Ebinissia, you may drink all you want. Until then, you will not. I want everyone alert at all times. We do not ever relax until our enemy is dead to a man.\"" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Extend the narrative as the author's co-writer.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, quest\nAuthor: Terry Goodkind\nTitle: Stone of Tears\nChapter: 42" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Opening into sunlight, the road widened, splitting in the distance around a striated pyramid. Richard frowned, trying to see what made it look the way it did-a dotted, pale tan, with darker bands at evenly spaced intervals up its sides. He judged its height at three times his eye level from where he sat atop Bonnie.\n\nAs they approached, he realized the mound was constructed entirely of bones. Human bones. The dotted tan parts were skulls, and the bands were leg and arm bones placed end-out in layers. He guessed there must be tens of thousands of skulls in the orderly heap. He stared as they rode past; Sister Verna didn't seem to take notice.\n\nBeyond the bone pile, the wide road led into a plaza of a dark and hazy city in the middle of the thick forest. The flat hilltop had been cleared of every tree, as had the terraced fields they had passed not an hour before.\n\nThe fields looked to be in preparation for planting. The ground was freshly turned, and there were stick people to scare away the birds when the seed was planted. It was winter, yet here, in this place, people planted. Richard thought it a wonder.\n\nRather than feeling open, this vast city, cleared of every bit of green that surrounded it, seemed even more closed and dark than the tunneled road. Buildings were square, with flat roofs, and faced with dingy plaster the color of bark. Near the roofs, and at each floor level, the ends of support logs stuck from the plastered walls. Windows were small, with nevermore than one in a wall. The buildings varied in height, but most were attached into irregular blocks. The tallest must have had four floors. None had the slightest variation in style, other than their height.\n\nHaze and woodsmoke obscured the sky and the buildings in the distance. The plaza seemed simply an open place around a well in the center, and was the only open area of any size. It quickly terminated in narrow, dark streets with smooth walls rising up to each side, creating man-made chasms. Overhead, many of the blocky buildings bridged the streets, making them dark tunnels, and where there were none of the bridging buildings overhead, wash hung on lines between opposing windows. Some streets were cobblestone, but most were mud, running with fetid water." }, { "from": "human", "value": "People in drab, loose-fitting clothes filled the narrow streets, walked barefoot through the mud, stood with their arms folded, watching, or satin groups in doorways." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Women carrying clay water jugs on their heads, balanced with the aid of a single hand, moved tight against the walls to make room for the three horses. They made their way to and from the well in indifferent silence as Richard and Sister Verna passed.\n\nA few older men satin wide doorways, or leaned against walls. The men wore brimless, straight-sided, round, dark, flat-topped hats, with strange markings in light colors that looked to have been painted on with fingers. Many of the men smoked thin-stemmed pipes. Conversation fell silent as Richard and Sister Verna passed, and all watched the two strangers and three horses moving by. Some idly tugged on the long, dangling earrings they wore in their left ears.\n\nSister Verna led the way through the narrow streets, taking them deeper into the maze of drab buildings. When they at last reached a wider cobblestone street, she halted, turned to him, and spoke in quiet warning.\n\n\"These people are the Majendie. Their land is avast, crescent-shaped swath of forests. We must travel the length of their land, all the way to the point of the horn of their land. They worship spirits. Those skulls we saw back there were sacrifices to their spirits.\"\n\n\"Though they hold foolish beliefs which are reprehensible, we do not have the power to change them. We need to pass through their land. You will do as they ask, or our skulls will end up with all the others on that pile.\"\n\nRichard refused to give her the satisfaction of an answer or an argument. He sat with his hands folded over the pommel of his saddle and without emotion watched her until she finally turned away and started out once more.\n\nAfter passing under a low bridge building, they entered a slightly dished, open square. Perhaps a thousand men milled about or clustered in small groups. Like the other men he had seen, these all wore the one long, dangling earring, though on the right side instead of the left. They also all wore short swords and black sashes. Unlike the other men, none of these wore hats on their shaved heads." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Off in the center, a raised platform held a circle of men sitting cross-legged, facing inward, around a thick pole. Here was the source of the eerie melody. A circle of women in black satin a ring, facing outward, around the men.\n\nStanding with her back against the pole, a big woman in a billowing black outfit slid the back of her hand up the pole and took hold of a knot in the end of a rope hanging from a bell. As she watched Richard and the Sister ride into the square, she rang the bell once. The Sister brought them to an abrupt halt as the piercing peal drifted across the square, hushing the men, and urging the flute players into faster strains.\n\n\"That is a warning,\" Sister Verna said. \"A warning to the spirits of their enemies. The bell is also a call to the warriors present. Those are these men herein the square. The spirits have been warned, and the warriors called. If she rings that bell again, we die.\" Sister Verna glanced to his even expression. \"This is a sacrifice ritual, to appease spirits.\"\n\nShe watched men come and take hold of the reins of their horses. The circle of women in black stood and began to dance and twirl to the haunting music. When Sister Verna glanced at him again, Richard, with deliberate care, checked that his sword was loose in its scabbard. She sighed and then dismounted. When she cleared her throat in annoyance, he finally dismounted, too.\n\nSister Verna drew her light cloak tight around herself as she spoke to him while watching the women in black dance and spin around the pole and the woman in the center.\n\n\"The Majendie live in a crescent around a land of swampy forest in which live their enemy. The people who live in the heart of that forbidding land area wild, savage lot, and will not allow any of us through their land, much less guide us. Even if we could avoid them, we would become lost within an hour, and never find our way out. The only way for us to reach the Palace of the Prophets, which lies beyond these savages, is to go around them, along the crescent of land belonging to the Majendie. Our destination lies between the cusps of the crescent belonging to the Majendie, and beyond the savages in the center.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "She glanced over, to make sure he was at least listening, before she went on." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The Majendie are at constant war with the savages who live in that swampy forest. In order to be permitted through Majendie land, we must prove we are allied with them and their spirits, and not their enemy.\"\n\n\"Those skulls we saw are the skulls of this enemy, who were sacrificed to the Majendie spirits. In order for us to be permitted to pass, we must help them in this sacrifice. The Majendie believe that men with the gift, like all men, carry the seed of life and soul, endowed by the spirits. More, they believe that one with the gift has a special, direct link with the spirits. A sacrifice made with the aid of a young man with the gift confers the sanctifying grace of their spirits upon all their people. They believe it breathes life, divine life, on their people.\"\n\n\"The Majendie require this participation when we bring young boys through for the first time, believing it links their spirits to those of the Majendie. This ceremony also insures that the people with whom they are at war will hate wizards, because they help the Majendie, and will never cooperate with them. This, the Majendie believe, denies their enemy a divine channel to the spirit world.\"\n\nThe men in the square all drew their short swords. Laying the swords on the ground with their points toward the woman in the center, they knelt with shiny heads bowed.\n\n\"The woman who rang the bell, the one in the center, is the leader of these people. The Queen Mother. She is the one who is bound to the female spirits. She represents the spirits of fertility in this world. She is the embodiment of the receptacle of the divine seed from the spirit world.\"\n\nThe dancing women in black formed into a line and started off the platform in the direction of Richard and the Sister." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The Queen Mother is sending her representatives to take you to the sacrificial offering.\" Sister Verna glanced up at him, then fussed with the corner of her cloak. \"We are fortunate. This means they have one to be sacrificed. If we came here and they didn't, we would have to wait until one of their enemy was captured. Sometimes that can take weeks, even months.\"\n\nRichard said nothing.\n\nShe turned her back to the approaching women in black and faced him. \"You will betaken to a place where the prisoner is held. There you will be offered the chance to give your blessing. Not giving your blessing means you wish to precede the prisoner in sacrifice. If you don't give your blessing, it will only insure that you die, too.\"\n\n\"You give your blessing by kissing the sacred knife they will offer you. You don't have to kill the person with your own hand. You have only to kiss the knife to give your blessing, to give the spirits\" blessings, and they will do the killing. But you must watch them do it, so the spirits will seethe sacrifice through your eyes.\" She glanced over her shoulder at the approaching women in black. \"The beliefs of these people are obscene.\"\n\nShe sighed in resignation and turned to face him again. Richard folded his arms and glared at her.\n\n\"I know you don't like this, Richard, but it has kept peace for three thousand years between us and the Majendie. Though it sounds a paradox, it saves lives, more lives than it costs. The savages who are their enemy make war not only on them, but also onus. The palace, and the civilized people of the Old World, are sporadically subjected to their raids and fierce attacks.\"\n\nSmall wonder, Richard thought, but he said nothing." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sister Verna stepped aside to stand at his shoulder as the women in black formed into a dark knot before the two of them. All were older, perhaps the age of grandmothers. They were all portly, and their black outfits covered their hair and everything else except their wrinkled hands and faces.\n\nWith gnarled fingers, one drew the coarse black fabric tight at her chin. She bowed her head to Sister Verna. \"Welcome, wisewoman. Our sentries have told us of your approach for nearly a day now. We are pleased to have you among us, for it is the time of the planting sacrifice. Though we had not expected your presence, it will be a great homage to the spirits to have the blessing in the sacrifice.\"\n\nThe old woman, who only came up to the height of his breastbone, looked Richard up and down, then she spoke again to Sister Verna.\n\n\"This is a magic man? He is not a boy.\"\n\n\"We have never before brought one so old to the palace of the wisewomen,\" Sister Verna said. \"But he is a magic man, the same as the others.\"\n\nThe old woman in black looked into Richard's eyes as he watched her without expression. \"He is too old to give the blessing.\"\n\nSister Verna tensed. \"He is still a magic man.\"\n\nThe woman nodded to the Sister. \"But he is too old to have others perform the sacrifice for him. He must do it himself. He must give our sacrifice to the spirits by his own hand.\" She gestured fora woman behind to come forward. \"Lead him to where the offering waits.\"\n\nWith a bob of her head, the woman came forward and indicated he was to follow. Sister Verna tugged on his shirtsleeve. Richard could feel the heat of magic radiating from her fingers, up his arms, terminating in an uncomfortable tingling sensation at his neck under the Rada'Han." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Richard,\" she whispered, \"don't you dare swing the axe this time. You know not what you will bring to ruin.\"\n\nRichard met her eyes before turning away without a word.\n\nThe round old woman led him off down a muddy street, past old men sitting in doorways, watching, and then turned them down a narrow alley. At the end she stooped through a low doorway. Richard had to bend nearly in half to follow.\n\nInside, carpets of intricate designs but dull colors covered the floor. There was no furniture except several low, leather-covered chests holding oil lamps. Four men with shaved heads squatted, rather than sat, on the rugs, two to each side of a passageway hung with a heavy tapestry instead of a door. Short spears with sharp, leaf-shaped iron heads rested across their knees. The unexpectedly high ceiling held a cloud of pipe smoke.\n\nThe men stood and bowed to the old woman. She bobbed her head to them and, as she did so, drew Richard forward.\n\n\"This is the magic man. Since he is the age of a man, the Queen Mother directs that the spirits take the sacrifice through his hands.\"\n\nThey all nodded and gave grim agreement that it was a wise decision, and prayed she would tell the Queen Mother that it would be done as directed. The woman in black bid them fair fortune in the task. She closed the rough spruce door behind herself after stooping through the low opening. When she was gone, the men broke into grins. They all slapped Richard on the back, as if taking him into their confidence. The back of one man's shaved neck wrinkled in rows of furrows as he turned to glance at the tapestry-covered passageway. He put an arm around Richard's shoulder, giving it a squeeze with powerful fingers." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You are fortunate indeed, lad. You'll like what we have for you.\" His sly smile revealed a missing, bottom tooth. \"Come with us. You'll like this, lad. We can promise you, you will.\" He gave a hardy chuckle. \"Today you'll be a man, if you're not one yet.\" The other three laughed with him.\n\nThe three pushed the tapestry aside, taking one of the lamps with them. The last man patted Richard's back, ushering him through. They all chuckled with anticipation.\n\nThe next room was much the same as the first, minus the pipe smoke. They led on through a sequence of rooms, each bare of decoration except fora few carpets scattered about. The men finally squatted beside a last covered passageway, planted the butts of their spears, and with a hand on them for support leaned toward him. They all shared the same cunning smiles.\n\n\"Careful now, lad. Don't be too anxious. Keep your head about yourself, and you'll have yourself a time with this savage.\"\n\nThey chuckled again with the private joke as they pushed the hanging aside and went through. Inside, the small, square room had a bare dirt floor. The ceiling was at least three stories high. A window near the top of one wall cast the small room in dim light. The place smelled of the chamber pot off to the side.\n\nCrouched to the far left was a naked woman. She tried to push herself farther into the corner when she saw the men. Arms around her knees, she pulled them tight to herself.\n\nShe was covered with dirty marks and smears, cuts and bruises. Her mass of long, tangled, black hair frizzed out, framing her filthy face. Her dark eyes narrowed with loathing as she watched the four men. By their leering smiles, she had cause to know them." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Around her neck was a thick iron collar connected by heavy chain to a massive pin in the wall.\n\nThe men spread out around the room, squatted, and leaned their backs against the walls. Their fists held their spears upright between their knees. Richard imitated them, squatting and leaning against the wall to the woman's right.\n\n\"I wish to speak with the spirits,\" Richard said. The four men blinked at him. \"I must ask them how they wish it done.\"\n\n\"There is only one way to do it,\" the man with the missing tooth said. \"You must cutoff her head. Now that the iron collar is around her neck, it's the only way to get her out. Her head must be separated from her body.\"\n\n\"Even so, it must be done in the manner the spirits wish. I must talk with them. I must know exactly how to do this... to please them.\"\n\nThey all considered this. The man with the missing tooth pushed his cheek outwith his tongue as he pondered. Finally he brightened. \"The Queen Mother and her women drink juka to speak with the spirits. I could bring you some juka, and then you, too, could speak with the spirits.\"\n\n\"Then bring me this juka, so I may speak with the spirits and do as they command. I would not want to make a mistake, and ruin your planting sacrifice.\"\n\nThe men agreed that this was a wise request, considering that Richard was to make the sacrifice himself instead of simply blessing it. One of the men hurried off.\n\nThe other three waited in silence, again leering at the woman. She moved her feet closer together to cover herself as she squatted in the corner, and glowered back.\n\nOne man pulled a thin-stemmed pipe and along splinter from a pocket. He lit the splinter in the flame of the lamp, and used it to light his pipe. He puffed as he watched the woman, eyeing her in an intimate way. Her chin held defiantly up, the woman glared back. The smoke drifted up into the dim air as his steady puffing quickened." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Richard crouched, leaning against the wall, with his arms folded across his lap so as to partially hide his right hand draped nonchalantly near the hilt of his sword. The fourth man finally came back, carrying around clay pot in both hands. The pot had a small opening in the top and white symbols painted around the sides.\n\n\"The Queen Mother and her women agreed, and sent this juka so you may call the spirits. When you drink this, the spirits will visit you.\" He set the pot in front of Richard and then, pulling a knife from his belt, held the green malachite handle out to him. It was carved with figures in obscene poses. \"This is the sacred knife, to be used in the sacrifice.\" When Richard took the knife and slid the stout blade behind his belt, the man joined his fellows squatting against the walls.\n\nThe man closest to the woman, on the other side, seemed pleased that the Queen Mother had sent the juka. He gave Richard a knowing wink. Then he lifted his spearpoint to the woman's face.\n\n\"The magic man has come to offer you to the spirits.\" He smiled encouragement past her, to Richard. \"But first, he would like to give you the spirits'gift of his seed.\" She didn't move. His smile transformed into a sneer as he thumped the butt of his spear to the dirt. \"Do not insult the spirits! You will take their offering!\" His voice lowered to a growl. \"Now.\"\n\nHer eyes never leaving him, she uncoiled herself and obediently lay down on the dirt, on her back. She opened her legs and cast Richard a defiant glance. She obviously knew the consequence of denying these men what they wished.\n\nThe man sprang forward and stabbed his spear into her thigh muscle. She screamed out and flinched back." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You know better than that! You will not insult us! We are not stupid!\" He feigned another jab. \"Do it properly!\"\n\nRichard's fingers curled around the hilt of his sword, but otherwise he did not move. The woman made no effort to tend the bleeding gash on her leg, but instead obediently turned over onto her elbows and knees, sticking her bottom up in the air.\n\nThe men chuckled to Richard.\n\n\"You would not like to lie with this one face-to-face,\" the man with the missing tooth said. \"She bites.\" The others nodded their certain knowledge of that. \"Mount her this way, and hold her by her hair. She will not be able to bite you this way, and you can have all you wish.\"\n\nThe men waited. Neither Richard nor the woman moved.\n\n\"Can you fools not see?\" the woman said. \"He does not wish to mount me like a dog in front of you!\" Her face lying against the dirt, she gave Richard a mocking smile. \"He is shy. He does not wish you to see how little his magic stick is.\"\n\nEvery eye was on him. Richard's knuckles were white around the hilt. He strained to put an emotionless face over the rage of the magic searing through him from the sword. He struggled to maintain reason.\n\nLetting the magic loose inhere would accomplish nothing.\n\nOne of the men gave a playful elbow to another and laughed. \"Perhaps she is right. He is a young one. Maybe he is not used to others watching his pleasure.\"\n\nThe seams around his control were strained near to bursting. Richard concentrated on keeping his freehand steady and making it move gracefully. He lifted the clay pot with the juka, showing it to them. He labored mightily to keep his voice even. \"The spirits wish to speak tome of important matters.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The smiles all withered. They knew him as a magic man, but not a young one as they were used to seeing. They didn't have any idea of his power, but were obviously worried about it, worried about his smoldering, too quiet smoothness.\n\n\"We must leave him to his duty,\" one of the men said. \"We should leave him to be with the spirits, and to take his pleasure from the savage if he wishes before he gives the spirits this offering.\" He bowed his shiny head to Richard. \"We will leave you to your peace. We will wait in the room where you saw us first.\"\n\nSolemn-faced, the four hurried off. After they were gone, and she could be sure they were a good distance away, the woman spat at him.\n\nShe arched her back like a cat in heat, sticking her behind higher in the air. \"You may mount me now, like the dog you are. Come, magic man, prove you can mount a woman when she is held for you by a chain. You can do no worse tome than the other dogs.\" She spat at him again. \"You are all dogs.\"\n\nRichard extended his leg and shoved afoot against her hip, tipping her over. \"I'm not like those men.\"\n\nShe rolled onto her back. She threw her arms and legs open and gave him a contemptuous glare. \"So. You wish to have me like this, to prove you are better than they?\"\n\nRichard gritted his teeth. \"Stop it. I'm not here for that.\"\n\nShe sat up. She lifted her chin, but her eyes filled with sudden terror. \"So, you will sacrifice me now?\"\n\nRichard realized his hand was still gripping the hilt. He had forgotten to maintain a calm expression. He took his hand away, letting the magic recede and his rage cool. As she watched, he poured the juka on the dirt floor." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I'm going to get you out of this. My name is Richard. What's yours?\"\n\nHer eyes narrowed. \"Why do you wish to know?\"\n\n\"Well, if I'm going to take you out of here, I need to know what to call you. I can't call you \"woman.\"\"\n\nShe surveyed him silently fora moment. \"I am Du Chaillu.\"\n\n\"Do I call you Du? Or Chaillu? Or Du Chaillu?\"\n\nPuzzlement wrinkled her brow. \"Du Chaillu. That is my name.\"\n\nRichard gave her a smile of reassurance. \"All right, then. Du Chaillu. Who are your people? What are they called?\"\n\n\"We are Baka Ban Mana.\"\n\n\"And what does that mean, Baka Ban Mana?\"\n\nHer chin came up again. \"Those without masters.\"\n\nRichard smiled to himself. \"I think you are worthy of your people. You don't look to be a woman to be mastered.\"\n\nChin still held up, she studied his eyes. \"You say these words, but you intend to mount meas the others.\"\n\nRichard shook his head. \"No. I told you I wouldn't do that. I'm going to try to get you out of here, and back to your people.\"\n\n\"None of my people captured by the Majendie ever returns.\"\n\nRichard leaned toward her. \"Then you shall be the first.\"\n\nRichard drew his sword. Du Chaillu scooted back against the wall, drawing her knees up to her chest, hiding her face. He realized that she had misinterpreted his action and expected the worst.\n\n\"It's all right, Du Chaillu. I'm not going to hurt you. I simply need to get that collar off you.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "She shrank from him; then, thinking better of her shameful retreat, she lifted her head and spat at him." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Yes, by taking off my head. You do not speak the truth. You wish to kill me now, and just want me to meekly offer you my neck.\"\n\nWith his sleeve, Richard wiped the spittle off the side of his forehead. He reached out and put a comforting hand to her shoulder. \"No. I'm not going to hurt you. I simply need to use this sword to get the collar off. How else can I get you out of here? You will be safe, you'll see. Let me get it off you?\"\n\n\"Swords cannot cut iron!\"\n\nRichard lifted an eyebrow. \"Magic can.\"\n\nShe squeezed her eyes shut and held her breath as he gently put an arm around her shoulder and rolled her facedown in his lap. He laid the sword's point to the side of her neck. He had seen the Sword of Truth cut through iron before, and he knew the sword's magic could do the job. She lay dead still as he slid the sword under the heavy iron band.\n\nAnd then she lunged at him. Ina blink, she had a fierce grip on his left arm. Her teeth clamped around his forearm, pinching the nerves.\n\nRichard froze. He knew that if he were to try to yank his arm back, her teeth would probably tear the muscle from the bone. He still had his right hand on the sword. The rage of the magic pounded through him. He used the anger to help Slim block the pain and remain still.\n\nWith the sword under the collar as it was, it would be a simple matter to give it a twist and a push. It would cut her throat, if not decapitate her, and he would be free of her teeth. The pain from her locking bite was agonizing.\n\n\"Du Chaillu,\" he managed through gritted teeth. \"Let go. I'm not going to hurt you. If it were my intention to hurt you, I could cut you right now with the sword to make you let go.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "After along moment, silent of everything but his labored breathing, she relaxed the pressure of her teeth, but didn't release his arm from her grip.\n\nShe tilted her head a bit. \"Why?\" Her eyes peered up at him. \"Why do you wish to help me?\"\n\nRichard stared down into her dark eyes. He took a chance and removed his hand from the sword. He brought the hand up, and touched his fingers to the cold metal collar around his neck.\n\n\"I, too, am a prisoner. I, too, know what it is to beheld by a collar. I don't like collars. Though I can't free myself in this way, I can try to free you.\"\n\nHer ferocious grip on his arm relaxed. She cocked her head to the side as she frowned up at him.\n\n\"But you area magic man.\"\n\n\"That's why I was taken prisoner. The woman I'm with is taking me to a place called the Palace of the Prophets. She says the magic will kill me if I don't go to this place.\"\n\n\"You are with one of the witches? From the big stone witch house?\"\n\n\"She is not a witch, but one with magic, too. She put this collar on me to make me go with her.\"\n\nDu Chaillu's eyes flicked over the collar around his neck.\n\n\"If you let me go, the Majendie will not allow you to go through their land to the big stone house.\"\n\nRichard gave her a little smile. \"I was hoping that if I helped you get back to your people, you would permit us to pass through your land, and maybe that you would guide us, so that we might reach the palace.\"\n\nA sly smile spread on her lips. \"We could kill the witch.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Richard shook his head. \"I don't kill people unless I'm forced to. It would not help anyway. I must go to the palace to get my collar off. If I don't go there, I will die.\"\n\nDu Chaillu looked away from his gaze. Richard waited while she glanced around her prison.\n\n\"I do not know if you speak the truth, or if you mean to cut my throat.\" She gently rubbed his arm where she had bitten him. \"But if you kill me, I was to be killed anyway, and had no chance, and at least I will not be mounted anymore by those dogs. If you tell the truth, then I will be free, but we must still escape. We are still in the land of the Majendie.\"\n\nRichard winked. \"I have a plan. At least we can try.\"\n\nShe frowned at him. \"You could do this thing tome, and they would be happy, and you could go to the palace. You would be safe. Are you not afraid they will kill you?\"\n\nRichard nodded. \"But I am more afraid to live the rest of my life seeing in my mind your pretty eyes and wishing I had helped you.\"\n\nShe gave him a sidelong glance. \"Maybe you area magic man, but you are not a smart man. A smart man would want to be safe.\"\n\n\"I am the Seeker.\"\n\n\"What is this, the Seeker?\"\n\n\"It's along story. But I guess it means I do my best to seethe truth prevail, to see right done. This sword has magic, and it helps me in my quest. It's called the Sword of Truth.\"\n\nShe let out along breath, and finally laid her head back in his lap. \"Try then, or kill me. I was dead anyway.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Richard gave her filthy, bareback a pat of reassurance. \"Hold still.\"\n\nHe reached under her neck and wrapped his fingers around the collar, holding it tight. With his other hand, the hand on the hilt, the hand through which the magic was coursing into him, he gave a mighty heave. With aloud crack, the iron shattered. Hot shards of metal ricocheted off the walls. One large piece spun like atop in the dirt, finally wobbling and falling over. Silence settled over them. He held his breath, hoping none of the metal fragments had cut her throat.\n\nDu Chaillu sat up. Her eyes wide, she felt her neck. Finding no injury, she broke into a wide grin.\n\n\"It is off! You got the collar off and my head is still attached!\"\n\nRichard feigned a touch of indignation. \"I told you I would. Now we must getaway from here. Come on.\"\n\nHe led her back through the rooms the way he had come in. When he reached the next to last room from where the men waited, he held a finger to his lips and told her to be quiet and wait for him to comeback for her.\n\nShe folded her arms under her bare breasts. \"Why? I will go with you. You said you would not leave me here.\"\n\nRichard let out an exasperated breath. \"I'm going to get you some clothes. We can't leave with you...\" With a gesture, he indicated her bare condition.\n\nShe unfolded her arms and looked down at herself. \"Why? What is wrong with me? I am not a bad shape to look upon. Many men have told me...\"\n\n\"What is it with you people!\" he whispered heatedly. \"I have seen more naked people since I left my homeland last autumn than in the whole of my life! And not a one of you seems the least little bit...\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She grinned. \"Your face is red.\"\n\nRichard growled through gritted teeth. \"Wait here!\"\n\nSmirking, she folded her arms again. \"I will wait.\"\n\nIn the outer room the four men jumped to their feet when Richard came through the carpet-covered opening. He didn't give them anytime to ask questions.\n\n\"Where are the woman's clothes?\"\n\nConfused, they glanced atone another. \"Her clothes? Why do you want...\"\n\nRichard took an aggressive stride toward the man. \"Who are you to question the spirits! Do as they say! Get me her clothes!\"\n\nAll four flinched back. They stared at him briefly and then went to the low chests. They set the lamps aside and opened the lids, rummaging through the chests, tossing clothes aside.\n\n\"Here! I found them!\" one of them said. He held up a garment that looked to be finely woven flax. Different-colored strips hung in rows from the light brown fabric. \"This is hers.\" He held up a buckskin belt. \"And this, too.\"\n\nRichard snatched them from the man's fist. \"You will wait here.\" He grabbed up a scrap of cloth the men had thrown on the floor as they had searched for the dress.\n\nHe went back through the opening before there was time for any questions. Du Chaillu waited, her arms still folded. When she saw what he held in his hands, she gasped. She clutched the dress to her breast. Tears filled her dark eyes.\n\n\"My prayer dress!\"\n\nShe threw her arms around his neck and, raising upon her tiptoes, started kissing him allover his face. Richard mashed her mass of black hair flat against the sides of her head as he pushed her away." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"All right, all right, put it on." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Hurry.\"\n\nGrinning at him, she pulled the dress over her head, poking her arms through the long sleeves. Up the outside of each arm and across the shoulders was a row of little strips of different-colored cloth. Each was knotted on through a small hole beneath a corded band. The dress came to just below her knees. As she tied the belt at her waist, Richard noticed the blood still running down to her foot from where the men had stabbed her in the thigh.\n\nHe dropped to one knee before her and motioned with his hands. \"Lift it up. Lift up your dress.\"\n\nDu Chaillu looked down at him. She lifted an eyebrow. \"I have just covered myself, and now you wish me to uncover?\"\n\nRichard pursed his lips. He waved the strip of cloth at her. \"You are bleeding. I need to put this around the wound.\"\n\nGiggling, she raised her skirt and held her leg out, rotating it from side to side, displaying it in a teasing manner. Richard quickly wrapped the cloth around her thigh, over the gash, and jerked the knot tight. She yelped with pain. He thought it served her right, but apologized anyway.\n\nTaking her by the hand, he pulled her though the remaining rooms. Ashe passed through the last, he growled at the four men to stay where they were. Still holding Du Chaillu's hand tight, he led her back down the alleyway and streets to the open square. He saw the heads of the three horses sticking up above the sea of shiny, bald heads. He plowed his way through the throng, toward the horses." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Although his sword satin its scabbard, he was already drawing its magic. Rage surged into him. He summoned it ever onward, letting his barriers fall before its advance.\n\nHe was entering a silent world all his own. A world of grim committal to what he was.\n\nBringer of death.\n\nSister Verna paled when she saw him pulling Du Chaillu after, becoming even paler when she saw his demeanor.\n\nWithout a word to her, Richard snatched his bow off the side of his saddle. He grunted with the effort of swiftly stretching the bowstring to the bow. He yanked two steel-bladed arrows from the quiver hanging from Bonnie's saddle. His chest heaved with wrath.\n\nThe crowd had all turned toward him. Puzzled faces bobbed up as men behind jumped to get a view. The women in black all looked up in his direction. The Queen Mother watched.\n\nSister Verna's face was by now bright red. \"Richard! What do you think...!\"\n\nRichard shoved her back. \"Be quiet.\"\n\nBow and arrows in hand, he leapt up onto his saddle. The mumbling fell silent.\n\nRichard directed himself to the Queen Mother. \"I have spoken with the spirits!\"\n\nThe back of the Queen Mother's hand started sliding up the pole, toward the bell's rope. That was all the sign he needed. She had been offered a chance. The irrevocable commitment had been made.\n\nHe loosed the magic within himself.\n\nIn one swift motion, Richard nocked an arrow. He drew string to cheek. He called the target. The arrow was away.\n\nThe air hissed with the sound of the arrow's flight. The crowd gasped. Before the arrow reached the target, while the air still sizzled with its sound, Richard had the second arrow nocked and on target." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "With a twanging thunk, the first arrow made a solid hit, dead-on where he intended it. The Queen Mother let out a clipped cry of surprise and pain. Penetrating the space between the two bones in her wrist, the arrow pinned her arm to the pole, preventing her hand from reaching the bell's rope. Her other hand started over toward the rope.\n\nThe second arrow sat rock solid in the invisible notch in the air, on target, waiting. \"Move toward the bell, and the next arrow goes through your right eye!\"\n\nThe gaggle of women in black fell to their knees, wailing. The Queen Mother became still. Blood trickled down her arm.\n\nInside, storms of anger thundered through him. Outside, he was stone. \"You will hear what the spirits have commanded!\"\n\nSlowly, the Queen Mother let her freehand drop to her side. \"Speak their words, then.\"\n\nRichard still held the bowstring to his cheek, and had no intention of letting it relax. Though the arrow was aimed atone, his ire was directed at all.\n\nMagic burned through him at full fury. The force of rage pounded through his veins. In the past, it had always been focused on an enemy, someone specific. This was different. It was open-ended rage, rage at all those present, at everyone involved inhuman sacrifice. This was nonspecific wrath.\n\nThat made it worse. It drew more magic.\n\nRichard didn't know if it was the all-encompassing threat that drew more magic, or if it was because of all the practicing he had done with Sister Verna, enabling him to focus, but whatever the reason, he was calling forth more magic from the sword than he ever had before, more than he had known was there. The magic seethed with frightening power. The very air vibrated with it." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The men about stepped back. The wailing women fell into a hush. The Queen Mother's face was white against the black of her dress. A thousand people stood in silent terror of one.\n\n\"The spirits wish no more sacrifices! It does not prove your devotion to them, only that you can kill! From now on, you must show your respect of the spirits by showing respect for the lives of the Baka Ban Mana. If you do not, the spirits will vent their wrath by destroying you! Take their threat to heart, or they will bring starvation and death to the Majendie!\"\n\nHe spoke to the men as they pressed forward. \"If any of you makes a move against me or these two women, the Queen Mother dies.\" They all glanced to one another, seeking courage. \"You may think to kill me,\" he told them, the target not wavering in the slightest, \"but you cannot before the Queen Mother dies. You saw the shot I made. My hand is guided by magic. I do not miss.\"\n\nThe men backed away.\n\n\"Let him be!\" the Queen Mother called out. \"Hear what he has to say!\"\n\n\"I have told you what the spirits have said! You will obey!\"\n\nShe was silent a moment. \"We will consult the spirits ourselves.\"\n\n\"You would insult them? You would be admitting you do not heed their words, but your own worldly wishes!\"\n\n\"But we must...\"\n\n\"I'm not hereto bargain on their behalf! The spirits have ordered I give the sacrificial knife to this woman, so she may carry it back to her people, to show them that the Majendie will no longer hunt them.\"\n\n\"The spirits will warn you of their anger by taking the seed you plant, and only when you send representatives to the Baka Ban Mana and tell them you agree to the wishes of the spirits will you be able to plant your crops. If you do not follow the spirits' wishes, you will all starve to death!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"We are leaving now. I will have your word that we will be granted safe leave of your land, or you will die right now.\"\n\n\"We must consider...\"\n\n\"I grant you until the count of three to give me your decision! One, two, three!\" The Queen Mother gasped. The women in black gasped. The crowd gasped. \"What have you decided!\"\n\nThe Queen Mother held her freehand up, imploring he hold his arrow. \"You may go! You have the word of the Queen Mother that you may leave our land unharmed!\"\n\n\"A wise decision.\"\n\nHer hand closed into a fist, one finger pointing toward them. \"But this is a violation of our agreement with the wise-women. The accord is at an end. You must leave our land at once. You are banished.\"\n\n\"So be it,\" Richard said. \"But keep to your word, or you will reap the grim rewards of any imprudent action.\"\n\nHe released the tension from the bow. Standing in his stirrups, he pulled the sacred knife from his belt and held it up high for all to see.\n\n\"This woman will take this back to her people, and tell them of the words of the spirits. As to their part, the Baka Ban Mana may no longer make war on the Majendie. You may no longer make war on them. You will be two peoples at peace! Neither may harm the other! Heed the words of the spirits, or bear the consequences!\"\n\nHis voice dropped to a fierce whisper, yet the wrath of the magic carried the words to the farthest corners of the square, and in the stillness, every ear could hear them. \"Heed my orders, or suffer what I will bring upon you. I will lay waste to you.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Magic layover the square like fog in a valley, ethereal yet real, a palpable manifestation of his outrage that touched everyone present, and all trembled at that touch." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Richard leapt off his horse. The men shrank back a few more steps. Sister Verna was speechless with rage. He had never seen her in such a state. She stood, as if paralyzed, with her fists out before her.\n\nRichard leveled his glare, and his wrath, on her. \"Get on your horse, Sister. We're leaving.\"\n\nHer jaw looked ready to shatter under the pressure of how tightly it was clenched. \"You are mad! We will not...\"\n\nRichard thrust a finger toward her. \"If you wish to argue with someone, Sister, you may stay and argue with these people. I'm sure they will oblige you. I'm going to the palace to get this collar off. If you want to go with me, then get on your horse.\"\n\n\"There is noway! We cannot now travel the horn of the Majendie land! We are banished!\"\n\nRichard lifted his thumb to Du Chaillu. \"She will guide us to the Palace of the Prophets, through the Baka Ban Mana's land.\"\n\nDu Chaillu folded her arms and gave the Sister a self-satisfied smile.\n\nSister Verna looked from her to Richard. \"You truly are mad. We cannot...\"\n\nRichard gritted his teeth with a growl, the sword's anger still at full fury. \"If you wish to go with me to the palace, get on your horse! I'm leaving!\"\n\nDu Chaillu watched as Richard stuck the green-handled knife behind her buckskin belt. \"I have charged you with a responsibility. You will live up to it. Now, getup on that horse.\"\n\nDu Chaillu unfolded her arms in sudden worry, looking to the horse and back to him. She folded her arms again and put her nose in the air. \"I will not ride on that beast. It stinks.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"So do you!\" Richard roared. \"Now getup on that horse!\"\n\nShe flinched back. Eyes wide in fright at his glare, she swallowed, gulping air. \"Now I know what a Seeker is.\"\n\nShe scrambled awkwardly up onto Geraldine. The sister was already atop Jessup. Richard vaulted up onto Bonnie.\n\nWith a last, warning look at the men gathered, he squeezed his horse's ribs and she sprang into a gallop. The other two horses took out after him. The men sweptback out of the way.\n\nThe magic hungered for blood, raged for it. Richard wished someone would try to stop him. No one did.\n\n\"Please,\" Du Chaillu said, \"it is almost dark. May we please stop, or at least allow me to walk. This beast is hurting me.\"\n\nShe was holding on for dear life, bouncing in the saddle as Geraldine trotted along. The little strips of colored cloth on her dress were all aflutter. He could hear Sister Verna's horse trotting along behind, but he didn't look back at her.\n\nRichard glanced up at the sun setting beyond the thick tangle of branches. His rage was finally withering with the light. Fora time, it had seemed as if he would never be able to put it down.\n\nDu Chaillu pointed past him with her chin, to his right, afraid to lift a hand. \"There is a small pond there, through the reeds, and a grassy place before it.\"\n\n\"Are you sure we are in Baka Ban Mana land?\"\n\nShe nodded. \"For the last few hours. This is our land. I know this place.\"\n\n\"All right. We will stop for the night.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He held her horse for her as she slid off. With a groan, she rubbed the flats of her hands on her bottom. \"If you make me ride that beast again tomorrow, I will bite you!\"\n\nFor the first time since they had left the Majendie, he was able to smile. As Richard went about unsaddling the horses, he sent Du Chaillu to get water in a canvas bucket. While she went off through the reeds and rushes to the pond, Sister Verna gathered wood and used her magic to set it afire. When he was finished caring for the horses, he put them on long tethers so they could graze on the grass.\n\n\"I guess introductions are in order,\" Richard said when Du Chaillu returned. \"Sister Verna, this is Du Chaillu. Du Chaillu, this is Sister Verna.\"\n\nSister Verna seemed to have cooled, or at least put a mask over her anger. \"I am pleased for you, Du Chaillu, that you did not have to die this day.\"\n\nDu Chaillu glared. Richard knew she thought of the Sisters of the Light as witches.\n\n\"I do feel sorrow, however,\" the Sister added, \"for all those who will die in your place.\"\n\n\"You are not pleased for me. You wish me dead. You wish all the Baka Ban Mana to die.\"\n\n\"That is not true. I wish no one to die. But I know I could not convince you of that. Think what you will.\"\n\nDu Chaillu took the sacrificial knife from her belt and held the handle in front of Sister Verna's eyes. \"They kept me on that chain for three moons.\" She looked to the green handle and pointed to one of the obscene couplings carved on it. \"Those dogs did this tome.\" Sister Verna glanced to the knife as Du Chaillu tapped a finger to another scene. \"And this. And this, too.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sister Verna watched the other's chest heaving in ire. \"There is noway I could convince you, Du Chaillu, how much I abhor what they did to you, and what they intended to do. There are many things in this world that I abhor, but can do nothing about, and in some cases, must tolerate, in order to serve a greater good.\"\n\nDu Chaillu patted her belly. \"I have lost my moon flow. Those dogs have put me with child! Now I must go to the midwives and ask them for herbs to shed the child of a dog.\"\n\nSister Verna clasped her hands before herself. \"Please, Du Chaillu, don't do that. A child is a gift from the Creator. Please don't reject his gift.\"\n\n\"Gift! This great Creator has a wicked way of bestowing his gifts!\"\n\n\"Du Chaillu,\" Richard said, \"up until now, the Majendie have killed every Baka Ban Mana they have captured. You are the first to be freed. They will kill no more. Think of this child as symbol of the new life between your peoples. For that new life, for all your children, to flourish, the killing must stop. Let the child live? It has done no harm.\"\n\n\"The father has done harm!\"\n\nRichard swallowed. \"Children are not necessarily evil, just because the father was.\"\n\n\"If the father is evil, then the child will be as he!\"\n\n\"That is not true,\" the Sister said. \"Richard's father was an evil man who killed many people, yet Richard seeks to preserve life. His mother knew that the guilt of crimes does not pass beyond the one who commits them. She did not spare her love because Richard's father raped her. Richard was raised by good people who taught him right. Because of that, you are alive today. You can teach the child right.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Du Chaillu's fury faltered as she looked to Richard. \"Is this true? Your mother was treated as I, by an evil dog?\"\n\nRichard could only manage a nod.\n\nShe rubbed her belly. \"I will consider what you say before I decide. You have returned my life; I will weigh your words.\"\n\nRichard squeezed her shoulder. \"Whatever you decide, I'm sure it will be for the best.\"\n\n\"If she lives long enough to decide,\" Sister Verna said. \"You've made promises and threats that you cannot fulfill. When the Majendie plant their crops, and nothing happens, they will lose their fear of what you have told them today. What you've done will count for nothing and they will once again make war on her people. To say nothing of mine.\"\n\nRichard pulled the leather thong with the Bird Man's whistle off over his head. \"I wouldn't exactly say nothing is going to happen, Sister. Something is indeed going to happen.\" He hung the whistle around Du Chaillu's neck. \"This was a gift tome, and now my gift to you, so that you can stop the killing.\" He held the carved bone up. \"This is a magic whistle. It calls birds. More birds than you've ever seen in one place before. I'm counting on you to fulfill my promise.\"\n\n\"You are to go to their planting fields. Keep yourself hidden. Then, at sunset, blow on this magic whistle. You will hear no sound, but the birds will be called by the magic. In your mind, keep picturing birds. Think of all the birds you know as you blow on the whistle, and keep blowing until they come.\"\n\nShe touched the carved bone whistle. \"Magic? The birds will truly come?\"\n\nHe gave her a one-sided smile. \"Oh, yes, they'll come. There is no doubt of that. The magic will call them. No person will hear the sound, but the birds will. The Majendie will not know it's you who calls the birds. The birds will be hungry and will devour all the seed. Every time the Majendie plant seeds, you call the birds and take it away from them.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She grinned. \"The Majendie will starve to death!\"\n\nRichard put his face close to hers. \"No. This is my gift to you, to stop the killing, not a gift to help you kill. You will call the birds to steal their seed until the Majendie agree to live in peace with you. When they have fulfilled their part of the bargain, you must fulfill your part, and agree to live in peace with them.\"\n\nHe put his first finger right in front of her nose. \"If you misuse my gift, I will comeback and use other magic against your people. I've placed my trust in you to do right. Do not fail my trust.\"\n\nDu Chaillu averted her eyes. She gave a little sniff. \"I will do right. I will use your gift as you say.\" She tucked the whistle into her dress. \"Thank you for helping to bring peace to my people.\"\n\n\"That's my greatest hope. Peace.\"\n\n\"Peace,\" Sister Verna huffed. She directed a smoldering glare to Richard. \"You think it's so simple? You think that after three thousand years you can simply decree that the killing will stop? You think all it takes is your mere presence, and the ways of people will change? You area naive child. Though the crimes of the father do not pass onto the son, you have a simplistic way of seeing things that brings harm just the same.\"\n\n\"If you think, Sister, that I would be a party to human sacrifices for any reason, you are seriously mistaken.\" He started to turn away, but then turned back. \"What harm have I brought? What killing have I started?\"\n\nShe leaned toward him. \"Well, for one thing, if we don't help ones with the gift, like you, it will kill them, as it would kill you. How do you propose we get those boys to the palace? We can no longer cross the Majendie's land.\" She glanced to Du Chaillu. \"She has only given you permission to pass through her land. She has not said we may bring others through.\" She straightened. \"Those boys will die because of what you have done.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Richard thought about it a moment. He was exhausted. Using the sword's magic had wearied him as it never had before. He wanted nothing more than to sleep. He didn't feel like solving problems, or arguing. At last, he looked to Du Chaillu.\n\n\"When you make peace with the Majendie, before you let them plant once again, you must add another condition. You must tell them that in honor of the killing being brought to an end, in honor of the peace, they will let the Sisters cross their land.\" She watched his eyes a moment before she finally nodded. \"Your people will do the same.\"\n\nHe narrowed his eyes at the Sister. \"Satisfied?\"\n\n\"In the valley, when you struck down a beast, a thousand snakes sprang forth from its corpse. This is no different.\"\n\n\"It would be impossible,\" she said, \"for me to accurately recall all the lies you've told today. I've reprimanded you before for lying, and cautioned you not to do it again. I told you not to swing the axe today, and you did it anyway, despite my warning. I can scarcely tally all the commands you've managed to violate in this one day. What you've done has not finished the killing, but only begun it.\"\n\n\"In this, Sister, I am the Seeker, not your student. As Seeker, I have no tolerance for human sacrifice. None. The deaths of others area separate issue. You cannot use it as a link to justify murder. There will be no compromise in this. And I don't think you want to punish me for stopping something I would wager you wish had been stopped long ago.\"\n\nThe muscles in her face relaxed. \"As a Sister of the Light, I have no power to change things, and under obligation to save more lives, I had to uphold what has been for three thousand years. But I admit I hated it, and in away I'm glad you have taken it out of my hands. But that does not negate the trouble it will cause, or the deaths. When you put the Rada'Han on, you told me that holding the leash to that collar would be worse than wearing it. Your words are proving true.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Her lower eyelids filled with glistening moisture." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You have made my greatest love, my calling, a misery.\"\n\n\"I am past wanting to punish you for your disobedience. Ina few days we will beat the palace, and I will at last be finished with you. They will have to deal with you.\"\n\n\"We shall see how they handle you when you displease them. I believe you will find they are not prepared to be as tolerant as I have been. They will use that collar. And when they do, I also think they will come to regret holding your leash more than do I. I think they will come to regret trying to help you, as do I.\"\n\nRichard put his hands in his back pockets as he stared off at the thick forest of oak and leather leaf. \"I'm sorry you feel that way, Sister, but I guess I can understand it. Although I admit I have fought being your prisoner, what happened today was not about you and me.\"\n\n\"This was about what is right. As one who would wish to teach me, I hoped you would share that moral stance. I hoped the Sisters would not want to teach the use of the gift to one who could easily bend his convictions to the circumstance.\"\n\n\"Sister Verna, I was not trying to displease you. I simply could not live with myself if I had allowed a murder to take place under my nose, much less if I had participated in it.\"\n\n\"I know, Richard. But that only makes it worse, because it's all one and the same.\" She unclasped her hands and peered about at the fire and their supplies, finally pulling a cake of soap from a saddlebag. \"I'll make a stew, and bannock.\" She tossed the cake of soap to him. \"Du Chaillu needs a bath.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Du Chaillu folded her arms in a huff." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"While I was chained to a wall, the dogs who came to mount me did not offer me water so I would smell pretty for you.\"\n\nSister Verna squatted down, pulling supplies out. \"I meant no offense, Du Chaillu. I simply thought you would want to wash the dirt of those men off you. If it were me, I would want nothing more than to try to wash the feel of their hands from my flesh.\"\n\nDu Chaillu's indignation faltered. \"Well of course I would!\" She snatched the soap from Richard. \"You smell of that beast you ride. You will wash too, or I will not want to be near you and will send you off to eat by yourself.\"\n\nRichard chuckled. \"If it will keep the peace with you, I'll wash, too.\"\n\nAs Du Chaillu marched off toward the pond, Sister Verna called quietly to him. He waited next to her while she pulled a pot from a saddlebag.\n\n\"Her people have been killing any \"magic man\" they could get their hands on for the last three thousand years. There is no time to give you history lessons.\" She looked up to his eyes. \"Old habits spring to hand as easily as a knife. Don't turn your back on her. Sooner or later, she is going to try to kill you.\"\n\nHer quiet tone unexpectedly raised bumps on his flesh. \"I'll try to keep myself alive, Sister, so you can deliver me to the palace and at last be free of your onerous charge.\"\n\nRichard hurried toward the pond and caught up with Du Chaillu as she was walking through the reeds. \"Why did you call that your prayer dress?\"\n\nDu Chaillu held her arms out, letting the breeze ruffle the strips of cloth on her dress. \"These are prayers.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What are prayers? You mean the strips of cloth?\"\n\nShe nodded. \"Each is a prayer. When the wind blows, and they fly, each sends a prayer to the spirits.\"\n\n\"And what do you pray for?\"\n\n\"Everyone of these prayers is the same, from the heart of the person who gave me their prayer. They are all prayers to have our land returned to us.\"\n\n\"Your land? But you are in your land.\"\n\n\"No. This is where we live, but it is not our land. Many ages ago, our land was taken by the magic men. They banished us here.\"\n\nThey reached the edge of the pond. Puffs of breeze drew up ripples in dark patches. The bank was grassy with thick patches of rushes to each side, extending out into the water.\n\n\"The magic men took your land? What land?\"\n\n\"They took our land from our ancestors.\" She pointed in the direction of the Valley of the Lost. \"The land on the other side of the Majendie. I was going to our land, with our prayers, to ask the spirits if they would help our land be returned to us. But the Majendie caught me, and I was notable to take our prayers to the spirits.\"\n\n\"How will the spirits return your land to you?\"\n\nShe shrugged. \"The old words say only that we must send one every year to our land, to pray to the spirits, and if we do, our land will be returned.\" She untied her belt and slipped it to the ground. With unsettling grace, she tossed the green-handled knife aside, sticking it in the round end of a branch on a log.\n\n\"How?\"\n\nShe gave him a curious frown. \"By sending us our master.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I thought you were the Baka Ban Mana, those without masters.\"\n\nShe shrugged. \"Because the spirits have not sent us one yet.\"\n\nWhile Richard was puzzling over this, she reached down, took hold of her dress, and pulled it off over her head.\n\n\"What do you think you're doing!\"\n\nShe frowned. \"It is me that I must wash, not my dress.\"\n\n\"Well, not in front of me!\"\n\nShe looked down at herself. \"You have already seen me. I have not grown any different since this morning.\" She looked up at him. \"Your face is red again.\"\n\n\"Over there.\" He pointed. \"Goon the other side of the rushes. You on one side and me on the other.\"\n\nHe turned his back to her.\n\n\"But we have only one soap.\"\n\n\"Well, you can throw it tome when you're through.\"\n\nShe came around to the front of him. He tried to turn again but she followed him around, grabbing at his buttons.\n\n\"I cannot scrub my own back. And it is not fair. You have seen me, so I should see you. That is why you are turning red, because you have not been fair. This will make you feel better.\"\n\nHe slapped her hands away. \"Stop it. Du Chaillu, where I come from this is not proper. Men and women do not bathe together. It's just not done.\" He turned his back to her again.\n\n\"Not even my third husband is as shy as you.\"\n\n\"Third! You have had three husbands?\"\n\n\"No. I have five.\"\n\nRichard stiffened. \"Have?\" He turned to her. \"What do you mean \"have\"?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "She looked at him as if he had asked if trees grew in the forest." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I have five husbands. Five husbands and my children.\"\n\n\"And how many of those do you have?\"\n\n\"Three. Two girls, and a boy.\" A wistful smile came to her. \"It is along time since I have held them.\" Her smile turned sad. \"My poor babies will have cried every night, thinking I am dead. No one ever returned from the Majendie before.\" She grinned. \"My husbands will be anxious to draw lots to see who will be the first to try to give me another child.\" Her smile faded and her voice trailed off. \"But I guess a Majendie dog has already done that.\"\n\nRichard handed her the soap. \"It will all turnout fine. You'll see. Go bathe. I'll goon the other side of the rushes.\"\n\nHe relaxed in the cool water, listening to her splash, waiting for her to finish with the soap. A mist thickened over the pond, stealing slowly, silently, into the surrounding trees.\n\n\"I've never heard of a woman having more than one husband. Do all the Baka Ban Mana women have more than one husband?\"\n\nShe giggled. \"No. Only me.\"\n\n\"Why you?\"\n\nThe water stopped splashing. \"Because I wear the prayer dress,\" she said, as if it should be self-evident.\n\nRichard rolled his eyes. \"Well, what does...\"\n\nShe came swimming through the rushes toward him. \"Before you can have the soap, you must wash my back.\"\n\nRichard let out an aggravated sigh. \"All right, if I wash your back, will you then go back on your side?\"\n\nShe presented her back to him. \"If you do a proper job.\"\n\nWhen she was satisfied, she finally went back to get dressed while he washed. She told him over the chirp of bugs and the trill of frogs that she was hungry. He was pulling his pants on while she called for him to hurry so they could eat." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He threw his shirt over his shoulder and ran to catch up with her as she headed toward the smell of cooking. She looked much better clean. Her hair looked like a normal person's, instead of a wild animal's. She looked no more like a savage, but somehow noble.\n\nIt wasn't dark yet, but getting close to it. The mist that had formed over the pond was drifting in around them from behind. The trees were disappearing in the gathering fog.\n\nAs the two of them stepped into the ring of light around the fire, Sister Verna stood. Richard was putting his right arm through his sleeve when he froze at the wide-eyed look on Sister Verna's face. She was staring at his chest, at the thing he had never let her see before.\n\nAt the scar. At the handprint burned there. At the handprint that was a constant reminder of who fathered him.\n\nSister Verna was as white as a spirit. Her voice was so soft he had to strain to hear her. \"Where did you get that?\"\n\nDu Chaillu was staring at the scar, too.\n\nRichard pulled his shirt closed. \"I told you before, Darken Rahl burned me with his hand. You said I was only having visions.\"\n\nHer gaze slowly rose to meet his. Her eyes were filled with something he had never seen in them before. Unbridled fear.\n\n\"Richard,\" she whispered, \"you must not show anyone at the palace what you have upon you. Except the Prelate. She may know what to do. You must show her. But no one else.\" She stepped closer. \"Do you understand? No one!\"\n\nRichard slowly buttoned his shirt. \"Why?\"\n\n\"Because, if you do, they will kill you. That is the mark of the Nameless One.\" Her tongue wet her lips. \"Sins of the father.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "From the distance came the plaintive howl of wolves. Du Chaillu shuddered and hugged herself as she stared off into the deepening fog.\n\n\"People will die tonight,\" Du Chaillu whispered.\n\nRichard frowned at her. \"What are you talking about?\"\n\n\"Wolves. When wolves howl like that in the mist, they are foretelling that people are to die violently in the night, in the mist.\"" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Help continue the narrative for the writer.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, quest\nAuthor: Terry Goodkind\nTitle: Stone of Tears\nChapter: 44" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "From the distance came the plaintive howl of wolves. Du Chaillu shuddered and hugged herself as she stared off into the deepening fog.\n\n\"People will die tonight,\" Du Chaillu whispered.\n\nRichard frowned at her. \"What are you talking about?\"\n\n\"Wolves. When wolves howl like that in the mist, they are foretelling that people are to die violently in the night, in the mist.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They materialized out of fog and mist, the white fangs of death. The startled prey, at first immobilized by bone-chilling fright, jumped to flee before the white death. Fangs of white steel ripped into them without mercy as they bolted for their lives. Death squeals tore the night air with their terror. Hysteria sent them running heedlessly onto the waiting cold, white steel.\n\nFearless men tasted fear before they died.\n\nPandemonium spread on a wild uproar of noise. The ringing chime of steel, the splintering of wood, the ripping of canvas, the groan of leather, the pop of bones, the whoosh of fire, the crash of wagons, the thuds of flesh and bone hitting ground, and the screams of man and beast all joined into one long cacophony of terror. The wave of white death drove the tumult before it.\n\nThe sharp smell of blood washed through the air, over the sweet aroma of blazing wood, the acrid tang of igniting lamp oil, the smoky smack of flaming pitch, and the gagging stench of burning fur and flesh.\n\nWhat wasn't wet with the cold mist was greasy-slick with hot blood.\n\nThe white steel fangs now were coated with blood and gore; white snow became a soggy mat of red splashes. The cold air was seared by gouts of flame that leapt up to turn the white fog an incandescent orange. Sinister, dark clouds of smoke hugged the ground while the sky burned overhead.\n\nArrows zipped past, spears arced through the air, splintered lances spun away into the mist, and severed pike heads whirled off into the darkness. Remnants of torn tents flapped and fluttered as if battered by a furious storm. Swords rose and fell in waves, driven by the grunts that accompanied frantic effort." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Men ran in every direction, like frenzied ants. Some tumbled to the ground, spilling their viscera across the snow. One of the wounded, blinded by blood, stumbled aimlessly until a white shadow swept by, a spirit of death, cutting him down. A wagon wheel bounced past, its progress quickly obscured from view by dark curtains of acrid smoke that drifted past.\n\nNo alarm had been raised; the sentries were long dead. Few in camp had realized what was happening until it was upon them.\n\nThe camp of the Imperial Order had lately been a place of noise and wild celebration, and for many, in their drunken state, it was hard to tell that anything of consequence was happening. Many of the men, poisoned by the bandu in the ale, lay sick around fires. Many were so weak they burned to death without trying to escape flaming tents. Others were in such a drunken stupor that they actually smiled at the men who drove swords through their guts.\n\nEven the ones who were not drunk, or who were not drunk to the point of dullness, didn't truly appreciate what was happening. Their camp was often a place of raucous noise and confusion. Huge bonfires roared throughout the night, for warmth and as gathering places. They were generally the only reference points in the disorderly layout, so the fires of destruction caused little concern, except in the immediate area.\n\nAmong D'Harans, fighting in the camps was simply part of the revelry, and men screaming when they were stabbed in altercations was not noteworthy. What one had was only his if he was fierce enough to keep it from others who were always ready to take it. Alliances among D'Harans were shifting sands that could last a lifetime or, more commonly, for as little as an hour, when anew alliance became more advantageous or profitable. The drinking, and the poison, dulled their grasp of the sheer volume of screams." }, { "from": "human", "value": "In battle they were disciplined, but when not in battle, they were ungoverned to the point of anarchy." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Pay, for D'Harans on expeditions, was in large part a share of the plunder-they had looted Ebinissia, despite all their talk of anew law-and having that new plunder made them perhaps less than single-minded in their devotion to duty. At battle, or the first sound of an alarm, they became a single unified fighting machine, almost an entity of one mind, but in camp, without the overriding purpose of war, they became thousands of individuals, all bent on serving their own self-interest.\n\nWithout an alarm to warn them, they paid the added noise and screaming little attention. Above the noise of their own business, trading, stories, laughter, drinking, gambling, fighting, and whoring, the unheralded battle a short distance away went largely unnoticed. The officers would call them if needed. Without that call to duty, their life was their own, and someone else's troubles were not theirs. They were unprepared when the white death materialized.\n\nThe sight of white spirits appearing among them was a paralyzing force. Many a man wailed in fear of the Shahari spirits. Many envisioned that the separation between the world of the living and the world of the dead had evaporated. Or that they had somehow been suddenly cast into the underworld.\n\nWithout the ale, both poisoned and unadulterated, it might not be so. As it was, the drink, and their confidence in their numbers and strength, left them vulnerable as they would never be again. But not all were drunk, or dull. Some rose up fiercely.\n\nKahlan watched it all from atop her dancing warhorse. Ina sea of raw, unbridled emotion, she wore her Confessor's face.\n\nThese men were neither moral nor ethical; they were animals who lived by no rule but might. They had raped the women at the palace and had mercilessly butchered the people of Ebinissia, from the aged down to newborn babes." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A man lunged through the ring of steel around her, grabbing at her saddle for support. He gaped at her, crying a prayer for mercy from the good spirits. She split his skull.\n\nKahlan wheeled her horse to face Sergeant Cullen. \"Have we captured the command tents?\"\n\nThe sergeant signaled, and one of the white, naked men ran off to check as they drove deeper into the camp of the Order. When she spotted the horses, she gave the signal. From behind she heard the sound of galloping hooves, and the sharp rattle of chains: scythes of death, come to reap a crop of the living.\n\nWith a sound like a boy running pasta picket fence with a stick in hand, the chain scythes being pulled at a full charge reaped a snapping of bone that meshed into along, clacking roar. The beasts' screams and the dull thuds as they slammed the ground drowned out the sound of galloping hooves and breaking bone.\n\nEven the drunken enemy turned from the white spirits to stare at the ghastly spectacle. It was the last thing they saw. Men stumbled from their tents, to watch without understanding what it was that was occurring before their eyes. Others wandered aimlessly, mugs in hand, as if at a fair, drunkenly looking from one sight to another. There were so many, some had to wait a bit for their turn to die.\n\nSome were not drunk and saw not spirits but men painted white. They saw an attack, and understood well-honed blades coming for them. A pocket of fierce counterattack was surrounded and broken, but not without cost. Kahlan rallied her men and drove her wedge of white steel deeper into the heart of the enemy's camp.\n\nShe saw two men on huge draft horses-she couldn't see who they were-having cut down all the horses they could find, take to charging down a line of tents, reaping havoc as well as helpless men. The chain caught something as solid as bedrock. It whipped the horses around into a brutal collision. The riders went down. Men with swords and axes swarmed over them." }, { "from": "human", "value": "A man with sword to hand, and sober, she was alarmed to note, appeared suddenly next to her leg." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He looked up with a fierce glare. His sharp eyes made her feel suddenly nothing more than a naked woman sitting on a horse.\n\nHe took all of her in. \"What the...\"\n\nAfoot of steel erupted from his breastbone, driving a grunt from his lungs.\n\n\"Mother Confessor!\" The naked man behind yanked his sword free and pointed with it. \"The command tents are over there!\"\n\nA movement to the other side caught her attention. With a backhanded swing, she caught the side of a stumbling drunk's neck.\n\n\"Let's go! To the command tents! Now!\"\n\nHer men abandoned the enemy they were decimating to follow her as she jumped Nick over men and fires and crumpled wagons. As they followed, they didn't stop to slaughter the confused, panicked, and drunken D'Harans everywhere, but cut down those they could if it didn't slow their pace. Where necessary, they engaged the sporadic resistance.\n\nThe large command tents were surrounded by her white Galeans. They held a small group of about fifteen men at swordpoint. Before them lay a neat row of at least thirty bodies on their backs in the snow.\n\nOthers of her men were throwing battle standards and flags atop a large pile already smoldering and burning in the fire. Empty casks lay scattered in the snow. When their army had come under attack, the commanders had issued no orders. The army of the Imperial Order was without benefit of direction.\n\nLieutenant Sloan pointed with his sword to the line of bodies. \"These officers were already dead. The poison did its work. These others were still alive, although not in the best of health. They were all lying about in their tents. We could hardly get them up. They asked us for rum, if you can believe it. We've held them, like you said.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Kahlan surveyed the faces of the bodies in the snow." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She didn't see what she wanted. She looked to the faces of the captured officers. He wasn't there either.\n\nShe directed her Confessor's face to a Keltish officer at the end of the line. \"Where's Riggs?\"\n\nHe glared at her, and then spat. Kahlan lifted her gaze to the man holding him. She drew her finger across her throat. He didn't hesitate. The officer went down in a heap.\n\nShe looked to the next officer. \"Where's Riggs?\"\n\nHis eyes darted about. \"I don't know!\"\n\nKahlan drew her finger across her throat. Ashe went down, she looked to the next man, a D'Haran commander.\n\n\"Where's Riggs?\"\n\nHis eyes were wide, but not at the two bleeding bodies beside him. His horror was for her. A spirit before him. He wet his lips.\n\n\"He was hurt; by the Mother Confessor. I mean, by you. Before.\" His voice trembled. \"When you were... alive.\"\n\n\"Where is he!\"\n\nHe winced, shaking his head vigorously. \"I don't know, great spirit! He was hurt, his face was cut by the horse. He is being tended to by the surgeons. I don't know where their tents are.\"\n\n\"Who knows where the surgeon's tents are?\"\n\nMost trembled and shuddered as they shook their heads. Kahlan stepped her horse down the line of officers. She stopped before one she knew.\n\n\"General Karsh. I am very pleased to see you again. Where's Riggs!\"\n\n\"Wouldn't tell you if I knew.\" He grinned as he leered up at her. \"You look better naked than I fancied. Why are you whoring with this lot? We could do you better than these boys.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "The man holding him twisted his arm until he cried out." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Show respect for the Mother Confessor, you Keltish pig!\"\n\n\"Respect! Fora whore holding a sword? Never!\"\n\nKahlan leaned toward him. \"These \"boys\" have you under their blades. Everyone is a better man than you, I would say.\"\n\n\"You wanted war, Karsh. You have your wish. You have war, now. Areal war, not a slaughter of women and children, but a war led by me-the Mother Confessor. A woman. War without quarter.\"\n\nShe sat up straight in her saddle, letting his eyes linger on her breasts. \"I have a message, Karsh. A message for the Keeper. You will be with him presently. Tell him I said to make plenty of room; I'm sending all his disciples home.\"\n\nHer gaze swept down the line of men holding the officers. She drew her finger across her throat in a quick gesture. The response was just as quick.\n\nAs the bodies tumbled forward, she cried out, her hand darting to her neck. A stinging pain jolted her. It was in the exact same place...\n\nIt was the pain of Darken Rahl's lips on her neck, the pain she had felt when he had come to them in the spirit house, when he had burned Richard with his hand. When he had kissed her neck and silently promised her unimaginable horrors.\n\nMen rushed forward. \"Mother Confessor! What is it!\"\n\nShe took her hand away. Blood coated her white fingers. She couldn't say how she knew, but she knew without doubt that the blood was drawn by the perfect, snow white teeth of Darken Rahl.\n\n\"Mother Confessor! There's blood on your neck!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It's nothing. I'm all right. I must have just been nicked by an arrow, that's all.\" She gathered her wits and courage. \"Put the head of every officer on a pole, for all their men to see, to let them know they are without leaders. And hurry.\"\n\nBy the time the last dripping head was hoisted up, D'Harans were pouring in from all sides. Most were drunk, laughing as if it were nothing more than a drunken brawl. But inefficient and clumsy as they were, their numbers were alarming. They were like a swarm of bees; for everyone knocked down, ten replaced him.\n\nHer men fought fiercely, but they were no match for the overwhelming numbers sweeping in. Men she had talked to, reassured, inspired, yelled at, and smiled to were falling with cries of pain and terror. They had been here too long.\n\nAhead, a pitched battle erupted. The Galeans were being driven back. If they were driven back, they had no chance of escape. They couldn't go back the way they had come, back to men who would have had time to have been sobered by the carnage around them, to gather their senses, and their spirit.\n\nWithout surprise, they were nothing but a bunch of naked boys and one woman. If they tried a second time what had worked once, they would all die. They had to cleave their way through the Order, to the other side of the valley. D'Harans hacked in at the white forms. Her ankle was grasped by a powerful hand. She hewed it off and shook her foot to shed the disembodied hand.\n\nThey were in danger of being swallowed into the belly of this beast.\n\nDisregarding the death cries of her men, disregarding her promise not to leave the protective ring of the fiercest Galean swordsmen, disregarding her promise not to deliberately put herself into peril, Kahlan charged Nick into the thick of the battle, and beyond-into the enemy." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Her sword stabbed to each side, into any enemy close enough." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Teeth gritted, she swung at flesh and bone. Her wrist tingled from the jarring impacts, and her arm was so weary she feared she would not be able to lift the sword much longer.\n\nFrightened that she would betaken down, her men poured ahead, toward her, with renewed resolve. They drove the dark wave back, rolling over it as she urged her horse forward into the sea of dark leather uniforms.\n\nShe stood in the stirrups, holding her sword high. \"For Ebinissia! For her dead! For her spirit!\"\n\nIt had the desired effect. Men of the Order who were confused by the white enemy, but were nonetheless determined to crush them, whatever they were, stopped and stared openly at a white, naked woman atop a horse suddenly in their midst. Their faith, that the attack was from men and not spirits, faltered. They gaped in open astonishment. She swept her gaze around at all the eyes peering up at her.\n\nShe swung the white sword in a circle over her head as a breeze ruffled her white hair back off her shoulders. \"In the name of their spirits, I have come to avenge them!\"\n\nLeather-clad men fell to their knees, dropping their swords, pressing prayerful hands together. They held those hands up to her. They wailed for protection. They called for her mercy. They cried for forgiveness. Had they been sober, she wondered, would the illusion be so convincing? As it was, the effect was apocalyptic.\n\n\"We grant no quarter!\"\n\nAs all faces stared up toward her, as eyes shed tears of trepidation, weapons set upon them from behind. The sudden, violent, merciless wave of hard steel terrified them, convinced them that the spirits would have them all. They broke and ran, dropping weapons, screaming in fear of the underworld." }, { "from": "human", "value": "They had done what they had come to do." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Time was now against them. They needed to escape.\n\nThey charged onward, a deadly, swift river of white that poured over and around the tents and fires and wagons and men, surprising evermore of the lethargic enemy, killing as many as they could while rolling ahead. White death moved into the mist once again.\n\nKahlan glanced behind, and saw the pairs of draft horses, their riders holding the chains up between them. She waved them into the stream of white, urging them to move faster. They started unhooking one end of the chains from the hame hooks and looping the chain over the horn on the other horse, to give each horse freedom, now that they needed to make a quick escape.\n\nIn the distance, in the fog to the right, she saw a line of picketed horses. She saw Brin and Peter come together, snap the end of the chain over the other hook again and urge Daisy and Pip into gallops. She thought to scream at them, to order them to keep with the others, that they couldn't hope to get them all, that they had done enough and must leave now, that it was too late. But she knew they wouldn't hear her.\n\nBrin dropped the loops of chain. They spread the horses to pull the steel taut as they peeled away toward the picket line of horses. The hooves of the big horses thundered across the ground. She took a last look at Brin and Peter, knowing it would be the last time she ever looked upon them in this world, and then turned her attention ahead.\n\nShe pointed with her sword. \"There are the rest of the supply wagons!\"\n\nThe men knew what to do. As she charged the column past, the wagons were doused with lamp oil. Wheels were staved in, and torches thrown. The wagons erupted inflame. More torches set fire to tents. The men brought awake by the noise and fire found blades sweeping at them. The fires faded into an orange glow in the mist behind as they plunged onward into the fog." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Suddenly they broke free of the camp, and were in open snow. Now that they were away from the camp, and its fires, the darkness pressed around them. The men in front faltered, looking about as they jogged.\n\n\"Scouts forward!\" she yelled. \"Where are the scouts!\"\n\nTwo men charged through the ranks, to the fore, pointing out the direction of the pass they sought. She looked for the others, turning from side to side. None came. She galloped Nick to the van, after the two scouts.\n\n\"Where are the others! They were ordered to be in the lead!\"\n\nThe round, wet eyes that looked up at her answered her question without words.\n\n\"All right,\" she said, \"you two know the way. Get us out of here.\"\n\nFifty men had scouted the pass they wanted. Fifty, to be sure there would be a good number left to show the way. Two were left.\n\nWith a silent growl she cursed the spirits. Shamefaced, she called the curse back. They had at least left her those two; without them, they would be left to wander in the fog, freezing and vincible to the men of the Order chasing them.\n\nShe pulled Nick to a halt beside the stream of naked men. She swooped her arm frantically.\n\n\"Move move move! Run, curse you, run! They'll be on top of us!\" The men on the draft horses, Brin and Peter not among them, came abreast of her. \"Drivers! Watch for the scout ahead! He'll show you the stakes to follow.\" They nodded that they remembered.\n\nMen in D'Haran uniforms, with white cloth swatches sewn into their epaulets to show that they were in fact the Galean men who had infiltrated the enemy camp in the uniforms of the sentries, ran past. \"Don't forget to pull up the stakes before you getup on the horses.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "They were to double or triple upon the draft horses and ride to one of the other small camps established around the enemy." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Earlier in the day, they had made trails allover the valley so that without the sticks stuck in the snow to mark the proper trail, none would know the way to those camps.\n\nThe trail through the snow from all the men on foot would be easy for the enemy to follow. But they had plans to take care of that.\n\nIn the distance, back toward the Order, she saw the rearguard engaged in a pitched battle. Lieutenant Sloan was supposed to keep that from happening, and keep the rear moving. Cursing anew, she galloped her horseback. Without pause, she charged between the two forces, spun and charged through again, separating the two sides. The leather-clad D'Harans fell back at the sight of the white spirit woman atop a white horse.\n\nShe waded in among the Galeans. \"What's the matter with you! You know the orders! Run, or you won't make it!\"\n\nThe men started moving, trying to drag a body with them.\n\n\"Where's Lieutenant Sloan! He's supposed to be back here!\"\n\nThe men nodded to the body they were dragging. The side of the head was gone, and she could seethe exposed brain. It was Lieutenant Sloan. The D'Harans charged in again. She pulled the reins and Nick reared. The D'Harans fell back once more.\n\n\"He's dead! Leave him! Run! Run, you idiots! If any of you stops again for anything, I'll make you fight the rest of this war naked! Now run!\"\n\nThis time they took off in earnest, kicking up snow, running for their lives. Again she swept past the line of drunken D'Harans, causing them to stumble backward and fall over one another in panic. She had to stall these men to give her own time to gain enough of a lead." }, { "from": "human", "value": "She ran Nick through the D'Harans, trampling those who got in the way." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The men scattered in momentary dread of the white spirit woman, some calling to the spirits for protection. But others came back swinging weapons. If they caught Nick's legs...\n\nShe fought back with her sword and her warhorse, as they closed around her. Her men were fading into the fog. Run, she bid them, run. She swung the sword at men who reached out. The next time she glanced back, she saw nothing but dark fog and mist. She was losing her sense of direction as she wheeled Nick around, charging at the men, trying to buy her own men the time they needed to escape.\n\nShe tried to breakaway, but the enemy swarmed around her, with more coming all the time. Some yelled at the others that she was just a woman, and not a spirit, and they weren't going to let a woman getaway. She felt more naked than she had felt all night.\n\nMen threw themselves around Nick's legs, and although he reared and kicked them off, even more took their place, staggering the big horse with their weight. Kahlan hacked furiously at the men, shearing off arms, splitting skulls, and stabbing bodies.\n\nWith a sea of men all around her, she suddenly realized that her situation was untenable. She knew that if they got her off her horse, she was finished, and her horse was being hobbled. Try as she might, she couldn't get the men away.\n\nFor the first time that night, she truly feared she wasn't going to make it. She was going to die, here, in the snow, in this mist-shrouded valley. She would never see Richard again.\n\nShe felt an abrupt, icy pain in the bite on her neck. Darken Rahl's bite. She thought she heard quiet laughter in the air." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She slashed away at the men grabbing for her. Powerful fingers clutched her legs. The pain of those fingers urged her into frantic stabbing. Nick managed to spin, the men's feet flying outward, but they held on tight. She slashed and hacked the arms. More caught hold of her horse's bit, taking control from her. A horse was valuable plunder, and they didn't want it killed, as long as they thought they were in control of the situation.\n\nA big soldier grabbed the horn of her saddle, dragging himself up. \"Don't kill her! It's the Mother Confessor! Don't kill her! She must be alive when she's beheaded!\"\n\nShe slashed the side of his neck, A fountain of hot blood gushed across her thigh. Another yelled, \"Don't kill her! Bring the bitch down!\" A cheer went up from the reaching men.\n\nShe swung at the grasping hands. Fingers raked her legs. Eyes all around leered up at her. She slashed wildly as Nick stumbled sideways, trying to pull his head free, but the men held his bit tight.\n\nA man leapt up from behind and snatched her by the hair. She let out a cry as he yanked her backward off the saddle. Hands grappled her as she tumbled to the ground. Everyone went down in a pile under her. Big hands seized her by her legs, her waist, her ankles, and her breasts.\n\nFingers wrapped around the blade, trying to wrench it from her. She twisted the hilt, severing the fingers. She swung and stabbed ferociously. Bodies pressed her to the cold ground, pressed the wind from her lungs. She bit the fingers covering her mouth. A huge fist struck her across the jaw." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They finally seized her flailing arms.\n\nThere were too many.\n\nDear Richard, I love you." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Kahlan struggled to draw a breath, but with the weight of men on her, she couldn't. Tears stung her eyes. More men piled on. A beefy elbow in her middle pressed into her, feeling as if it would squash her in two. Drunken breath bathed her face.\n\nHer vision dwindled to a small spot. Everything around the center was going black, and the center was shrinking. She swallowed a mouthful of blood. Her own.\n\nShe heard what sounded like the distant rumble of thunder. At first, she could only feel the vibration in her back against the ground, but then the sound swelled, growing louder, sharper. The screams of men reached her ears.\n\nSome of the men over her looked up. Their weight lifted a bit, and she sucked air into her lungs. It was the sweetest breath she had ever drawn.\n\nAs the giant of a man atop her, the one who had struck her face, turned to the sound of thunder, turned his fierce eye from her, she saw that his other had a scar across it, and down his cheek. That empty eye was sewn shut. Somehow, her left hand squirmed free. She seized his throat.\n\nShe heard a metallic rattle. The thunder, she suddenly realized, was horses'hooves. Erupting out of the fog, Brin and Peter, atop Daisy and Pip, galloped at a full charge down the line of D'Harans, mowing them down with the chain. They raced toward her like a landslide felling trees. The men stared in frozen shock. Kahlan's fingers clutched around the one-eyed man's throat.\n\nAnd then she released her power.\n\nThe magic slammed into him.\n\nThunder without sound rattled all the chain mail." }, { "from": "human", "value": "The staggering jolt made the men flinch back." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They all cried outwith the pain of being so close as the magic was loosed. A ring of snow lifted, sweeping outward in a circle.\n\nNick was standing over her, and he jumped with the pain, too. His hind leg came down on a man's head right next to her ear. Bone crunched under the weight. Hot blood and gore splattered the side of her face.\n\nThe one eye of the man above her gaped at her. \"Mistress!\" he whispered. \"Please command me.\"\n\n\"Protect me!\" she screamed.\n\nHe sat up abruptly, his massive muscles bulging. He held the hair of a man in each fist. He tossed them back as if they were mere children.\n\nHer sword arm was free. She swung at a man to the other side, the blade ruining his face. The one-eyed man roared as he tossed men aside. The draft horses rushed onward at a full charge.\n\nShe was free of the hands. She leaped to her feet. The chain was almost upon them.\n\n\"Help me upon my horse!\"\n\nThe one-eyed man grabbed her ankle in his big fist and, with one arm, boosted her up into the saddle. Somehow she still had the sword in her hand. She leaned forward and swung it at the man holding the bit, holding his prize. The sword's tip sliced open the side of his face and half the length of his arm. He staggered back with a shriek. She snatched up the reins. The one-eyed man bellowed as he lopped off heads and ripped open chests with his huge war axe.\n\n\"Go, Mistress! Escape! Orsk will protect you!\"\n\n\"I'm going! Run, Orsk! Don't let them get you!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The D'Harans abandoned her and her horse to turn to the new threats-Orsk and the chain. She thumped Nick's ribs with her heels, urging him into a gallop just as Brin and Peter caught up with her. She stuffed her bare feet into the stirrups as the three of them raced away.\n\nShe spotted the trail that hundreds of feet had left in the snow and followed it across the valley, into the mist, leaving the men of the army of the Order to collect their wits. It took them mere seconds. They charged after her. There were more than enough still alive. Thousands.\n\nPeter unhooked the chain that must have broken hundreds of bones and necks. The end of the chain bounced behind. Brin's bony fingers drew in the dragging slack and coiled it over the hame.\n\nAs she galloped into the night, she thought she could hear the sound of soft laughter fading behind. She shivered with the memory of the kiss Darken Rahl had left on her neck. She felt suddenly very naked again.\n\nThough the mist was icy cold, feeling like sparkling flecks allover her, she was sweating. Blood ran from her swollen lip.\n\n\"I never thought I would see you two again,\" she yelled over the sound of hooves.\n\nBrin and Peter, in their too-big coats, grinned in the darkness. \"We told you we could do the job,\" Brin said.\n\nShe smiled for the first time that night. \"You two area marvel.\"\n\nShe just caught sight of the hindquarters of the other draft horses disappearing into the fog. She pointed. \"There are your men. Good luck.\" With a wave, they turned away from her.\n\nShe galloped on alone, and a short distance later caught up with the men on foot. She first saw only one. He had a horrific gash on his leg and had fallen far behind. She knew she should leave him. She knew she should. The D'Harans were right behind." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As she rode up to him, he turned his head up as he struggled through the snow. He knew she had to leave him. Those were the orders. Her orders. Keep up, or be left behind. No exceptions.\n\nAs she rode by, she leaned over, extending her arm down. They clasped wrists and she yanked him up behind her.\n\n\"Hold on, soldier.\"\n\nHe held his arms out, trying to balance as the horse ran, afraid to touch her. \"But... where?\"\n\n\"Around my waist! Put your arms around my waist!\"\n\nHe still held his arms out as he bounced. \"But...\"\n\n\"Haven't you ever put your arms around a woman before?\"\n\n\"Yes... but she had clothes on,\" he whined.\n\n\"Do it, or you'll falloff, and I'm not coming back for you.\"\n\nReluctantly, carefully, he put his arms around her waist, stiffly trying to keep them away from anything important, or unfamiliarly exotic. Kahlan gave the back of his hands a pat of reassurance. \"When you brag about this, don't make it more than it is.\" He let out a small, worried groan that made her smile.\n\nAs they rode on, she could feel his warm blood running down the back of her leg, dripping from her toes in the stirrup. She could hear the shouts of the enemy chasing behind.\n\nHe was losing a lot of blood. In exhaustion, he laid his head against the back of her shoulder. If they didn't tie his wound closed, he would bleed to death in short order. She was naked, and had nothing to use as a bandage, even if they had the time to stop." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Hold the wound closed with a hand,\" she said. \"Clamp it closed as tight as you can. And hold fast tome with your other arm. I don't want you falling off.\"\n\nHe took one arm from her waist and held the gash closed as she rode right on the heels of the men at the end of the line. They were cold and fatigued. The men of the Order were not far behind. As she looked back, they came into sight. She was shocked by the numbers. They hooted and hollered.\n\n\"Run! Run or we will be caught!\"\n\nA wall of rock, with scraggly trees growing from cracks and clefts, loomed up before them. The men ran up the narrow pass as if their lives depended on it. And they did.\n\nAs they began the climb up the rift, she rang the flat of her sword three times on the rock, giving the signal.\n\nA man ahead turned as he ran. \"We're not there yet! It's too soon! We'll be caught along with the enemy!\"\n\n\"Then you better run faster! If we wait too long, they will get through, too!\"\n\nShe rapped the rock wall three more times, the ringing sound carrying into the dark, damp air. She hoped it would work; there, of course, had been noway to perform a test. The men ahead scrambled up the trail. Nick's hooves slipped in places on the snow-covered rock.\n\nAt first, she could only feel it, a rumbling deep in her chest, too low to hear, but too powerful not to be felt. She looked up along the mist-slicked rock that disappeared above into the dark and fog. She couldn't see it yet, but she could feel it." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She hoped the man was wrong, that it wouldn't be too soon. When she heard the battle cries of the men coming from behind, she knew they had no choice.\n\nAnd then she could hear it: a booming roar, as if the ground itself were moving. She could hear tree trunks snapping. The thundering growl reverberated off the surrounding mountain walls. The ground vibrated.\n\n\"Run! Can't you run any faster? Do you want to be buried alive? Run!\"\n\nShe knew they were going as fast as they could, but they were on foot, and from atop her horse, it seemed painfully slow. Deadly slow.\n\nOverhead, the rumbling roar grew louder as uncountable tons of snow crashed down toward them. She was thrilled that the men on top had been successful in starting an avalanche on command; but she was also terrified that she had given the command too soon.\n\nA lump of wet snow slapped her face; another smacked her shoulder. Little clods rattled through the trees above them and bounced out over the edge. A cloud of fluffy snow misted her face. The roar was deafening.\n\nA flow of thundering white sluiced over the ledge above. They drove through it, like running through a waterfall. Behind her, a tree trunk bounced on the trail, spinning out over the precipice. They just cleared the leading edge of the bulk of snow.\n\nThe men of the Imperial Order behind were not so lucky. The plunging snow, charged with timber and boulders, cascaded down with ever-gathering power. They were swept away in the tumbling white death. The fury of sound muffled the screams of men it carried away, rolling them into the pounding slide, burying them alive." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Kahlan sagged with relief. They could not be followed now. The pass was entombed.\n\nThe panting men slowed, but they couldn't slow too much, or they would freeze. Their pace kept them warm. Their feet, she knew, despite being wrapped in white cloth fora little protection, were not warm. They had given her their best effort. They had given the Midlands their best effort. Many had given their lives.\n\nKahlan was so exhausted from lack of sleep, as well as the fatigue of battle, along with the emotional drain of fright, and the effort required to use her power, that she could hardly stay upright. Soon, she told herself, she could rest. Soon.\n\nShe patted the hand on her stomach. \"We made it, soldier. We're safe, now.\"\n\n\"Yes, Mother Confessor,\" he whispered groggily. \"Mother Confessor, I'm sorry.\"\n\n\"For what?\"\n\n\"I only killed seventeen. I'm sorry. I promised myself I'd get twenty. I only got seventeen,\" he mumbled.\n\n\"I know heroes of battle, decorated men, who have not bested half that number in combat. You have made me proud. You have made the Midlands proud. Feel only pride, soldier.\"\n\nHe mumbled something she couldn't understand.\n\nShe patted his hand again. \"You'll be to help soon. Hold on. You'll be fine.\"\n\nHe didn't answer. She looked behind, down the trail, and saw only white, and heard only silence. In the distant, dark mountains, a wolf yipped.\n\nA short time later, on a high plateau, they reached the camp. The men ahead in the line were already wrapped in blankets as they shivered around fires, warming their feet. Some were pulling on their clothes under the blankets. More men threw blankets around the men coming in ahead of her and tended the wounded. Some of the wounded were groaning in pain, feeling it for the first time, now that the heady furor of combat and escape had evaporated. She began to feel a throbbing in her lip." }, { "from": "human", "value": "In the flickering light of small fires, she could see Prindin and Tossidin, some distance away, running around searching the new arrivals." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "When they saw heron the horse, they both sighed with relief, giving her twin smiles.\n\nCaptain Ryan, dressed in a D'Haran uniform and with a bandage around his left hand, ran over. Other men took the reins, and yet others extended their hands to take the man behind her as she held him by an elbow, lowering the limp form down.\n\nPrindin ran to meet her, her mantle in hand. He stood, holding it open for her, waiting for her to dismount so he could put it around her shoulders. He grinned at her.\n\nWithout moving from the saddle, she slowly extended her hand. \"I have had enough eyes on my flesh to last me the rest of my life. Throw it up here!\"\n\nPrindin shrugged self-consciously and tossed the mantle up to her. Tossidin swatted the back of his brother's head. Silence fell over the gathered men. They all looked away in embarrassment as she put the mantle around her shoulders and tied it.\n\nShe slid down, finding her legs barely up to the task of holding her. She used the sword still in her hand as a cane. She had to pause a moment until everything stopped spinning. She glanced to the man lying in the snow at her feet.\n\n\"Why isn't someone helping this man? Don't just stand there, help him!\" No one moved. \"I said help him!\"\n\nCaptain Ryan stepped closer to her. He kept his eyes on the ground. \"I'm sorry, Mother Confessor. He's dead.\"\n\nHer hand tightened into a fist. \"He's not dead! I was just talking to him!\" No one moved. She beat her free fist against his chest. \"He's not dead! He's not!\"\n\nEveryone looked away. No one said anything. She finally glanced at the men around the small fires, at all the hanging heads. Her hand fell to her side." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"He killed seventeen of them,\" she said to Captain Ryan. \"He killed seventeen of them,\" she said louder, to the rest of them.\n\nCaptain Ryan nodded. \"He did well. We are all proud of him.\"\n\nShe watched the faces as they all finally came up. \"Forgive me. All of you, please forgive me. You have all done a good job.\" The fury had gone out of her. \"You have all made me proud. You are heroes, in my eyes, and in the eyes of the Midlands.\"\n\nThe men brightened a bit. Some went back to eating, while others started passing around tin bowls and spooned beans from pots on the fires. Some tore off chunks of flat camp bread to dunk in the beans.\n\n\"Where's Chandalen?\" she asked as she pushed her feet into the boots Tossidin handed her.\n\n\"He went with the archers. I imagine that he's probably shooting arrows into D'Harans right now.\" Captain Ryan leaned toward her, as the brothers moved away, and lowered his voice. \"I'm glad these three are on our side. You should have seen them taking out the sentries. Prindin, especially, is like death itself, with that troga of his. It was eerie, the way they were first here, and then over there, and you never even saw them move. I never heard a thing. They just appeared with the sentries\" uniforms.\"\n\n\"You should see them do that out in the open grassland, in broad daylight.\" Kahlan looked him up and down. She managed a small smile. \"Quite handsome. You wear it well.\"\n\nHe pulled at his shoulder. \"I don't know how they wear this heavy mail all the time.\" He fingered a slash in the leather. \"But I was glad to have it on.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"How did everything go? How many men did you lose?\"\n\n\"We got nearly everything we went after. In these uniforms, we didn't have to do much fighting. Hardly anyone noticed us, except the ones we killed. We only lost a few men.\" He glanced back over his shoulder. \"Looks like you caught the worst of it. I took a rough count as you came in. We lost close to four hundred of the thousand swordsmen who went in.\"\n\nShe stared past him, at the men around the fires. \"We came close to losing them all.\" She brought her attention back to the captain. \"But they did themselves proud. The drivers, too.\"\n\nHe cradled his bandaged hand. \"From the ones I talked to, I don't think many took less than ten of the enemy, and many took a lot more. We took quite a chunk out of the Order's hide.\"\n\nKahlan swallowed. \"They took quite a chunk out of ours.\"\n\n\"Did the men do like I told them?\" he asked. \"Did they keep trouble away from you?\"\n\n\"They kept the enemy so far from me I couldn't tell you what they looked like. I'm afraid I wasn't able to add much honor to your sword, though it was a comfort to have along. I pray you will at least be honored that I carried it in battle.\"\n\nHe frowned, leaning to the side, trying to get a better look at her face in the firelight. \"Your lip looks cut.\" He glanced at her warhorse as the men were taking the tack off. \"That horse is covered in blood. You're covered in blood, too, aren't you?\" It was an accusation, not a question.\n\nKahlan stared off at afire. \"Some drunk threw something at me. It cut my lip. That wounded soldier I was bringing in bled to death on my horse, and on me.\" Her eyes drifted among the young faces around fires. \"I wish I could have done half as well they. They were magnificent.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He grunted suspiciously. \"I'm just relieved to see you.\"\n\n\"Is everything else in order? The archers, the cavalry? We must make the best use of our opportunity while they're drunk and sick with the poison. We must make the most of this weather, too. We can't letup fora moment. One lightning strike after another. No engagement. Glancing attacks, always from a different place.\"\n\n\"They all know their jobs, and are waiting their turn. The archers should be finished soon, then the cavalry, then the pikemen. We're ready for their sentries, when they send them out. Our men will sleep in turns, but from now on, the Imperial Order will get no sleep.\"\n\n\"Good. These men need rest. In the morning, it will be their turn again.\" She lifted a finger to the captain. \"Remember the most important thing.\" She quoted her father, \"\"The weapon that most readily conquers reason is terror and violence.\" Don't forget that. It's the tool they use, and now we must turn it on them.\"\n\nPrindin came back into the firelight. \"Mother Confessor. My brother and I made you a shelter, while we waited for your return. We have your clothes there, and hot water, so you may wash yourself if you wish.\"\n\nShe tried not to show how eager she was to wash off the reek of war. \"Thank you, Prindin.\"\n\nHe held his arm out, showing her the way to the small clearing. The brothers had built a roomy shelter of balsam boughs covered over with snow. She crawled through the low opening to find candles inside. The snowy ground was covered with a mat of boughs, too, giving the shelter the pleasant aroma of balsam. A steaming bucket of water had just been set next to hot rocks placed in the center. She warmed her fingers over the rocks." }, { "from": "human", "value": "The brothers had made her a warm and snug home for the night." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She could have wept at their thoughtfulness.\n\nHer pack was there, and her clothes folded in a neat pile. Kahlan took off her necklace, the one Adie had given her, the one with the round bone. It was the only thing she had worn into battle. She clutched it to her cheek a moment before she washed it. It reminded her of the one her mother had given her.\n\nShe dunked her whole head in the bucket, washed her hair, and then methodically washed the rest of herself. It was only a sponge bath, but it still felt wonderful to wash off the blood, and the feel of the hands. She had to force herself to think of other things as she washed, to keep from being sick. She thought of Richard, thought of his boyish smile that never failed to make her grin, thought of his gray eyes that could look right into her. When she finished washing, she lay down, drying her hair on the rocks.\n\nShe desperately needed sleep. She still hadn't recovered her Confessor's power since using it on the one-eyed man, Orsk. She could feel the emptiness in the pit of her stomach, a hollow where the power belonged. It would be awhile longer until it was restored. She wouldn't be able to shake the sick, dizzy exhaustion, though, until she had sleep.\n\nShe longed to lie down in her bedroll and sleep. It had been so long, and she was so sleepy. But she couldn't. Not yet.\n\nShe put the necklace back over her head and then laboriously pulled on her clothes. From her pack she recovered an unguent and spread it on her cut lip. When she replaced it, she saw the bone knife Chandalen had given her, and tied it around her arm again." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She was so tired she could hardly force herself up, but she had something to do before she slept; she had to be with her men. She wouldn't let them think she didn't hold their interest highest in her heart. They had offered their lives; the least she could do was show her appreciation, on behalf of the Midlands.\n\nClean, her longhair full and shiny once more, and dressed at last in layers of warm clothes and her mantle, she wound her way among the campfires. She listened with serious attention to the babbling stories of some, and the quiet, brief words of others. She spoke with all who had questions, gave smiles of reassurance, and let them all know how proud she was of what they had done. She knelt by the wounded, checking to see if they were warm enough, and laid a hand to their cheeks, giving comfort, and wishing them good health and quick healing. She, too, felt relief when they were calmed by her touch.\n\nAt afire surrounded by ten silent soldiers, one young man was trembling, but she didn't think it was from the cold.\n\n\"How are you doing? Are you all right? Are you getting warm?\"\n\nHer presence surprised and brightened him. \"Yes, Mother Confessor.\" A racking shiver rattled his teeth. \"I never thought it would be like that.\" He composed himself, and indicated the others. \"These are my friends. Six didn't comeback.\"\n\nShe held her mantle closed with one hand and brushed the hair back off his forehead with the other. \"I'm sorry. I, too, grieve for them. I just wanted you men to know that you made me proud. You were as brave as any soldiers I've ever seen.\"\n\nHe chuckled nervously. \"We'd all be dead if it wasn't for you. We were being driven back, hacked to pieces, and then you charged right into the enemy, all by yourself. They all turned their attention to you, and then, while they were confused, we counterattacked. What you did saved us.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "He shook his head." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I wish I had killed half as many men tonight as I saw you kill.\" They all nodded their earnest agreement. He brushed trembling fingers across his face. \"Thank you, Mother Confessor. If it weren't for what you did, we would all be dead, too.\" He gave her a twitch of a smile. \"If I had the choice, I'd choose to follow you into battle over Prince Harold himself.\"\n\n\"Pretty good with a sword, is she?\"\n\nShe started at the voice. The soldier turned to see Captain Ryan standing behind her.\n\n\"I think she could teach us swordsmen a thing or two. You wouldn't believe what she...\"\n\nKahlan patted his shoulder. \"Have you had something to eat?\"\n\nHe pointed to the pot of beans on the fire. \"Would you share some with us, Mother Confessor?\"\n\nShe almost lost control of her queasy stomach. \"You men eat. You need the strength. Thank you for the offer, but I must first see to the others.\"\n\nCaptain Ryan followed her away. \"I had thought you might have some trouble handling a sword. The men who unsaddled your horse told me they found dismembered hands and fingers caught in the girth strap, and a few other places.\"\n\nKahlan smiled at men she passed. They lifted a hand or bowed their heads in greeting. \"Have you forgotten who my father was? He taught me the use of a sword.\"\n\n\"Mother Confessor, that doesn't mean...\"\n\n\"Lieutenant Sloan was killed.\"\n\nHe fell silent a moment. \"I know. They told me.\" He put a hand under her arm when she stumbled. \"You don't look so good. Some of those men who were poisoned looked better than you.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It's just that I haven't slept for so long.\" She didn't tell him that she had also used her power again. \"I'm dead tired.\"\n\nBack outside her shelter, Tossidin offered her a bowl of beans. Her fingers covered her mouth as her eyes winced closed. She thought she might faint at the sight and smell of food. Tossidin seemed to understand and took it away.\n\nPrindin put a hand under her other arm. \"Mother Confessor, you must eat, but you need rest even more.\" She nodded her agreement. \"I made you some tea; I thought it might be a comfort.\" He pointed with his chin to the shelter. \"It is inside.\"\n\n\"Yes, tea might help settle my stomach.\" She gave the captain's arm a squeeze. \"Wake me in the morning, when it's time for the next attack. I'll go with the men.\"\n\n\"If you're rested enough. Only if...\" She cut him off with a look. \"Yes, Mother Confessor. I'll wake you myself.\"\n\nInside the cozy shelter, she sipped the hot tea, and shook. Her head was spinning. She could only take a few swallows before she fell into the bedroll. She would be better, she told herself, when she was rested. She could feel her power coming to life at last, swelling with its familiar force within her chest.\n\nShe curled up under her fur mantle, thinking of the thousand things that needed to be tended to. She worried about the men who were at that moment attacking, and the ones who would go next. She fretted for them all. They were so young.\n\nShe worried about what she had started. War.\n\nBut she hadn't started it. She had only refused to abandon the lives of innocent people to a sure death. She'd had no choice. As the Mother Confessor, she had a responsibility to the people of the Midlands. If the Imperial Order wasn't stopped, untold thousands would die at their hands, and those who lived would live as slaves to the Order." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She thought about the young women at the palace in Ebinissia. Their faces floated and spun through her mind's eye. She was too weary to weep for them. When they were avenged, there would be time enough to weep.\n\nShe seethed with a lust for vengeance. She resolved that she would hound the army of the Imperial Order to their graves. In the morning, she would once more lead her men against the enemy. She would see it through. She would see those girls, and all the others, avenged.\n\nIf the Imperial Order wasn't stopped, not only would innocent people be slaughtered, but all magic, good and bad, all the creatures of magic, would perish.\n\nRichard had magic.\n\nHer mind drifted to Richard. And then she did weep, weep in the hope that he would not hate her for what she had done. She prayed that he would be able to understand and forgive her. She had done the best for him, to save him, to save the living. Her tears slowed, finally sobbing to a stop.\n\nHer thoughts of Richard swept the jumbled, tangled, flashing images from her head. Her mind focused, for the first time in days, it seemed, on things other than fighting and killing.\n\nFocused on who she was, who Richard was. Focused on important matters floating in the fog at the back of her awareness.\n\nThinking about Richard brought back to her the things that were important, but which she seemed to have forgotten. There were things other than the Order that were important. Very important. It seemed as if this war had distracted her from higher imperatives, from those important matters.\n\nShe thought about Darken Rahl. Darken Rahl had marked Richard. The Sisters of the Light had taken him. She was supposed to be going to Aydindril, to help Richard, to get Zedd to help Richard...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Richard had to stop the Keeper.\n\nKahlan frowned in the darkness under her mantle. The veil to the underworld was still torn. She shouldn't be running around, swinging a sword at D'Haran troops.\n\nShe remembered Darken Rahl's laughter.\n\nShe touched her neck, and felt the swollen, broken skin. It had been real. He had laughed at how foolish she was.\n\nKahlan sat up. What was she doing? She had to help stop the Keeper. Shota had said the veil was torn; so had Darken Rahl and Denna. Kahlan had seen a screeling, a creature straight from the underworld. She had spoken with Denna. Denna had taken Richard's place with the Keeper so that he could live to repair the tear in the veil.\n\nKahlan was supposed to be going to Zedd. She shouldn't be running around playing at soldier.\n\nBut if the Imperial Order wasn't stopped...\n\nBut if the veil was torn...\n\nShe had to get to Aydindril. She had to get to Zedd. These men could fight a war without her. That was their job. She was the Mother Confessor. She shouldn't be running around foolishly risking her life, when the Midlands-the world of the living-was in danger.\n\nThat was what Darken Rahl was laughing at: her foolishness.\n\nShe picked up the cup of tea Prindin had made for her and held it in her hands, letting it warm her fingers. She was the leader of the Midlands and had to act like a leader, and tend to the most important things above all else, to the things that she, and only she, could do. She downed the rest of the tea, making a face at the bitter taste." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Kahlan lay down again, holding the teacup on her stomach. The faces of the dead women again floated before her eyes. The weapon that most readily conquers reason is terror and violence; that was what the enemy had done to her-the horror of what they had done had conquered her reason.\n\nThat very day, she and her men could have been lost if the scouts had all been killed. Without those guides, they would have been lost, and vincible to the enemy.\n\nThat was what she was: a guide. She was a guide to the Midlands. She belonged in Aydindril, guiding the council, pulling everyone together against the threat. Without that guidance, they would be ignorant, and lost in the fog of what was happening.\n\nShe was also Richard's guide, for the help he needed. It was up to her to get Zedd's help. Without that guidance, Richard, and all the living, were lost.\n\nShe sat up, staring into the candle flame.\n\nNo wonder Darken Rahl had been laughing at her. She had been letting the enemy conquer her reason. She had almost been diverted from her duties, and given the Keeper time to work his plans.\n\nShe knew now what she had to do. She had done enough to get these men started, had shown them their responsibility, and how to carry it out. Now they had the knowledge they needed to conquer the enemy. What she had done was right, but now they had their jobs, and she had hers.\n\nThis army knew what to do, now. She had to get to Aydindril.\n\nHaving decided, it felt as if a great weight had been lifted from her, but at the same time she felt infused with purpose. Richard, even though he wasn't with her, had helped her find the truth in all the confusion, and helped her to see her true duty." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She looked in the teacup, but she had drunk the tea, and the cup was empty. Her head felt fuzzy. Her eyes wouldn't stay open. She was so tired she could no longer sit up.\n\nAs she flopped back down, she wondered what Richard was doing, where he was. Probably with the Sisters, learning how to control the gift. She prayed to the good spirits that they would help him realize how much she loved him.\n\nHer arm, suddenly too heavy to holdup, fell to the side, and the cup rolled away.\n\nSleep was as dreamless as death." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She plunged into avoid, a wasteland of brutal blackness bereft of all sense of time or awareness of place. She was lost to the world. The dark deprivation was beyond understanding, or comfort.\n\nDrifting in the depths of that void, she felt something. That there was something to feel sparked hope in her, hope of escape from this forsaken nowhere. With that tingling of sense, she snatched desperately at substance, as if clutching a rock in avast, dark river. Trying to fightback from the suffocating darkness brought sensation to her body.\n\nShe floated back, her head throbbing with a dull ache, and numbly she tried to understand what it was that was happening to her. Someone called to her. Mother Confessor, they called. No, that wasn't her name.\n\nIt came to her. Kahlan. That washer name. Hands shook her. Someone was calling to her, and shaking her.\n\nShe returned from a great distance.\n\nKahlan's eyes opened, and the world spun. Captain Ryan was gripping her shoulders, shaking her, calling to her.\n\nShe drew a deep breath of cold air into her lungs. She twisted her arms away from him, but then had to put her hands back on the ground for support. Concern creased his features.\n\n\"Mother Confessor, are you all right?\"\n\n\"I... I...\" She looked about. Tossidin was there, too. She sat up the rest of the way and put her cold fingers to her forehead. \"My head... What time is it?\"\n\n\"It will be light soon.\" With a look of concern, he glanced back over his shoulder at Tossidin. \"We came to wake you, as you told me to. The swordsmen are ready to go.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Kahlan pushed her mantle off." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I'll be ready in a moment, and we can...\"\n\nShe remembered her decision to get to Aydindril. She had to get to Zedd. She had to get help for Richard. If it was true that the veil was torn...\n\n\"Mother Confessor, you don't look well. You've been through a lot, you hadn't slept in days, and you've only just gotten a few hours of sleep. I think you need more.\"\n\nYes, she did. Though she could feel that her power was back, she definitely did not feel recovered. She put a hand on his arm.\n\n\"Captain, I must leave for Aydindril. I must...\"\n\nHe gave her a little smile. \"You rest. You're not rested enough to travel. Stay here and rest. When we get back, you'll be rested and you can leave.\"\n\nShe nodded, still clutching his sleeve for support. \"Yes. And then I must leave. I thought about it last night. I must get to Aydindril. I'll rest until you get back, but then I must leave.\" She looked about. Only Tossidin was therewith the captain. \"Where's Chandalen, and Prindin?\"\n\n\"My brother went to check on their sentries, to make sure that they didn't place any,\" Tossidin said, \"so that our attack will be without warning.\"\n\n\"Chandalen is attacking with the pikemen,\" Captain Ryan said. \"I'm to meet him with the swordsmen for the next attack.\"\n\nKahlan comforted her sore lip. \"Tossidin, tell Chandalen that when your attack is finished, we must leave. You three be careful. You must get me to Aydindril.\" She could hardly keep her eyes open. She could hardly bring forth the energy to speak. She knew she wasn't able to travel, yet. \"I'll rest until you return.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Captain Ryan sighed with relief that she wasn't going with them, that she would be safe, here." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I'll leave some men to stand guard while you rest.\"\n\nShe gestured with her hand. \"This camp is well hidden. I'm safe up here.\"\n\nHe leaned forward insistently. \"Tenor twelve men are not going to make any difference to us, and I would be better able to put my mind to our task if I'm not worrying about you all alone back here.\"\n\nShe didn't have the energy to argue. \"All right...\"\n\nShe flopped back down. With a troubled frown, Tossidin pulled the mantle up over her. She was sinking back into the blackness as the two of them crawled out the opening. She tried to keep herself from going into that unfeeling place, but she was helplessly swept away.\n\nThe crushing weight of the void closed in around her. She tried to escape its grasp, tried to comeback up, but the darkness was too thick, like being encased in mud. She was trapped, still being sucked deeper. She felt a surge of panic.\n\nShe tried to think, but could not form thoughts into coherent concepts. She had the sense that something was wrong, but could not bring her mind to bear on the solution.\n\nThis time, instead of surrendering, she focused all her strength on thoughts of Richard, on her need to help him, and the darkness then was not a total void. She had an inkling of time, sensing its incremental passing. She felt as if she were sleeping her whole lifetime away as she tenaciously kept Richard in her thoughts.\n\nHer concern for him, and her anxiety over the strangeness of the depthless sleep, let her slowly, methodically, claw her way back. Yet it seemed to take hours.\n\nWith a desperate gasp, she came awake. Her head swirled with a throbbing ache. Her whole body tingled with sharp little pricks of pain. She laboriously pushed herself up, to sit, staring about her dark shelter. The candle was burned almost all the way down. Quiet hummed in her ears." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She thought maybe she needed cold air to wake up. Her arms and legs felt thick and heavy as she crawled through the opening of the shelter. Outside, it was dusk. She looked up at the first stars winking through the trees. Her breath fogged before her face as she stood on wobbly legs.\n\nKahlan took a step, and promptly tripped over something, falling on her face in the snow. Her cheek still against the ground, she opened her eyes. Inches away, glassy eyes were staring at her. The side of a young man's face was lying against the snow, close to hers. It was his leg she had tripped over. It felt as if her bones wanted to leap out of her skin and run.\n\nHis throat was gaping open, his neck nearly sliced in two, letting his head bend back from his body at an impossible angle. She could seethe opening of his severed windpipe. Clotted blood covered snow. Abloom of bile rose up into her throat. She swallowed, forcing it back down.\n\nSlowly lifting her head, she saw the dark forms of other bodies. They were all Galean. Every sword still rested in its scabbard. They had died without the chance to fightback.\n\nKahlan's legs tensed, wanting to run, but she strained to be still. In the dull fog of the halfsleep she couldn't throw off, she struggled to think. Her mind seemed to bemired in a dreamlike stupor, unable to concentrate. Someone had killed these men, and could still be around; she somehow had to force herself to think.\n\nShe touched her fingers to the dead soldier's hand. It was still warm. This must have just happened. Maybe that was what had wakened her.\n\nShe peered up, among the trees. Men moved in the shadows. They had seen her, and were moving into the clearing around her. They laughed and hooted as they came forward, and she saw who they were-close to a dozen D'Harans, and a couple of Keltans. Men of the Imperial Order. With a gasp, Kahlan sprang to her feet." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "In your capacity as the author's assistant, extend the narrative.\nTags: fantasy, urban fantasy, wizards\nAuthor: Jim Butcher\nTitle: Storm Front\nChapter: 21" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "So, I concluded. It was up tome. Alone.\n\nIt was a sobering thought.\n\nI had to confront Victor Sells, as strong a practitioner as I had ever gone up against, in his own place of power-the lake house. Not only that, but I had to do it without breaking any of the laws of magic. I couldn't kill him with sorcery-but somehow, I had to stop him.\n\nOdds seemed really good that I was going to get killed, whether I tried to face him or not. To hell with it, then. If I was going to go out, it wasn't going to be while I was lying around moaning and bitching about how useless it all was. If Victor Sells wanted to takeout Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden, he was going to have to shove his magic right down my throat.\n\nThis decision cheered me somewhat. At least I knew what I was doing now, where I was going. What I needed was an edge, I decided. Something to pull on Victor, something he wouldn't expect.\n\nNow that I knew who he was, I understood the magic I had run into outside of my apartment a little bit better. It had been potent, deadly, but not sophisticated, not well controlled. Victor was powerful, strong, a natural mage-but he wasn't practiced. He didn't have any training. If only I had something of his, something like his own hair, that I could use against him. Maybe I should have checked the bathroom at Monica's, but I had the feeling that he wouldn't have been that careless. Anyone who spends time thinking about how to use that sort of thing against people is going to be doubly paranoid that no one have the opportunity to use it against him.\n\nAnd then it struck me-I did have something of Victor's. I had his scorpion talisman, back in the drawer of my desk at the office. It was one of his own devices, something close and familiar. I could use it to create a bond to him, to sort of judo his own power back against him and beat him with it, hands down, no questions asked." }, { "from": "human", "value": "I might have a chance, yet." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I wasn't finished, not by along shot.\n\nThe cabby pulled into a gas station and parked next to the payphone. I told him to wait for me a minute and got out, fumbling a quarter from my pocket to make the call. If it did turnout that I wouldn't live to see tomorrow, I wanted to make damn sure that the hounds of Hell would be growling at Victor Sells's heels.\n\nI dialed Murphy's number, down at the station.\n\nIt rang several times, and finally someone answered. The line was scratchy, noisy, and I could barely make out who it was. \"Murphy's desk, this is Carmichael.\"\n\n\"Carmichael,\" I said loudly into the phone. \"It's Harry Dresden. I need to talk to Murphy.\"\n\n\"What?\" Carmichael said. There was a squeal of static. Dammit, the phones go to hell on meat the worst times. \"I can't hear you. Murphy? You want Murphy? Who is this? Anderson, is that you?\"\n\n\"It's Harry Dresden,\" I shouted. \"I need to talk to Murphy.\"\n\n\"Eh,\" Carmichael grunted. \"I can't hear you, Andy. Look, Murphy's out. She took that warrant down to Harry Dresden's office to take a look around.\"\n\n\"She what?\" I said.\n\n\"Harry Dresden's office,\" Carmichael said. \"She said she'd be back soon. Look, this connection is awful, try to callback.\" He hung upon me.\n\nI fumbled for another quarter, my hands shaking, and dialed my own office number. The last thing I needed was for Murphy to go poking around in my office, maybe impounding things. If she stuck the scorpion in evidence, I was done for. I'd never be able to explain it to her in time. And if she saw me face-to-face, she might be furious enough with me to just have me slapped into holding and left there overnight. If that happened, I'd be dead by morning." }, { "from": "human", "value": "My phone rang a couple of times, then Murphy answered." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The line was blissfully clear. \"Harry Dresden's office.\"\n\n\"Murph,\" I said. \"Thank God. Look, I need to talk to you.\"\n\nI could practically feel her anger. \"Too late for that now, Harry. You should have come to talk tome this morning.\" I heard her moving around. She started opening drawers.\n\n\"Dammit, Murph,\" I said, frustrated. \"I know who the killer is. Look, you've got to keep out of that desk. It could be dangerous.\" I thought I had been going to tell her a lie, but I realized as I said it that I was telling the truth. I remembered seeing, or thinking I had seen, movement from the talisman when I had examined it before. Maybe I hadn't been imagining things.\n\n\"Dangerous,\" Murphy growled. I heard her scattering pens out of the top drawer of my desk, moving things around. The talisman was in the drawer beneath. \"I'll tell you what's dangerous. Fucking with me is dangerous, Dresden. I'm not playing some kind of game here. And I can't trust what you say anymore.\"\n\n\"Murphy,\" I said, trying to keep my voice even, \"you've got to trust me, one more time. Stay out of my desk. Please.\"\n\nThere was silence fora moment. I heard her draw in a breath, and let it out through her mouth. Then Murphy said, her voice hard, professional, \"Why, Dresden? What are you hiding?\"\n\nI heard her open the middle drawer.\n\nThere was a clicking sound, and a startled oath from Murphy. The receiver clattered to the floor. I heard gunshots, shockingly loud, whining ricochets, and then a scream." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Dammit!\" I shouted at the phone. \"Murphy!\" I slammed the phone down and sprinted back to the cab.\n\nThe cabby blinked at me. \"Hey, buddy. Where's the fire?\"\n\nI slammed the door shut, and gave him the address to my office. Then I thrust all of my remaining cash at him, and said, \"Get me there five minutes ago.\"\n\nThe cabby blinked at the money, shrugged, and said, \"Crazies. Cabbies get all the crazies.\" Then he tore out into the street, leaving a cloud of smoke behind us." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The building was locked on Sunday. I jammed my key in the lock, twisted it hard to open it, and jerked the keys out again. I didn't bother with the elevator, just hurtled up the stairs as quickly as I could.\n\nFive stories' worth of stairs. It took me less than a minute, but I begrudged every second of it. My lungs were burning and my mouth was dry as sand as I reached the fifth floor and sprinted down the hallway to my office. The halls were quiet, empty, dim. The only light came from the exit signs and from the overcast day outside. Shadows stretched and settled in the closed doorways.\n\nThe door to my office was ajar. I could hear my ceiling fan squeaking on its mounting, underneath the labored wheezing of my own breath. The overhead light wasn't on, but the reading light on my desk must have been, because yellow light outlined the doorway and laid a swath of gold across the floor of the hall. I stopped at the threshold. My hands were shaking so much I could hardly hold my staff and rod.\n\n\"Murphy?\" I called out. \"Murphy, can you hear me?\" My voice was hoarse, breathless.\n\nI closed my eyes, and listened. I thought I heard two things.\n\nThe first was a labored breath, with a faint moan on the exhale. Murphy.\n\nThe second was a dry, scuttling sound.\n\nI could smell gunpowder on the air.\n\nI clenched my jaw in sudden anger. Victor Sells's little beastie, whatever it was, had hurt my friend. Like hell I was going to standout here and give it the run of my office.\n\nI shoved the door open with my staff and stalked into the office, my blasting rod extended before me and words of power upon my lips." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Directly in front of my office door is a table arranged with a series of pamphlets with titles like Real Witches Don't Float So Good, and Magic in the Twenty-first Century. I had written some of them myself. They were meant for the curious, for people who just wanted to know about witches and magic. I squatted fora moment, blasting rod aimed beneath the table, but saw nothing. I rose again, looking back and forth, rod still ready.\n\nTo the right of the door is a wall lined with filing cabinets and a couple of easy chairs. The cabinets were shut, but something could have been hiding beneath one of the chairs. I slid to my left, checked behind the door to the office, and pressed my shoulders to the wall, keeping my eyes on the room.\n\nMy desk is in the back corner, to the right as you come in the door, diagonal from it. It's a corner office. There are windows on either of the outside walls. My shades were, as usual, drawn. The overhead fan, in the center of the room, spun around with a tired little groan on every rotation.\n\nI kept my eyes moving, my senses alert. I choked down my anger, ferociously, and made myself remain cautious. Whatever had happened to Murphy, I wouldn't do her any good by letting it happen tome, too. I moved slowly, carefully, my blasting rod held ready.\n\nI could see Murphy's tennis shoes behind my desk. She looked like she was curled on her side, from the way her feet were angled, but I couldn't seethe rest of her. I pushed forward, striding to the center of the back wall, keeping my blasting rod leveled like a gun at the floor behind the desk as it became visible.\n\nMurphy lay there, curled on her side, her golden hair in an artless sprawl about her head, her eyes open and staring blindly. She was dressed in jeans, a button-down shirt, and a Cubs satin jacket. Her left shoulder was stained with a blot of blood. Her gun lay next to her, a couple of feet away. My heart stepped up into my throat. I heard her take a little breath and groan when she let it out." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Murphy,\" I said." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Then, louder, \"Murphy.\"\n\nI saw her stir, a fitful little motion that was in response to my voice. \"Easy, easy,\" I told her. \"Relax. Don't try to move. I'm going to try to help you.\"\n\nI knelt next to her, very slowly, watching the room all around. I didn't see anything. I set my staff aside, and felt her throat. Her pulse was racing, thready. There was not enough blood for it to be a serious injury, but I touched her shoulder. Even through the jacket, I could feel the swelling.\n\n\"Harry?\" Murphy rasped. \"Is that you?\"\n\n\"It's me, Murph,\" I told her, setting my blasting rod aside and slowly reaching for the phone. The middle drawer of my desk, where the scorpion talisman had been, was open and empty. \"Just hang on. I'm going to call an ambulance to help you.\"\n\n\"Can't believe it. You bastard,\" Murphy wheezed. I felt her stir around a little. \"You set me up.\"\n\nI drew the phone down and dialed 911. \"Hush, Murph. You've been poisoned. You need help, fast.\"\n\nThe 911 operator came on and took my name and address. I told her to send an ambulance prepared to treat someone for poisoning, and she told me to stay on the line. I didn't have time to stay on the line. Whatever had done this to Murphy, it was still around, somewhere. I had to get her out of there, and then I had to recover Victor's talisman, to be able to use it against him when I went out to the lake house.\n\nMurphy stirred again, and then I felt something hard and cool flick around my wrist and clicker-clack shut. I blinked and looked down at her. Murphy's jaw was set in a stubborn line as she clicked the other end of the handcuffs shut around her own wrist." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You're under arrest,\" she wheezed. \"You son of a bitch. Wait till I get you in an interrogation room. You aren't going anywhere.\"\n\nI stared at her, stunned. \"Murph,\" I stammered. \"My God. You don't know what you're doing.\"\n\n\"Like hell,\" she said, her lip lifting in a ghost of its usual snarl. She twisted her head around, grimacing in pain, and squinted at me. \"You should have talked tome this morning. Got you now, Dresden.\" She broke off in a panting gasp, and added, \"You jerk.\"\n\n\"You stubborn bitch from hell.\" I felt at a loss fora second, then shook my head. \"I've got to get you out of here before it comes back,\" I said, and I stooped forward to try to gather her up.\n\nThat was when the scorpion exploded toward me from the shadows beneath my desk, a harsh burst of dry, scuttling motion. It wasn't a bug I could squash with my fingers, anymore. It was the size of a large terrier, all brown and glinting, and it was almost too fast to see coming.\n\nI convulsed away from it, and saw the flash of its tail, saw its stinger whip forward and miss my eye by a hairbreadth. Something cool and wet speckled my cheek, and my skin started to burn. Venom.\n\nMy startled motion made my leg jerk, and kicked my staff and rod away from me. I rolled after the latter desperately. Murphy's handcuffs brought me up short, and both of us made sounds of discomfort as the steel bands cut at the base of our hands. I stretched for the rod, felt the smooth roundness of it on my fingertips, and then there was another scuttling sound and the scorpion came at my back. The rod squirted out from beneath my grasping fingers and rolled away, out of reach." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I didn't have time fora spell, but I grabbed at the middle drawer of my desk, jerked it all the way out of its frame and barely managed to shove it between the scorpion and myself. There was a hiss of air and a smacking sound of breaking wood. The scorpion's stinger plunged through the bottom of the desk drawer and stuck fast. A crab-claw pincer gouged a hole through my sweatpants and into my leg.\n\nI screamed and hurled the drawer away. The scorpion, its tail still stuck, went with it, and they both landed in a heap a few feet away.\n\n\"Won't do you any good, Dresden,\" Murphy moaned incoherently. She must have been too far gone from the poison to understand what was going on. \"I've got you. Stop fighting it. Get some answers from you, now.\"\n\n\"Sometimes, Murph,\" I panted, \"you make things just a little harder than they need to be. Anyone ever tell you that?\" I bent down to her, and slipped my cuffed wrist beneath her arm and around her back, drawing her own arm back with me, my right arm and her left bound by the handcuff.\n\n\"My ex-husbands,\" she moaned. I strained and lifted us both up off the ground, then started hobbling toward the door. I could feel the blood on my leg, the pain where the scorpion had ripped it, hot and hateful. \"What's happening?\" Confusion and fear trembled in Murphy's voice. \"Harry, I can't see.\"\n\nShit. The poison was getting to her. The poison of the common brown scorpion found allover most of the United States isn't much more venomous than the sting of a bumblebee. Of course, most bumblebees aren't the size of the family dog, either. And Murphy wasn't a big person. If a lot of poison had been introduced into her system, the odds were against her. She needed medical attention, and she needed it immediately." }, { "from": "human", "value": "If my hands had been free, I would have taken up my staff and rod and done battle, but I didn't like my odds tied to Murphy-even if I could keep the thing off of me, it might land on her, sting her again, and put an end to her." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I was at a bad angle to search for her keys, and I didn't have time to go down the ring trying them on the handcuffs one by one. Any magic that I could work fast enough to shatter the cuffs in time would probably kill me with flying shrapnel, and there wasn't time to workout a gentler escape spell. Dammit, Dad, I thought, I wish you'd lived long enough to show me how to slip out of a pair of handcuffs.\n\n\"Harry,\" Murphy repeated, her voice thready, \"what's happening? I can't see.\"\n\nI saved my breath and lugged Murphy toward the door without answering her. Behind me, there was a furious scraping and clicking. I looked back over my shoulder. The scorpion's stinger was stuck fast in the drawer, but the thing was rapidly ripping the wood to shreds with its pincers and legs.\n\nI gulped, turned, and hobbled out of my office and down the hall with Murphy. I managed to swing the door to my office shut with one foot. Murphy's legs did little to support her, and the difference in our heights made the trip awkward as hell. I was straining to keep her upright and moving.\n\nI reached the end of the hall, the door to the stairway on my right, the elevator on my left.\n\nI stopped fora moment, panting, trying not to let the sounds of splintering wood down the hall rattle my judgment. Murphy sagged against me, speechless now, and if she was breathing, I couldn't tell. There was noway I was going to be able to carry her down the stairs. Neither one of us had enough left to manage that. The ambulance would be arriving in minutes, and if I didn't have Murphy down there when it arrived, I might as well just leave heron the floor to die." }, { "from": "human", "value": "I grimaced." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I hated elevators. But I pushed the button and waited. Round lights over the elevator doors began counting up to five.\n\nDown the hall from me, the splintering sounds stopped, and something crashed into my office door, rattling it on its frame.\n\n\"Hell's bells, Harry,\" I said aloud. I looked up at the lights. Two. A pause approximately ten centuries long. Three. \"Hurry up,\" I snarled, and jabbed the button a hundred more times.\n\nThen I remembered the bracelet of shields around my left wrist. I tried to focus on it but couldn't, with it twisted awkwardly beneath Murphy, supporting her. So I laid her down as gently and quickly as I could, then lifted my left hand and focused on the bracelet.\n\nThe lower third of my office door exploded outward, and the brown, gleaming form of the scorpion bounded across the hallway and into the wall. It was bigger, now. The damn thing was growing. It bounced off of the wall with a scrabbling, horrible agility, oriented on me, and hurtled down the hall toward meas fast as a man can run, its legs clicking and scuttling furiously over the floor. It leapt at me, claws extended, stinger flashing. I focused my will on the defensive shield the bracelet helped me form and maintain, struggling to get it together before the scorpion hit me.\n\nI did it, barely. The invisible shield of air met the scorpion a handsbreadth from my body and sent it rebounding back onto its back. There it struggled fora second, awkward and flailing.\n\nBehind me, the elevator dinged, and the doors swooped graciously open.\n\nWithout time to be delicate, I grabbed Murphy's wrist and hauled her into the elevator with me, jabbing at the button for the lobby. In the hall, the scorpion thrashed its tail and righted itself, oriented on me again with an uncanny intelligence, and flew toward me. There wasn't time to get my shield together again. I screamed." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The elevator doors swooped shut. There was a sharp thud, and the car rattled, as the scorpion smashed into them.\n\nThe car started down, and I tried to regain my breath. What the hell was that thing?\n\nIt wasn't just an insect. It was too fast, too damn smart for that. It had ambushed me, waiting until I had set my weapons aside to come after me. It had to be something else, some kind of power construct, built small, but designed to draw in energy, to get bigger and stronger, an arthropod version of Frankenstein's monster. It wasn't really alive, just a golem, a robot, a programmed thing with a mission. Victor must have figured out where his talisman had gotten to, and set a spell on it to attack anyone it came in contact with, the crazy bastard. Murphy had stumbled right into it.\n\nIt was still growing, getting faster and stronger and more vicious. Getting Murphy out of danger wasn't enough. I had to find away to deal with the scorpion. I didn't want to, but I was the only one on the block who could. There was too much potential danger involved. What if it didn't stop growing? I had to kill it before it got out of control.\n\nThe lights on the elevator panel kept counting down, four to three to two. And then the elevator shuddered and ground to a stop. The lights flickered and went out.\n\n\"Oh, crap,\" I said. \"Not now. Not now.\" Elevators hate me. I jabbed at the buttons, but nothing happened, and a second later there was a cough of smoke, and the lights behind the buttons went out, too, leaving me in darkness. The emergency lighting came on for just a second, but then there was the pop of a burning filament, and it went away too. Murphy and I were left huddling in the darkness on the floor." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Overhead, outside in the elevator shaft, there was the sound of shrieking metal. I looked up at the invisible roof of the elevator car in the darkness. \"You have got to be kidding me,\" I muttered.\n\nThen there was a rattling bang, and something the weight of a small gorilla landed on the roof of the elevator. There was a second's silence, and then something started a deafening tearing at the roof.\n\n\"You have got to be kidding me!\" I shouted. But the scorpion wasn't. It was wrenching back the roof of the elevator, rattling the bolts and supports, making it groan. Dust rattled down in the darkness, unseen grit for my unseeing eyes. We were sardines in a can, waiting to be torn up and eaten. I got the feeling that if the thing stung me now, the poison would be redundant-I would bleed to death before it became an issue.\n\n\"Think, Harry,\" I shouted at myself. \"Think, think, think!\" I was stuck in a frozen elevator, handcuffed to my unconscious friend who was dying of poison while a magical scorpion the size of some French cars tried to tear its way into me and rip me apart. I didn't have my blasting rod or my staff, the other gizmos I'd brought with me to the Varsity were drained and useless, and my shield bracelet would only prolong the inevitable.\n\nAlong strip of metal ripped away in the roof, letting in a strip of dim light, and I looked up at the scorpion's underbelly, saw it wedge a claw into the breach and start to tear it open wider.\n\nI should have smashed it when it was just a bug. I should have taken off my shoe and smashed it right thereon my desk. My heart leapt into my throat as the thing tilted up, drove an exploratory pincer down into the upper third of the elevator, then started tearing the hole even larger." }, { "from": "human", "value": "I gritted my teeth and started drawing in every ounce of power that I had." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I knew it was useless. I could direct a firestorm up at the thing, but it would slag the metal it was on and that would come raining back down onus and kill us, make the elevator shaft too hot for us to survive. But I wasn't just going to let the thing have me, either, by God. Maybe, if I did it just right, I could catch it as it leapt, minimize the damage that I did to the surrounding scenery. That was the problem with not being too great at evocation. Plenty of speed, plenty of power, not much refinement. That's what the staff did, and the blasting rod-they were designed to help me focus my power, give me pinpoint control. Without them I might as well have been a suicide soldier carrying a dozen grenades strapped to his belt and ready to jerk out the pin.\n\nAnd then it occurred tome. I was thinking in the wrong direction.\n\nI swung my eyes down from the ceiling, to the elevator's floor, pressed my palms against it. Bits of something rained down on my head and shoulders, and the clicking and scuttling of the scorpion got louder. I took all the power I'd drawn in and focused it beneath my palms. There was airspace beneath the elevator, in the elevator shaft, and that was what I reached for-air, instead of fire.\n\nThis was a simple spell, one I'd done hundreds of times, I told myself. It wasn't any different from calling my staff to my hand. Just... a little bigger.\n\n\"Vento servitas!\" I shouted, pouring every bit of strength, every ounce of anger, every shred of fear I had into the spell.\n\nAnd, beneath the elevator, the winds rose up at my call, a solid column of air that caught the bottom of the elevator like a giant's palm and hurled it upward, through the darkness of the elevator shaft. The brakes squealed, threw off sparks, and fell to pieces that dropped through the hole the scorpion had torn, to land next tome. The force of it pressed me down to the floor with a groan. There was along and rising whine as the car accelerated up the elevator shaft." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I hadn't meant for thereto be quite that much wind, I thought, and prayed that I hadn't just killed me and Murphy both.\n\nThe elevator hurtled up and up and up, and I could feel my face sagging down with the speed of it. My office building is twelve stories high. We'd started at the second floor, so assuming an average of nine feet per story, it was almost a hundred feet to the building's roof.\n\nThe car shot up it in less than a half dozen of my frantic heartbeats, slammed past the blocks at the top of the line, and hammered into the roof of the shaft like the bell on the strongman's sledgehammer game at the amusement park. The impact crushed the scorpion into the concrete with a series of sharp popping sounds as chitinous plates cracked and splintered, flattening it into a shapeless brown splotch. Colorless goo, the ectoplasm of magically created mass, spattered out between the crushed plates and hide and down into the car.\n\nAt the same time, Murphy and I were hurled up, meeting the goo halfway. I kept Murphy in the shelter of my body, trying to stay between her and the roof, and my back hit it hard enough to make me see stars. We tumbled loosely back down to the elevator's floor in a sprawl of limbs, and Murphy groaned beneath me when I landed on her.\n\nI lay still fora moment, stunned. The scorpion was dead. I'd killed it, crushed it between the elevator and the roof of the shaft, and drenched myself and Murphy in ichor doing it. I'd saved our lives from the murderous device, against the odds.\n\nBut I just couldn't shake the nagging impression that I was forgetting something." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There was a little groan from the elevator, and then it shuddered, and started sliding back down the shaft, no longer supported by the powerful but short-lived pillar of wind that had driven it up there. We were falling back down the way we had come, and I had the feeling that we weren't going to have a much better time of it at the bottom than the scorpion had at the top.\n\nNow was the time for the bracelet, and I didn't waste a heartbeat grabbing Murphy close tome, and bringing the shield into being around us. I only had a couple of seconds to focus, to think-I couldn't make the globe around us too brittle, too strong, or we'd just smash ourselves against the inside of it in the same way we would if we just rode the elevator down. There had to be some give to it, some flexibility, to distribute the tremendous force of the abrupt stop at the first floor.\n\nIt was dark, and there wasn't much time. Murphy and I rose up to the center of the space of the elevator while I pushed the shield out all around us, filled up the space with layer after layer of flexible shielding, semicohesive molecules of air, patterns of force meant to spread the impact around. There was a sense of pressure all around me, as though I had been abruptly stuffed in Styrofoam packing peanuts.\n\nWe fell, faster and faster. I sensed the bottom of the shaft coming. There was an enormous sound, and I held onto the shield with all of my might.\n\nWhen I opened my eyes again, I was sitting on the floor of the shattered, devastated elevator, holding a sagging, unconscious Murphy. The elevator doors gave a warped, gasping little ding, then shuddered open.\n\nA pair of EMTs with emergency kits in hand stood staring at the elevator, at Murphy and me, their jaws hanging open to their knees. Dust billowed everywhere." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I was alive.\n\nI blinked at that, somewhat stunned. I was alive. I looked down at myself, at my arms and legs, and they were all there. Then I let my head fallback and howled out a defiant laugh, a great, gawping whoop of primal joy.\n\n\"Take that, Victor Shadowman!\" I shouted. \"Hah! Hah! Give me your best shot, you murderous bastard! I'm going to take my staff and shove it down your throat!\"\n\nI was still laughing when the EMTs gathered me up and helped me and Murphy toward the ambulance, too stunned to ask any questions. I saw them both give me wary looks, though, and then trade a glance with one another that said they were going to sedate me with something as soon as they got the chance.\n\n\"The champion!\" I howled, still on an adrenaline rush the size of the Colorado River, as they helped me out toward the ambulance. I thrust my fist into the air, scarcely noting or caring that my bracelet of silver shields had turned into a blackened ring of curled and wilted links, burned to uselessness by the energies I had forced through it. \"I am the man! Shadowman, you'd better put your head between your legs and kiss your-\"\n\nThe EMTs helped me outside. Into the rain. The wet slaps of raindrops on my face shut me up, made me cold sober faster than anything else in the world could have done. I was suddenly acutely aware of the handcuffs around my wrist, still, of the fact that I did not have Victor's talisman to use to turn his own power against him. Victor was still out there, out at his lake house, he still had a hank of my hair, and he was still planning on ripping my heart out as soon as he possibly could, when the storm gave him the strength he needed." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I was alive, and Murphy was alive, but my elation was premature. I didn't have anything to be celebrating, yet. I lifted my face to the sky.\n\nThunder growled, near at hand. Lightning danced overhead, somewhere in the clouds, casting odd light and spectral shadows through the roiling overcast.\n\nThe storm had arrived." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Raindrops pelted down around me, the big, splashy kind you only really see in the spring. The air grew thicker, hotter, even with the rain falling. I had to think fast, use my head, becalm, hurry up. Murphy's handcuffs still held me fastened to her wrist. Both of us were coated in dust that was stuck to the stinking, colorless goo, the ectoplasm that magic called from somewhere else whenever generic mass was called for in a spell. The goo wouldn't last long-within a few more minutes, it would simply dissipate, vanish into thin air, return to wherever it had come from in the first place. For the moment, it was just a rather disgusting, slimy annoyance.\n\nBut maybe one that I could put to use.\n\nMy own hands were too broad, but Murphy had delicate little lady's hands, except where practice with her gun and her martial arts staff routines had left calluses. If she had heard me thinking that, and had been conscious, she would have punched me in the mouth for being a chauvinist pig.\n\nOne of the EMTs was babbling into a handset, while the other was on Murphy's other side, supporting her along with me. It was the only chance I was going to get. I hunched over beside Murphy's diminutive form and tried to shroud what I was doing with the dark folds of my black duster. I worked at her hand, squeezing her limp, slimy fingers together and trying to slip the steel loop of the handcuffs over her hand.\n\nI took some skin off of her, and she groaned a lot, but I managed to get the cuffs off of her wrist just as the EMT and I sat her down on the curb next to the ambulance. The other EMT ran to the back of the ambulance and swung it open, rummaging around inside of it. I could hear sirens, both police cars and fire engines, approaching from all directions." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Nothing's ever simple when I'm around.\n\n\"She's been poisoned,\" I told the EMT. \"The wound site is on her right upper armor shoulder. Check fora massive dose of brown scorpion venom. There should be some antivenin available somewhere. She'll need a tourniquet and-\"\n\n\"Buddy,\" the EMT said, annoyed, \"I know my job. What the hell happened in there?\"\n\n\"Don't ask,\" I said, glancing back at the building. The rain came down more heavily by slow degrees. Was I too late? Would I be dead before I could get to the lake house?\n\n\"You're bleeding,\" the EMT told me, without looking up from Murphy. I looked down at my leg, but it didn't start hurting until I actually saw the injury and remembered I had it. The scorpion's claw had ripped me pretty good, opening a six-inch tear in the leg of my sweats and a comparable gash in the leg beneath, ragged and painful. \"Sit down,\" the EMT said. \"I'll take care of it in a second.\" He wrinkled up his face. \"What the hell is this stinking shit allover you?\"\n\nI wiped rain from my hair, slicking it back. The other EMT came running with a bottle of oxygen and a stretcher, and they both bent over their work with Murphy. Her face had discolored, pale in parts, too brightly red in others. She was as limp as a wet dollar, except for the occasional shudder or flinch, quivers of her muscles that came from nowhere, pained her fora moment, and then apparently vanished.\n\nIt was my fault Murphy was there. It had been my decision to hold information away from her that had compelled her to take direct action, to search my office. If I'd just been more open, more honest, maybe she wouldn't belying there right now, dying. I didn't want to walkaway from her. I didn't want to turn my back on her again and leave her behind me, alone." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But I did. Before the support units arrived, before police started asking questions, before the EMTs began looking around for me and giving my description to police officers, I turned on my heel and walked away.\n\nI hated myself every step. I hated leaving before I knew if Murphy would survive the scorpion's venomous sting. I hated that my apartment and my office building had been trashed, torn to pieces by demons and giant insects and my own clumsy power. I hated to close my eyes and seethe twisted, mangled bodies of Jennifer Stanton and Tommy Tomm, and Linda Randall. I hated the sick twisting of fear in my guts when I imagined my own spare frame torn asunder by the same forces.\n\nAnd, most of all, I hated the one responsible for all of it. Victor Sells. Victor, who was going to kill meas soon as this storm grew. I could be dead in another five minutes.\n\nNo. I couldn't. I got a little more excited as I thought about the problem and looked up at the clouds. The storm had come in from the west, and was only now going over the city. It wasn't moving fast; it was a ponderous roller of a thunderstorm that would hammer at the area for hours. The Sells's lake house was to the east, around the shore of Lake Michigan, maybe thirty or forty miles away, as the crow flies. I could beat the storm to the lake house, if I was fast enough, if I could get a car. I could get out to the lake house and challenge Victor directly.\n\nMy rod and staff were gone, dropped when the scorpion attacked. I might have been able to call them down from my office with winds, but as worked up as I was, I might accidentally blowout the wall if I tried. I didn't care to be crushed by hundreds of pounds of flying brick, called to my outstretched hand by the strength of my magic and my fury. My shield bracelet was gone, too, burned out by countering the tremendous force of the impact of the falling elevator." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I still had my mother's pentacle talisman at my throat, the symbol of order, of the controlled patterns of power that were at the heart of white magic. I still had the advantage of years of formal training. I still had the edge inexperience, in sorcerous confrontations. I still had my faith.\n\nBut that was about all. I was weary, battered, tired, hurt, and I had already pulled more magic out of the hat in one day than most wizards could in a week. I was pushing the edge already, in both mystic and physical terms. But that just didn't matter tome.\n\nThe pain in my leg didn't make me weaker, didn't discourage me, didn't distract meas I walked. It was like afire in my thoughts, my concentration, burning evermore brightly, more pure, refining my anger, my hate, into something steel-hard, steel-sharp. I could feel it burning, and reached for it eagerly, shoving the pain inside to fuel my incandescent anger.\n\nVictor Shadowman was going to pay for what he'd done to all those people, tome and to my friends. Dammit all, I was not going out before I'd caught up to that man and shown him what areal wizard could do.\n\nIt didn't take me long to walk to McAnally's. I came through the door in a storm of long legs, rain, wind, flapping duster, and angry eyes.\n\nThe place was packed, people sitting at everyone of the thirteen stools at the bar, at everyone of the thirteen tables, leaning against most of the thirteen columns. Pipe smoke drifted through the air in a haze, stirred by the languidly spinning blades of the ceiling fans. The light was dim, candles burning at the tables and in sconces on the walls, plus a little grey storm light sliding in through the windows. The light made the carvings on the columns vague and mysterious, the shadows changing them in a subtle fashion. All of Mac's chessboards were out on the tables, but my sense of it was that those playing and watching the games were trying to keep their minds off of something that was disturbing them." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They all turned to stare at meas I came in the door and down the steps, dripping rainwater and a little blood onto the floor. The room got really quiet.\n\nThey were the have-nots of the magical community. Hedge magi without enough innate talent, motivation, or strength to be true wizards. Innately gifted people who knew what they were and tried to make as little of it as possible. Dabblers, herbalists, holistic healers, kitchen witches, troubled youngsters just touching their abilities and wondering what to do about it. Older men and women, younger people, faces impassive or concerned or fearful, they were all there. I knew them all by sight, if not by name.\n\nI swept my gaze around the room. Everyone of the people I looked at dropped their eyes, but I didn't need to look deep to see what was happening. Word has away of getting around between practitioners of magic, and the arcane party line was working as it usually did. Word was out. There was a mark on my head, and they all knew it. Trouble was brewing between two wizards, white and black, and they had all come here, to the shelter offered by McAnally's winding spaces and disruptive configurations of tables and columns. They'd come hereto shelter until it was over.\n\nIt didn't offer any shelter tome, though. McAnally's couldn't protect me against a sharply directed spell. It was an umbrella, not a bomb shelter. I couldn't getaway from what Victor would do tome, unless I cared to flee to the Nevernever itself, and for me that was more dangerous, in someways, than staying at Mac's.\n\nI stood therein the silence fora moment, but said nothing. These people were associates, friends of a casual sort, but I couldn't ask them to stand beside me. Whatever Victor thought he was, he had the power of areal wizard, and he could crush any of these people like a boot could a cockroach. They weren't prepared to deal with this sort of thing." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Mac,\" I said, finally. My voice fell on the silence like a hammer on glass. \"I need to borrow your car.\"\n\nMac hadn't quit polishing the bar with a clean white cloth when I entered, his spare frame gaunt in a white shirt and dark breeches. He hadn't stopped when the room had grown still. And he didn't stop when he pulled the keys out of his pocket and tossed them tome with one hand. I caught them, and said, \"Thanks, Mac.\"\n\n\"Ungh,\" Mac said. He glanced up at me, and then behind me. I took the gesture for the warning it was, and turned.\n\nLightning flashed outside. Morgan stood silhouetted in the doorway at the top of the little flight of stairs, his broad frame black against the grey sky. He came down the stairs toward me, and the thunder came in on his heels. Rain had made little difference in the lay of his dull brown and grey hair, except for changing the texture of curl in his warrior's ponytail. I could seethe hilt of the sword he wore, beneath his black overcoat. He had a muscular, scarred hand on it.\n\n\"Harry Dresden,\" he said. \"I finally figured it out. Using the storms to kill those people is insanely dangerous, but you are just the sort of ambitious fool who would do it.\" He set his jaw in a hard line. \"Have a seat,\" he said, gesturing at a table. The people sitting at it cleared away, fast. \"We're going to stay here, both of us. And I'm going to make sure that you don't have the chance to use this storm to hurt anyone else. I'm going to make sure you don't get to try your cowardly tricks until the Council decides your fate.\" His grey eyes glittered with grim determination and certainty." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I stared at him. I swallowed my anger, the words I wanted to throwback at him, the spell I wanted to use to blast him out of my way, and spoke gently. \"Morgan, I know who the killer is. And he's after me, next. If I don't get to him and stop him, I'm as good as dead.\"\n\nHis eyes hardened, a fanatic's gleam. He spoke in two sharp little explosions of single syllables. \"Sit. Down.\" He drew the sword out from its scabbard by a couple of inches.\n\nI let my shoulders sag. I turned toward the table. I leaned against the back of one of the chairs fora moment, taking a little weight off of my injured leg, and drew the chair out from the table.\n\nThen I picked it up, spun in a half circle with it to gather momentum, and smashed it into the Warden's stomach. Morgan tried to recoil, but I'd caught him off guard, and the blow struck home, hard and heavy with the weight of Mac's handmade wooden chair. In real life, the chair doesn't break when you slug somebody with it, the way it does in the movies. The person you hit is the one who breaks.\n\nMorgan doubled forward, dropping to one hand and one knee. I didn't wait for him to recover. Instead, as the chair bounced off his ribs, I used the momentum of it to spin all the way around in a complete circle in the other direction, lifting the chair high, and brought it smiting down over the other man's back. The blow drove him hard into the floor, where he lay unmoving.\n\nI sat the chair back at the table and looked around the room. Everyone was staring, pale. They knew who Morgan was, what his relationship tome was. They knew about the Council, and my precarious stance with it. They knew that I had just assaulted a duly appointed representative of the Council in pursuit of the execution of his duty. I'd rolled the stone over my own grave. There wasn't a prayer that I could convince the Council that I wasn't a rogue wizard fleeing justice, now." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Hell with him,\" I said aloud, to no one in particular. \"I haven't got time for this.\"\n\nMac came out from behind the bar, not moving in a hurry, but not with his usual laconic lack of concern, either. He knelt by Morgan and felt at his throat, then peeled back an eyelid and peered at the man. Mac squinted up at me and said, expressionless, \"Alive.\"\n\nI nodded, feeling some slight relief. However much of an ass Morgan was, he had good intentions. He and I wanted the same thing, really. He just didn't realize that. I didn't want to kill him.\n\nBut, I had to admit in some gleeful little corner of my soul, that the look of shocked surprise on his arrogant face as I hit him with the chair was a sight worth remembering.\n\nMac stooped and picked up the keys, where I'd dropped them on the floor as I swung the chair. I hadn't noticed that I had. Mac handed them back tome and said, \"Council will be pissed.\"\n\n\"Let me worry about that.\"\n\nHe nodded. \"Luck, Harry.\" Mac offered me his hand, and I took it. The room was still silent. Fearful, worried eyes watched me.\n\nI took the keys and walked up, out of the light and shelter of McAnally's and into the storm, my bridges burning behind me." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I drove for my life.\n\nMac's car was an'89 TransAm, pure white, with a big eight-cylinder engine. The speedometer goes to 130 miles an hour. In places, I went past that. The falling rain made the roads dangerous at the speed I was driving, but I had plenty of incentive to keep the car moving as quickly as possible. I was still riding the steel-hard edge of anger that had carried me away from the ruins of my office and through Morgan.\n\nThe sky grew darker, a combination of building banks of storm clouds and the approaching dusk. The lighting was strange, greenish, the leaves of the trees as I left the city standing out too sharply, too harshly, the yellows of the lines in the road too dim. Most of the cars I saw had their headlights on, and streetlights were clicking alight as I barreled down the highway.\n\nFortunately, Sunday evening isn't a busy one, as far as traffic goes. I'd have been dead any other night. I must also have been driving during the watch rotation for the highway patrol, because not one of them tried to pull me over.\n\nI tried to tune in the weather station, on the radio, but gave it up. The storm, plus my own agitation, was creating a cloud of squealing feedback on the radio's speakers, but nothing intelligible about the storm. I could only pray that I was going to get over to Lake Providence before it did.\n\nI won. The curtains of rain parted for meas I whipped past the city-limits sign for Lake Providence. I hit the brakes to slow for the turn onto the lakefront road that led to the Sells house, started hydroplaning, turned into the slide with more composure and ability than I really should have had, and got the vehicle back under control in time to slide onto the correct road." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I pulled into the Sells' gravel drive, on the swampy little peninsula that stretched out into Lake Michigan. The TransAm slid to a halt in a shower of gravel and a roar of mighty engine, then sputtered and gasped into silence. I felt, fora giddy second and a half, like Magnum, P. I. Blue Beetle aside, I could get into this sports-car thing. At least it had lasted long enough for me to get to the Sells place. \"Thanks, Mac,\" I grunted, and got out of the car.\n\nThe gravel driveway leading back to the lake house was half-sunk in water from the recent storms. My leg hurt me too much to run very fast, but I set off down the drive at along-legged lope, rapidly eating the distance to the house. The storm loomed before me, rolling across the lake toward the shore-I could see columns of rain, dimly lit by the fading light, falling into its waters.\n\nI raced the storm to the house, and as I did I drew in every bit of power and alertness that I could, keyed myself to a tighter level, tuned my senses to their sharpest pitch. I came to a halt twenty yards shy of the house and closed my eyes, panting. There could be magical traps or alarms strewn about, or spiritual or shrouded guardians invisible to the naked eye. There could be spells waiting, illusions meant to hide Victor Sells from anyone who came looking. I needed to be able to see past all that. I needed to have every scrap of knowledge I could get.\n\nSo I opened my Third Eye.\n\nHow can I explain what a wizard sees? It isn't something that lends itself readily to description. Describing something helps to define it, to give it limits, to set guardrails of understanding around it. Wizards have had the Sight since time began, and they still don't understand how it works, why it does what it does." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The only thing I can say is that I felt as though a veil of thick cloth had been lifted away from meas I opened my eyes again-and not only from my eyes, but from all of my senses. I could abruptly smell the mud and fish odor of the lake, the trees around the house, the fresh scent of the coming rain preceding the storm on the smoke-stained wind. I looked at the trees. Saw them, not just in the first green coat of spring, but in the full bloom of summer, the splendor of the fall, and the barren desolation of winter, all at the same time. I Saw the house, and each separate part of it as its own component, the timbers as parts of spectral trees, the windows as pieces of distant sandy shores. I could feel the heat of summer and the cold of winter in the wind coming off the lake. I Saw the house wreathed in ghostly flames, and knew that those were part of its possible future, that fire lay down several of the many paths of possibility that lay ahead in the next hour.\n\nThe house itself was a place of power. Dark emotions-greed, lust, hatred-all hungover it as visible things, molds and slimes that were strewn over it like Spanish moss with malevolent eyes. Ghostly things, restless spirits, moved around the place, drawn to the sense of fear, despair, and anger that hungover it, mindless shades that were always to be found in such places, like rats in granaries.\n\nThe other thing that I Saw over the house was a grinning, empty skull. Skulls were everywhere, wherever I looked, just at the edge of my vision, silent and still and bleach white, as solid and real as though a fetishist had scattered them around in anticipation of some bizarre holiday. Death. Death lay in the house's future, tangible, solid, unavoidable." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Maybe mine.\n\nI shuddered and shoved the feeling away. No matter how strong the vision, how powerful the image gained with the Sight, the future was always mutable, always something that could be changed. No one had to die tonight. It didn't have to come to that, not for them and not for me.\n\nBut a sick feeling had settled into me, as I looked on this darkling house, with all of its stinking lust and fear, all of its horrid hate worn openly upon it to my Sight, like a mantle of flayed human skin on the shoulders of a pretty girl with gorgeous hair, luscious lips, sunken eyes, and rotting teeth. It repulsed me and it made me afraid.\n\nAnd something about it, intangible, something I couldn't name, called tome. Beckoned. Here was power, power I had thrust aside once before, in the past. I had thrown away the only family I had ever known to turn away power exactly like this. This was the sort of strength that could reach out and change the world to my will, bend it and shape it to my desiring, could cut through all the petty trivialities of law and civilization and impose order where there was none, guarantee my security, my position, my future.\n\nAnd what had been my reward for turning that power aside thus far? Suspicion and contempt from the very wizards I had acted to support and protect, condemnation from the White Council whose Law I had clung to when all the world had been laid at my feet.\n\nI could kill the Shadowman, now, before he knew I was here. I could call down fury and flame on the house and kill everyone in it, not leave one stone upon another. I could reach out and embrace the dark energy he had gathered in this place, draw it in and use it for whatever I wanted, and the consequences be damned." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Why not kill him now? Violet light, visible to my Sight, throbbed and pulsed inside the windows, power being gathered and prepared and shaped. The Shadowman was inside, and he was gathering his might, preparing to unleash the spell that would kill me. What reason had Ito let him goon breathing?\n\nI clenched my fists in fury, and I could feel the air crackle with tension as I prepared to destroy the lake house, the Shadowman, and any of the pathetic underlings he had with him. With such power, I could cast my defiance at the Council itself, the gathering of white-bearded old fools without foresight, without imagination, without vision. The Council, and that pathetic watchdog, Morgan, had no idea of the true depths of my strength. The energy was all there, gleeful within my anger, ready to reach out and reduce to ashes all that I hated and feared.\n\nThe silver pentacle that had been my mother's burned cold on my chest, a sudden weight that made me gasp. I sagged forward a little, and lifted a hand. My fingers were so tightly crushed into fists that it hurt to try to open them. My hand shook, wavered, and began to fall again.\n\nThen something strange happened. Another hand took mine. The hand was slim, the fingers long and delicate. Feminine. The hand gently covered mine, and lifted it, like a small child's, until I held my mother's pentacle in my grasp.\n\nI held it in my hand, felt its cool strength, its ordered and rational geometry. The five-pointed star within the circle was the ancient sign of white wizardry, the only remembrance of my mother. The cold strength of the pentacle gave me a chance, a moment to think again, to clear my head." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I took deep breaths, struggling to see clear of the anger, the hate, the deep lust that burned within me for vengeance and retribution. That wasn't what magic was for. That wasn't what magic did. Magic came from life itself, from the interaction of nature and the elements, from the energy of all living beings, and especially of people. A man's magic demonstrates what sort of person he is, what is held most deeply inside of him. There is no truer gauge of a man's character than the way in which he employs his strength, his power.\n\nI was not a murderer. I was not like Victor Sells. I was Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden. I was a wizard. Wizards control their power. They don't let it control them. And wizards don't use magic to kill people. They use it to discover, to protect, to mend, to help. Not to destroy.\n\nThe anger abruptly evaporated. The burning hate subsided, leaving my head clear enough to think again. The pain in my leg settled into a dull ache, and I shivered in the wind and the first droplets of rain. I didn't have my staff, and I didn't have my rod. The trinkets I did have with me were either expended or burned to uselessness. All I had was what was inside me.\n\nI looked up, suddenly feeling smaller and very alone. There was no one near me. No hand was touching mine. No one stood close by. For just a moment, I thought I smelled a whiff of perfume, familiar and haunting. Then it was gone. And the only one I had to help me was myself.\n\nI blew out a breath. \"Well, Harry,\" I told myself, \"that's just going to have to be enough.\"\n\nAnd so, I walked through a spectral landscape littered with skulls, into the teeth of the coming storm, to a house covered in malevolent power, throbbing with savage and feral mystic strength. I walked forward to face a murderous opponent who had all the advantages, and who stood prepared and willing to kill me from where he stood within the heart of his own destructive power, while I was armed with nothing more than my own skill and wit and experience." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Do I have a great job or what?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Sight of Victor's lake house will always be with me. It was an abomination. It looked innocuous enough, physically. But on a deeper level, it was foul, rotten. It seethed with negative energy, anger and pride and lust. Especially lust. Lust for wealth, lust for power, more than physical desire.\n\nShadowy spirit-beings that weren't wholly real, only manifestations of the negative energy of the place, clung to the walls, the rain gutters, the porch, the windowsills, glutting themselves on the negative energy leftover from Victor's spellcasting. I was guessing that there was a lot of it. He didn't strike meas someone who would be able to make sure that his spells were energy-efficient.\n\nI limped up the front steps. My Sight revealed no alarms, no sorcerous tripwires. I might be giving Victor Shadowman too much credit. He was as powerful as a full-blown wizard, but he didn't have the education. Muscle, not brains, that was Victor Shadowman. I had to keep that in mind.\n\nI tried the front door, just for the hell of it.\n\nIt opened.\n\nI blinked. But I didn't question the good fortune, or the overconfidence that had seen to it that Victor left his front door standing unlocked. Instead, I took a breath, gathered up what will I had, and pressed inside.\n\nI forget how the house was furnished or decorated. All I remember is what the Sight showed me. More of the same as the outside, but more concentrated, more noxious. Things clung everywhere, things with silent, glittering eyes and hungry expressions. Some reptilian, some more like rats, some insectoid. All of them were unpleasant, hostile, and shied away from meas I came in, as the aura of energy I held in readiness around me touched them. They made quiet noises, things I would never have heard with my ears-but the Sight encompasses all of that." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There was along, dark hallway coated with the things. I advanced slowly, quietly, and they oozed and crept and slithered from my path. The dark purple light of magic, that I had seen from the outside, was ahead of me, and growing brighter. I could hear music playing, and recognized it as the same piece that had been playing on the CD player at the Madison in Tommy Tomm's suite when Murphy had asked me thereon Thursday. Slow, sensuous music, steady rhythm.\n\nI closed my eyes fora moment, listening. I heard sounds. A quiet whisper, being repeated over and over, a man's voice repeating an incantation, holding a spell in readiness for release. That would be Victor. I heard soft sighs of pleasure from a woman. The Beckitts? I could only assume so.\n\nAnd, in a rumble that I could feel through the soles of my boots, I heard thunder over the lake. The low, chanting voice took on an edge of vicious, spiteful satisfaction, and continued the incantation.\n\nI gathered up what energy I had and stepped around the corner, out of the hallway, into a spacious room that stretched up to the full height of the house without interruption, yards of open air. The room below was a living room. A spiral staircase wound its way up to what looked like a kitchen and dining room on a sort of platform or balcony above the rest of the room. The elevated deck on the back of the house must be accessible from the platform.\n\nThere was no one in the main room. The chanting, and the occasional sigh, came from the platform above. The CD player was down in the room beneath, music flowing from speakers that were covered with an image of fire and dozens of bloated, disgusting creature forms, feeding on the music as it came out. I could seethe influence of the music as a faint, violet mist, in tune with the light coming from the platform above. This was a complex ritual spell, then, involving many base elements coordinated by the central wizard, Victor. Tricky. No wonder it was so effective. It must have taken Victor a lot of trial and error to figure it out." }, { "from": "human", "value": "I glanced up at the platform, then crossed the room, keeping as faraway as I could from the CD player." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I slipped under the platform without making any noise, and dozens upon dozens of slimy not-physical spirit things oozed from my path. Rain increased to a dull, steady rhythm outside, on the roof and on the wooden deck and against the windows.\n\nThere were boxes stacked all around me, plastic cases and cartons and cardboard boxes and wooden crates. I opened the nearest one, and saw, inside, at least a hundred slender vials like the ones I had seen before, full of the liquid ThreeEye. Beneath the vision of my Sight, it looked different, thick and cloudy with possibility, potential disaster lurking in every vial. Faces, twisted in horror and torment, swam through the liquid, ghostly images of what might be.\n\nI looked at the other boxes. In one, ancient liquor bottles full of an almost luminescent green liquid. Absinthe? I leaned closer, sniffing, and could almost taste the madness that swam latent in the liquid. I leaned back from the boxes, stomach churning. I checked the other boxes, quickly. Ammonia, reminiscent of hospitals and mental wards. Peyote mushrooms in plastic Tupperware-I was familiar with them. Alum, white and powdery. Antifreeze. Glitter in a hundred metallic shades in a huge plastic bag. Other things, deeper in the shadows, that I didn't take the time to look at. I had already figured out what all the articles were for.\n\nPotions.\n\nIngredients for potions. This was how Victor was making the ThreeEye. He was doing the same thing I did when I made my little potions, but on a grander scale, using energy he stole from other places, other people. He used absinthe as the base, and moved out from there. Victor was mass-producing what amounted to a magical poison, one that probably remained inert until it was inside someone, interacting with their emotions and desires. That would explain why I hadn't noticed anything about it, before. It wouldn't have been obvious to a cursory examination, or to anything short of fully opening up my Sight, and that wasn't something I did very often." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I closed my eyes, shaking. The Sight was showing me too much. That was always the problem with it. I could look at these ingredients, the cases of the finished drug, and catch flash images of exactly how much suffering could be caused. There was too much. I was starting to get disoriented.\n\nThunder came again, more sharply, and above me, Victor's voice rose in pitch, to something audible. He was chanting in an ancient language. Egyptian? Babylonian? It didn't really matter. I could understand the sense of the words clearly enough. They were words of hate, malevolence. They were words that were meant to kill.\n\nMy shaking was becoming more pronounced. Was it only the effects of the Sight? The presence of so much negative energy, reacting with me?\n\nNo. I was simply afraid. Terrified to come out of my hiding place under the platform and to meet the master of the slithering horde that was draped over everything insight. I could feel his strength from here, his confidence, the force of his will infusing the very air with a sort of hateful certainty. I was afraid with the same fear that a child feels when confronted with a large, angry dog, or with the neighborhood bully, the kind of fear that paralyzes, makes you want to make excuses and hide.\n\nBut there was no time for hiding. No time for excuses. I had to act. So I forced my Sight closed and gathered my courage as best I could\n\nThunder roared outside and there was a flash of lightning, the two happening close together. The lights flickered, and the music skipped a track. Victor screamed out the incantation in a kind of ecstasy above me. The woman's voice, presumably Mrs. Beckitt's, rose to a fevered pitch." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You pays your money, you takes your chances,\" I muttered to myself.\n\nI focused my will, extended my right arm and open palm to the stereo system, and shouted, \"Fuego!\" A rush of heat from my hand exploded into flame on the far side of the room and engulfed the stereo, which began to emit a sound more like along, tortured scream than music. Murphy's handcuffs still dangled from my wrist, one loop swinging free.\n\nThen I turned, extended my arms and roared, \"Veni che!\" Windswept up beneath me, making my duster billow like Batman's cloak, lifting me directly up to the platform above and over its low railing into the suspended room.\n\nEven expecting the sight, it rattled me. Victor was dressed in black slacks, a black shirt, black shoes-very stylish, especially compared to my sweatpants and cowboy, boots. His shaggy eyebrows and lean features were highlighted eerily by the dark light flowing up from the circle around him, where the implements of his ritual spell were ready to complete the ceremony that would kill me. He had what looked like a spoon, its edges sharpened to razor keenness, a pair of candles, black and white, and a white rabbit, its feet bound with red cord. One of its legs was bleeding from a small tear, staining the white fur. And tied against its head with a cord was the lock of my own dark, straight hair. Over to one side was another circle, laid out in chalk upon the carpeting, maybe fifteen feet across. The Beckitts were inside, writhing together in mindless, sweating desire, generating energy for Victor's spell.\n\nVictor stared at me in shock as I landed upon the balcony, wind whipping around me, roaring inside the small room like a miniature cyclone, knocking over potted plants and knickknacks." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Advance the storyline as the writer's tale partner.\nTags: fantasy, urban fantasy, faerie\nAuthor: Jim Butcher\nTitle: Summer Knight\nChapter: 32" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The spear drove into the earth beside my neck, and the rider hissed in an impatient female voice, \"Hold still.\"\n\nShe swung down from the faerie steed, reached up, and took off the masked helm.\n\nElaine's wheat-brown hair spilled down, escaping from the bun it had been tied in, and she jerked it all the way down irritably. \"Hold still. I'll get that off you.\"\n\n\"Elaine,\" I said. I went through a bunch of heated emotions, and I didn't have time for any of them. \"I'd say I was glad to see you, but I'm not sure.\"\n\n\"That's because you always were a little dense, Harry,\" she said, her voice tart. Then she smoothed her features over, her eyes falling half closed, and spread her gloved hands over my chest. She muttered something to herself and then said, \"Here. Samanyana.\"\n\nThere was a surge of gentle power, and the wind pinning me to the ground abruptly vanished. I pushed myself back to my feet.\n\n\"All right,\" she said. \"Let's get out of here.\"\n\n\"No,\" I said. \"I'm not done.\" I recovered my valise and my staff. \"I need to get through those thorns.\"\n\n\"You can't,\" Elaine said. \" Harry, I know this spell. Those thorns aren't just pointy, they're poisonous. If one of them scratches you, you'll be paralyzed in a couple of minutes.\n\nTwo or three will kill you.\"\n\nI scowled at the barrier and settled my grip on my staff.\n\n\"And they won't burn, either,\" Elaine added.\n\n\"Oh.\" I ground my teeth. \"I'll just force them aside, then.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"That'll be like holding open a screen door, Harry." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They'll just fallback into place when your concentration wavers.\"\n\n\"Then it won't waver.\"\n\n\"You can't do it, Harry,\" Elaine said. \"If you start pushing through, Aurora will sense it and she'll tear you apart. If you're holding the thorns off you, you won't be able to defend yourself.\"\n\nI lowered my staff and looked from the thorns back to Elaine. \"All right,\" I said.\n\n\"Then you'll have to hold them off me.\"\n\nElaine's eyes widened. \"What?\"\n\n\"You hold the thorns back. I'll go through.\"\n\n\"You're going to go up against Aurora? Alone?\"\n\n\"And you're going to help me,\" I said.\n\nElaine bit her lip, looking away from me.\n\n\"Come on, Elaine,\" I said. \"You've already betrayed her. And I am going through those thorns, with your help or without it.\"\n\n\"I don't know.\"\n\n\"Yeah, you do,\" I said. \"If you were going to kill me, you've already had your chance. And if Aurora finishes what she's doing, I'm dead anyway.\"\n\n\"You don't understand-\"\n\n\"I know I don't,\" I snapped. \"I don't understand why you're helping her. I don't understand how you can standby and let her do the things she's done. I don't understand how you can stand here and let that girl die.\" I let that sink in fora second before I added, quietly, \"And I don't understand how you could betray me like that. Again.\"\n\n\"For all you know,\" Elaine said, \"it will happen a third time. I'll let those thorns close on you halfway through and kill you for her.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Maybe so,\" I said. \"But I don't want to believe that, Elaine. We loved each other once upon a time. I know you aren't a coward and you aren't a killer. I want to believe that what we had really meant something, even now. That I can trust you with my life the way you can trust me with yours.\"\n\nShe let out a bitter little laugh and said, \"You don't know what I am anymore, Harry.\" She looked at me. \"But I believe you. I know I can trust you.\"\n\n\"Then help me.\"\n\nShe nodded and said, \"You'll have to run. I'm not as strong as you, and this is brute work. I won't be able to lift it for long.\"\n\nI nodded at her. Doubt nagged at meas I did. What if she did it again? Elaine hadn't exactly been sterling in the up-front-honesty department. I watched as she focused, her lovely face going blank, and felt her draw in her power, folding her arms over her chest, palms over either shoulder like an Egyptian sarcophagus.\n\nHell, I had ten million ways to die all around me. What was one over another? At least this way, if I went out, I'd go outdoing something worthwhile. I turned and crouched, bag and staff in hand.\n\nElaine murmured something, and a wind stirred around her, lifting her hair around her head. She opened her eyes, though they remained distant, unfocused, and spread both hands to her sides.\n\nWind lashed out in a column five feet around and drove into the wall of thorns. The thorns shuddered and then began to give, bending away from Elaine's spell.\n\n\"Go!\" she gasped. \"Go, hurry!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Iran.\n\nThe wind almost blinded me, and I had to run crouched down, hoping that none of my exposed skin would brush against any thorns. I felt one sharp tug along my jacket, but it didn't pierce the leather. Elaine didn't let me down. After a few seconds, I burst through the wall and came out in the clear on top of the hill of the Stone Table.\n\nThe Table stood where it had been before, but the runes and sigils scrawled over its surface now blazed with golden light. Aurora stood at the Table, fingers flying over the Unraveling, its threads pressed against the head of the statue of the kneeling girl, still upon the table. I circled a bit to one side to stay out of her peripheral vision and ran toward her.\n\nWhen I was only a few feet away, the Unraveling suddenly exploded in awash of cold white light. The light washed over the statue in a wave, and as it passed, cold white marble warmed into flesh, her stone waves of hair becoming emerald-green tresses. Lily opened her eyes and let out a gasp, looking around dazedly.\n\nAurora took Lily by the throat, drove the changeling down to the surface of the Stone Table with her hand, and drew the knife from her belt.\n\nIt wasn't all that gentlemanly, but I slugged the Summer Lady in the back with a two-handed swing of my staff.\n\nAs I did, the stars evidently reached the right position, and we reached midnight, the end of the height of summer, and the glowing runes on the Table flared from golden light to cold, cold blue.\n\nThe blow jarred the knife from Aurora's hand, and it fell to the surface of the table.\n\nLily let out a scream and got out from under Aurora's hand, rolling across the table's surface and away from her." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Aurora turned tome, as fast as any of the other Sidhe, leaning back on the table and planting both feet against my chest. She kicked hard and drove me back, and before I was done rolling she had called a gout of fire and sent it roaring toward me. I got to my knees and lifted my staff, calling together my will in time to parry the strike, deflecting the flame into the misty sky.\n\nThe red light of it fell on a green faerie steed leaping in the air above the thorns. It didn't make it over the wall but fall twenty feet short, screaming horribly as it landed on the poisoned thorns. Its rider didn't go down with it, though. Talos, his face bloodied, leapt off the horse's back, did a neat flip in the air, and came down inside the circle of thorns unscathed.\n\nAurora let out a wild laugh and said, \"Kill him, Lord Marshal!\"\n\nTalos drew his sword and came for me. I thought the first blow was a thrust for my belly, but he'd suckered me, and the sword darted to one side to send my staff spinning off into the thorns. Ashe stalked me, I gripped my valise and backed away, looking around me fora weapon, for something to buy me a few seconds, for options.\n\nThen a basso bellow shook the hilltop and froze even Aurora fora second. The wall of thorns shook and quivered, and something massive bellowed again and tore through it, into the open. The troll was huge, and green, and hideous, and strong. It wielded an axe in one hand like a plastic picnic knife and was covered in swelling welts, poisoned wounds, and its own dark-green blood. It had a horrible wound in its side, ichor flowing openly from it. It was dragging itself along despite the wounds, but it was dying." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And it was Meryl. She'd Chosen.\n\nI could only stare as I recognized her features, inside the insane fury of the troll's face. It reached for Talos, and the Lord Marshal of Summer whirled, his bright sword taking off one of the troll's hands. She got the other on his leg, though, and dragged him beneath her even as she fell, the weight of her pinning him down, crushing him to the ground with a choked, gurgling cry of rage and triumph.\n\nI looked back, to see Aurora catch Lily by her green hair, and drag her back toward the Table. Iran to it, and beat her to the knife, a curved number of chipped stone, dragging it across the Table and tome.\n\n\"Fool,\" Aurora hissed. \"I will tear out her throat with my bare hands.\"\n\nI threw the knife away and said, \"No, you won't.\"\n\nAurora laughed and asked, eyes mad and enticing, \"And why not?\"\n\nI undid the clasp of the valise. \"Because I know something you don't.\"\n\n\"What?\" she laughed. \"What could you possibly know that matters now?\"\n\nI gave her a cold smile and said, \"The phone number to Pizza Spress.\" I opened the bag and snarled, \"Get her, Toot!\"\n\nThere was a shrill, piping blast from inside the valise and Toot-toot sailed up out of it, leaving a trail of crimson sparkles in his wake. The little faerie still wore his makeshift armor, but his weapons had been replaced with what I'd had Billy pickup from Wal-Mart-an orange plastic box knife, its slender blade extended from its handle.\n\nAurora let out another laugh, uglier, and said, \"And what can this little thing do?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Toot blew another little blast on his trumpet and shouted, voice shrill, \"In the name of the Pizza Lord! Charge!\"\n\nAnd the valise exploded in a cloud of crimson sparkles as a swarm of pixies, all armed with cold steel blades sheathed in orange plastic, rose up and streaked toward Aurora in a cloud of red sparkles and glinting knives.\n\nShe met my eyes as the pixies came for her, and I saw the sudden fear, the recognition of what was coming for her. She lifted a hand, golden power gathering there, but one of the pixies reached her, box knife flashing, and ripped across her hand with its blade. She screamed, blood flowing, and the golden light dimmed.\n\n\"No!\" she howled. \"No! Not now!\"\n\nThe pixies swarmed her, and it wasn't pretty. The bright faerie mail of her gown gave her no protection against the steel blades, and they sheared through it like cardboard.\n\nFrom all directions, in a whirling cloud around her, Toot-toot and his companions struck dozens of times in only a few seconds, the bright steel splashing scarlet blood into the air.\n\nI saw her eyes open, burning brightly, even as zipping, darting death opened up more cuts, flaying her pale skin. She hauled herself toward the Table.\n\nIf she died there, bled to death on the table, she would accomplish her goal. She would hurl vast power to the Winter Courts and destroy the balance between the faerie Courts. I threw myself up onto the Table and into her, bearing her back down and to the ground.\n\nShe screamed in frustration and struggled against me-but she didn't have any strength. We rolled down the hill a few times, and then wound upon the ground, me pinning her down, holding her there." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Aurora looked up at me, green eyes faded of color, unfocused." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Wait,\" she said, her voice weak and somehow very young. She didn't look like a mad faerie sorceress now. She looked like a frightened girl. \"Wait. You don't understand. I just wanted it to stop. Wanted the hurting to stop.\"\n\nI smoothed a bloodied lock of hair from her eyes and felt very tired as I said, \"The only people who never hurt are dead.\"\n\nThe light died out of her eyes, her breath slowing. She whispered, barely audible, \"I don't understand.\"\n\nI answered, \"I don't either.\"\n\nA tear slid from her eye and mixed with the blood.\n\nThen she died." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I'd done it. I'd saved the girl, stopped the thief, proved Mab's innocence, and won her support for the White Council, thereby saving my own ass.\n\nHuzzah.\n\nI lay therewith Aurora's empty body, too tired to move. The Queens found me maybe a quarter of an hour later. I was only dimly aware of them, of radiant light of gold and blue meeting over me. Gold light gathered over the body fora moment and then flowed away, taking the dead flesh with it. I was left cold and tired on the ground.\n\nThe gold light's departure left only cold blue. A moment later, I felt Mab's fingers touch my head, and she murmured, \"Wizard. I am well pleased with thee.\"\n\n\"Go away, Mab,\" I said, my voice tired.\n\nShe laughed and said, \"Nay, mortal. It is you who must now depart. You and your companions.\"\n\n\"What about Toot-toot?\" I asked.\n\n\"It is unusual fora mortal to be able to Call any of Faerie, even the lowest, into service, but it has been done before. Fear not for your little warriors. They were your weapon, and the only one accountable for their actions will be you. Take their steel with you, and it will be enough.\"\n\nI looked up at her and said, \"You're going to live up to your side of the bargain?\"\n\n\"Of course. The wizards will have safe passport.\"\n\n\"Not that bargain. Ours.\"\n\nMab's lovely, dangerous mouth curled up in a smile. \"First, let me make you an offer.\"\n\nShe gestured, and the thorns parted. Maeve stood therein her white armor, and Mother Winter stood behind her, all shrouded in black cloth. Before them on the ground knelt Lloyd Slate, broken, obviously in pain, his hands manacled to a collar around his throat, the whole made of something that looked like cloudy ice." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"We have a traitor among us,\" Mab purred." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\" And he will be dealt with accordingly.\n\nAfter which there will bean opening fora new Knight.\"She watched me and said,\" I would have someone worthy of more trust as his successor. Accept that power and all debts between us are canceled.\"\n\n\"Not just no,\" I muttered. \"Hell, no.\"\n\nMab's smile widened. \"Very well, then. I'm sure we can find someway to amuse ourselves with this one until time enough has passed to offer again.\"\n\nSlate looked up, blearily, his voice slurred and panicky. \"No. No, Dresden. Dresden, don't let them. Don't let them take me. Take it, please, don't let them keep me waiting.\"\n\nMab touched my head again and said, \"Only twice more, then, and you will be free of me.\"\n\nAnd they left.\n\nLloyd Slate's screams lingered behind them.\n\nI sat there, too tired to move, until the lights began to dim. I vaguely remember feeling Ebenezar heft me off the ground and get my arm across his shoulders. The Gatekeeper murmured something, and Billy answered him.\n\nI woke up back at my place, in bed.\n\nBilly, who had been dozing in a chair next to the bed, woke up with a snort and said, \"Hey, there you are. You thirsty?\"\n\nI nodded, throat too dry to speak, and he handed me a glass of cool water.\n\n\"What happened?\" I asked, when I could speak.\n\nHe shook his head. \"Meryl died. She told me to tell you that she'd made her Choice and didn't regret it. Then she just changed. We found heron the ground near you.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I closed my eyes and nodded.\n\n\"Ebenezar said to tell you that you'd made a lot of people see red, but that you shouldn't worry about them fora while.\"\n\n\"Heh,\" I said. \"The Alphas?\"\n\n\"Banged up,\" Billy said, a hint of pride in his voice. \"One hundred and fifty-five stitches all together, but we all came out of it more or less in one piece. Pizza party and gaming at my place tonight.\"\n\nMy stomach growled at the word'pizza.\"\n\nI took a shower, dried off, and dressed in clean clothes. That made me blink. I looked around the bathroom, then peeked out at my bedroom, and said to Billy, \"You cleaned up? Did laundry?\"\n\nHe shook his head. \"Not me.\" There was a knock at the door and he said, \"Just a minute.\" I heard him go out and say something through the door before he came back in.\n\n\"Visitors.\"\n\nI put some socks on, then my sneakers. \"Who is it?\"\n\n\"The new Summer Lady and Knight,\" Billy said.\n\n\"They looking for trouble?\"\n\nBilly grinned and said, \"Just come talk to them.\"\n\nI glowered at him and followed him out to the main room. It was spotless. My furniture is mostly secondhand, sturdy old stuff with a lot of wood and a lot of textured fabrics. It all looked clean too, and there were no stains in it. My rugs, everything from something that could have flown in the skies of mythic Araby to tourist-trap faux Navajo, had also been cleaned and aired out. I checked the floor underneath the rugs. Mopped and scoured clean. The hod had fresh wood in it, and the fireplace had been not only emptied out but swept clean to boot." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "My staff and blasting rod were in the corner, gleaming as if they'd been polished, and my gun hung in its holster, freshly oiled. The gun had been polished too.\n\nI went over to the alcove with the stove, sink, and icebox. The icebox was an old-fashioned one that stocked actual ice, given my problems with electricity. It had been cleaned, and new ice put in it. It was packed with neat rows of food-fresh fruits and veggies, juice, Cokes-and there was ice cream in the freezer. My pantry was full of dry foods, canned foods, pasta, sauces. And Mister had anew litterbox, made of wood, lined with plastic, and full of fresh litter. He had a carved wooden bowl as well, and a mate for water, and he had emptied it of food. Mister himself sprawled on the floor, batting idly at a cloth sack of catnip hanging from a string on the pantry door.\n\n\"I died,\" I said. \"I died and someone made a clerical error and this is heaven.\"\n\nI looked around to find Billy grinning at me like a fool. He hooked a thumb at the door. \"Visiting dignitaries?\"\n\nI went to the door and opened it warily, peeking around it.\n\nFix stood therein a set of mechanic's coveralls. His frizzy white hair floated around his head and complemented his smile. He had grease on his hands and face, and his old toolbox sat on the ground next to him. Beside him stood Lily, shapely figure showing off simple dark slacks and a green blouse. Her hair had been pulled back into a ponytail.\n\nAnd it had turned snow white." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Harry,\" Fix said." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"How you doing?\"\n\nI blinked at them and said, \"You? The new Summer Lady?\"\n\nLily flushed prettily and nodded. \"I know. I didn't want it, but when-when Aurora died, her power flowed into the nearest Summer vessel. Usually it would be one of the other Queens, but I had the Knight's power and it just sort of... plopped in there.\"\n\nI lifted my eyebrows and said, \"Are you okay?\"\n\nShe frowned. \"I'm not sure. It's a lotto think about. And it's the first time this kind of power has fallen to a mortal.\"\n\n\"You mean you're not, uh. You haven't?\"\n\n\"Chosen?\" Lily asked. She shook her head. \"It's just me. I don't know what I'm going to do, but Titania said she'd teach me.\"\n\nI glanced aside. \"And you chose Fix as your Knight, huh.\"\n\nShe smiled at Fix. \"I trust him.\"\n\n\"Suits me,\" I said. \"Fix kicked the Winter Knight's ass once already.\"\n\nLily blinked and looked at Fix. The little guy flushed, and I swear to God, he dragged one foot over the ground.\n\nLily smiled and offered me her hand. \"I wanted to meet you. And to thank you, Mister Dresden. I owe you my life.\"\n\nI shook her hand but said, \"You don't owe me anything. I'm apparently saving damsels on reflex now.\" My smile faded and I said, \" Besides, I was just the hired help.\n\nThank Meryl.\"\n\nLily frowned and said, \"Don't blame yourself for what happened. You did what you did because you have a good heart, Mister Dresden. Just like Meryl. I can't repay a kindness like that, and it's going to be years before I can make much use of my... my...\" she fumbled fora word." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Power?\"\n\n\"Okay, power. But if you need help, or a safe place, you can come tome. Whatever I can do, I will.\"\n\n\"She had some brownies come cleanup your place for you, Harry,\" Fix said. \"And I just finished up with your car, so it should run for you now. I hope you don't mind.\"\n\nI had to blink my eyes a few times, before I said, \"I don't mind. Come on in, I'll get you a drink.\"\n\nWe had a nice visit. They seemed like decent kids.\n\nAfter everyone left, it was dark, and there was another knock at the door. I answered it, and Elaine stood there, in a T-shirt and jeans shorts that showed off her pretty legs. She had her hair up under a Cubs baseball hat, and she said without preamble, \"I wanted to see you before I left.\"\n\nI leaned against the doorway close to her. \"You got out okay, I guess.\"\n\n\"So did you. Did Mab pay up?\"\n\nI nodded. \"Yeah. What about you? Are you still beholden to Summer?\"\n\nElaine shrugged. \"I owed everything to Aurora. Even if she'd wanted to quibble about whether or not I'd paid her back in full, it's a moot point now.\"\n\n\"Where are you going?\"\n\nShe shrugged. \"I don't know. Somewhere with a lot of people. Maybe go to school fora while.\" She took a deep breath and then said, \"Harry, I'm sorry things went like that. I was afraid to tell you about Aurora. I guess I should have known better. I'm glad you came through it all right. Really glad.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I had a lot of answers to that, but the one I picked was, \"She thought she was doing something good. I guess I can see how you'd... Look, it's done.\"\n\nShe nodded. Then she said, \"I saw the pictures on your mantel. Of Susan. Those letters. And that engagement ring.\"\n\nI glanced back at the mantel and felt bad in all kinds of ways. \"Yeah.\"\n\n\"You love her,\" Elaine said.\n\nI nodded.\n\nShe let out a breath and looked down, so that the bill of her hat hid her eyes. \"Then can I give you some advice?\"\n\n\"Why not.\"\n\nShe looked up and said, \"Stop feeling sorry for yourself, Harry.\"\n\nI blinked and said, \"What?\"\n\nShe gestured at my apartment. \"You were living in a sewer, Harry. I understand that there's something you're blaming yourself for. I'm just guessing at the details, but it's pretty clear you were driving yourself into the ground because of it. Get over it. You aren't going to do her any good as a living mildew collection. Stop thinking about how bad you feel-because if she cares about you at all, it would tear her up to see you like I saw you a few days ago.\"\n\nI stared at her fora moment and then said, \"Romantic advice. From you.\"\n\nShe flashed me half of a smile and said, \"Yeah. The irony. I'll see you around.\"\n\nI nodded and said, \"Good-bye, Elaine.\"\n\nShe leaned up and kissed my cheek again, then turned and left. I watched her go.\n\nAnd illegal mind fog or not, I never mentioned her to the Council." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Later that night I showed up at Billy's apartment. Laughter drifted out under the door, along with music and the smell of delivered pizza. I knocked and Billy answered the door. Conversation ceased inside.\n\nI came into the apartment. A dozen wounded, bruised, cut, and happy werewolves watched me from around along table scattered with drinks, Pizza Spress boxes, dice, pencils, pads of paper, and little inch-tall models on a big sheet of graph paper.\n\n\"Billy,\" I said. \"And the rest of you guys, I just wanted to say that you really handled yourselves up there. A lot better than I expected or hoped. I should have given you more credit. Thank you.\"\n\nBilly nodded and said, \"It was worth it. Right?\"\n\nThere was a murmur of agreement from the room.\n\nI nodded. \"Okay, then. Someone get me a pizza and a Coke and some dice, but I want it understood that I'm going to need thews.\"\n\nBilly blinked at me. \"What?\"\n\n\"Thews,\" I said. \"I want big, bulging thews, and I don't want to have to think too much.\"\n\nHis face split in a grin. \"Georgia, do we have a barbarian character sheet left?\"\n\n\"Sure,\" Georgia said, and went to a file cabinet.\n\nI took a seat at the table and got handed pizza and Coke, and listened to the voices and chatter startup again, and thought to myself that it was a whole hell of a lot better than spending another night crucifying myself in the lab.\n\n\"You know what disappoints me?\" Billy asked me after awhile.\n\n\"No, what?\"\n\n\"All of those faeries and duels and mad queens and soon, and no one quoted old Billy Shakespeare. Not even once.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I stared at Billy fora minute and started to laugh. My own aches and bruises and cuts and wounds pained me, but it was an honest, stretchy pain, something that was healing.\n\nI got myself some dice and some paper and some pencils and settled down with friends to pretend to be Thorg the Barbarian, to eat, drink, and be merry.\n\nLord, what fools these mortals be." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Extende the story in collaboration with the author.\nTags: fantasy, dark fantasy, short stories\nAuthor: Andrzej Sapkowski\nTitle: Sword of Destiny\nChapter: 1" }, { "from": "human", "value": "A hoarse sound burst from Dainty's throat." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The workers murmured in amazement. Dandelion sighed.\n\n\"Well, goodbye, friends,\" the halfling said at last. \"If anyone asks, tell them I'm rotting in the dungeon.\"\n\nII\n\n\"Until noon tomorrow,\" Dainty whimpered. \"Schwann, that son of a bitch, exaggerates. The repulsive old man could have given mean extension. More than 1,500 crowns! Where will I find that kind of money by tomorrow? I am a finished halfling, ruined, doomed to end my life in prison! Let's not sit here, by the plague. I tell you this: that scoundrel the doppler must be caught. We must catch him!\"\n\nThe three of them were seated on the edge of the marble basin of a dry fountain, situated in the center of a small square surrounded by the homes of bourgeoisie with great wealth but extremely questionable taste. The water in the basin was green and horribly filthy, teeming with small fish that swam amid the refuse. Mouths gaping, they tried to gulp air from the surface, laboriously opening and closing their gills. Dandelion and the halfling were chewing on beignets that the troubadour had stolen from a street vendor.\n\n\"If I were you,\" said the bard, \"I would give up the pursuit and start looking for someone who could loan me the money. What will catching the doppler accomplish? You think that Schwann will accept it as the financial equivalent?\"\n\n\"You're an idiot, Dandelion. By finding the doppler, I'll get my money back.\"\n\n\"What money? Everything your purse contained was used to pay for the damage and grease Schwann's palm. There was no more.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Dandelion,\" the halfling said, grimacing." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You might know something about poetry, but as for business, forgive me for saying so, you have an empty skull. You heard the amount of tax that Schwann calculated? Taxes, they are paid on the basis of what? Eh? Of what?\"\n\n\"Of everything,\" replied the poet. \"Myself, I am taxed for singing. And the fact that I sing to satisfy an internal need makes little difference.\"\n\n\"You really are an idiot, as I said. In business, taxes are paid on profit. On profit, Dandelion! You understand? That scoundrel the doppler stole my identity and organized a particularly lucrative scam! He made a profit! And me, I must pay the tax and also the debts surely racked up by this vagabond! If I don't pay, I'll end up behind bars; they'll publicly clap me in irons and send me to the mines. By the plague!\"\n\n\"Ah!\" Dandelion said cheerfully. \" Then you have no other choice, Dainty. You must leave the city on the sly. You know what? I have an idea. We'll hide you under a sheepskin and when you walk through the gate, you'll only have to repeat: \"Baa, baa, I am a sheep.\" No-\n\none will recognize you.\"\n\n\"Dandelion,\" the halfling replied hotly. \"Shut up or I will put you through hell. Geralt?\"\n\n\"Yes, Dainty.\"\n\n\"Will you help me catch the doppler?\"\n\n\"Listen,\" responded the witcher, trying vainly to repair the torn sleeve of his jacket. \"We are in Novigrad, a city of thirty thousand inhabitants: humans, dwarves, half-elves, halflings and gnomes, and perhaps twice as many people passing through. How can you find anyone in that mob?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dainty swallowed his beignet and then licked his fingers.\n\n\"And magic, Geralt? What about your witcher spells, which are the subject of so many stories?\"\n\n\"The doppler is only magically detectable when he takes his own appearance. Unfortunately, he doesn't walk down the street in that form. And even then, magic wouldn't be any help, because the area is saturated with weak magical signals. Half the houses have magical locks; three quarters of the people wear an amulet for some purpose or another: to protect against thieves, lice, indigestion... The number is infinite.\"\n\nDandelion ran his fingers over the body of the lute, plucking the strings.\n\n\"With spring the warm smell of rain returns,\" he sang. \"No, that won't do. With spring comes the smell of the sun... Damn it, no! Definitely not. But then not everything...\"\n\n\"Stop squawking,\" the halfling snapped. \"You're getting on my nerves.\"\n\nDandelion threw the rest of his beignet to the fish and and spat into the basin.\n\n\"Look,\" he said, \"golden carp. They say these fish grant wishes.\"\n\n\"Those are red,\" Dainty remarked.\n\n\"What's the difference? By the plague, there are three of us, and they grant three wishes. One per person. What do you think, Dainty? Wouldn't you like a fish to pay your taxes?\"\n\n\"Of course. I would also like fora meteor to fall from the sky and bash in the doppler's head. And then...\"\n\n\"Stop, stop. We have wishes to make, too. Me, I'd like the fish to whisper the end of my ballad tome. And you, Geralt?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Leave me be, Dandelion.\"\n\n\"Don't spoil the mood, witcher. Simply say what you'd like.\"\n\nThe witcher stood.\n\n\"I'd like,\" he murmured, \"for the fact that we are being followed to turnout to be a misunderstanding.\"\n\nFour people dressed in black and wearing leather caps were emerging from an alley and heading straight for the fountain. Dainty swore quietly, seeing them approach.\n\nFour others appeared behind them, from the same alley. These didn't approach. Arranged in a line, they were content to block the exit. They held curious hoops resembling coiled lengths of rope. The witcher examined the area. He rolled his shoulders to adjust the position of the sword on his back. Dandelion gave a moan.\n\nA man of short stature, dressed in a white doublet and a short gray coat, appeared behind the men dressed in black. The gold chain he wore around his neck flashed, in time with his footsteps, with the golden hue of the sun.\n\n\"Chapelle,\" Dandelion groaned. \"It's Chapelle...\"\n\nThe men dressed in black were slowly moving behind them in the direction of the fountain. The witcher moved to draw his sword.\n\n\"No, Geralt,\" Dandelion murmured, pressing close to him. \" By the gods, don't draw your weapon. This is the temple guard. If we resist, we'll never get out of Novigrad alive.\n\nDon't touch your sword.\"\n\nThe man in the white doublet approached them with a purposeful stride. The men dressed in black dispersed behind him to surround the basin and fully occupy the terrain. Geralt watched attentively, hunching slightly. The strange circles the men held in their hands were not whips, as he had first thought. They were lamiae." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The man in the white doublet approached.\n\n\"Geralt,\" the bard murmured, \"by all the gods, stay calm...\"\n\n\"I will not allow them to touch me,\" he growled. \"I will not let a single person touch me. Whatsoever. Be careful, Dandelion... When I begin, run for your life. I'll stop them... for awhile...\"\n\nDandelion didn't answer. Having set his lute on his shoulder, he bowed deeply before the man in the white doublet, which was richly embroidered with gold and silver thread in a mosaic of tiny patterns.\n\n\"Venerable Chapelle...\"\n\nThe man called Chapelle stopped and looked them over. Geralt had noticed that his horribly chilly eyes reflected the color of metal. His abnormally sweaty brow had a sickly pallor; blotches of crimson stood out on his cheeks.\n\n\"Master Dainty Biberveldt, merchant,\" he announced. \"The talented Master Dandelion. And Geralt of Rivia, representing the ever noble brotherhood of witchers. Is this a reunion between old friends? In our home, in Novigrad?\"\n\nNo-one answered.\n\n\"To compound the misfortune,\" Chapelle continued, \"I must divulge that someone has already reported you.\"\n\nDandelion paled slightly. The halfling's teeth chattered. Not to be distracted from his surveillance of the individuals in black wearing leather hats who surrounded the basin, the witcher ignored Chapelle. Inmost of the countries Geralt knew, manufacture and possession of a barbed lamia, also called a Whip of Mayhe, was strictly prohibited. Novigrad was no exception. Geralt had seen men struck in the face by a lamia. It was impossible afterward to forget the sight." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The proprietor of the inn The Pike's Grotto\" Chapelle continued, \"had the impudence to reproach your lordships for associating with a demon, a monster known generally as a shifter or mimic.\"\n\nNo-one responded. Chapelle crossed his arms over his chest and stared at them coldly.\n\n\"I felt compelled to warn you that this denunciation had been made. I also inform you that the innkeeper in question has been imprisoned in a dungeon. We suspect him of inventing the story under the influence of beer or liquor. The things these people will invent. To begin with, shifters don't exist. They're an invention of credulous yokels.\"\n\nNo-one made any comment.\n\n\"Furthermore, no shifter could approach a witcher,\" Chapelle continued, smiling, \" without being killed on the spot. Isn't that right?\n\n\"The accusation of the innkeeper would be in these circumstances absolutely absurd if a certain detail did not nevertheless leave some doubt.\"\n\nChapelle shook his head in the imposing silence. The witcher heard the slow exhalation of the air that Dainty had previously sucked deep into his lungs.\n\n\"Yes, a certain detail is very important,\" Chapelle repeated. \" We are indeed dealing with an act of heresy and sacrilegious blasphemy. It is obvious that no shifter, I say none, and no monster for that matter, would be able to approach the walls of Novigrad by reason of the presence of its nineteen Temples of Eternal Fire, whose sacred virtue protects the city. Anyone who claims to have seen a shifter in The Pike's Grotto, situated a stone's throw from the main altar of Eternal Fire, is a sacrilegious heretic who must repudiate his words. If it" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "happens that he refuses to repudiate them, I will be obliged to assist in the form of forces and means that remain, believe me, at my disposal in my jails. You see, there is no need to worry.\"\n\nThe expressions on the faces of Dandelion and the halfling proved beyond doubt that they were of a different opinion.\n\n\"There is absolutely no need to worry,\" Chapelle repeated. \"Your lordships may leave Novigrad without interference. I will not keep you, but I would insist that your lordships do not spread the imaginary allegations of the innkeeper and do not comment loudly on these events. We, humble servants of the Church, must consider stories questioning the power of the Eternal Fire to be heresy, with all the attending consequences. The religious convictions of your lordships, which I respect for what they are, do not enter into this. Simply be aware, and do what you will. I am tolerant so long as one respects the Eternal Fire and does not blaspheme against it. He who dares to blaspheme, I will condemn to burn, that is all. In Novigrad, all are equal before the law. The law is the same for all: anyone who blasphemes against the Eternal Fire perishes in the flames and sees his assets confiscated. But enough talk about all that. I say again: you can go through the gates of Novigrad uimpeded. It would be best...\"\n\nChapelle smiled slightly, giving the impression of a malicious grimace: he puffed out his cheeks, looking around the small square. Witnessing the scene, the few passersby quickened their step and quickly looked away.\n\n\"... best,\" Chapelle finally said, \"best to leave immediately, without delay. It is obvious that, in the case of my lord the merchant Biberveldt, the absence of delay signifies \"without delay after meeting his fiscal obligations.\" I thank you, my lords, for the time that you have kindly granted me.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Turning discreetly to the others, Dainty silently mouthed a word. The witcher had no doubt that the unspoken word could only be \"bastard.\" Dandelion bowed his head, smiling stupidly.\n\n\"Master witcher,\" Chapelle said suddenly. \"With your permission, I would have a private word with you.\"\n\nGeralt approached. Chapelle reached his handout slightly. If he touches my elbow, I hit him, thought the witcher. / hit him no matter the consequences.\n\nChapelle didn't touch Geralt's elbow.\n\n\"Master witcher,\" he said in a low voice, turning his back to the others, \"I know that certain cities, in contrast to Novigrad, are deprived of the divine protection of the Eternal Fire. Suppose then that a creature like a shifter operated in one of these cities. Tell me, out of curiosity, how much you would charge to capture such a creature alive.\"\n\n\"I do not offer my services in populated cities,\" the witcher replied, shrugging. \"A third party could suffer.\"\n\n\"You are concerned, then, with the fortunes of others?\"\n\n\"Well yes, because I am in general responsible for their fate. This cannot be without consequences.\"\n\n\"I understand, but should the degree of deference to third parties not be inversely proportional to the expected remuneration?\"\n\n\"No, it should not.\"\n\n\"I don't care for your tone, witcher. But no matter, I understand what you suggest by that tone. You suggest that you do not intend to undertake the... what I could ask you to do, regardless of the amount of your payment. And what about the type of payment?\"\n\n\"I don't understand.\"\n\n\"But yes, of course you do.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No, truly.\"\n\n\"What I say is purely theoretical,\" Chapelle continued quietly, calmly, without anger or menace in his voice. \"Would it be possible if the recompense for your service was the guarantee that your friends and yourself would leave this... theoretical city alive? What do you think?\"\n\n\"This question,\" the witcher replied, smiling unpleasantly, \"is not one that it is possible to answer theoretically. The situation you describe, venerable Chapelle, must be realized in practice. I am absolutely not in a hurry, but if need be... If there is no other way... I am ready to put that scenario to the test.\"\n\n\"Ah! Perhaps you're right,\" Chapelle responded dispassionately. \"We theorize too much and I see that, in terms of practice, you do not intend to cooperate. Perhaps it is better that way. I nurture the hope, in any case, that this will not be a source of conflict between us.\"\n\n\"I too,\" Geralt said, \"nurture that hope.\"\n\n\"That hope continues to burn within us, Geralt of Rivia. Do you know the Eternal Fire? Aflame that never dies? The symbol of our fortitude? Our path through the darkness? The Eternal Fire, Geralt, is hope. For all, without exception. Because if something is given in part... to you, tome, to others... that thing is simply called hope. Remember this. It was a pleasure to meet you, witcher.\"\n\nGeralt bowed stiffly and kept silent. Chapelle looked at him fora moment, then turned his back and crossed the square without a glance at his escort. The men armed with lamiae followed behind in an orderly formation.\n\n\"Oh, my mother,\" Dandelion whimpered timidly, watching them leave. \"We were lucky. As long as it's over, as long as they're finished with us for now.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Calm yourself,\" said the witcher, \"and stop whining. Nothing happened, as you can see.\"\n\n\"Do you know who that was, Geralt?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"That was Chapelle, the officer of security. Novigrad's secret service is dependent on the Church. Chapelle isn't a priest, but the highest official of the hierarchy, the most powerful and dangerous man in the city. Everyone, even the Council and the guilds, quake in their boots before him: he's a scoundrel of the first order, Geralt, drunk on power like a spider on blood. People whisper about his exploits: disappearances that leave no trace, false accusations, torture, masked assassins, terror, blackmail, ordinary theft, duress, scams and plots. By the gods, you have have the makings of a beautiful story, Biberveldt.\"\n\n\"Leave me alone, Dandelion,\" Dainty said. \"You have nothing to fear: no-one harms a hair on the head of a troubadour. For reasons that escape me, you are still untouchable.\"\n\n\"An untouchable poet,\" Dandelion groaned, still pale, \"may also fall under the wheels of a runaway cart, be poisoned by eating fish or accidentally drown in a ditch. Such scenarios are Chapelle's specialty. He agreed to talk with us, that's already an extraordinary fact. One thing is certain: he would never have done so without a good reason. He's up to something. You'll see: he'll fall upon us at the first opportunity, clap us in irons and torture us with impunity. Nothing is more normal here!\"\n\n\"There is a lot of truth in what he says,\" the halfling said to Geralt. \"We must be wary of the scoundrel who owns this land. They say he's sick, that his blood is spoiled. Everyone is waiting for him to kick the bucket.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Shut up, Biberveldt,\" Dandelion hissed timidly, looking around them. \"Someone could hear. See how everyone's watching. Break camp, I tell you. I advise you to reflect seriously on what Chapelle suggested regarding the doppler. I, for example, have never seen a doppler in my life. If necessary, I am prepared to swear on the Eternal Fire.\"\n\n\"Look!\" the halfling said suddenly. \"Someone's coming now!\"\n\n\"Run!\" Dandelion cried.\n\n\"Calm down, calm down,\" Dainty said, smiling broadly and smoothing his stubborn hair. \"I know him. It's Muscadin, a local merchant, treasurer of the guild. We've done business together. Look at his face! As if he'd shit his pants. Hey, Muscadin, are you looking forme?\"\n\n\"I swear on the Eternal Fire,\" Muscadin said slowly, breathless, dragging off his fox-cap and wiping his forehead with his sleeve. \"I was sure they would drag you to the tower. It's a miracle. I'm amazed...\"\n\nThe halfling maliciously cut Muscadin's words short: \"It is kind of you to be amazed... Even kinder of you to explain why.\"\n\n\"Don't play the fool, Biberveldt,\" Muscadin responded anxiously. \"Everyone is talking about it. The hierarchy has seen it. Chapelle too. The whole town knows what a deal you got on the cochineal, and with what intelligence and cunning you profited from the events in Poviss.\"\n\n\"What are you talking about, Muscadin?\"\n\n\"By the gods, Dainty, would you stop this gloating like the bird of proverb who thinks his nest the best? Did you not buy the cochineal at half price, for 5.20 a bushel? You did. Taking advantage of low demand, you paid with a promissory note. You didn't pay a single cent in cash for the transaction. And what happened? Within the day, you turned over the merchandise fora price four times higher than what you originally paid. Will you have the gall to claim that this was nothing but coincidence or luck, and that in buying the cochineal, you knew nothing of the upheavals taking place in Poviss?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"What?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "What are you saying?\"\n\n\"There has been turmoil in Poviss!\" Muscadin shouted. \"A... there... what's the word: a\" rellavotion.\"King Rhyd was deposed. The Thyssenides clan governs now! Rhyd's court, nobility, and army wore blue. The local weavers only bought indigo. But the Thyssenides wear scarlet. The price of indigo fell and cochineal rose! Then we learned that it was you, Biberveldt, who had on hand the only store of cochineal available. Ha!\"\n\nDainty kept quiet, frowning.\n\n\"Biberveldt the cunning, that's the least we can call you,\" Muscadin continued. \"And without a word to anyone, even your friends... If you had told me, we would all be able to profit. We could even have found a common agency. But you preferred to go it alone. That's your choice. In any case, no longer count on me. By the Eternal Fire, the halflings are nothing but egotistical scoundrels and dogs. Vimme Vivaldi has never endorsed a promissory note for me, and for you? Without hesitation. Rotten, everyone of you damned \"non-humans,\" accursed halflings and dwarves! Plague take you!\"\n\nMuscadin spat and turned on his heel. Lost in thought, Dainty scratched his head. His cowlick rose.\n\n\"Something begins to grow clearer, my lads,\" he said finally. \"I know what we should do. Let's go to the bank. If anyone can get us through all this, it's my good banker, Vimme Vivaldi.\"\n\nIll" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I imagined banks differently,\" Dandelion murmured, examining the room." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Where do they keep the money, Geralt?\"\n\n\"Devil only knows,\" the witcher responded in a low voice, trying to hide the torn sleeve of his jacket. \"Maybe in the basement?\"\n\n\"No, I looked: there's no basement here.\"\n\n\"Must be in the attic.\"\n\n\"Please come into my office, gentlemen,\" announced Vimme Vivaldi.\n\nSeated at large tables, young men and dwarves of indeterminate age were busy aligning rows of numbers and letters on sheets of parchment. All, without exception, bowed their heads and stuck out their tongues slightly. The witcher thought that the task must be terribly tedious. It seemed nonetheless to absorb the workers. In one corner, an old man who looked like a beggar was seated on a stool, sharpening pencils. His pace remained slow.\n\nThe banker cautiously closed the door to his office. He smoothed his long beard, which was well-maintained despite ink stains here and there, then adjusted the jacket that was buttoned with difficulty over his belly.\n\n\"You know, master Dandelion,\" he said, sitting behind an enormous mahogany table that groaned under the weight of heaped scrolls, \"I imagined you very differently. I've heard and know your songs: of Queen Vanda, drowned in the Cula river, because no-one would have her. And the kingfisher who dove to the bottom of a latrine...\"\n\n\"I am not the author,\" Dandelion responded, red with anger. \"I've never written anything of the sort!\"\n\n\"Oh. Excuse me.\"\n\n\"If we could perhaps move onto serious matters,\" Dainty interrupted. \"Time is wasting while you discuss unnecessary subjects. I have serious problems, Vimme.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I was afraid of that,\" the dwarf responded, shaking his head." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Remember that I warned you, Biberveldt. I told you three days ago not to invest money in that rancid fish oil. What difference does it make that the price was low? The nominal price is not important. What is important is the resale profit. The same for the rose essence and the wax, and the damned cotton cord. What possessed you, Dainty, to buy such shit? In cash, no less, instead of paying reasonably with a letter of creditor exchange! I told you, the cost of storage in Novigrad is expensive. Ina span of two weeks it will exceed three times the value of the goods. And you...\"\n\n\"Yes,\" the halfling moaned quietly. \"Tell me, Vivaldi. I what?\"\n\n\"You, you assured me that there was no risk, that you'd sell it all within twenty-four hours. Today you comeback to see me with your tail between your legs to admit you're having trouble. You haven't sold any of it, have you? And the storage price went up, eh? Ah, that's no good, it's no good! Do I need to get you out of this now, Dainty? If at least you had insured your merchandise, I would gladly send one of my scribes to discreetly burn your warehouse. No, my friend, the only thing we can do is take things philosophically and say,\"it all went to shit. \"That's commerce: win one day, lose the next. In the long run, what's the importance of the money spent to buy fish oil, string, and rose essence? Not much. Let's speak instead of more serious matters. Tell me if I should sell the mimosa bark, because the offers are beginning to stabilize at five and five sixths.\"\n\n\"Huh?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Are you deaf?\" the banker asked, frowning. \"The latest offer is equivalent to five and five sixths. I hope that you came back to get rid of it, because you will not get seven, Dainty.\"\n\n\"Came back?\"\n\nVivaldi smoothed his beard to dislodge the breadcrumbs that were clinging to it.\n\n\"You came in an hour ago,\" he replied calmly, \"with the order to hold until seven. To sell at seven times the initial purchase price, this would be 2 crowns and 45 coppers per pound. It's too expensive, Dainty, even in such a favorable market. The tanners have already agreed amongst themselves to freeze the price. I'd bet my head that...\"\n\n\"The merchant Sulimir offers 2.15 crowns!\" shouted a strident voice.\n\n\"Six and a sixth,\" Vivaldi calculated swiftly. \"What shall we do, Dainty?\"\n\n\"Sell!\" the halfling cried. \" Six times the purchase price and you still hesitate, by the\n\nplague?\"\n\nA second creature, wearing a yellow hat and covered in an overcoat that resembled an old sack, arrived in turn in the office.\n\n\"The merchant Biberveldt recommends not to sell before seven!\" he yelled, before wiping his nose with his sleeve and immediately departing.\n\n\"Ah, ah!\" the dwarf said eventually, after along delay. \"A Biberveldt orders me to sell, but another Biberveldt, on the contrary, asks me to wait. Interesting. What shall we do, Dainty? Will you settle the matter before a third Biberveldt orders us aboard a galley to be transported to the land of dog-headed men, eh?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What is that?\" asked Dandelion, indicating the thing dressed in a green hat that was standing motionless in the doorway. \"What is it, by the plague?\"\n\n\"A young gnome,\" Geralt replied.\n\n\"It must be,\" Vivaldi confirmed drily. \"It's not an old troll. What it is is of no importance. Come, Dainty, I'm listening.\"\n\n\"Vimme,\" the halfling said, \"I implore you: don't ask questions. Something terrible has happened. Know and acknowledge that I, Dainty Biberveldt, honest merchant of the Persicaires prairie, don't have the slightest idea what is going on here. Tell me every detail: everything that's happened over the past three days. I beg you, Vimme.\"\n\n\"Interesting,\" said the dwarf. \"I understand that what with the commissions I collect, I must respect the wishes of my clients. Listen, then. You appeared in my bank three days ago, completely out of breath. You made a deposit of 1,000 crowns and requested a promissory note of 2,520 payable to the bearer. I gave my endorsement.\"\n\n\"Without collateral?\"\n\n\"Without, because I like you, Dainty.\"\n\n\"Tell the rest, Vimme.\"\n\n\"The next morning, you rushed in and insisted, making a ruckus and stamping your feet, that I open a line of credit in the Vizima branch of my bank for the substantial amount of 3,500 crowns. The beneficiary was to be, if I recall correctly, a certain Ther Lukokian, known as Big-Nose. I opened this credit.\"\n\n\"Without collateral,\" the halfling repeated, hope rising in his voice." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"My fondness for you, Biberveldt,\" the banker sighed, \"ends at 3,000 crowns. I required a written statement stipulating that in the case of insolvency, the mill will belong tome.\"\n\n\"What mill?\"\n\n\"The mill of your father-in-law, Arno Hardbotomm of the Persicaires prairie.\"\n\n\"I'm never going home,\" Dainty said mournfully, adding decisively: \"I'll takeout a loan to buy a ship and become a pirate.\"\n\nVimme Vivaldi scratched his ear, watching him suspiciously.\n\n\"Hey!\" he said. \"You recovered the letter and tore it up awhile ago. You're solvent. Nothing surprising about that, with such earnings...\"\n\n\"Earnings?\"\n\n\"Indeed, I forgot,\" grumbled the dwarf, \"that I'm expected to be surprised by nothing. You came out far ahead with the cochineal, Biberveldt, because you see, the upheaval that took place in Poviss...\"\n\n\"I know that already,\" the halfling interrupted. \"Indigo fell and cochineal rose. And I got some money. Is that right, Vimme?\"\n\n\"That's the truth. You have an account with me for 6,346 crowns and 80 coppers. Net, after subtracting my commission and the amount of tax.\"\n\n\"You paid the tax for me?\"\n\n\"Shouldn't I have?\" Vivaldi asked, surprised. \" When you came in an hour ago, you\n\nsettled up neatly. One of my clerks already brought the sum to the town hall. About 1,500, because the sale of the horses is of course included.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The office door burst open with a bang to admit something wearing an extremely dirty hat.\n\n\"2.30 crowns!\" he shouted. \"The merchant Hazelquist!\"\n\n\"Don't sell!\" Dainty cried. \"Wait fora better price! Both of you, go back to the market at once!\"\n\nThe two gnomes greedily seized the copper coins tossed to them by the dwarf and disappeared.\n\n\"Yes... Where was I, then?\" Vivaldi wondered fora moment, toying with the abnormally large amethyst crystal that served as his paperweight. \"Ah yes... I was up to the cochineal bought with my promissory note. The letter of credit that I mentioned earlier, you used to buy a large quantity of mimosa bark. You bought a lot, but at a good price: 35 coppers a pound from Zangwebar's broker, that Big-Nose or Snout. The galley docked at the port yesterday. That's where it all started.\"\n\n\"I can imagine,\" Dainty groaned.\n\n\"What is mimosa bark good for?\" Dandelion couldn't help but ask.\n\n\"Nothing,\" the halfling groaned sadly. \"Unfortunately.\"\n\n\"Mimosa bark, master poet,\" the dwarf explained, \"is a tanning substance used in the manufacture of leather.\"\n\n\"Someone was stupid enough,\" Dainty interrupted, \"to buy mimosa bark from overseas when one can acquire it for next to nothing from Temerian oak.\"\n\n\"That's just where the vampire is buried,\" said Vivaldi, \"because the Temerian druids threatened to set a plague of rats and locusts over the land if the destruction of oak trees is not stopped immediately. The dryads support the druids. It must be said that the Temerian king has always had a certain weakness for dryads. In short: a complete embargo on Temerian oak came into effect yesterday. The price of mimosa is climbing. You had the benefit of good information, Dainty.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Outside the office door there came the sound of footsteps." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The thing wearing a green hat burst breathlessly into the office:\n\n\"The venerable merchant Sulimir...\" the gnome managed to say, \"orders me to repeat that the merchant Biberveldt, the halfling, is nothing but a savage hairy-eared swine, a speculator and a swindler, and that he, Sulimir, wishes for Biberveldt to contract scabies. He offers 2.45 crowns. This is his final offer.\"\n\n\"Sell,\" the halfling concluded. \"Go, little one, run and confirm. Calculate, Vimme.\"\n\nVivaldi grabbed a stack of parchment and produced a dwarven abacus, a veritable marvel. Unlike those used by humans, the dwarven abacus was shaped like a latticed pyramid. Vivaldi's was crafted from golden filaments upon which small uniform prisms cut from rubies, emeralds, onyx and black agate moved. The dwarf deftly manipulated the jewels at the top, bottom, and sides with his stout fingers.\n\n\"This will be... hum... hum... Less cost and my commission... Minus tax... Yes... 15,622 crowns and 25 coppers. Not bad.\"\n\n\"If I've calculated correctly,\" Dainty Biberveldt said slowly, \"that will make a net total of... I should have...\"\n\n\"Precisely 21,969 crowns and 5 coppers. Not bad.\"\n\n\"Not bad?\" Dandelion yelped. \"Not bad? With that kind of sum, you could by a whole village or a small castle! Never in my life have I seen that kind of money!\"\n\n\"Nor have I,\" said the halfling. \"But let's not get carried away, Dandelion. No-one here has seen that money and we may never even seethe color of it.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"How is that, Biberveldt?\" the dwarf said, scowling. \" Where do you get such sorry\n\nthoughts? Sulimir will pay in cash or with a letter of exchange. Sulimir's money is good. What's wrong, then? You're worried about the losses from the purchase of your stinking fish oil and wax? With such profits, you can easily cover those losses...\"\n\n\"It's not that.\"\n\n\"Then what?\"\n\nDainty bowed his curly head and cleared his throat.\n\n\"Vimme,\" he said, staring at the ground. \"Chapelle is sniffing around.\"\n\nThe banker clucked his tongue.\n\n\"It's not right,\" he said, \"but it's not surprising. You see, Biberveldt, the commercial information that you used for your transactions also has political implications. No-one suspected that these things would happen in Poviss and Temeria. Not even Chapelle, and Chapelle likes to be the first to know. Now, you can imagine that he's racking his brains to discover how you had access to this information. I think that he must already know. As do I.\"\n\n\"Interesting.\"\n\nVivaldi glanced at Dandelion and Geralt, wrinkling his nose.\n\n\"Interesting? What is interesting are your associates, Dainty,\" he said. \"A troubadour, a witcher and a merchant. My congratulations. Master Dandelion travels everywhere: he frequents royal courts and no doubt knows how to keep his ears open. The witcher? A bodyguard? A scarecrow to keep away the debtors?\"\n\n\"Your conclusions are too hasty, master Vivaldi,\" Geralt replied coldly. \"We are not associates.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And I,\" Dandelion continued, flushing, \"do not eavesdrop. I'm a poet, not a spy!\"\n\n\"One hears things,\" the dwarf said, grinning. \"Many things, master Dandelion.\"\n\n\"Lies!\" the troubadour shouted. \"It's not true!\"\n\n\"All right, all right, I believe you. Only, I don't know if Chapelle will believe you. But who knows, perhaps we are making a lot of noise over nothing. I will tell you, Biberveldt, that Chapelle has changed a great deal since his attack of apoplexy. Perhaps the fear of death crept into his heart and forced him to ask questions? This is not the same Chapelle. He has become friendly, sympathetic, calm and... even honest, in away.\"\n\n\"What are you telling me?\" said the halfling. \"Chapelle... honest? Friendly? It's not possible.\"\n\n\"I'm telling you the truth,\" Vivaldi retorted. \"What's more, the Church actually faces another problem in the Eternal Fire.\"\n\n\"How is that?\"\n\n\"The Eternal Fire must burn everywhere, as they say. Altars devoted to it must be erected throughout the land. Many altars. Don't ask for details, Dainty: I am not a follower of human beliefs. But I know that all the priests, including Chapelle, are concerned only with altars and fire. Grand preparations are in motion. Taxes will increase, for sure.\"\n\n\"My word,\" said Dainty. \"Small consolation, but...\"\n\nThe office door opened again to reveal the thing in a green hat and rabbit fur garment that the witcher already knew.\n\n\"The merchant Biberveldt,\" he reported, \"requests the purchase of bowls. The price is secondary.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Perfect,\" the halfling said with a smile, which more resembled the distorted face of an enraged wildcat. \"Then buy lots of bowls. The will of master Biberveldt must be obeyed. What else should we buy? Cabbage? Juniper oil? Iron stoves?\"\n\n\"And,\" the merchant produced something from his fur coat, \"the merchant Biberveldt requests 30 crowns in cash to pay fora jug of wine, a meal and beer to drink. Three scoundrels have stolen his purse at The Pike's Grotto.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Ah! Three scoundrels,\" Dainty repeated, emphasizing each word. \" My word, this\n\ncity is teeming with scoundrels. And where is the venerable merchant Biberveldt right now, if I may ask?\"\n\n\"Where could he be? At the west bazaar, of course,\" the thing replied with a sniff.\n\n\"Vimme,\" Dainty said in a dire tone. \"Don't ask any questions. Find me a very heavy and solid cane from somewhere. I'm going to the west bazaar, but I can't go without that cane. There are too many scoundrels and thieves over there.\"\n\n\"A cane, you say? That can be arranged. But something continues to nag at me, Dainty. I will not ask any questions. I will not ask, but I will only guess, and you will confirm or deny my suppositions, all right?\"\n\n\"Guess away.\"\n\n\"That rancid fish oil, the rose essence, the wax and the bowls, the damned cotton cord, it's nothing but a ploy to divert the competition's attention from the cochineal pigment and the mimosa and confuse the market, isn't it, Dainty?\"\n\nThe office door opened to admit something without a hat.\n\n\"Oxyria reports: everything is ready!\" it pealed loudly. \"He asks if we can pour!\"\n\n\"Pour!\" bawled the halfling. \"Pour immediately!\"\n\n\"By old Rhundurin's beard,\" exclaimed Vimme Vivaldi, after the gnome had closed the door. \"I don't understand! What's going on here? Pour what? Pour it into what?\"\n\n\"I have no idea,\" Dainty admitted, \"but business must goon.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "IV\n\nSneaking with difficulty through the crowd, Geralt headed directly toward a stall laden with copper dishes, pots and pans reflecting the red light of the sun at the end of the day. Behind the stall stood a dwarf with a red beard, dressed in an olive-green hood and heavy sealskin boots. On the dwarfs face there was a certain surliness: he gave the impression that he could at any moment spit on the customer busy browsing the merchandise. The customer drowned the dwarf in a flood of incoherent words, waving her bust and shaking her golden curls.\n\nThe customer was none other than Vespula, whom Geralt already knew from his role in the bombardment. Without waiting to be recognized, the witcher melted back into the crowd.\n\nThe west bazaar hummed with energy: crossing such a crowd resembled nothing so much as a stroll through hawthorn bushes. The sleeves and pant legs were continuously, at any given moment, being tugged: by children who had been lost by their mothers when they went into tents to drag out husbands too tempted by alcohol and refreshment; spies from the guard tower; traveling salesmen offering caps of invisibility, aphrodisiacs, and erotic scenes carved in cedar wood. Geralt soon stopped smiling to swear and elbow his way through.\n\nHe heard the sound of a lute, followed by a rippling laugh in a familiar timbre. These sounds were coming from a stall as colorful as a storybook, adorned with the sign'Miracles, amulets and fishing bait.\"\n\n\"Has anyone ever told you that you're extremely pretty?\" Dandelion called, perched on the counter and cheerfully swinging his dangling legs. \"No? But that's impossible! But this is a city of the blind! Come, good people! Who wants to hear a love song? Whosoever wants to be moved and spiritually enriched has only to toss a coin into my hat. What is that you threw me, asshole? Those copper coins, you can keep for the beggars. Don't insult an artist with copper! I may eventually forgive you, but art never will!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Dandelion,\" Geralt said, approaching." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\" I thought we separated to find the doppler,\n\nbut I find you organizing a concert. You're not ashamed to sing in the market like an old beggar?\"\n\n\"Ashamed?\" the bard echoed, shocked. \"What's important is that one sings, not where one sings. Besides, I'm hungry. The stall's proprietor promised me lunch. As for the doppler, look for it yourself. Me, I'm not made for pursuit, for fighting and settling scores. I'm a poet.\"\n\n\"You'd be better off not drawing attention to yourself, poet, because your girlfriend is in the area. You could be in trouble.\"\n\n\"My girlfriend?\" Dandelion groaned nervously. \"Which one? I have several.\"\n\nBrandishing a copper pan, Vespula forged a path through the crowd with the velocity of a charging aurochs. Dandelion tumbled from the stall to make his escape, hopping nimbly over the baskets of carrots. Vespula turned to the witcher, her nostrils flaring with fury. Geralt flattened himself against the rigid wall of the storefront behind him.\n\n\"Geralt!\" Dainty Biberveldt cried from the churning crowd, blundering into Vespula. \"Quickly, quickly! I saw it! Over there, he ran away!\"\n\n\"I'll find you, you degenerate!\" shouted Vespula, regaining her balance. \"I will settle the score with the whole herd of swine! What a group you are! A crook, a tattered vagabond and a hairy-footed midget! You won't soon forget me!\"\n\n\"Over here, Geralt!\" Dainty hollered, bowling over a group of students engaged in a shell game in his path. \"There, he slipped between the carts! Block the way to the left! Hurry!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They hastened in pursuit, surrounded by the curses of the customers and merchants they jostled. Geralt miraculously managed to evade a kid who got tangled in his legs. He bounded over him, but hurtled into two barrels of herring. The fishmonger, furious, flung at his back the live eel whose qualities he had been praising to his customers.\n\nThey spotted the doppler, who was trying to hide in a sheep pen.\n\n\"The other side!\" Dainty shouted. \"Get the other side, Geralt!\"\n\nThe doppler, still visible in his green vest, dashed along the side of the fence like an arrow. It was obvious that he had not transformed so that he could continue to take advantage of the halfling's agility, which no-one could match. Except, of course, another halfling. Ora witcher.\n\nGeralt saw the doppler suddenly change direction, raising a cloud of dust, and slip through a hole in the fence erected around the large tent, home to slaughterhouses and butchers. Dainty spotted it too. He hopped the fence and found himself trapped in the middle of a herd of bleating sheep. He lost time. Geralt veered and threw himself on the doppler's trail between the boards of the fence. He heard then the crackle of a tearing garment. Under his second arm, the jacket became very loose.\n\nThe witcher stopped dead to swear and spit. And swear again.\n\nDainty ran after the doppler toward the tent. Cries, the sound of blows, profanity and a frightful din could be heard within.\n\nThe witcher swore a third time with particular vulgarity. He gritted his teeth, raising his right hand and aiming the Aard sign directly toward the tent. It swelled like a sail in a tempest. From within came an inhuman howling, the sound of hooves and bellowing oxen. The tent collapsed." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The doppler managed to crawl out from under the canvas to flee to the side of a smaller tent, most likely serving as the cold room. Geralt turned his hand instinctively toward the fugitive and touched the Sign to his back. The doppler collapsed to the ground as if struck by lightning, but recovered immediately, reaching the side of the tent in a few bounds and disappearing, with the witcher always on his heels.\n\nUnder the tent, it reeked of meat. The darkness was oppressive.\n\nTellico Lunngrevink Letort was standing there, motionless and out of breath, clinging\n\nto a pig carcass suspended from a pole. The tent had no other exit; the canvas was solidly and tightly secured to the ground.\n\n\"It's a pleasure to see you again, mimic,\" Geralt said coldly.\n\nThe doppler's breath was loud and heavy.\n\n\"Leave me alone,\" he managed at last. \"Why are you chasing me, witcher?\"\n\n\"Tellico,\" Geralt replied, \"you ask some stupid questions. To come into possession of Biberveldt's horses and appearance, you knocked him out and left him flat broke. You continue to profit from his personality and you're surprised by the trouble it brings you? Devil only knows what you're planning, but I intend to oppose it one way or another. I don't want to kill you or hand you over to the authorities. You must leave this city. I will be particularly vigilant.\"\n\n\"And if I refuse?\"\n\n\"Then I'm the one who'll leave, with a wheelbarrow and a sack.\"\n\nThe doppler swelled suddenly, then thinned just as suddenly and began to grow. His curly chestnut hair blanched and lengthened to reach his shoulders. The halfling's green vest shone like oil and became a black leather. Silver studs appeared on the shoulders and the sleeves. His chubby and ruddy face tapered and grew pale." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Above his right shoulder appeared the hilt of a sword.\n\n\"Don't come any closer,\" called the second witcher, snorting and smiling. \"Don't come any closer, Geralt. I won't allow you to touch me.\"\n\nWhat a horrible smile, thought Geralt, wanting to seize his sword. / really have a dreadful mouth. My eyes blink appallingly. Is that really the spitting image of me? By the plague.\n\nAt the same moment, the doppler's hand and the witcher's touched the hilts of their respective weapons. The two swords were drawn from their sheaths. Both witchers simultaneously executed two small, quicksteps: the first forward, the second to the side. Both swung their swords with a hiss like a propeller.\n\nThey froze in that position.\n\n\"You can't defeat me,\" growled the doppler, \"because I've become you, Geralt.\"\n\n\"You're mistaken, Tellico,\" the witcher replied in a low voice. \"Throw down your sword and take Biberveldt's form again. Otherwise, you'll regret it. I promise you.\"\n\n\"I'm you,\" the doppler repeated. \"You will never have the advantage over me. You can't defeat me, because I'm you!\"\n\n\"You have no idea what it means to be me, mimic.\"\n\nTellico lowered the arm that was holding his sword.\n\n\"I am you,\" he repeated.\n\n\"No,\" the witcher replied. \"You know why? Because you're a nice little doppler. A doppler who could have killed Biberveldt and buried his body in the weeds, ensuring that he would never be unmasked, not even by the halfling's wife, the famous Gardenia Biberveldt. But you didn't kill him, Tellico, because that's not in your nature. You are indeed nothing but a nice little doppler whose friends nicknamed him Dudu. Whatever appearance you borrow, you always remain the same. You only know how to copy what is good in us, because the parts that are bad, you don't understand. That is what you are, doppler.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Tellico backed up until his back was flattened against the canvas side of the tent.\n\n\"That's why you're going to turn back into Biberveldt and offer your paws for me to bind. You're not capable of resisting me, because there is part of me that you weren't able to copy. You know that very well, Dudu. Fora moment you had access to my thoughts.\"\n\n\"You're right, Geralt,\" he said indistinctly, because his lips were changing shape. \"I had access to your thoughts. Fora short time, it's true, but it was enough. Do you know what I'll do now?\"\n\nThe witcher's leather jacket took on a bluebonnet luster. The doppler smiled, adjusted his olive-colored hat adorned with an egret's plume and hung his lute on his shoulder. The lute that, just a moment before, had been a sword.\n\n\"I'll tell you what I'll do now, witcher,\" he said, laughing Dandelion's loud and rippling laugh. \"I'll be on my way and lose myself in the crowd, where I'll discreetly transform into someone else, even a beggar. I'd rather be a beggar in Novigrad than a doppler in the barren wilderness. Novigrad owes me a debt, Geralt. The construction of this city destroyed the environment where we could live in our natural surroundings. We were exterminated, hunted like mad dogs. I am one of the few who survived. Once, when wolves attacked me, I transformed into a wolf and ran with the pack for weeks. In this way I survived. I do the same thing today, because I do not want to wander in the woods and spend the winter under tree stumps; I no longer want to feel constant hunger; I no longer want to serve without respite as an archery target. Here, in Novigrad, it's warm, there's food, one can work fora living and people very rarely hunt each other with bows. Novigrad offers me a pack of wolves. I join it to survive, you understand?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Geralt acknowledged this with a nod of his head.\n\n\"You've reached an accord with the dwarves, the halflings, the gnomes and elves; even,\" he continued, his lips stretching into Dandelion's insolent smile, \"a modest degree of integration. What makes me worse than them? Why am I refused the right? What must I do to live in this city? Transform myself into a doe-eyed elf, with long legs and silken hair? Huh? How is an elf better than me? At the sight of an elf, you stare at her legs, but me, when you look at me, you want to vomit? You order me to clear off, you want to banish me, but I'll survive. I know how. In the wolf pack, Iran, howled and bit my confederates fora female's favors. As an inhabitant of Novigrad, I'll trade, weave wicker baskets, beg or steal. As part of your society, I'll do the ordinary things that people do in your society. Who knows, perhaps I'll be able to get married?\"\n\nThe witcher remained silent.\n\n\"As I said,\" Tellico continued calmly, \"I'm going. And you, Geralt, you won't even try to stop me. You won't lift eveb a single finger, because I pierced your thoughts for an instant, Geralt-including those whose existence you refuse to admit, those that you hide from yourself. To stop me, you would have to kill me, but the idea of cutting me down in cold blood fills you with horror. Am I wrong?\"\n\nThe witcher still did not answer.\n\nTellico adjusted the strap of his lute again and started toward the exit after turning his back on Geralt. He walked with a resolute gait, but the witcher noticed that his neck stiffened and his shoulders hunched, waiting for the hiss of the blade. Geralt sheathed his sword. The doppler stopped midway and turned to look at him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Goodbye, Geralt,\" he said. \"Thank you.\"\n\n\"Goodbye, Dudu,\" the witcher replied. \"Good luck.\"\n\nThe doppler turned in the direction of the crowded bazaar with the same confident, lighthearted and swinging gait as Dandelion. Just like the troubadour, he raised his right hand and waved energetically, smiling broadly at the nearby girls. Geralt followed slowly in his steps. Slowly.\n\nTellico grasped his lute, walking and, having slowed his pace, played two chords, a prelude to strumming out a melody already known to Geralt. Turning, he sang lightly, like Dandelion:\n\nWhen the spring comes along with the rain\n\nthe sun will warm us both.\n\nThat's the way it must be, for we burn\n\nwith fire eternal like hope.\n\n\"Repeat that for Dandelion if you can remember it,\" he called. \"This ballad should be titled The Eternal Fire. Goodbye, witcher!\"\n\n\"Hey!\" he heard suddenly. \"Lousy crook!\"\n\nStartled, Tellico turned. Vespula appeared from behind a stall, her bust rising and falling violently, and gave him an ominous look.\n\n\"Ogling girls, you traitor?\" she hissed, moving with increasing agitation. \"Serenading them, scoundrel?\"\n\nTellico doffed his cap and bowed, giving her abroad smile, just as Dandelion would.\n\n\"Vespula, my dear,\" he said attentively, \"how happy I am to see you. Forgive me, my sweet. I'm in your debt...\"\n\n\"You are... you are...\" she interrupted loudly. \"And as you're in my debt, it's time to pay! Here!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The enormous copper pan flashed in the sun before striking the doppler's head, making a deep resonant sound. With a stupid grin frozen on his face, Tellico stiffened and fell, folding his arms. His form suddenly began to change, to melt and lose all true similarity. Witnessing the scene, the witcher grabbed a large rug from a stall and hurried toward him. Having unrolled the rug on the ground, he slipped the doppler onto it with two little kicks and conscientiously wrapped him in the carpet.\n\nSitting on the bundle, Geralt wiped his brow with his sleeve. Vespula looked at him menacingly, shaking the pan in her fist. A crowd amassed around the two of them.\n\n\"He's ill,\" said the witcher, forcing a smile. \"It's for his own good. Don't crowd, good people. The poor man needs air.\"\n\n\"Didn't you hear?\" Chapelle asked with quiet authhority, making his way into the throng. \"I suggest you to return to your activities! These assemblies are forbidden under penalty of law!\"\n\nThe crowd dispersed around him to reveal Dandelion, who had been attracted, with no particular urgency, by the notes of the lute. At the sight of him, Vespula gave a terrible cry before throwing down her pan and fleeing the square at a run.\n\n\"What happened to her?\" asked Dandelion. \"Did she see a devil?\"\n\nGeralt got up from the rolled rug, which was beginning to wriggle slightly. Chapelle approached it slowly. He was alone. His personal guard was never visible.\n\n\"In your place, master Chapelle, I would not go any farther,\" Geralt said in a low voice.\n\n\"Oh yes?\"\n\nChapelle looked at him coolly, his lips thinning." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"If I were you, master Chapelle, I would pretend to have seen nothing.\"\n\n\"Yes, clearly,\" Chapelle replied, \"but you are not me.\"\n\nDainty Biberveldt, breathless and sweaty, emerged from behind the tent. He stopped short at the sight of Chapelle and began to whistle, his hands behind his back, pretending to admire the roof of the warehouse.\n\nChapelle came close to Geralt. The witcher remained motionless without blinking or flinching. Their eyes met fora moment, then Chapelle leaned over the bundle:\n\n\"Dudu,\" he said, addressing Dandelion's cordovan shoes where they protruded from the rolled and misshapen carpet. \"Copy Biberveldt, quickly.\"\n\n\"How?\" Dainty cried, looking away from the warehouse. \"What?\"\n\n\"Silence,\" Chapelle insisted. \"So Dudu, how are you?\"\n\n\"That's...\" replied a stifled groan from inside the rug. \"That's... That's...\"\n\nThe cordovan shoes protruding from the carpet lost their consistency, dematerializing\n\nto transform into the barefoot and hairy feet of the halfling.\n\n\"Get out of there, Dudu,\" said Chapelle. \"And you, Dainty, keep quiet. To these people, all halflings lookalike, don't they?\"\n\nDainty grumbled indistinctly. Geralt stared at Chapelle, blinking suspiciously. The official straightened up and turned: the last curious onlookers on the periphery decamped on the spot in a clamor of footsteps that faded into the distance.\n\nDainty Biberveldt the Second extricated himself and emerged from the carpet, sneezing. He sat down, wiping his nose and eyes. Dandelion leaned against a chest that was resting on its side and strummed his lute with an intrigued expression on his face." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Who is it? Who do you think, Dainty?\" Chapelle asked gently. \"It's a strong resemblance, don't you think?\"\n\n\"It's my cousin,\" Dainty said in a whisper, and smiled widely. \"Avery close relation: Dudu Biberveldt from the Persicaires prairie, a genius of commerce. I've just decided to...\"\n\n\"Yes, Dainty?\"\n\n\"I've decided to make him my representative in Novigrad. What do you think, cousin?\"\n\n\"Thank you very much, cousin,\" responded the very close relation, the hero of the Biberveldt clan, the genius of commerce, with a wide smile.\n\nChapelle smiled too.\n\n\"Your dream of living in the big city has come true,\" Geralt murmured. \"What are you looking for in the city, Dudu... and you, Chapelle?\"\n\n\"If you had lived in the headlands,\" Chapelle replied, \"eating roots, soaking wet and shivering in the cold, then you would know... We too want something from life, Geralt. We are no worse than you.\"\n\n\"That's a fact,\" Geralt commented, nodding. \"You're not. You may even be better. What happened to the real Chapelle?\"\n\n\"He kicked the bucket,\" Chapelle the Second said under his breath. \"It was two months ago: apoplexy. May the earth above his resting place weigh lightly on him and may the Eternal Fire illuminate his path. I was nearby when it happened... No-one noticed... Geralt? You won't...\"\n\n\"What didn't they notice?\" asked the witcher, his face impassive.\n\n\"I thank you,\" Chapelle whispered.\n\n\"Are there many of you?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Is it important?\"\n\n\"No,\" conceded the witcher. \"It's not.\"\n\nA form wearing a green hat and dressed in rabbit fur emerged from behind the carts and stalls.\n\n\"Lord Biberveldt...\" the gnome stammered breathlessly, looking from one halfling to the other with amazement.\n\n\"I think, little one,\" Dainty said, \"that you're looking for my cousin, Dudu Biberveldt. Speak, speak, here he is.\"\n\n\"Oxyria reports that the stock has been completely sold,\" explained the gnome, who smiled broadly, displaying his sharp teeth. \"At 4 crowns apiece.\"\n\n\"I think I know what's happening,\" said Dainty. \"Too bad Vivaldi isn't with us: he could have calculated our profit in the wink of an eye.\"\n\n\"If you'll allow me, cousin,\" interrupted Tellico Lunngrevink Letorte, also known as Penstock, Dudu to his friends and, to all the city of Novigrad, member of the numerous Biberveldt clan. \"Allow me to make the calculation. I have an infallible memory for figures. Among other things.\"\n\n\"Please,\" Dainty said, bowing. \"Please do, dear cousin.\"\n\n\"The expenses,\" the doppler reflected, furrowing his brow, \"weren't high: 18 for the rose essence, 8.50 for the fish oil, hum... in all, including the string: 45 crowns. The transaction is 600 pieces at 4 crowns, so 2,400. And no commission in the absence of an intermediary...\"\n\n\"I ask you not to forget the tax,\" Chapelle the Second prompted. \"Remember that a representative of the municipal authorities and of the church stands before you and plans to fulfill his duties conscientiously.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Not subject to a tax,\" Dudu Biberveldt fired back, \"because it is a sale with religious purposes.\"\n\n\"Huh?\"\n\n\"Mixed in suitable proportions, fish oil, wax and rose essence, colored with a little cochineal,\" the doppler explained, \"poured into earthenware bowls around apiece of cotton cord will, when the wick is lit, burn with a beautiful red flame that will burn fora longtime without an unpleasant odor: the Eternal Fire. The priests need candles for their altars to the Eternal Fire. Now we have what they need.\"\n\n\"By the plague,\" Chapelle groaned. \"Indeed... We needed candles... Dudu, you really area genius.\"\n\n\"I get it from my mother,\" Tellico replied modestly.\n\n\"A mother you closely resemble,\" Dainty confirmed. \"Look at those eyes shining with intelligence. Just like my dear aunt, Begonia Biberveldt.\"\n\n\"Geralt,\" Dandelion moaned. \"In three days, he earned more money than I have in all my life!\"\n\n\"In your place,\" the witcher said seriously, \"I would give up singing for commerce. Ask him, perhaps he'll take you on as an apprentice.\"\n\n\"Witcher...\" Tellico grasped his sleeve. \"Tell me how I can... can thank you.\"\n\n\"22 crowns.\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"Fora new jacket. Look at what's left of this one.\"\n\n\"You know what?\" Dandelion shouted abruptly. \"We're all gong to a brothel. To Passionflower! The Biberveldts\" treat!\"\n\n\"They'll admit halflings?\" Dainty asked, worried." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Just let them try to keep you out.\" Chapelle made a menacing face. \"Let them try and I'll accuse the entire brothel of heresy.\"\n\n\"Well,\" Dandelion said. \"All is well. And you, Geralt, are you coming with us?\"\n\nThe witcher chuckled.\n\n\"You know, Dandelion,\" he said, \"I'd actually be happy to.\"\n\nA Little Dedication\n\nThis is a fan translation of a French translation of the story from Andrzej Sapkowski's The Sword of Destiny (L'Epee de la Providence). / am not a native or even a strong French speaker but I hope that the result is sufficiently readable for my fellow Anglophones.\n\nI\n\nThe young siren emerged from the water up to her waist, violently splashing the surface with her hands. Geralt considered her breasts beautiful-perfect, even. Only their color spoiled the sight: the nipples were pale green and the surrounding aureola paler yet. Skillfully riding the waves that she raised, the young mermaid stretched charmingly, shaking out her wet celadon-green hair, and began to sing melodiously.\n\n\"What?\" The duke leaned over the railing of the ship. \"What did she say?\"\n\n\"She refused,\" said Geralt. \"She says she doesn't want to.\"\n\n\"You've explained that I love her, that I can't imagine living without her, that I want to marry her, be only with her, and no-one else?\"\n\n\"I told her that.\"\n\n\"And..?\"\n\n\"And nothing.\"\n\n\"Tell her again.\"\n\nThe witcher touched his lips with his fingers and gave a vibrant trill. Picking up the words and the melody, he began to scrupulously pass on the duke's confessions of love." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Drifting on her back, the young siren interrupted him: \"Stop translating, stop working so hard,\" she sang." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I understood that. When he professes his love for me, it is always the same stupid simpering. Has he said anything concrete?\"\n\n\"Not really.\"\n\n\"That's a shame.\"\n\nThe siren struck the water and immersed herself with an abrupt movement of her tail. The sea foamed where it was churned by the mullet-like fin.\n\n\"What? What did she say?\" asked the duke.\n\n\"That it's a shame.\"\n\n\"What's a shame? What does that mean:\"a shame'?\"\n\n\"It sounds tome like a refusal.\"\n\n\"Nobody refuses me anything!\" shouted the duke, in defiance of the obvious facts.\n\n\"Lord,\" muttered the captain of the ship as he approached the two of them, \"our nets are ready. All we have to do is throw them to capture...\"\n\n\"I wouldn't advise that,\" Geralt interrupted in a measured tone. \"She isn't alone. Under the water there are many others, and the depths could hide a kraken.\"\n\nThe captain trembled and grew pale, fixating on the last. \"A kra... a kraken?\"\n\n\"A kraken,\" confirmed the witcher. \" I don't advise that you mess about with your nets. One scream from her would reduce us to drifting planks and drown us like common\n\nkittens. And you, Agloval, must decide: do you want a wife or a fish to keep in a bowl?\"\n\n\"I love her,\" Agloval answered resolutely. \"I want to marry her. But for that, she must have legs, and not a scaly tail. Everything is prepared: I traded two pounds of beautiful pearls fora magic elixir that is fully guaranteed to cause her to grow legs. She will suffer only a little for three days, no more. Call her, witcher, tell her one more time.\"" } ]

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